

The Covent Garden Calendar


A GALLIMAUFRY

OF

CELEBRATED COURTESANS, 
BAWDS, 
COMMON WHORES, 
SEDUCED MAIDENS 
and MERCENARY SPOUSES
Allegedly Genuine and Admittedly Fictitious


Compiled by 
The Ex-Classics Project, 2020
Public Domain





BOOK I 
The Night-time Scene



The Night-Walker by John Dunton (1696)
Dunton, John. The Night-Walker; or, Evening Rambles in Search 
after Lewd Women (1696). 
Public domain review https://publicdomainreview.org/pd-
texts/the-night-walker/



Title Page

THE
Night-Walker:
OR,
EVENING Rambles
In search after
Lewd Women,
WITH THE
CONFERENCES 
Held with Them, &c.
--------------------------------------------------------------
To be published monthly, till a discovery be made of all the 
chief Prostitutes in England, from the Pensionary Miss, down 
to the Common Strumpet. 
--------------------------------------------------------------
October, 1696
--------------------------------------------------------------
Dedicated to the Duchess of ----
--------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON, 
Printed for J. Orme in St. Bartholomew's Hospital, 1696 
Price 6d. 



Dedication 
To the Duchess of ----

Madam, 
	The bounty of a certain Prince, who was taken with your 
charms, has made it familiar to you for many years, to be 
accosted with the usual compliment of May it please your 
Grace: but most people are of opinion, that how good soever 
your title may be to the name, you were never actually 
possessed of the thing: it's impossible madam, that those who 
have any regard to virtue, can ever think the forfeiture of 
that which is the greatest honour of the fair sex, can be the 
true way to raise any person to honour. The very heathens had 
a juster notion of this, when they made the temple of virtue 
the entrance to the temple of honour; and whatever the favour 
of princes or the flattery of the people can advance to the 
contrary, the Christian religion teaches us that marriage is 
honourable, and the bed undefiled, but whoremongers and 
adulterers God will punish; so that it's plain, madam, you are 
so far from having any just claim to honour, either by the 
laws of natural or revealed religion, that you are condemned 
to ignominy by both, and though you may carry your title of 
grace to your grave, yet when you come before the bar of the 
King of Kings, you will find it to be a badge of your 
disgrace, and an evidence of your having dishonoured your 
body, and defiled the marriage bed.

Madam, the ruins of your former beauty (which was the ruin of 
yourself and of those whom it ensnared) and the furrows which 
time hath now drawn upon your forehead, are so many warnings 
that your day of accounts draws nigh, and though the power and 
authority of one who was your companion in iniquity protected 
you from being brought to justice before men, there's nothing 
that can secure you from the fierce wrath of the Almighty, but 
the merits of Jesus Christ applied by faith, which 'tis in 
vain for you to pretend to so long as you continue without 
having repented of your impure course of life.

Madam, consider what a heavy charge will be brought against 
you, as being the first after the Re------, who in an avowed 
and daring manner polluted this nation by your bad example. It 
had been a greater instance of your loyalty, to have rejected 
the unchaste embraces of ---- ---- than to have complied with 
him, in turning the grace of God towards him into wantonness; 
and infecting other ladies by your example.

Consider madam, how justice has found you out already in some 
measure, and how it ordered matters, so as you became 
contemptible in the eyes of him, to be whose paramour you 
accounted it your greatest honour. It was a mighty downfall 
from being the darling of a M---- to become the mistress of a 
com--n, so that in you madam, is verified what the wise man 
tells us in the 6th of the Proverbs, that those who commit 
adultery get a wound and dishonour, and their reproach shall 
not be wiped away. You cannot but know madam, that the people 
in general entertain mean thoughts of you, notwithstanding 
your gaudy title, and that persons of quality who have any 
regards to virtue, are shy of conversing with you: then, 
madam, is it possible you can think yourself fit for the 
conversation of saints and angels in heaven, when your crimes 
have made you despicable in the eyes of all those who are 
virtuous and modest upon earth. It's in vain for great persons 
to think that their grandeur will be able to save their good 
name, if they act such things as are inconsistent with it, for 
though people may be afraid to speak truth to them, they will 
never refrain from speaking truth of 'em. The higher the 
station the greater is the guilt, and the more taken notice 
of, and when infamous persons of a meaner rank perish in their 
wickedness their memory perishes with them; but the names of 
such as have been companions in impurity to lustful princes 
are handed down to posterity, in the records of nations, with 
notes of disgrace. The names of a Jezebel and Herodias are 
recorded in sacred history, to their perpetual infamy; whereas 
the names of their sisters in impurity, whom Solomon describes 
to be lying in wait at the corner of every street, in the 
evening and twilight, are buried in oblivion; but not to 
oppress your memory with too many instances, we shall only put 
you in mind of one, viz. of Jane Shore, who though but a 
tradesman's wife, yet her whoredom and infamy is handed down 
to posterity, because she was paramour to King Ed. the IV. 
Whereas the lascivious and wanton practices of many other city 
dames, is buried in oblivion with themselves. You may assure 
yourself madam, that those who record the proceedings of the 
present age, will not miss to take notice of yourself; N---- 
G------ and the D------ of P------ as having been companions 
in debauchery to a certain Prince now gone to his place; and 
there's no way left for you to retrieve your honour, but by a 
public repentance, and leaving a testimony behind you to the 
world, that you abominate your former course of life; and 
madam, for your encouragement consider the instance of Mary 
Magdalen, whose former infamy of having been once possessed 
with seven unclean devils, is sufficiently washed off by her 
becoming a saint at last, which is the worst we wish your 
Ladyship, that so we might without any scruple, join with the 
vulgar in giving you the title of Grace.



The Night-Walker 
October, 1696

Our night walker for September having been entertained with a 
general applause, and approved as subservient to the design of 
a public reformation: we are therefore encouraged to go on 
with the publication of that for October; it is requisite to 
inform the reader, that though considering the horrid 
debauchery of the age, the instances of uncleanness might 
afford matter for many volumes; yet we design not to tie 
ourselves up only to that subject, but likewise to give a 
broadside to other vices, as pride, gluttony, covetousness, 
Sabbath-breaking, and libertinism in general, which are 
sometimes the occasion; and sometimes the consequences of 
whoredom and uncleanness, for in our rambles we find many 
times that young women have been tempted to dishonour their 
bodies, that they might have wherewith to maintain their 
excess in apparel: sometimes we meet with confessions, that 
gluttony and pampering the body, like fed horses in rioting 
and feasting, hath occasioned the rioters to neigh after their 
neighbours' wives; and it is not seldom that we find sordid 
misers prostituting their wives and daughters to great ones 
for filthy lucre: it is but too generally known that those 
principles which are now so much in vogue amongst our 
gallants, of crying down all religions but Deism, because they 
are as yet ashamed of the name of atheism, and of crying up 
reason as the sole rule of our practice, because the times 
though bad enough will not yet bear the impious doctrine of 
making our own appetite and tastes, how extravagant soever, 
the rule of our conversation. I say, it is but too well known 
that those principles are calculated for a dissolute life, and 
therefore the reader won't be surprised, if he find much of 
this month's Night-Walker in a different dress from the 
former, because it's thought fit to oblige such gentlemen as 
have sent us in accounts, how and by what methods and 
principles they came to be engaged in all manner of lewdness, 
that others may avoid those shelves whereon they have made 
shipwreck. Then as to Sabbath-breaking in particular, it is 
but natural that we should find it both the occasion and 
consequence of this horrid impiety, it hath been observed 
already, that the places where we ought to meet to worship 
God, are not free from those impure assignations; those who 
have laboured in reforming this abuse, inform us with regret, 
that ill houses are as much or more frequented on Sunday 
nights than on others; and that day is become common for the 
rendezvouses of great men, and those of business with their 
paramours. And to conclude this introduction, thieving, 
robbing on the highways, nay, clipping and coining are 
frequently the consequences of this uncleanness, for 
apprentices rob their masters, that they may have money to 
spend on their companions in lewdness, children many times do 
the like by their parents: and it is not seldom that tradesmen 
have been engaged in robbing and coining to maintain 
themselves in those extravagances, and at the same time their 
wives and children have been exposed to the temptations of 
following the same ungodly practices, to supply the 
necessities which the husband and father's wickedness hath 
laid them under, and 'tis well known that our ordinary 
proverb, That a whore's bird by night will be a hedge bird by 
day, has too often proved true. I shall only add one word that 
some people have expressed their resentment against this 
design, alleging that it is a satire against one party more 
than another, to which we answer that they do exceedingly 
wrong us, but if the Tories will need have it that a satire 
against whoring is a satire against them, we cannot hinder 
them to apply it as they please, and we could heartily wish 
that all who are called Whigs would abjure both name and 
thing; but assure them, when we meet with any of 'em in our 
walk, they shall find no fairer quarter than others, and it's 
believed that some of them are sensible enough that they did 
not go scot-free in our last: but those who are uneasy at this 
innocent and useful undertaking, had best be cautious how they 
express their resentments against it in public, for certainly 
no man of virtue will esteem them the better for it, but be 
ready to apply the common proverb to them, that When a galled 
horse is touched he will wince.



Ramble I.

I shall now proceed to give you an account of some farther 
rambles; one night as I was passing along the Strand, I 
perceived a woman in a genteel habit, standing near S---- 
House, and guessing at her business by her carriage, came up 
to her, and asked if she would take a bottle, which she 
presently agreed to; then I asked her what reward she expected 
for her company, she told me that I looked like a gentleman, 
and therefore she would refer that to myself, so that we went 
to a tavern, and having drunk a glass, I ask her again what 
gratuity she expected, to which she replied, sir, seeing you 
are not willing I should refer it to you, I must have half a 
crown; I told her money was hard to come by now, and that I 
would not give her above a shilling, and throwing money down 
for the wine made as if I would be gone; upon which she told 
me that seeing me a civil gentleman she would accept of it for 
once, but 'twas in hopes that I would appoint where she should 
meet me another time, and sitting down we took the other 
glass, and then she began to draw nearer to me in an immodest 
manner, upon which I thrust her from me, bid her keep off, and 
told her I had something further to say, and looking her 
steadfastly in the face, asked her if she knew what she had 
bargained to sell for a shilling, and whether she valued her 
soul, and heaven at so small a rate that she would barter them 
away for a shilling. She answered me that it was other sort of 
entertainment that she expected from me, and that as for her 
part let those who had a mind to it trouble themselves with 
those things, all her care was how to live here, and if she 
could but do that, she would not disquiet herself with the 
thoughts of what might happen hereafter. I replied that 
whether she did or not, it was certain that death and judgment 
must come, and she would not be able to ward off the sentence 
of the great judge of heaven and earth, nor yet to prevent its 
being put in execution. To this she replied with impudence 
enough that such bugbears might well frighten us who were 
Protestants, but for her part she was a Roman Catholic, and 
could be absolved when she pleased; and have the Eucharist 
brought her on her death-bed, which was a never failing 
viaticum: I answered her that I found the Church of Rome might 
properly enough be called the mother of harlots in a literal 
sense, seeing by her doctrines and pardons people were 
encouraged to lead loose lives, adding that those pardons and 
absolutions of their priests were mere cheats, which would 
stand in no stead at the bar of God, and therefore advised her 
to have recourse to the word of God where she would find that 
he would judge whoremongers and adulterers. She told me that 
she saw most of us Protestants as much addicted to that 
practice as Roman Catholics, and if they looked upon it as so 
dangerous, how came it that we did not punish it more severely 
in those of our own religion. I told her that during the two 
last reigns wherein the court did all they could to bring in 
popery amongst us, a dissolute practice was not only indulged, 
but become almost a necessary qualification for any man that 
would have the Prince's favour; and that many loose 
Protestants who had nothing of our religion but the name were 
so far carried away with the deluge of profanity, that for my 
part I thought nothing could reform the nation but some 
desolating judgment; but in the meantime advised her to 
remember, that the Protestant religion was so far from 
encouraging any of its followers in such practices, that it 
pronounced damnation upon all those who continued in 'em: and 
perceiving that there was no fastening any conviction upon 
conscience, I advised her take care of her reputation, for she 
could not but own that the name of an whore was infamous; that 
no civil people would converse with them when once they were 
known; that Bridewell was generally their reward sometime or 
other, and many times a pillory and cart's-arse, none of which 
I supposed she would be willing to come to, and therefore 
advised her to break off from such courses as would bring her 
to those infamous punishments; for if ever I met her in my 
walks again I would deliver her into the hands of justice, and 
having paid the reckoning I left her.



Ramble II

And as I was returning home I spied another courtesan looking 
for her prey, and stepping up to her asked if I should wait 
upon her, she readily accepted my proffer, and conducted me to 
a by coffee-house in ---- Lane, and by a pair of backstairs 
into a private room, where being set down I called for some 
coffee, but the woman of the house replied straight, sir, I 
know you came not for coffee hither, if you don't like the 
woman you came in with I will furnish you with another without 
any offence, upon this I desired her to sit down a little, and 
told her that I was in good earnest for a dish of coffee if 
she had any good of the kind, and wished that she and the 
young women that she kept in her house drunk more of that 
liquor, and less brandy and other strong liquors, for she 
presently palmed a quartern of brandy upon me. "P--x on you," 
says she, "you are not a customer for me." "Why truly," 
replied I, "good woman, I believe you have poxed and have been 
the occasion of poxing many a man in your time, and therefore, 
that's a curse which 'tis in your power to inflict upon such 
fools as are catched in your snares, and 'tis indeed but just 
they should be so punished for their folly; but I assure you 
that you are mistaken in my design of coming hither." "D--mn 
you and your design too," says she, "I know you are some 
sneaking pitiful whig, a plague on you all, I never desire to 
see one of you within my doors; if I could but know you 
beforehand I should salute you with a chamber-pot about your 
ears at your first entrance." "Why all this rage," says I, 
"good woman, our money is as good as other people's, and I 
believe your coffee-man makes no exceptions against it:" "Ay 
but," says she, "I don't love to see any of you within my 
doors, for you do but hinder better company, I had rather have 
half a dozen of King James' officers, they drink and carouse, 
and make all the house merry; and not only pay my girls well 
for their company, but gratify me for my procurement." "Why 
truly," says I, "good woman, have often heard that all the 
whores in town are Jacobites, and now I perceive something of 
the reason of it, I find they are your best customers, but I 
believe if the truth were known they neither enrich you by 
their trade, nor increase the number of Jacobites by their 
converse with your girls as you call them." "No matter for 
that," says she, "it's charity to help them poor gentlemen, 
they have not pay now, and are neither able to maintain wives, 
nor in a capacity to court fortunes; but whenever the King 
comes again they'll have enough, and then they'll reward my 
girls, either by procuring them husbands or making them 
chambermaids to their ladies; and if now and then they run a 
tick with myself, they either leave a campaign wig, an old 
scarlet coat, or silver-hilted sword, and sometimes a Prince 
of Wale's picture, or that of the late King and Queen in pawn 
till they get money from some good Jacobite lady whose 
necessities they now and then charitably relieve, or till 
their pensions arrive from the French King, God bless him, and 
then they pay me honestly, and I treat them with a dish of the 
best fowl the town can afford, and we squeeze the orange to 
relish our sauce, and conclude all with a bottle of the best, 
and then put them to bed with each of 'em a girl." "Well," 
says I, "good woman, you have a large stock of impudence; but 
does your conscience never reprove you for those things?" 
"What do ye talk to me of conscience," says she, "you 
hypocritical rascal, is there any conscience among you, who 
have abdicated your King and set up another in his stead: I 
bless God I am a true church-woman and love my King, but all 
your gang will be damned for rebellion, whereas I am sure that 
if I should be carried to Tyburn in a cart or a sledge, that 
my next step will be to heaven." "Well, well," says I, "good 
woman enough of this rant. You are a first rate sinner, and 
therefore must be taken care of by the magistrate." "R--t your 
magistrates," says she, "do you think that I care for 'em, 
here was one of your whig aldermen dropped in the other day 
when it rained hard to avoid the shower; and when I offered 
him a girl instead of a dish of coffee that he called for, he 
told me who he was, and said he would have me punished, but I 
laughed at the silly fellow, and told him if he said one word 
more I would hang out a new sign, and call it aldermen ----'s 
coffeehouse, upon which he threw down his four farthings and 
sneaked down stairs, and for my part," adds she, "I have 
obliged so many churchwardens, constables and justices of 
peace in my time that I don't value what you can do." So 
finding her a piece of superlative brass, I paid my sixpence 
and came home bewailing the degeneracy of the age, and the 
pollution which abounds so much in this city particularly.



Ramble III.

Next night I took a ramble up Holborn, and at the corner of 
Hatton Garden perceived an old bachelor, who lives at the ---- 
in Thames Street picking up a woman, upon which I stepped 
towards him, and the woman fearing I might be some constable 
went off. My acquaintance was much surprised to find himself 
discovered, and I forthwith reproved him smartly, telling him 
I was in no less surprise than he, to find a man so far 
advanced in years, and who might have a wife with a good 
fortune when he pleased, following that abominable practice. 
He answered me very profanely, that none but a fool would 
trouble himself with a wife when he could have a pint of milk 
for a penny. I replied that the street was no proper place to 
discourse such matters in, and therefore desired him to go and 
take a glass of ale with me, he was very unwilling to it; but 
yet to prevent my talking of his frolic as he called it, he 
consented to go with me, and after I had severely chid him, he 
told me that truly he saw so many men ruined either by bad 
wives, or such as brought them too many children, that for his 
part he was afraid to marry for fear of being brought into 
poverty as he had seen many others; and that he had formerly 
made bold with his maids and housekeepers, but that they 
happening either to be with child or to grow imperious, that 
was so expensive and troublesome to him, that for sometime he 
had resolved to live upon the common, wherein a shilling or 
too and a bottle of wine, or sometimes a quartern of brandy or 
two was his ultimate charge, whereas if he had a wife he must 
be at the expense of a fine house, a constant table, besides 
her apparel, pocket-money, servants, and children, which would 
soon eat out her portion though it were 1,0000l. And perhaps 
she might prove a jilt into the bargain, as he perceived many 
citizens' wives did: and that for his part being now well 
advanced in years, and not under those necessities of nature 
that he was when younger, his appetite for women was not so 
ravening but that he could satisfy himself with one now and 
then, and therefore would not entangle himself with a wife and 
a family. I replied that I wondered how he who had lived in 
the reputation of a sober man should come to be so debauched 
in his principles and practice, to which he answered, that to 
have the reputation of sobriety he found necessary to his 
affairs, and therefore thought to associate himself now and 
then with sober company; and sometimes to frequent the 
meetings of dissenters, but that to tell me the truth, he 
neither loved their long prayers nor sermons, their public nor 
private fasts, self-examination, and that which they called 
family and closet duties; and therefore would never submit 
himself to the examination of any of their ministers, though 
he had found it his interest to counterfeit sobriety in that 
which they call the strictest sense, but in short, that he was 
of the religion now in vogue, viz. To do hurt to no man, to be 
fair and square in buying, selling and paying, and to beware 
of that which the world accounted injustice, but that for his 
part he could see no harm in satisfying the appetites of 
nature. To which I answered that I perceived his religion to 
be the same with that of the Scribes and Pharisees, who would 
make clean the outside at least as to common appearance, but 
took no care of the inside; but our saviour had taught us 
better things, and commanded us to mortify the flesh with its 
lusts and affections, telling us that the very lusting after a 
woman was a committing of adultery with her in our heart, and 
by consequence that a covetous desire after anything that's my 
neighbours is accounted theft and robbery in the sight of God: 
which was morality in the first principle, a thousand times 
more refined than that which those who now a days pretend to 
morality, and reject faith and Jesus Christ, do either 
practice or teach; and that this in itself was agreeable to 
reason, for every act must be first found in the thought, and 
if there were no care taken to curb vain thoughts, they would 
quickly discover their influence upon the practice.

Then as to his satisfying the appetites of nature, I told him 
that man was by his gracious Creator put under a rule, not 
only to prevent the doing of what was unlawful, but even to 
prevent an excess in that which was really lawful, and 
therefore though it was lawful for a man to eat and drink 
because nature required it, yet it was not therefore lawful 
for him to be a drunkard or a glutton, and to come nearer his 
case, that though marriage was honourable, and the bed 
undefiled, yet whoremongers and adulterers God will punish. I 
told him further, that according to his own principle he was 
guilty of the highest injustice, for by picking up women in 
the streets he must not only be guilty of fornication with 
single persons, but guilty of adultery, which was invading 
another man's property; and that uncleanness even with single 
persons was a gross piece of injustice to them, not only as it 
rendered them liable to the wrath of God, but as it ruined 
their interest and reputation in the world, and if they had 
children by that unlawful commerce, it exposed them and the 
children too to poverty, punishment and reproach, or if they 
had none it was a disappointing of the ends of nature, which 
had endowed us with generative faculties. As to his fear of 
poverty, I told him that he was so far from taking the way to 
avoid it, that he run in a direct course towards it; for 
Solomon and daily experience teaches us that by means of 
whorish women a man is brought to a piece of bread; and it was 
seldom found that those who followed such practices did not 
ruin both body and estate. Whereas God in his providence does 
generally order it so that those who have numerous families, 
as the fruit of a lawful propagation have not only the comfort 
of enjoying such a blessing in itself, but of seeing them 
provided for one way or other, if the children's own 
wickedness don't prevent it. As for his avoiding marriage lest 
his wife should prove a jilt, it was strange, I told him that 
he would spend his strength upon such who he was so careful to 
avoid, and in short advised him to consider how he would 
answer it to God, that he had despised marriage which the 
divine wisdom had appointed as a proper remedy to all 
forniation and uncleanness, especially seeing God had given 
him substance enough, not only to have obtained one with a 
good fortune, but even to have maintained a virtuous woman and 
children, even though she had had no fortune; and by this 
means his name might have been honourably conveyed to 
posterity, whereas he would die under the ignominy of an old 
penurious leacher; and after a month or two his name would rot 
as fast as his corpse. He made little reply to this, but told 
me he would consider of what I had said, which I wish he may, 
but assure him if ever I hear of his following such practices 
in time to come, he shall hear further from me, and that in a 
manner as perhaps may be little to his credit.



Ramble IV.

Having frequently heard that St. James's Park was a noted 
place for assignations, I resolved upon a ramble thither, 
where I saw abundance of women, who by their immodest carriage 
did readily minister cause of suspicion that their design of 
coming thither was not good, and perceiving one who was more 
fine than ordinary walking by herself, I addressed myself to 
her, saying, "Madam by your choice of a solitary walk in these 
pleasant shades, I am apt to think you are in love, and do 
very much wonder at the rudeness and indifferency of your 
lover, who should expose you to the inconveniency of walking 
here alone: I cannot think," says I, "madam, that any man who 
may have the happiness of such a beautiful companion can be so 
cruel to himself as to neglect keeping his appointment, and 
therefore am apt to conclude that something extraordinary hath 
befallen your sweetheart, else he would never have been so 
rude as to have suffered you to come hither first." She 
replies, "Sir, I perceive you are a very complaisant gentleman 
and fit to be a courtier, but you may be pleased to know that 
nowadays, when so many men are destroyed by the wars, and that 
in the course of nature it happens so, that there are as many 
if not more females born than males, it is impossible there 
should be a man for every woman, and therefore of necessity 
some of our unhappy sex must be exposed to languish for want 
of such conversation as nature hath fitted them for, and for 
aught you know, sir, I may be one of the unfortunate number." 
"It's impossible," says I, "madam, that so much beauty should 
languish upon any such account, if you please to accept a 
glass of wine from me, I should take your company as a very 
great compliment." "Sir," says she, "you seem to be so 
generous and civil, that though it be not my custom to do so, 
yet I shall not refuse you," and so we went to her own 
lodgings in ---- Street, which I found very neat and 
handsomely furnished, and having sent one whom she called her 
maid for a bottle of sack, I began to discourse her thus; 
"Madam you hinted as if you were one who languished for the 
conversation, and therefore I hope you will be the more kind 
to one who offers you his company so freely." She replied, 
"Sir, I must live by my favours, and no man shall enjoy my 
company for less than a guinea per night." "Madam," says I, "I 
am afraid that it's the greatness of your price, more than the 
scarcity of men that makes you languish." "Why truly, sir," 
says she, "I always keep company with the best, for I know 
that those who have money won't debase themselves to meddle 
with common prostitutes, that's only for carmen, porters and 
such-like fellows, who follow cheap jilts, and are commonly 
poxed for their pains; whereas gentlemen and those of better 
condition will be more careful of their health, and seek out 
paramours who afford them more delight than what they can 
expect from such trulls." "Madam," answered I, "I pity your 
misfortunes, that you should follow such course of life as 
will certainly ruin both soul and body, you cannot but know 
that your sparks expose you and are not ashamed to make their 
brags to one another of their infamous converse with you, 
which does eternally blast your reputation; and whereas you 
fancy that they don't pollute themselves with common strumpets 
you are mistaken, you know their common saying, that foul 
water will quench fire, and if you have not been already 
envenomed with the foul disease, you cannot promise yourself 
long freedom from it; and that which is more dangerous than 
all, you not only expose your body and reputation but likewise 
your soul, for God hath denounced eternal wrath against 
whoredom and adultery, whereas had you lived virtuously you 
might in all probability have got a good husband, or if you 
break off this ungodly way of living, you need not yet despair 
of getting one, for the God of nature hath been very liberal 
in endowing you with a very handsome person and a comely face, 
so that I wonder very much how you came first to be engaged in 
this abominable course." "Why truly," sir, "says she with a 
sigh, I am a gentlewoman by birth, but my father dying 
intestate, a covetous miserable brother would not allow me any 
portion, though I had several suitors, who according to the 
custom nowadays court the money but not the person, which did 
so enrage me, that I left my brother's house in a fret, 
thinking myself disgraced, that where my parentage and 
education was known, I should not find one gentleman who could 
find his heart to make me his wife without a portion; and 
coming to London one of those beasts called procurers or bands 
quickly found me out, and taking advantage of my necessities, 
did easily draw me aside, and delude me into this vile 
practice, which I must confess I abhor when I have any calm or 
sedate thoughts, but when I think of abandoning this way of 
living, then my former straits stare me in the face and 
weakens my resolve." Upon this I advised her to break off in 
good earnest from that vile course of life and trust 
providence; and for her encouragement told her the story of a 
young gentlewoman much in the same circumstances, who being 
betrayed into a body-house, and sent to offer her company to a 
gentleman who came in thither by chance, he perceiving her 
aim, desired that she would carry him to a private room, but 
after she had showed him all the house, he told her there was 
never a room private enough to hide them from the eyes of God, 
and read her such a severe lecture against her loose way of 
living, that she protested if she could but subsist any 
otherwise, she would abandon that impious trade, upon which 
concealing her circumstances he recommended her as a friend of 
his to rich citizen, to look after his children, where she 
behaved herself so well that she gained the love of the whole 
family; and her mistress dying, her master thought he could 
not make choice of a fitter person for his wife, and he dying 
in a year or two after left her a young and wealthy widow, 
which as is usual brought her abundance of suitors. It 
happened in the meantime that the gentleman who had reclaimed 
her from her debauched life, and was the instrument of all her 
after happiness, suffered great losses by sea, so that his 
debtors running upon him, he was kept a long time in prison, 
and became very poor, insomuch that when he had liberty to go 
abroad he was ashamed to be seen of any of his acquaintance; 
but this widow happening to see him one day in the street, in 
a ragged suit, she was generously moved with compassion 
towards him, that she sent him an hundred pound by a friend of 
hers to put himself in a better condition, and inviting him 
afterwards to her house, made choice of him for her husband, 
which was very acceptable to the honest gentleman in those 
circumstances, and so they lived very comfortably together for 
many years. When I had done with my story the gentlewoman was 
extremely pleased with it, and wished she might have the like 
fate, I told her my good wishes and endeavours should not be 
wanting, if she could give me any assurance of a reformation, 
and could submit either to work at her needle for a 
livelihood, or to go a servant into an honest family; but that 
I could not for my credit's sake speak for her till I had some 
grounds to think she did seriously repent, and therefore I 
desired her to write to me after she had seriously considered 
the matter, which she promised, and paying for my wine bid her 
good night.



Ramble V.

In order to the better describing of the tricks of the bawds 
and procurers about town, I shall exhibit the following 
account, given by a young woman who was taken in the streets 
a-picking up men, carried before a justice of peace, and sent 
to Bridewell, where a friend of hers, pitying her condition, 
thought himself obliged in charity to visit, examine, and 
exhort her to a reformation of life.

The account she gave was thus. "Being about 16 years of age," 
said she, "and reputed handsome, I lived with an ordinary 
tradesman in town, but neither his wages nor way of living 
suited with my haughty mind, for I did very much admire finery 
in others, and was impatient to be as fine as they. A bawd 
happening to observe me, she implored one of her emissaries to 
come and tell me that if I would be a chambermaid, she could 
help me to a very good place, where I should have six pound a 
year and fine clothes. This pleased me to the life, and the 
old bawd who was one of those that pretends to help servant-
maids to places, told me that the gentlewoman would come to 
her house such a day to see me, and prayed me not to fail 
being there by that time. Mistrusting nothing, thither I went, 
where I found a gentlewoman richly clad, and thought myself 
very happy in meeting with such a mistress; she gave herself 
out to be a merchant's widow, that her husband had left her a 
plentiful estate, and if I pleased her I should want for 
nothing, so that the bargain being made, I went to her in a 
little time after. I had not been long with her, till she told 
me that she was to go a-visiting, and that I must dress myself 
to go with her, and alleging that my own clothes would 
disgrace her, she put me on a fine suit, which she said 
belonged to a niece of hers in the country. Out we went, and 
after passing through many turnings and windings, we came to 
an house where she told me she was to visit a certain lady, 
who I afterwards understood by sad experience to be one of her 
own employment. There we stayed dinner, and my mistress 
pretending I was a friend of hers, who served her both as a 
companion and a maid, they would needs have me sit at dinner 
with them. The table was very well covered, and our fare was 
luscious and dainty, and just as we had begun to eat comes in 
a young spark whom the pretended lady called her kinsman, and 
invited him to sit down, having dined plentifully and drunk 
largely of rich wine, my mistress ordered me to withdraw into 
the next room till she called me, which accordingly I did, I 
was scarcely well sat down till I heard a clinking of money, 
which I understood since was the price of my chastity; and a 
little after that the gallant comes into the room where I was, 
and one of them locked the door behind him, I screeched and 
made a noise finding myself betrayed, but to no purpose, for 
there was nobody near that would relieve me, so that after 
many presents offered, and struggling so long as I was able, I 
was at last overcome. The gallant did not stir out of the room 
that night and next morning comes in the pretended lady with 
cordials, wines, and biscuit, and told me impudently that she 
hoped I was pleased with my treatment, I railed at her, and 
flew at her face crying out for help, but all was in vain, so 
that the spark tumbled me down upon the bed till she got out 
and locked the door behind her. Then he flattered me with all 
imaginable craft, told me I should neither want for money, 
fine clothes, nor the best of entertainment if I would be 
patient and comply with his desires: and when I was asleep, 
through weariness and grief he stole out of the room, and did 
not return again till night.

"In the meantime the old beldam with a couple of other young 
women, whom she had debauched came in to me with a dish of 
fruit curiously dressed, and wine, and sweetmeats in plenty, 
and the young women told me straight that they themselves had 
been served in the same manner, and though they were as much 
enraged at first as I was, yet truly now they liked it very 
well, they eat, and wore, and slept as well as any ladies; and 
when they had a mind to have money from their sparks it was 
but to be a little coy, and then they laid it by to maintain 
them in age and sickness; and when one gallant was weary of 
'em they found means to get another, which said they, is a 
much better life surely then to be a drudge in any tradesman's 
house; and at last they told me in plain terms, that out of 
the room I should not come till I were brought to their bow, 
and that I should rather die than they would either hazard a 
cart's-arse or the pillory for me. This I took to be a 
sentence of death passed against me if I did not comply with 
their humour, and therefore was forced to dissemble my doing 
so, and having played two or three hours at cards with me, and 
showed the fine presents they had received from their 
gallants, night approached; when they made up the bed, brought 
me all sorts of linen for my use, and bid me prepare to 
receive my spark with more kindness. Upon his return, he 
presented me with a ring, and gloves, and my own corruption 
complying with the circumstances and temptations I was quickly 
inured to, and enamoured on that course of life, but a month 
being over my spark grew cool in his amours, and sparing of 
his presents; and at last he abandoned me quite. Then I was 
reduced to the necessity either of complying with the further 
direction of the old bawd, or of being stripped of all I had, 
and either murdered or turned out of doors naked in the night-
time, and at best be exposed to shame and disgrace; so that I 
was forced at last to turn one of her wenches in ordinary, and 
being young was one of her first rate strumpets, for she had 
them of all prices, or could borrow them from her neighbour 
bawds. If any rich spark came, then she would go to them 
herself, raffling in her silks, and her face painted, but if 
she was refused, then I was sent in my finest dress. If two or 
three sparks came in at a time, then she would send out her 
pimps for whores to suit their prices; then she drove a trade 
likewise of curing her guests if they were clapped, and when 
her customers did not come fast enough she would send her 
pimps to raise a tumult in the streets, rail, swear and curse 
at one another, and make a rout before some tavern door, while 
some of their companions cut a purse or picked pockets; and 
sometimes in dark nights they would break houses, and one of 
us was always ready at hand to carry off any money or plate, 
and if nothing else would do, then we walked the streets to 
pick up rambling lechers, and if conveniency served we would 
dive into their pockets and rob them of their money and 
watches, and if at any time we were catched we would bribe the 
constables and beadles, and frequently the justices and their 
clerks, so that they would become very favourable to us, and 
if at any time we found them in a lecherous temper, we were 
not very shy of our favours, and having once caught them in 
the snare we reckoned ourselves secure of 'em for ever after: 
that they would never punish us with any measure of severity 
for fear of having their own deeds of darkness brought to 
light. At other times when we wanted trade, our pimps were 
sent to gaming-houses, play-houses, and places of recreation, 
where contracting new acquaintance they brought them to us, 
for we always found that such as did most frequent those 
places were the surest pillars of the bawdy-house. Sometimes 
when we catched novices they would be afraid of a clap, and in 
such cases the bawd would search us before them, for which to 
be sure they must pay. Then she told them that persons of 
quality frequented her house, and that she kept none but those 
that were fit companions for such; and that she used to 
receive her rewards in gold. In term time she would hear of 
nothing less than a crown, but at other times a shilling would 
go down with her, she used to change her strumpets once a 
year, and sometimes would exchange them with others of the 
trade, but such as were poor, sick, poxed, or old she would 
turn out of doors, yet if now and then some of her young and 
handsome strumpets were clapped, she would take care of their 
cure, trepan unwary young fellows to help it forward, and then 
when they were infected she made her prey of them, telling 
them she could easily cure them, which the young fops would be 
very glad off because they thought that the safest way to have 
it done with secrecy, and thus she drove a trade of ruining 
both body and soul."



Letter I.

Sir, 
	I have perused your Night-Walker, and cannot but applaud 
your design, therefore in order to the furthering of the same, 
I think fit to give you an account of my own former 
wickedness, how I came to be engaged in those courses, and by 
what means I was reformed, wishing that it may have some good 
effect towards the reclaiming of others who follow the like 
practice: but if it have not, this poor effort is one of the 
least things that I owe to the public whom I have so much 
injured by my former bad example.

I leave you at liberty to put my matter in your own words and 
methods, and shall begin my story.

I had a good and pious education, my parents having taken 
great care of me during my youth; and my father dying, left me 
a plentiful estate, which as soon as I was master of I came to 
London, and falling in company with some loose young 
gentlemen, they quickly flouted me out of my former way of 
living, and soon brought me to a dislike of those principles 
of religion which lay a restraint upon our natural 
inclinations. It was not however without some struggle, that 
they made this conquest, for I had the common principles of 
Christianity in readiness enough to oppose to their dictates, 
which the sparks perceiving, and being no men of thoughts 
themselves, but wholly led on by one of those wits, who denies 
any other religion but that which goes under the name of 
Deism, they brought him and me acquainted, and my religion 
being only in judgment, but not in affection, I was quickly 
charmed into a belief of those principles which I found gave 
more scope to my unruly passions. I was then about 22 years of 
age, and prone enough to follow such pleasures as are grateful 
to corrupt youth; and thought myself very happy to be 
delivered from the slavery of those narrow principles, as I 
then thought them, which forbid me an unlimited enjoyment of 
the pleasures of the flesh, on pain of damnation, and 
therefore I greedily imbibed the doctrine of my new teacher.

He found that at first I could not digest a downright denial 
of the Christian religion, and therefore he prepared me for it 
with the principles of Socinus, for being once persuaded that 
Christ was not God, I quickly grew into a dislike of the 
doctrine of himself and his apostles, and at last lost all 
respect to it; so that I took a full swinge of sensual 
pleasures with my companions, having no regard to anything 
else but how to keep ourselves without reach of the law; but 
falling ill after an horrid debauch, and being for some time 
confined to my bed by indisposition, my conscience began to 
awake, so as I could not forbear discovering something of it 
to my companions as they came to visit me, and they acquainted 
the above mentioned spark with it; whereupon not being willing 
to come to my chamber, because of some of my relations, who 
were frequently with me during that time, he sent me the 
following letter.

Sir, 
	I am sorry to hear of your indisposition of body, 
but more of your uneasiness of mind, which I thought had 
been sufficiently fortified against such melancholy 
fancies as I understand you are disturbed with. Can you 
once imagine, sir, that kind heaven which indulges all 
other living creatures to satisfy the appetites of nature 
without control, should deny the same to man only, and by 
consequence put him who is lord of the inferior world in 
a worse condition than the brute beasts? I thought you 
had overcome the principles of your education, were above 
the reach of priestcraft; and fully satisfied that those 
restraints which are put upon us are merely the 
contrivance of humane policy, that those they call 
princes, may tyrannize over our bodies; and that their 
tools the priests may have an uncontroverted sway over 
our souls. 
	But I forbear giving you any further trouble, 
because of your illness: only the care to repel those 
bugbears which disturb weak minds, but may very easily be 
overcome by a man of your fortitude. Be kind to yourself, 
and believe me to be, 
	Sir, 
	your very humble servant, 
	J.T.

I read this letter, but found no ease by it, and did 
immediately perceive that it was dictated by that same spirit 
who persuaded our first parents to eat of the forbidden fruit, 
telling them that they should not surely die, though God had 
told them they should, and so involved them and their 
posterity in sin and misery. I was quickly satisfied, that if 
the principles of that seducer were true, men would be in a 
worse condition than any of the other creatures; for if God 
did not curb their passions by reason and religion, the world 
must unavoidably become a field of blood, men would destroy 
one another with more rage and fury than the most savage 
beasts do their prey; and all humane society and conversation 
must be dissolved in a moment, there could be no such thing as 
property, but the weak must first become a prey to the strong, 
and they too must fall at last by mutual slaughter: that man's 
affections being thus undeniably corrupted, his own reason and 
judgment which is sensibly influenced by the affections, could 
neither be a safe nor a sure rule, that seeing an awakened 
conscience did tell us the same things which are threatened 
against enormous practices in the bible, that book must of 
necessity be the word of God and our only rule, that feeling 
all histories agree in the accomplishment of many of the great 
events therein foretold; and that the prophecies which it 
exhibited so many hundreds of years ago relating to the Jews, 
are visibly fulfilled in our own eyes, it must without all 
contradiction be the dictates of an infallible spirit, and 
seeing it is undeniably plain from the express texts of 
scripture, that Christ is God, his religion must be the true 
religion, and thereupon I bid an eternal farewell to my vile 
companions, and their yet more abominable principles and 
practices, and bless God who opened my eyes before it was too 
late.

The ordinary subject of our conversation was, that while we 
were healthful, young and in the prime of our years, while 
blooming nature sported in our veins, and that we abounded in 
wealth, it was but reasonable we should enjoy the most 
charming pleasures that gold could purchase. We used to 
declaim against rigid morals, as old musty fragments fit for 
nothing but to be buried in the rubbish of antiquity; and when 
reproved by any ancient and grave men, we entertained them 
with flouts and scoffs, calling them the grave dons with the 
mighty beards, whose chins were encompassed with wisdom; their 
advices we despised under the notion of crabbed lectures, 
alleging that they envied us the enjoyment of those pleasures 
wherewith they themselves had been surfeited; but were now 
rendered uncapable of 'em by reason of their years; sometimes 
we would argue the matter with them thus, that certainly the 
appetite of pleasure was not given to man for a curse, which 
it must of necessity be, if he were not allowed the liberty of 
satisfying it; and that the greatest blessing of human life, 
was first to wish and then to possess: that it would be 
reckoned an inhuman thing for one man to invite another to a 
table spread with choice dainties, and suffer him gratify his 
eye but not his taste; and that we must not accuse God of that 
which would be reckoned barbarous amongst men, that such an 
idea of the divine justice looked more like the fiction of 
Ovid's Tantalus standing up to the chin in a river, and yet 
never permitted to satisfy his insatiable thirst, and having 
delicious fruit hanging over his nose, and yet never allowed 
to satisfy his ravening appetite; than like the notions which 
Christians and men of refined sense ought to entertain of a 
deity. These being a short compend of our principles, and a 
brief hint of our unanswerable arguments, he who could frame 
the wildest and most extravagant notions on those subjects was 
by us most esteemed, and every one of us strove to outvie one 
another in that sort of study; and answerable to this was our 
conversation and practice, for we laid down this resolution, 
that none of those bugbears which canting fellows called 
checks of conscience, nor none of those discourses which 
prating coxcombs called sermons should divert us from our 
beloved liberty, but that we would enjoy time in the present 
tense, while youth held out, and that when age came upon us, 
we would chew our cud upon the thoughts of past pleasures, and 
by that means divert the fits of the stone or gout.

Pursuant to these resolutions we used to contrive means how we 
might best spend our time in satisfaction and delight; and the 
chiefest objects of our pleasure were women, wine, and the 
enjoyment of one another's company; and at the same time we 
used to bless ourselves that we run the circles of such 
pleasures all the day as are only known to the wits, and that 
at night we locked ourselves in the arms of our mistresses, 
whilst plodding sots pined themselves with thoughts: how to 
save that trash which they had not the heart to spend; and 
thus pretending to be strangers to care and sorrow, we longed 
at night for the return of the next day, that we might spend 
it in our beloved pleasures.

When we met next morning, then it was our greatest delight to 
make railleries upon such of our companions as were crop-sick 
with the debauch overnight; and applauding those who had 
swallowed down most bumpers at the vintner's bar, and we took 
extraordinary pleasure in clinches and repartees: then being 
engaged again in our cups, we would forbid all sullen looks or 
clouded brows among the company, and proclaim free liberty to 
let loose the reins to all known pleasures, and would strain 
our wits to find out some new subjects of mirth and 
divertissement; and such as had the most exalted strains of 
that nature we accounted heroes.

At such meetings one of our usual proposals was to attempt 
something that never any ancient Hector or modern rake durst 
so much as think of, something that might be recorded to 
posterity, and which should make the constables and watchmen 
of future ages to quake. That the frightening of cullies, 
bombasting of whores, wringing off knockers, scouring the 
watch, roaring in the streets, burning signs with torches, and 
such kind of feats were actions far below us who were men of 
fancy, sense and wit. Then we would invoke the God of wine to 
inspire us with some uncommon thoughts, that we might do such 
an action as that all mankind when they heard of it should say 
that certainly some men in devils' shape had contrived and put 
such a deed in execution, which was so lewd and vile, that it 
was even beyond damnation itself. This, sir, is more than I am 
used to write at a time, and therefore I must suspend the 
further account of the libertinism of myself and my companions 
till another opportunity, I doubt not but this short hint will 
be sufficient to fright any person of common understanding 
from frequenting such company or following such practices.

Oct. 27. 1696.



Letter II.

Sir, 
	I doubt not but you received mine of the 27th past. I now 
send you the further account of our libertinism, that by 
exposing those monstrous principles and practices to public 
view, it may be a warning for others to avoid such things, as 
they would avoid horror of conscience here, and damnation 
hereafter.

We were accustomed particularly to solemnize the anniversary 
of our births, or according to our dialect, to revel on that 
day when we first stepped out of the womb of our indulgent 
mothers the most curious workhouse of nature into this world 
of jollity. To those treats we used to invite one another, 
emptied our purses, and ransacked all the elements for 
niceties and dainties to pamper our bodies, and then we drunk 
health by hundreds, to this and t'other kind she, and obliging 
punk, whom we called our living friends; and now and then we 
would swallow down a bumper in remembrance of those that 
stepped out of life, we knew not whether; and the conclusion 
of that debauch used to be with a bowl of punch, which we 
commonly called a treat able to make the very gods to leave 
their glittering seats on high, and revel with mortals, a 
liquid which was able to infuse new life into men half dead, 
and such as no living mortal would refuse to soak his soul and 
lay his cares asleep in; then when we had drunk away our 
reason, and that extravagant notions began to float within the 
regions of our brain, we would not have it said that we were 
in drink because that levelled us with common men but that we 
were in a trance or ecstasy; and then it was well if we had so 
much sense left as to appoint the next meeting.

When we came together again, what protestations would we make 
of our having longed for the happy hour, that we knew not how 
to get the drug of time off our hands, that we hated to study 
and to be turning o'er dull musty authors, which was a 
drudgery for school boys, priests and lawyers, and such whose 
studies purchased them bread, that we knew how to spend our 
time better than so; and blessed our stars that we abhorred 
thinking the most of anything, and had not read any book for 
many years, unless it were a lampoon, a song, a play, or a 
novel, then we would allege that we knew not how to spend such 
and such a fair afternoon, for if we should go to the park, we 
could find nothing there that was beautiful or tempting, 
because the ladies did abhor such a place, which was now 
become a rendezvous for footmen and cook-maids; or at best of 
low-prized cracks and cullies: that the inns of court walks 
were pestered with the same sort of vermin, and therefore we 
knew not where to divert ourselves so well as in the play-
house, where we would appear as first-rate beaus, dazzle the 
eyes of the ladies with our rigging, and raise the envy of the 
dressing sparks: then we used to betake ourselves to the 
corners of the pit, choose our seat by some well dressed 
visor-mask, make our intrigues with them, and --. 

Then we gave an account of our adventures, some would tell how 
they were imposed upon, and perhaps poxed by a jilt, and what 
it had cost him to the doctor and surgeon for his cure; 
t'other would say that notwithstanding the trick had been put 
upon him by the fair sex, he could as well forbear to live as 
to be without them, those luscious creatures, whom the 
heavenly powers had created for man's delight, without which 
his life would be a burden. Then everyone would give a 
description of his nymph, commending the humour of one, the 
dress and wit of another; and how the eye, the mouth, the 
complexion, and the carriage of such a one had charmed him. 
Others would swear that there was no woman but had charms 
enough for them if they were not grown in years; that they 
hated to be a woman's slave; that they could love strongly for 
an hour or perhaps for a day if the fit took them; but that 
none of the fair sex had ever extended their reign over them 
for a month's time, that they would keep their hearts open to 
every new face, and revel in their dearly beloved variety.

Then some of the topping wits of the society would read us 
such a lecture as this following, that from his soul he pitied 
those poor slaves, who were doomed to the drudgery of a wife; 
and when they might be free, were by pious knaves sentenced to 
confinement till death them depart; that he was amazed how 
that cheat was imposed upon man at first; that he should swear 
to bound all his desires in one woman, and vow to maintain 
love for ever, when the flame expired perhaps the first month: 
a bondage more intolerable than that of Egypt. Increase and 
multiply was the first blessing that heaven bestowed upon the 
earth, that no bounds were then set to that command, but our 
forefathers multiplied their kind on whom they pleased, and 
did not confine themselves to one female; their appetites 
moved by the dictates of nature, and whom they liked they 
loved. The iron age gave birth to marriage, that cursed noose, 
and antidote to love. For my part, though my mistress were as 
beautiful as an angel, and knew no end of her estate; though 
those would be strong charms on slavish souls, by heavens I 
would resign the gilded babe before I would join hands in holy 
rites, though 'tis true I should be willing to enjoy her, 
might I have my freedom and not be confined to her. But my 
brains are turned at the very thoughts of marriage, which 
contains a thousand mischiefs for one good, and is only fit 
for plodding sots, who because they were got in wedlock 
themselves will therefore follow in the same dull trot, or for 
such tame fools, who are every day blessed with gilded or 
ungilded horns: but give me a mistress of my own choosing 
every time I have a mind to it, one who is wanton, careless, 
young and gay; and divine liquor, whose atoms dance and shine 
in the glass, such as the gods drink when they would discourse 
of their intrigues and high amours, to recruit the spirits 
which I have lost in the amorous combat, for sure I am that no 
mortal can be blessed with greater pleasures than those who 
have wine and women to supply the cravings of their appetite 
by turns, and therefore have good reason to laugh at all those 
pious fools who, being cheated by priestcraft, lead their 
lives according to the rules of the pulpit.

Thus sir, I have given you a brief idea of that libertinism 
whereof I myself was guilty, and which reigns so much at 
present amongst the younger gentry of the nation, and 
especially at the inns of court, where some of those they call 
wits debauch the rest, first by shaking the principles of the 
Christian religion, and exalting their own reason above 
revelation, or by infusing into them the notions of the 
socinians and deists, and that being once effected, it's but 
advancing one step more to become a libertine or a practical 
atheist. My next shall give you an account how I came to be 
disengaged from that cursed society. In the meantime, 
farewell.

Nov. 1. 1696.



Letter III.

Sir, 
	Having lately received information of a certain citizen 
who became pimp to his own wife, I thought it convenient to 
publish the story, that the persons concerned may perceive 
that their folly and wickedness is taken notice of in the 
world, and with that it may have influence upon them to repent 
and reform: the story is thus.

The citizen's wife being an handsome women, and according to 
the present mode exposing herself in her shop decked and 
dressed more like a lady of person of quality than a good 
housewife, who minds the affairs of her household, a certain 
lascivious gentleman having fixed his eye on her as passing 
by, and already committed adultery with her in his heart, took 
the following method to debauch her. He came several times to 
the shop and bought worsted (for that was the commodity her 
husband dealt in) and having either actually corrupted her, 
which is most probable, or at least found that it would be no 
hard matter for him to do it; he then scrapes acquaintance 
with her husband, and to usher in his villainous design, 
bought a considerable quantity of crewel of him, pretending 
that 'twas to work beds or something of that nature, and 
coming to see him at another time, invited him to the tavern, 
where after having drunk a bottle, he proferred to lend him 
400l. The citizen answered that he had no occasion to take up 
money at interest, to which the spark replied, that he desired 
none for it, but thought it would be securer in his hands than 
his own, upon which the citizen leapt at the bait, and a day 
being appointed for paying the money, the spark perceiving him 
eager to have it, told him he would give it him, if he would 
let his wife go with him into the country for ten days, the 
shopkeeper was you may think somewhat surprised at the 
proposal, and demurred upon it; but his covetousness getting 
the ascendant, he agreed to it, and the good woman was not 
huge averse, which makes me conjecture as above, that the 
intrigue was formed betwixt the spark and her beforehand. Away 
she goes with him into the country, and according to his 
bargain the spark returns her after 10 days; but in a little 
time after comes with some others of his companions, and 
inviting the c----d to a bottle, redemanded his 400l. Of him, 
the citizen being amazed at this adventure, told him he had 
given it him, and refused to restore it. However the sparkish 
lecher having his companions by him to bear witness of his 
demand, and that the citizen owned he had received 400l. from 
him, does now sue him for it as I am informed.

This may certainly be a warning to our citizens, to take heed 
how they expose their fine wives in their shops; and in truth 
'tis an abominable shame to see tradesmen's wives nowadays sit 
behind their counters, with their heads three or four story 
high fluttering with ribbons, their hair powdered as if their 
locks had been in a meal-tub, their faces anointed, painted, 
or patched and their mouths set in Pimlico, and so much afraid 
are they of turning it out of set, that they dare scarcely 
adventure to speak, but either hiss or chirp; and by this 
means they have rendered our language as well as our nation 
effeminate, and in some things more soft than the amorous 
sounds of the French themselves; to instance but in one, 
though hundreds might be produced, instead of maudaum as the 
French pronounce it, our fine citizens for fear of spoiling 
their mouths cry ma'am, and so that instead of those martial 
sounds which denoted the warlike spirits of our predecessors 
the Saxons, we are in complaisance, or by the example of those 
fine ma'ams (who must teach the same language to the few young 
ones that such wantons are capable to bring forth to us) like 
to be brought in time to chirp to one another like little 
birds; and indeed many of us are already become canary birds, 
though we are never like to sing so well as they. And for my 
own part, though it be contrary to the genius of the present 
a-la-modists, I think it more masculine to croak like ravens 
with the Germans and Dutch, than to cuck like a dunghill cock, 
or to squeak like a weasel as the French do: but having 
digressed too far upon this head, I return to our citizens' 
wives, who sit tricked and trimmed, and rigged in their shops 
as if they had more mind to expose themselves to sale, than 
their goods, or at least as if they had more confidence that 
their modish dresses and wanton glances would attract more 
customers than either their signs or the pictures and other 
representations of their merchandise could do; and being thus 
exposed to the eye of the lascivious sparks, they take the 
thing in its natural signification, and come to treat with 
them for themselves, and not for the goods in their shops, 
except it be for a cover. And in truth no man can well put any 
other construction upon it, when he sees a fine woman exposed 
in a shop, where cheese, butter, bacon, meal, bread, meat, 
grocery, nay it may be coals, or tripe is to be sold: nor 
indeed is it either for the credit of our nation, or the 
religion we profess, to see any tradesman's wife sitting in 
her shop apparelled like a lady, and if that single abuse were 
but rectified, it would prevent a great deal of that 
uncleanness, and those temptations to it, with which this city 
doth so much abound; for if in short as the case is now, if a 
man would be free of such temptations, he must not only make a 
covenant with his eyes as Job did, but either pull 'em out, or 
walk hoodwinked in our streets: whereas if our citizens' wives 
were reduced to their plain head-dresses and green aprons as 
it used to be formerly, and busied themselves with the 
education of their children, and government of their maids, 
leaving the shops to their husbands, except where it cannot be 
otherwise, the court end of the town would not have such just 
occasion as now they have to excuse their own wantonness from 
the example of the city, nor would there be that emulation 
betwixt the gentry and the citizens; nor that contempt with 
which ladies of quality look upon city dames, when they see 
them outvie them in their habit, as now there is.

I return now to our worsted-man, concerning whom let any man 
judge whether it had not been more for his interest and credit 
(to say nothing of the sin of it) to have rejected the 400l. 
with disdain, than to have himself pointed at for a c---- and 
his wife for a w----, especially, when his own sordid avarice 
was the occasion of it.

Certainly if justice had its due course against him, he ought 
to be punished; and if the matter be thoroughly weighed, there 
will be found little or no reason to be given, why those 
horrid wittols should not be punished almost as severely as 
those who commit rapes. It's a known instance of ---- Lord 
Audley, who was executed for his beastly practices; and 
amongst others for holding his own Lady while one of his lewd 
companions ravished her: nor indeed can I perceive any reason 
why the woman's consent should excuse the husband's punishment 
in such a case; for 'tis certain that he who sells his wife's 
chastity, would do as the Lord Audley did, if there were money 
in the case, did not he run the hazard of a discovery by the 
injured woman, so that the only difference in the case is 
this, that the woman is more wicked, which certainly makes him 
nothing less so in the eye of God, whatever it may do in the 
eyes of man.

But having heard a whisper that this citizen never had any 
child by his wife, and that perhaps he was willing to have an 
heir to his means, and money withal towards bringing him up, 
it puts me in mind of a story of a certain country gentleman, 
who had a buxom wife, and a plentiful estate, conveyed to him 
by his ancestors, but no heirs to enjoy it; and knowing 
himself to be impotent, and being withal of such a degenerate 
spirit, that he would rather hatch the cuckoo's egg than want 
a bird, be sent his wife with a she-confidant to London to get 
him an heir, but the gentlewoman not having quite forfeited 
all modesty, could not tell how to expose herself (for it's to 
be supposed that whores did not then as they do now, that is 
ply almost as thick in the streets as boats do on the Thames, 
and with as much confidence as if it were not a crime) and 
therefore she returned again to her husband without having 
answered his desire; but so fond was the foolish and wicked 
man of having an heir that might bear his own name, and be 
thought the real offspring of his own body, that nothing would 
serve but his wife must to London again to be manned. The 
gentlewoman finding that nothing else would do, returns again 
to town, and contrived the accomplishment of her design in the 
following manner; she took a lodging by the riverside where 
ships used to lie, so that she could see the captains go and 
come from aboard at her window, and perceiving one of them 
that was a handsome brawny man, she pitched upon him as fit 
for her purpose, and sending her servant to enquire his name, 
and the name of the ship; as soon as she had learnt it, she 
changed her lodgings that she might not be known, and 
pretending to the people of the house that she was come from 
the country to meet her husband, who was captain of a ship, 
and newly arrived from a long voyage, she sends her maid to 
invite the abovementioned captain to come and speak with her; 
and having beforehand prepared a very good treat, with plenty 
of wine, after some premeditated chat, as if she had sent for 
him to buy a parcel of china ware that she heard he had to 
sell, &c. She invited him to stay and sup with her, which the 
captain readily agreed to; and having feasted plentifully, and 
her maid being withdrawn, the captain was soon informed of her 
true design, and easily persuaded to become her guest for that 
night; but knew nothing of her circumstances, imagining only 
that she was some wanton widow. The gentlewoman having 
informed the people of the house that she would be going early 
next morning, prepared all things accordingly, and took the 
opportunity to leave the captain in a sound sleep, and to put 
some broad pieces in his pocket, with a letter to this effect, 
that he might well be surprised at his entertainment, first 
and last; but assured him that he needed not fear any trick 
put upon him, either as to his health, reputation, or 
otherwise; and that if she happened to be brought to bed of a 
son, according to the time, he should have a bill for an 
hundred pound returned him to that very house soon after; and 
so marched off. The captain awaking and finding his gallant 
gone, suspected he was robbed, and had immediate recourse to 
his pockets, where finding the above-mentioned letter, and his 
present of gold, he was amazed at the adventure, and clearing 
the house according to the direction he had received in the 
postcript of his letter, returned to his ship. And coming 
again to that very house at the time appointed, he received 
his bill according to promise, with information that he had 
also a son born him; who was to be heir to a considerable 
estate, which heightened his surprise, and whetted his 
curiosity to enquire narrowly after the woman, whom at last he 
discovered by some words that her maid had dropt; and taking a 
journey on purpose into the country, saw her and his son, the 
former was in no small confusion at the visit, but carried it 
off as well as she could; and he pretending some other 
business, the secret was for some time concealed. But the 
gentlewoman having once broke over the bounds of modesty, and 
being from the time of her first transgression, restrained 
more by her credit than any aversion to the crime, she became 
an easy prey to a second temptation; and was so enamoured on 
her tarpaulin gallant, that the intrigue could be no longer 
concealed, but broke out to the disgrace of the family; and 
the poor wittol her husband, though he himself had been the 
occasion of it, yet could not bear to have his wife keep a 
gallant under his nose; and she on the other hand preferred 
him so far to her husband, that she run away with him, which 
broke the old man's heart in a little time: and the vile woman 
and her wicked gallant being pursued by the judgment of God, 
he was cast away by shipwreck not long after, and so she was 
reduced to a miserable condition, for her husband's friends 
found means to keep her out of her jointure; and her son when 
he came of age spent the estate profusely, and died without 
issue: so far was her husband from attaining his ends by that 
abominable method he took to keep up the memory of his name.

FINIS.



The London Bawd (1705)

The London-Bawd: with Her Character and Life.  
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15883 



Title Page


THE
London-Bawd:
WITH HER
CHARACTER
AND
LIFE:

Discovering the 
Various and Subtle 
Intrigues

OF

Lewd Women

---------------------------------------------- 
The Third Edition. 
---------------------------------------------- 
LONDON, 
Printed for John Gwillim near Sun Yard, 
in Bishopsgate-Steet, 
1705. Price 3s. 
----------------------------------------------



Chapter I. 
Her Character: Or what she is.

A BAWD

Is the refuse of an old whore, who having been burnt herself, 
does like charcoal help to set greener wood on fire; she is 
one of nature's errata, and a true daughter of Eve, who having 
first undone herself, tempts others to the same destruction. 
She has formerly been one of Sampson's foxes, and has carried 
so much fire in her tail, as has burnt all those that have had 
to do with her: but the mark being out of her mouth, and she 
grown past her own labour, yet being a well-wisher to the 
mathematics, she sets up for a procurer of fresh goods for her 
old customers. And so careful she is to help men to good ware, 
that she seldom puts a commodity into their hands, but what 
has been tried before; and having always proved well, thinks 
she can warrant 'em the better. She's a great preserver of 
maidenheads; for though she exposes 'em to every new-comer, 
she takes care that they shall never be lost: and though never 
so many get it, yet none carries it away, but she still has it 
ready for the next customers. She thinks no oracle like that 
of Friar Bacon's brazen head, and is very forward to tell you 
that time was when the best gentlemen would have preferred her 
before any lady in the land: but when she repeats times past, 
she makes a wicked brazen face, and even weeps in the cup, to 
allay the heat of her brandy. She's a great enemy to all 
enclosures, for whatever she has, she makes it common. She 
hates forty-one as much as an old cavalier, for at that age 
she was forced to leave off whoring and turn bawd: her teeth 
are all fallen out; at which her nose and her chin are so much 
concerned, that they intend to meet about it in a little time, 
and make up the difference. She's the most like a medlar of 
anything, for she's never ripe till she's rotten. She is never 
without store of hackney jades, which she will let anyone 
ride, that will pay for their hire. She is the very magazine 
of taciturnity; for whatever she sees, she says nothing; it 
being a standing maxim with her, that they that cannot make 
sport, should spoil none. She has learnt so much philosophy as 
to know that the moon is a dark body, which makes her like it 
much better than the sun, being more suitable for her 
business: besides she's still changing quarters, now waxing 
and then waning, like her: sometimes i'th' full, and flushed 
with store of customers; and at another time i'th' wane, and 
beating hemp in Bridewelll. She has been formerly a pretender 
to music, which makes her such a great practitioner in prick-
song, but she is most expert at a horn-pipe. She understands 
means a little, but trebles very well, and is herself a 
perfect base. Though she lives after the flesh, yet all is 
fish that comes to her net: for she is such a cunning angler, 
that she don't fear getting her living by hook or by crook. 
She has baits ready for all fish, and seldom fails to catch 
some: of a country-gentleman she makes a cod's head; and of a 
rich citizen's son a gudgeon; a swordsman in scarlet, she 
takes for lobster; and a severe justice of peace, she looks on 
as a crab: her poor customers, are like sprats, and pilchards, 
who are more considerable for their number than they are for 
their value; whilst the punk is her salt eel, and the pander 
her shark and her swordfish. Her charity is very great, for 
she entertains all comers, and not only finds 'em beds, but 
bed-fellows too, of that sex which shall be most agreeable to 
them; which is a conveniency a man may go to twenty honest 
houses and not meet with. She brings more wicked wretches to 
repentance than many a good preacher; for, let 'em be as 
stubborn as they will, yet she'll leave them such a twinging 
remembrance in their joints, that their very bones shall ache, 
but she'll make them repent that e'er they had to do with her. 
And to some notorious wretches, she'll fix such a visible mark 
in their faces, as shall make 'em the derision and the 
loathing of all people; and so bring 'em to repentance with a 
pox to 'em. Yet she has very little conscience, for she makes 
nothing of selling one commodity to twenty customers: and for 
all she cheats them at that rate, she don't fear losing their 
custom. She's often broke, and as often sets up again; which 
she does without any great charge; for three strong water-
bottles, two ounces of tobacco, and a couple of country 
wenches, is as much as will set her up at any time. Her breath 
stinks worse than a bear-garden, her furniture consists of a 
bed, a plaster-box and a looking glass: and a pimp to bring in 
customers. She sits continually at a rack rent, especially if 
her landlord bears office in the parish, because he may screen 
her from the cart and Bridewell. She hath only this one show 
of temperance, that let any gentleman send for ten pottles <1> 
of wine in her house, he shall have but ten quarts; and if he 
want it that way, let him pay for't and take it out in stewed 
flesh. She has an excellent art in transforming persons, and 
can easily turn a sempstress into a waiting-gentlewoman: but 
there is a kind of infection that attends it, for it brings 
them to the falling sickness. The justice's clerk is her very 
good friend, and often makes her peace with the justice of 
quorum; for which when he makes her a visit, she always helps 
him to a fresh bit, which she lets him have upon her word; and 
assures him she won't put a bad commodity into his hand. There 
is nothing daunts her so much as the approach of Shrove-
Tuesday; for she's more afraid of the mob, than a debtor of a 
serjeant, or a bailiff in an inns of court. He that hath 
passed under her hath passed the equinoctial; and he that 
escapes her, has escaped a rock which thousands have been 
split upon to their destruction.
Thus have I briefly represented my bawd unto the readers view 
in her own proper colours, and set her forth in a true light. 
I will therefore thus conclude her character:

A bawd is the chief instrument of evil, 
Tempter to sin, and factor for the devil 
Whose sly temptations has undone more souls 
Than there are stars between the world's two poles. 
She ruins families to advance her treasure, 
And reaps her profit out of others' pleasure: 
Pleasures attended with so black a stain, 
That they at last end in eternal pain. 
Her ways so various are, they're hard to tell, 
By which she does betray poor souls to hell. 
Smooth is her tongue, and subtle are her ways 
And by false pleasures to true pain betrays. 
The bane of virtue, and the bawd to vice, 
Pander to hell, is this she-cockatrice. 
She's like the devil, seeking every hour 
Whom she may first decoy, and then devour: 
Let every thinking mortal then beware, 
And, that he comes not near her house, take care: 
For she'll betray (her fury is so fell) 
Your body to the pox, your soul to hell.



Chapter II. 
Of pimps and panders, what they are: with a dialogue between a 
whore, a pimp, a pander, an old bawd, and a prodigal spend-
thrift about pre-eminence.

In the house of sin; I mean in a bawdy house, there are other 
instruments of wickedness besides bawds and whores: for though 
the bawd be the person that keeps the house, and manages all 
in chief, yet there are other necessary hangers-on belonging 
thereunto; and these are called pimps and panders, which are 
indeed a sort of he-bawds, and procurers of whores for other 
men; of which one who is called a pimp, is chiefly employed 
abroad, both to bring in customers, and to procure such 
wenches as are willing to be made whores of: and these are a 
sort of persons so far degenerated below humanity that they 
will sometimes procure their own wives to be whore for other 
men. As an instance whereof, not long since two men went into 
a house, to drink, not thinking it to be a bawdy-house; but as 
soon as the beer was brought in, there came in a female 
creature to 'em, who quickly let 'em understand what she was, 
and also in what sort of house they were got. One of them took 
her by the hand, and began to grow very familiar with her; and 
found he might have any kindness from her which he had a mind 
to, for asking; but the other seeing him engross the wench to 
himself, began to storm, and knock, and call, at a strange 
rate; upon which the man of the house came up presently, and 
desired to know what was the matter? Why you impudent rascal, 
says he, have you but one whore in the house, that you make me 
thus stand empty-handed, like a jack-a-napes, while my 
companion's trading with the other? The pimp seeing the man in 
such a passion, good sir, says he be pacified, and I'll go 
down and sent up my own wife to wait upon ye: which he did 
accordingly. Those that are called panders, are in a strict 
sense such as keep always within doors, and have the 
management of matters in the house. These are they that bring 
the rogues, and whores together, and wait upon them whilst 
they are acting of their filthiness.

These brethren in iniquity with the rest of the bawdy-house 
crew, were in a hot dispute about priority, every one striving 
to be chief: and what their several arguments were, I shall 
next give you an account of; and afterwards show you more of 
their pranks. The first that stood upon her pantables<2>, as 
being chief, was the whore, and thus it was she managed her 
cause.

Whore. "That I ought to take place of the rest, is what none 
can without impudence and great injustice deny me: for 'tis I 
that bring in all your livings, 'tis I that venture my 
carcase, nay, that venture my soul too; and all to get an 
honest livelihood. Yes Mr Pimp, for all your sneering, I say 
an honest livelihood; for I cheat nobody, but pay for what I 
have, and make use of nothing but what's my own, and that 
nobody can hinder me from. And I think 'tis better for me, and 
less hazardous, to get my living by my tail, than to turn 
thief and steal from other folks. Besides, I'll suffer nobody 
to have to do with me, but what I like; nor lie with any but 
whom I love; I make no price with any man; but take what they 
freely give; and therefore I can't properly be said to be a 
whore, for whores are they that trade for hire and make 
bargains before-hand, which I never do. And therefore seeing I 
maintain you all, you ought to acknowledge me to be the chief, 
and give me the pre-eminence; for you all live by the blood 
that runs in my veins; for did not my beauty invite men, and 
my embraces please 'em, you couldn't all of you get water to 
wash your hands, but would be as poor as so many church mice."

To this the pimp thus replied.

Pimp. "Your run too fast, Mrs Minx, and are a little too 
confident: for though 'tis my place to attend, yet 'tis I that 
give a credit and reputation to all you do; I walk along the 
streets so boldly, and so spruce, and so all-to-be-scented 
with sweet powder, cocking my beaver and looking big, that I 
make the greatest gallant I meet give me the wall, as if I 
were a person of quality; and when any comes hither they are 
won by my complemental and genteel discourse; my comely 
presence brings in many a guest into the house, besides 
particular acquaintance: so that I may well affirm I am the 
prop of the house. If I didn't introduce gentleman into your 
company, I wonder what you'd do; you might e'en sit still, and 
be forced to make use of a dildo, before anybody would come to 
you if it wasn't for me."

This speech of the pimp, stirred up the fury of the pander, 
who with a great deal of heat made him this answer.

Pander. "Thou prating cockscomb of a pimp! Dost think that I'm 
an underling to thee! No, I'd have you to know I'm above thee: 
we'll quickly try which is the most useful. An't I intrusted 
with all the gentlemen's secrets; don't I keep the door? Nay, 
been't I the overseer of all? Sure then I must be the better 
man. Besides, I suit the wenches with such gallants as are of 
their own complexions, and are the best liking to 'em; and in 
all difficult cases which happen, they still ask my advice, 
for giving which, I often get a double fee. And if I stay at 
home, 'tis only to make an ass of thee whilst thou'rt abroad; 
for where thou get'st one shilling abroad, I get five at home. 
If I should go away, I am sure the custom would quickly drop 
off; for I am the person most respected by the customers, and 
therefore I think I have the best title of you all to pre-
eminence."

Old Mother Damnable the bawd having stood by all this while, 
and heard all their allegations, at last broke forth into a 
very great laughter; and after having given vent to her 
risible faculty, made 'em this answer.

Bawd. "I can't choose but laugh to hear the fools prate about 
pre-eminence: they would all fain be masters, and yet they 
know they are but all my servants; they make their boast, of 
this and that, and talk of their great gains: and forget that 
I rule the roast, and that both their gains and their very 
being here, depends upon my pleasure: pray gentlemen, whose 
house is this? I hope you look upon the house to be mine, and 
I am sure I bought the furniture. And yet you talk as if I had 
nothing to do here; whereas you might all have gone a-begging 
before now, if I had not took you into my service. And you, 
Mrs Minx because you're a little handsome, you begin to grow 
proud and don't consider that if I hadn't preferred you to the 
station you are in, you must have been a scullion-wench, or 
gone to washing and scouring: wasn't it I that bought you 
those fine clothes, put you into the equipage you are in? Alas 
you were but a mere novice in sinning till I put you into the 
way, and taught you. You have forgot how bashful you were at 
first, and how much ado I had to bring you to let a gentleman 
take you by the tu quoque. And now I have brought you to 
something, that you can get your own living, you begin to 
slight me.--and you Mr Pimp, wasn't you a pitiful rogue, till 
I took you into my service? Pray who would have regarded you 
in those rags I found you in? And now I have put you into a 
good garb, and made a man of you, you would fain be my master, 
I warrant ye! But I'll take care to hinder that; and if you 
don't know yourself, I do. Nay, there's your brother pander 
too, is e'en as bad, and can't tell when he's well; because I 
allow him the vails<3> belonging to his place, he fancies 
himself a master too, and would have all be ruled by his 
advice: but I shall make you know there's two words to that 
bargain. I think I should know what belongs so such a house 
better than any of you all. I was brought up to't when I was 
young: and spent my young days in love myself; but being 
disabled by age and weakness, I had that affection for the 
trade, that I entertained others to carry it on; bringing 'em 
up to my hand with much care; and therefore surely I must 
needs have more experience in it than another: and if you 
won't acknowledge me to be the chief, and mistress of you all, 
I'll make you."

The old bawd having made an end, and put to silence all the 
other boasts, there was a young prodigal spark that had wasted 
a fair estate in being a customer to her house, thought he had 
now a fit opportunity to put her in mind of his own merits, 
and therefore thus began.

Prodigal. "I perceive you are all very ambitious of having the 
pre-eminence; but to be plain with you, there's nobody 
deserves it but myself: for talk what you will, it is but 
prating to no purpose. You know the old proverb, Talk is but 
talk, but 'tis money buys land; and I am sure 'twas only for 
money to supply you withal, that I have sold mine. And 
therefore when you have all said what you can, what would you 
all do, if I didn't help you to money? If I and such as I 
forsake your house, you may go hang yourselves. 'Tis I that 
satisfies the whore, and pay the fees of both the pimp and 
pander. And for you, Mrs Bawd, whate'er your layings out are, 
your comings in are chiefly from my hands; for you have 
neither house nor lands to secure you; but 'tis upon my purse, 
that you depend; and I am he that keeps you all alive. And 
since I am at all this cost, it is just that it should be 
acknowledged, and that you all should own me for your master. 
Your own interest speaks for me, and therefore I need say the 
less."

The prodigal having made an end, they all agreed that it was 
best for them to hang together, since their interest was all 
the same: and therefore each of them should keep their several 
stations; and acknowledge the bawd for their mistress, and the 
young spendthrift for their benefactor.



Chapter III. 
How a young woman, by the help of an old bawd, enjoyed her 
lover and deceived her husband.

Having already given you the character of a bawd, and shown 
you her plea for pre-eminence in the art of wickedness, I now 
come to show you by what famous achievements she comes to 
deserve it. And when you have seen her cunning in contriving, 
and her patience in suffering; you must readily acknowledge 
she is one that spares no pains to be superlatively wicked.

In the West of England there lived not long since an ancient 
gentleman to whom providence had been very propitious, in 
blessing him with a fair estate, so that he wanted for no 
outward accommodations that might make his life as happy as he 
could desire: this gentleman, being an old bachelor, had more 
wealth than wisdom, and desire to act, than ability to 
perform. For nothing would serve his turn but a wife; and she 
must be a young one too; for though he was an old man yet he 
had young inclinations, and fancied himself as brisk at three-
score and ten, as when he was but thirty: you may easily 
imagine a man of his estate could not be long without several 
offers when his mind was known: for wealth has so many charms 
in it, that it often blinds the eyes of parents, and makes 
them mistake their true interest, with respect to the disposal 
of their children; which consists not so much in being married 
to rich husbands, as to those that are suitable for them. The 
beautiful young daughter of a decayed gentleman was offered to 
this old lecher, who being sensible that he could not expect a 
handsome young wife with a great fortune, readily accepts of 
this, who wanted no accomplishments to render her a bride 
worthy of a better husband, or at least one more suitable: the 
young gentlewoman, was not half so fond of the match as her 
parents, who persuaded her to it; and as an encouragement told 
her that her old husband could not live long and when he died, 
she would have the advantage of a good estate to get her a 
better husband; and though she had but few suitors now, for 
want of a portion answerable to her birth and beauty, yet when 
the case was so altered, she could not be long without very 
advantageous offers: these reasons prevailed with the young 
gentlewoman to accept of the old cuff for a husband; and they 
were married accordingly.

But as I have already said, the old gentleman had more desire 
than ability; and the young lady was fain to accept of his 
good wishes instead of that due benevolence which she had 
reason to expect from a husband; the want of which made her 
too soon repent of what she found was now too late to help.

There unhappily happened to be not far from their house an old 
bawd that had been used to lend her charitable assistance to 
distressed ladies in such cases; who having observed the late 
languishing of the young lady, rightly judged it proceeded 
from the disappointment she met with from her old husband; 
this emboldened the old bawd to take a convenient time to make 
her a visit; and by such subtle discourses as she used she 
soon found out the true cause of the young gentlewoman's 
discontent; upon which the bawd discourses her in this manner:

"Madam, 
	"I hope you will excuse the boldness I take to speak 
to you, which nothing could have extorted from me, but 
the compassion I have for you, to see so much blooming 
youth and beauty cast away upon one that knows not how to 
make use of it; I am sensible that one of your years and 
gaiety, can't meet with a greater affliction than to be 
thus under a notion of being married, deprived of the 
true ends of marriage: 'tis like being married without a 
husband, to be married to such a husband as can do 
nothing. You know madam, we are commanded to increase and 
multiply: but let the soil be fruitful as it will, 
there's no increase can be expected where no seed is 
sown. This, madam, makes me bold to tell you, that you 
are wanting to yourself, and to the end of your creation, 
if you don't find out ways to supply that defect and 
disability, which through extremity of age your husband 
labours under. I am acquainted with a gentleman, brisk, 
young and airy, one that's in the flower of his youth; 
that I am surely would gladly sacrifice himself and all 
he has to serve a lady in your circumstances; and I have 
that compassion for your suffering that I would gladly 
lend my helping hand to bring so good a work as that 
about, that you might reap that satisfaction which your 
youth and beauty calls for, and which your husband is too 
impotent to give you."

The bawd having made an end of her harangue, the gentlewoman 
told her she was much obliged to her for that sense she had of 
her condition, which she acknowledged to be what she 
represented it: but told her she durst not make use of the 
remedy she had propounded, first, because it was sinful, and 
secondly because it was very hazardous; for her husband being 
sensible of his own imbecility, was so extremely jealous, 
though she had never given him any cause, it would render all 
attempts of that nature very difficult to manage; and it would 
be much better to desist from attempting it, than to miscarry 
in the attempts.

The cunning bawd observing that though the young gentlewoman 
had mentioned the sinfulness of what she had propounded to 
her, yet she did not so much insist upon that, as on the 
hazard and difficulty of attempting it; which gave her so much 
encouragement of succeeding, that she told her, as to the 
sinfulness of it, considering her circumstances, she could not 
think it was any; for if she could have had the due 
benevolence from her husband which he ought to give her, she 
would not have sought it elsewhere: and therefore if it was at 
all a sin, it was a venial one, which might be easily 
forgiven: but as to the last, that it is hazardous and 
difficult because of your husband's jealousy, this is indeed 
chiefly to be considered; for old men that can do nothing 
themselves, are the most jealous lest others should supply 
their places: and yet notwithstanding all his jealousy, leave 
but the management of that affair to me, and though, he had 
the eyes of Argus, we'll deceive him.

The young woman was soon persuaded to what she had before a 
mind to. And therefore gives up herself entirely to the 
conduct of this old bawd: who told her she would acquaint the 
gentleman that had so great a passion for her; that he was not 
unacceptable to her, and order him to pass by the door, to and 
fro, several times the next day, that so she might see him out 
of her chamber-window, after which interview, they would 
concert the measures that were to be taken, in order to their 
coming together. This being agreed upon, the old bawd took her 
leave of the young lady for that time; and goes to a spark 
with whom she was in fee, and told him what a prize she had 
procured for him, and ordered him to equip himself to the best 
advantage, and walk to and fro before the window at such a 
time, when he should see her.

The gallant was presently fired at the news; and resolved to 
omit nothing that might contribute to the ladies satisfaction 
on his part: and therefore finifies<4> himself to such a 
degree, that no beau in town could exceed him, and walked upon 
the parade according to the time appointed: the lady on her 
part observing the time as exactly, in being at the window; 
and all those amorous salutations passed between them, which 
the distance of the place would admit; both of them wishing 
with equal desire, for an opportunity to quench their mutual 
flames.

But this interview was not so privately carried on, but it was 
perceived by the old gentleman, whose restless jealousy kept 
him perpetually waking: he saw from the chamber window where 
he was, the frequent perambulation of the amorous gallant, and 
how he cast an eye, as he passed by at his lady's window: this 
made the old gentleman to apprehend there must be something 
more than ordinary in those reiterated walks of the young 
gallant; which gave the old impotent so sensible a disquiet, 
that he resolved to know the bottom of it. And without taking 
the least notice of what he had perceived, he seemed more fond 
and good humoured than ordinary towards his lady; who on the 
contrary being now full of hopes she should enjoy another that 
would meet her flames with equal vigour, carried herself 
towards him with such a strange indifference as did but more 
confirm her husband in his jealousy: who the next day informed 
his lady that the day following he must go out of town about 
some business he had in the country, which would necessitate 
his absence from her for some time; but told her that she must 
not take it ill, for he would hasten his return with all the 
expedition that his business would permit him.

He could not have said anything to his wife that would have 
pleased her better, and 'twas with some uneasiness that she 
concealed her joy from being taken notice of: however, that 
she might the better hide it, she told him she should think 
each day a year till his return, and then she kissed him with 
so much seeming passion, that she was like to have spoiled 
all, and had almost persuaded the old gentleman to lay aside 
the thoughts of his pretended journey.

The young lady took care to acquaint the bawd with these good 
tidings, who was very well pleased therewith: and promised to 
give notice to her inamorato, who was equally pleased with the 
expectation he had of his near-approaching felicity. And thus 
far things went according to their hearts' desire.

The day being come of the old gentleman's departure, he got up 
very early in the morning and with all the (seemingly) most 
endeared caresses on both sides, he took leave of his lady. 
And having rid a mile or two out of town, to a friend and 
confidant of his, he there left his horses and servants, and 
in the evening returned privately to his own house.

The old bawd having had word sent her by the lady that her 
husband was gone out of town, acquaints the gallant therewith 
and orders him in the evening to be ready by such a time, and 
that he should walk to and fro, before the door, till such a 
time as he should be called in: which he promised faithfully 
to do, and was at his post accordingly.

The lady had made all things ready for the entertaining her 
gallant; a splendid banquet being provided for him before he 
went to his amorous engagement; and being just ready to call 
him in, her husband (who had been concealed near the house for 
some time, and seen the suspected gallant walk to and fro in 
the street,) suddenly enters the house, and finding such a 
banquet ready prepared, no longer doubted but it was to 
entertain him; and therefore hastily calls for his wife, and 
asks her the meaning of those preparations, and who that 
banquet was designed for? The young lady, surprised and 
confounded at her husband's unexpected return, was at a loss 
what to answer him; but plucking up her spirits as well as she 
could, told him that she was resolved to surprise him, as well 
as he was to surprise her; for being informed that he had 
changed his mind, and was returning home, thinking to surprise 
her, she intended by that banquet to surprise him at his 
return. This answer of hers, as plausible as it seemed, he was 
sure was altogether false; and therefore taking her by the 
shoulder, he with a stern and angry countenance said, "No, 
thou disloyal strumpet: it is not such a poor excuse as this 
shall serve thy turn; I am not to be deceived; I saw that 
lustful lecher walking at the door for whom this banquet was 
prepared; and had I but been armed, I would have given him 
another sort of entertainment than that which you designed 
him; but since your lust's so hot, I'll see if I can't cure 
it;" and with that he dragged her out of doors, and stripped 
her naked, and so led her into a pond he had within his yard; 
and there he tied her fast unto a post which was placed in the 
midst of it; telling her that by tomorrow morning he hoped she 
would be something cooler; whilst she in vain protests her 
innocency, and entreats him to release her. And having left 
her in this cold condition, locks up his servants in their 
chambers, and taking all the keys into his own possession, he 
repairs to bed.

Her spark in the meantime, weary with so long walking before 
the door, and wondering that he wasn't admitted, repairs to 
the old bawd to know the reason of it; she was as much 
concerned at it as he; but having had a key from the young 
lady, by which she might at any time come in at the back-door, 
desired him to stay there, whilst she went to the house to see 
what was the matter: and having opened the back gate which led 
into the court where the pond was, she straight saw the lady 
in the pond, in the same station as her husband left her; and 
coming towards her, with a low voice, enquired into the cause 
of her calamity.

"O," (said the lady to her) "you have ruined me for ever, your 
cursed counsel has undone me; your eyes are witnesses to what 
disgrace and misery it has already exposed me; and what the 
end will be, I know not." "Why," said the bawd, "you have not 
seen your gallant, without you had some other than he which I 
designed to help you to." "No, no," replied the lady, "I had 
prepared for his reception; and just as I was ready to have 
called him in, my husband came, and unexpectedly surprised me. 
And seeing the banquet I had made, grew into such a rage, that 
he has dealt with me thus barbarously." "Well, said the bawd, 
if this be all, take courage; you shall be even with him 
still, and if you'll but be ruled by me, the jealous dotard 
shall be made a cuckold before tomorrow morning: your spark is 
at my house waiting for my return. I'll take your place, and 
you shall put my clothes on, and go meet him there, and take 
your fill of love's enjoyments, and then return again to me."

The young lady, who was extremely troubled at her late 
disappointment, and her husband's cruel usage, and perceiving 
that these things was feasible, she took the offered counsel; 
and the old bawd having soon stripped herself, and released 
the young lady, took her place in the pond, whilst she went 
forth to the bawd's apartment, and there met with her gallant, 
who at first by her garb took her for the bawd, but was well 
pleased to find himself mistaken: and being told how matters 
stood, they made use of their time; and esteemed themselves 
much beholden to the bawd, by whose contrivance they thus come 
together; whilst she did greater penance, and underwent more 
pain to procure their pleasure, than they were then aware of: 
for the old gentleman not being satisfied in that revenge he 
had taken on his wife, for her making him a cuckold; resolved 
to punish her farther, and so rises out of his bed, and goes 
down to the side of the pond; and there calls her a thousand 
whores and strumpets; "Did not I," (says he) "take you in a 
manner without a smock to your arse, and desired no portion 
with you, on purpose that you might be a dutiful and kind 
wife, and maintained you as well as any lady in the land? And 
is this the requital that you make me, you impudent strumpet? 
Tell me, who was it that advised you to this wickedness?" The 
old bawd to whom all this was spoken (though he thought it had 
been to his wife) durst not reply one word; and resolved, 
whatever he said, she would not answer him; which so much 
enraged him, that he said, "What! Am I not worth an answer 
then? I'll make you an example to all whores that abuse their 
husbands;" and then pulling his knife out of pocket, he comes 
to her, and cuts off her nose, and flings it in her face; 
"Now, strumpet," says he, "take that for your whoring, and 
present it to your gallant:" and having said that, he left 
her, and went up to his bed, leaving the old bawd in a 
miserable condition. But it was not long after, that the lady 
having satiated herself with her gallant, & taken her leave of 
him, returned to the pond, to relieve the poor bawd, who told 
her what had happened since her departure: at which the lady 
was more disturbed than even the bawd herself; and was once 
thinking of running quite away from her bloody husband: but 
the bawd being a cunning old jade, documents her thus: "'tis 
true," says she, "it has fallen out very unhappily for me; but 
since that is now too late to help, I must make me amends: but 
nothing could have fallen out more happily for you, if you 
will follow my direction; which is, that as soon as I am gone, 
you complain in a loud voice of the cruelty of your husband in 
abusing and wronging his chaste and innocent wife, in so 
shameful a manner, as the cutting of your nose, & defacing 
your beauty: and then pray to all the blessed saints above 
that are protectors of chastity, that they would miraculously 
restore your nose and beauty again; and soon after, break out 
into thanksgivings for having your nose restored; and this 
will pass for a miracle, and so vindicate your innocency that 
you will never more be suspected. And I hope you will make me 
amends for what I have suffered for you." This the young lady 
faithfully promised; and so the bawd went home to provide for 
her own cure, leaving the lady fast tied as she was at first 
by her husband.

The bawd was no sooner gone, and the coast clear, but the 
lady, fetching a great sigh, breaks forth into this doleful 
lamentation, "O unhappy woman! Unhappy above all women! 
Unhappy in having without cause lost the love of a husband in 
whom I had placed all my happiness! Unhappy in having my 
reputation taken away by him, and unhappy in being used more 
barbarously and ignominiously by him, than if I were a common 
whore! To have my nose thus cut off, and my beauty defaced, 
and all this without cause; what can be more barbarously cruel 
in him, or render me more miserable! But O ye heavenly powers, 
(added she in a higher tone, that her husband might hear her, 
which he also did) if such powers there be, that are the 
protectors of chastity, and vindicators of innocence, look 
down on me, whose innocence you know, and hear my prayers; if 
I have deviated from the strictest rules of virtue and of 
honour, and violated in the least the marriage bond that I 
have entered into; let all your direful vengeance fall upon 
me. But if I have kept my chastity inviolate, and never 
wronged my husband's bed so much as in a thought, let my 
disfigured face be healed again, and my lost beauty and 
dismembered nose, which has been taken from me so unjustly, be 
both restored again, as a convincing testimony of my 
innocency."

Having ended her prayer, she stood silent for about half a 
quarter of an hour; and then, as though her nose had been 
miraculously reunited to her face again, she with a loud voice 
broke forth into these expressions: "O ye immortal powers that 
knew my spotless and immaculate (though suffering) chastity, 
and have so eminently now rewarded it, accept my hearty and my 
humble thanks: for by this miracle that you have wrought for 
me, my husband surely will believe my innocency; and I am glad 
I shall be able at the expense of so much blood, and so much 
pain and misery, to let him know how much he has wronged me, 
and how much I love him: yes, O ye powers above, that have so 
wonderfully cleared my innocency, I do appeal to you how much 
I love him, notwithstanding all his cruelty; for which, O ye 
immortal powers, I humbly invocate your gracious pardon, 
because he did it through an excess of rage, to one whom he 
imagined had been false." And then raising her voice much 
higher, she called out to her husband, saying. "Come down, my 
dearest love, and see and be convinced how much you've wronged 
your chaste and loyal wife."

The old gentleman, that lay awake in his bed and had heard all 
this, knew not what to think of it: he was sure he had cut off 
her nose, and flung it at her face, but had not faith enough 
to think it was set on again; and therefore thought it was 
some trick to be released: however, since she called to him to 
see and be convinced, he was resolved to know the truth of it, 
and therefore rising up, and lighting of a candle, he came 
downstairs and went straight to his wife, and looking on her 
very earnestly, he sees her face was whole and sound; at which 
he was so much confounded and amazed, that he began to fear 
lest heaven, that had showed such a miracle in healing her, 
should pour its vengeance down upon his head, for his detested 
rashness and his barbarous cruelty; and therefore sets her 
loose immediately, and presently conveying her to bed, "O thou 
that art all goodness and all innocence," (said the 
transported cuckold) "canst thou forgive one that has wronged 
thee at that rate that I have done?" "Yes, my dear husband," 
(answered the cunning whore) "since heaven has heard my prayer 
and cleared my innocence, I forgive all the world, but thee 
especially." And thereupon her husband made a solemn 
protestation, that he would never more be jealous of his wife, 
let her do what she would.

Thus you see how by the cunning contrivance of an old bawd, a 
young lady was made a whore, and an old dotard a young 
cuckold. And also how she can manage all events to the 
carrying on of her pernicious design; answering the character 
the wise man gives of her, her ways are moveable that thou 
canst not know 'em.<5>



Chapter IV. 
How a married man, drawn in by a bawd, kept a whore, to the 
ruin of himself and family.

We have seen in the last chapter how our bawd drew in a young 
married woman to deceive her husband, and wrong the marriage-
bed: and in this chapter you shall see how she draws in a 
married man to follow whoring, to the ruin of himself, a 
virtuous wife, and all his family: for if she can but rise, 
she cares not who she ruins.--but to the story.

An impudent whore, of our bawd's own bringing up, that by 
removing to several quarters, had made a shift to escape 
Bridewell, which she merited as much as any that ever came 
thither, had through the bawd's assistance, drawn in one 
foolish fellow, by her rich robes, fair face, and fine words, 
to maintain her like a lady; though she was but the daughter 
of a sorry informer: pride and pleasure were the two idols she 
adored; and to enjoy them, she cared not how she exposed her 
poor cully; who was obliged to be liberal to the bawd for 
procuration, as well as to the whore for fornication: till at 
last her pride and pleasure had brought him to pain and 
poverty. Neglecting of his business, and maintaining of his 
miss, had made him run in debt, and he began to be so haunted 
by bailiffs and sergeants, that he was forced to fly into the 
Low Countries to secure himself; choosing rather to trust to 
his heels than his hands. His wench was glad she was so rid of 
him; for being become poor, and not able to supply her with 
money, she was grown quite a-weary of him; but not of her way 
of living; for as soon as he was gone, she repairs again to 
the old bawd; and acquainted her how matters stood with her. 
She has made the most of one, and now she must have another: 
"Well," says the bawd, "do but carry yourself, reserved and 
maidenly, and I have a spark that has a good estate, and will 
be able to spend high upon you; but he must have a maid, and 
that I have taught you well enough how to counterfeit." "Is he 
a married man or single, says the trull?" "A married man," 
replies the bawd, "but that's nothing as long as he has money: 
it were better indeed, that he were single, for then I could 
draw him in to marry you; and he might make a good cover; but 
don't fear but we'll do well enough as 'tis. Only be sure you 
carry it shy at first, and that's the way to draw him in, and 
make him the more eager." "Let me alone for that," says the 
whore; "do you but bring us together, and then leave it to me 
to make him bite: I warrant you I'll manage him, or else say I 
am the veriest whore in all the town."--which she might have 
safely ventured to do, without being guilty of lying.

The plot being thus laid, Mother Damnable goes out upon the 
scent, and finds the whore-hunter she wanted; and then tells 
him, that she had been at great charge and expense to find out 
a lass fit for his purpose, "But," says she, "'tis such a one, 
that for beauty, birth and breeding, is hardly to be matched 
in London: she is indeed somewhat coy, but I will help to 
court her for you: I protest I could have had ten guineas of 
Sir R---- P---- if I would have helped him to her: but I hate 
to be worse than my word; I promised you before, that when I 
could light on one fit for your turn, I would help you to 
her." Mr Graceless, overjoyed at this news, and to show 
himself grateful to the old bawd, presents her with a guinea, 
before he saw his Miss; who being hereby encouraged, soon 
brings them together; and at first sight he's mightily taken 
with her. But she seems very coy, and would hardly let him 
salute her; upon which the bawd tells her, he's a very worthy 
gentleman, and one that deserves her love. "What love can I 
expect" (replies the cunning jade) "from one that has a wife 
already? As soon as he has got what he desires, and taken from 
me, what's now my only boast, my maidenhead, my honour and his 
love will both be lost together: and then I shall have nothing 
left me but too late repentance." This so effectually wrought 
upon him, that he made all the protestations in the world, 
nothing should ever part 'em, if she'd but condescend to 
accept of him for a gallant: for though he had a wife, 'twas 
one he could not love, and didn't care for her; whereas he saw 
those charms in her, that would constrain him to be always 
constant. And that if she would promise to be as true to him 
as she should always find him true to her, it would be all the 
happiness he'd ask. And now, to make the bargain firm, the 
bawd engages for both parties, that they shall each be true to 
one another. And then after a costly and expensive match they 
went to bed together; where she (instructed by the bawd) 
carried herself so cunningly that her besotted lover thought 
her as good a maid as when she was but just come to her teens. 
And that they might the better keep company without discovery, 
she must pass under the notion of his sister, and he of her 
brother.

And now she wheedles him with so much pretended love, that she 
can have what she will of him: and finding he was flush of 
money and had a good estate, she won't be satisfied without 
her country-house, which was provided for her accordingly, 
facing the riverside at Hamersmith; and adorned with rich 
furniture. And when her paramour could not come to her, by 
reason of business, she then sent to the bawd, who provided 
her a stallion to supply his place, which she paid for doing 
her drudgery, with his money. And yet when he came to see her, 
she would wipe her mouth as if nothing had been the matter, 
and cry, "Why does my sweeting stay so long away? You don't 
care for me now! I sigh night after night, and day after day, 
for want of your company, but you've a wife that you love 
better than you do me; and indeed I told you so at first, and 
then you told me you'd love me best, and I was so simple as to 
believe you: but if you had loved me best, you wouldn't have 
stayed away from me so long, that you wouldn't; I am sure if I 
could have come to you, I wouldn't have stayed from you so 
long." And then she falls a-weeping; which so much moves the 
amorous cockscomb, that he falls a-kissing her, and giving her 
all the good words that can be; cursing his wife, and calling 
her all to nought; and telling his Miss that he loves none but 
her. Having thus brought him to her bow, she kisses him again, 
and then says, "Well, honey, if you do love me indeed, I'll be 
friends with you, but let me see what you have brought me?" 
Then if he have brought her store of yellow boys<6>, she's 
very well pleased with him; but if his money happen to be 
short, then she'll be out of humour; "'Tis a sign how you love 
me, indeed, to stay away so long and then bring me nothing! 
Here's all the ladies round about can have new things, but I; 
and you don't care how I go!" Then to put her in a good 
humour, he promises her a new satin gown; but this won't serve 
her turn neither, she wants jewels and diamond rings to answer 
her other apparel: and to procure these, he's fain to run on 
the score both with the mercer and goldsmith. By this means in 
a little time his estate comes to be wasted, and his friends 
come about him, and advise him to leave off these wicked 
courses, which else will end in the ruin both of soul and 
body: they tell him that he has a fair and virtuous wife of 
his own, by whom he has had several pretty children, and 
therefore wonder how he can be so besotted with a filthy 
whore. But when all this prevailed not, his wife seeing a 
wicked strumpet without cause preferred before her, taking a 
fit opportunity, acquainted her husband with her grief, and 
his own dangerous estate, in this manner:

"My dear husband! Had I ever given you any just occasion to 
withdraw your affections from me, you might have had a fairer 
plea before men, for doing what you do; though even that would 
have been no excuse at the tribunal of God, whom you 
principally offend by your present wicked life. But your own 
conscience will tell you, if you dare ask it the question, 
that it has been the business of my whole life, since I have 
been married to you, to carry myself towards you as a loving 
and a virtuous wife ought to do to her husband; and have done 
all that lay in my power to contribute to your satisfaction. I 
have never made your house uneasy to you, by any unbecoming 
words or carriage; nor what occasion so ever you have given 
me, have I been either clamorous, or a brawler. 'Tis true my 
heart is almost broke with grief; and who can blame me? When I 
see your affection so estranged from me, your estate wasted, 
and myself and children ready to go a-begging, whilst an 
impudent quean is at your cost maintained in her silks and 
satins; and which is worse than all the rest, your own soul, 
in danger of eternal ruin. And if this affects you not, 
remember your own reputation in the world: you have lived in 
credit and repute among your neighbours: and will you 
sacrifice that, and entail shame and dishonour upon yourself 
and family, for gratifying the lusts of a filthy and 
lascivious strumpet? If you go on in this course, you must 
mortgage your lands to pay your debts; and what a shame will 
that be? Your father left you an estate, but you are like to 
leave an heir that will have nothing to inherit; and so will 
be an heir only in name. Think, O my husband, what a 
reflection it will be upon you, when men shall say, your 
father left you an estate to live upon, but you have spent it 
upon whores, and left your children beggars. This was your 
father's house, but you have sold it to maintain your Miss. 
Consider the reproach that this will bring upon your children: 
you brought 'em up like gentlemen, and then betrayed 'em to 
want and beggary. Have you forgot the vow you made when we 
were married? You promised then to take none but myself: yet 
now you let a harlot take away your love from me, that am your 
faithful and your loving wife; and might have been by you 
esteemed so still, if this lewd woman had not made strife 
between us: you promised at your marriage that none but death 
should separate us. And as myself has never broke that 
promise, so you have never had from me any occasion given you 
to do it: and I am ready still to embrace you in my arms, with 
all the tenderest affections of a loving wife. O let me beg of 
you, that you would hearken to my sorrowful complaint, pity my 
tears, and suffer not your family to perish, but bear a 
father's heart towards these, that are the children of your 
body. Or if you'll pity neither me nor your poor children, 
pity yourself: for you will suffer most in the conclusion: you 
cannot think that you please God in living as you do: can you 
take comfort (think you) in remembering that you have ruined 
both yourself and family, by keeping of a whore, when you 
shall lie upon your dying bed, and your poor soul is just 
taking of its flight into eternity? How will that sentence 
terrify your conscience, Whoremongers and adulterers God will 
judge?<7> Then you will wish (but wishing then, my dear, will 
be in vain) that you had never given ear to that enchanting 
siren, that for a few false joys and momentary pleasures, 
betrayed your soul to everlasting misery. But if you will be 
deaf to my complaints, and not regard the ruin of your 
children, nor pity your own soul: though I am sure my grief 
will bring me to my grave. I shall be satisfied in this, that 
I have done whatever lay within my power to save you from the 
ruin and destruction to which I see you hastening." And when 
she had said this, she seconded her words with tears, and fell 
a weeping till she could weep no more.

Yet all this would not mollify her unrelenting husband, nor 
work any change upon him; for he regarded neither what she 
said, nor the sorrowful moans and complaints of her almost 
famished infants: for all she gets for her affectionate 
counsel and advice, is to be sometimes railed at, and at other 
times jeered and flouted.

Soon after he goes to his drab again, and to her he repeats 
what his wife had said to him: which so far had raised her 
choler, that she gives it vent in such language as this:

"What has she fed upon nothing but crabs of late, that she is 
grown so sour! She now begins to prate it seems! 'Tis time to 
bring her down: a stinking dirty slut, to rail at me! And you 
to stand by, like a fool, and let her! I am afraid she's too 
full fed; that makes her be so malapert; but had but I the 
ordering of her, I vow to God I'd quickly make her pinch 
for't. She should be glad to get a piece of bread: and that 
itself's too good for her, I wonder how she had the impudence 
to prate to you: but she knows well enough she has a tender-
hearted fool to deal withal; she must advise ye! Marry gap 
indeed! Tis more than time she did! I see she wants to be the 
head! Or else she'd never tutor you about your heir! 'Tis very 
fine advice methinks she gives you! She'd have you want 
yourself to hoard for him! But sure you will be more wise. 
E'en put him to a trade; and let him work. He is big enough, 
and then pack out the rest. I'd make the jade fret in her 
grease for something: pray how comes she to know what passes 
between you and I? She has money enough it seems to hire her 
private spies to find our meeting out: she serves you right 
enough: well, be a fool, and let her rail on still; and show 
thy self a poor kind-hearted ass! I'll warrant ye, you fell 
upon your knees, and begged her pardon, because you kept my 
company; and promised that you'd never do so no more! This 
'tis to have to do with one that has a wife! I told you first 
of all what I should find: an ugly jade, to call me filthy 
strumpet! Had I been by, I'd soon have made her smart for't! 
Any but such a hen-pecked fool as you, that had but heard her 
say so, would straight have given her such a dash o'th' chops 
as should have beat her teeth into her throat, and quickly 
spoiled her prating. But I am plagued with one that dares not 
speak a word to vindicate me. If you are aweary of me, tell me 
so; for I can quickly mend myself, if you'll but say the word: 
and if you will prefer your wrinkled wife before my youth and 
beauty, with all my heart, for I'm resolved I'll never lead 
this life! To be abused by an old withered hag! I have no 
patience when I think of it: a dirty homely Joan! For my part, 
I admire how thou could'st love her: she frets, I'll warrant 
you, because she lies alone: but who that is not mad, would 
lie with such a sapless piece of withered flesh as she, when 
he may lie by such a one as I, that's sweet, and fresh, plump, 
brisk and airy, and that's full of juice, just in the bloom of 
all my youth and beauty. But if to this thou still prefer'st 
thy dowd; take her for me, and much good do thee with her."

By this discourse, this impudent and filthy trull, quite 
shamed him out of any thoughts of virtue; and therefore that 
he might the better please her, he replies, "My dear, thou 
canst not sure think me so mad as to regard her foolish idle 
prate, or to leave thee for twenty such as she is. No, never 
think I have so little wit, I gave her such a reprimand as 
soon as she had spoke, that cooled her courage in an instant: 
for I let her know her tittle-tattle would be all in vain; and 
that I was resolved I would be absolute. Shall I be tied by 
such a one as she? No, love, I scorn it. And for her tongue, 
let me alone to tame it: winter is coming on and then I'll 
make her keep her breath to warm her hands; for she shall have 
from me no other firing. Let her rail on, and see what she can 
get by't; whilst thee and I delight ourselves in pleasures; 
I'll be no slave to that which I possess: come, thou art mine, 
and shalt have what thou wilt; my love to thee is more then to 
my heir: shall I live sparing for a brood of brats, that for 
my means wish me in my grave! No, I know better things: I will 
myself enjoy it while I live, for when I'm gone, the world is 
gone with me: thou hast my heart, my dear, and I'll not leave 
thee; though she should chat until her tongue be weary. I'll 
find another way to make her quiet; or she shall have but very 
small allowance: she tells me, grief will kill her very 
shortly: I wish it would, I shouldn't grudge the charges of 
giving her a coffin and a grave."

"I," (says the coaxing jilt) "I like you now. Do as you say, 
and then I'll warrant you, you'll quickly make the flirt 
submit herself: and win my heart for ever."

Thus they continued revelling and spending, whilst his poor 
wife went with a hungry belly, and her small children almost 
wanted bread; which with the grief she took to see her husband 
unreclaimable cast her into a fit of sickness; which in a few 
days brought her to her grave, to the great grief of her poor 
children and her neighbours, who all lamented her: but to the 
great joy of her sottish husband and the graceless quean that 
he maintained, who now thought all their own, and that they 
might sin on without control. But though his virtuous wife 
wanted an elegy, she shall not want an epitaph:


	Her Epitaph.

Here lies the poor remains of a good wife, 
Who through an unkind husband lost her life: 
Though she was virtuous, yet he kept her poor; 
And spent his substance on a filthy whore. 
Whilst she in vain of him implored relief, 
She sunk beneath a weighty load of grief: 
Which death perceiving, proved her kindest friend, 
And lent his aid to bring her to her end: 
Which if her husband does not now lament, 
He shall (when 'tis too late) at last repent. 
And though he revels now without control, 
Yet she shall sing, when 'tis his turn to howl.

This good woman's death, was very welcome to her unkind 
husband, who had now nobody to control him in his wicked 
courses; but the bawd, the whore and himself had a merry 
meeting the next day after she was buried; and being well 
flushed with wine, the jilt thus began to triumph:

Whore. "Well now, my dear, we shall be all at ease; and I am 
rid of them that hated me: for my part I am resolved to mourn 
in sack; for now I need not fear her spies that used to be 
still harkening at the door; that I could hardly let a fart, 
but it was carried to her straight by one or other. Now she 
can hear us talk no more unless her ghost walks, and I'll 
venture that; come, drink to me, my dear, I'll pledge it, 
though 'twere o'er her grave: my chuck! Thou'rt the best 
friend I have: for all her spite, I always found thee 
constant: and what I had was still at thy command, and day nor 
night I ne'er refused thee all the pleasures I could give 
thee. And I am sure studied to delight thee all I could, and 
so did never thy Black Joan, 

Thou knowst now thou art mine, come take a thousand 
kisses, 
There's none that now can keep us from our blisses."

Prodigal. "My love, thou know'st I have been always true to 
thee, and so will ever be; and I'll say that for thee, thou 
never deniedst me yet to kiss and feel, when I'd a mind to't. 
And I am glad to find thee art so witty: but thou art nothing 
but charms; methinks I see the lily and the rose (as 
heretofore they did 'twixt York and Lancaster) are once again 
contending in thy cheeks; and thy eyes sparkle like two 
diamonds; come, let me now embrace thee in my arms; nay never 
fear, here's none that will disturb us; for she that used to 
make us both so cautious is now laid low enough, & will 
disturb us here no more, I hope.

Then come, my dear, let pleasure now delight us: 
Th' old hag is gone, & will no more affright us."

Bawd. "Why now it is as't should be: such a brisk wench as 
this is, makes young blood boil within your veins again. Then 
what should hinder you from the enjoying of each other. For my 
part, though I'm past it, I love the sport still, and take 
pleasure in seeing others do it: and therefore while you take 
a touch together, I'll drink your healths in good canary here. 
I am glad to see that you are both so brisk, and meet each 
other with such equal flames; it does me good methinks to see 
the trade go forward: nay, I been't so much past it neither, 
but I could serve a man upon occasion, and take a touch or two 
as well as one that's younger; for I know what belongs to't 
pretty well. Well master, I am sure you have found what I 
promised you, when I first brought you two together: I must 
likewise own that I have tasted of your bounty: and therefore 
cannot but rejoice that you are thus delivered from that old 
witch that kept you from enjoying of your pleasures with that 
delight and freedom as you may do now."

Thus did these wicked wretches triumph over the ashes of a 
virtuous woman; and made a cully of the poor prodigal her 
husband: from whom they now commanded what they pleased: and 
for a time went on so; for as long as he could find 'em money, 
all was well; but when he had mortgaged his estate twice over, 
and had spent all his money, that he could help 'em to no 
more, the case was so far altered that he was then refused to 
be admitted into their company. For though before he was her 
chuck and dear, and she would never forsake him; yet when his 
money was all gone, she took new lodgings at the other end of 
the town, where he could never find her. And when he went to 
see the bawd, that she might tell him where she was, she had 
forsaken her old quarters to, and he no more knew where to 
find her then he did his trull. His children were took care of 
by his wife's relations, or else they must have gone a-
begging. Whilst he being threatened with a gaol for mortgaging 
his lands twice over, was fain to skulk about, and to play 
least in sight: thus he that but a while ago profusely spent 
his money on a whore, was now reduced to that condition that 
he wanted bread: whilst both the bawd and whore which he had 
wasted all upon, forsook him without so much as minding what 
became of him; but left him poor and penniless, to seek his 
bread where he could get it. And thus deserted by the whore, 
and hated by all honest people, and haunted by a guilty self-
accusing conscience, he became a burthen to himself: cursing 
the day in which he harkened to the bawd's insinuations, by 
whose means he was thus drawn in, to ruin both himself and all 
his family: and being almost starved for want of sustenance, 
o'er-come with grief and black despair, he died.


	His Epitaph.

Here lies a man who would not warning take, 
And now for others may a warning make: 
He spent his substance upon bawds and whores, 
Destroyed his wife, turned's children out of doors. 
And yet when all was spent, and he grown poor, 
He was forsaken both by bawd and whore. 
Let all henceforth of bawds and whores beware, 
By whom he was betrayed to black despair. 
Thus reader, by this story thou may'st see 
How by lewd women men deluded be: 
The bawd's the setter, and the shameless whore 
Sucks him so dry, she quickly makes him poor. 
First of his wit, then of his wealth bereaves him; 
And when she has got all she can, she leaves him. 
Then let all mankind loath this filthy jade, 
Since ruin and destruction is her trade.



Chapter V. 
How an Irish footman was drawn into a bawdy-house and what 
followed.

It happened not long since that a dear-joy<8> for his 
dexterity in running, was entertained into the service of an 
English gentleman, who had put him into a good new livery; and 
his master having occasion to send him for a pair of shoes he 
had bespoke, gave him five shillings to pay for them; which a 
bawd happening to see, and over-hear, thought presently she 
might bring in Teague for a customer; and therefore as soon as 
he had parted with his master, she catches hold of him, as he 
came by her door & told him that a countryman of his was 
within, and had a great mind to drink one pot of ale with him; 
"A country mons of mine," says the shamrockshire nimble heels, 
"Now pox tauk you but me tank you for your loof, and be me 
shoul, so mush baust as I been, I shall mauk drink upon my 
countrymons; for fait and trot now dear joy, eirish mons never 
been base;" and so in a-doors he comes; and the bawd has him 
into a room presently, and tells him she'll go call his 
countryman; but instead of his countryman, sends in a whore to 
him; who at her coming, thus accosted him, countryman I am 
very glad to see you; I have got a pot of ale at your service 
for St. Patrick's sake; and the old bawd having brought in a 
pot, the wench takes it up, "Here," says she, "here's a good 
health to St. Patrick." "Wid all mine heart," said the teague-
lander, "& pox tauk me as I no mauk pledge upon him;" and 
thereupon pledged her, & drank a good draught; and then the 
jade beginning to be sweet upon him, he was so well pleased, 
that he forgot his errand; and fell a kissing her; upon which 
she asked him to go upstairs, to which he readily consented: 
and there she let him take all the liberty he had a mind to; 
for which to recompense her, the bog-trotter gave her 
sixpence. But when he came down, the bawd asked him how he 
liked his country-woman, and whether she had pleased him? 
"Fait and trot now, dear joy," says he, "I have made very good 
like upon her; the devil confound ye, but she's a foin lass 
and a cuttin-down lass: and I have maud pay a whole half 
shilling for her business;" and so he was a going out of door; 
but the bawd pulling him by the coat, "Hold sir," says she, 
"do you think I can keep wenches at this rate? Bridget," says 
she, "what did this man do, and what did he give you?" "He did 
what he would," answered the whore, "he danced the corantos 
two or three times; and might have done it oftener if he 
would: but he gave me but sixpence." "How wench," says the old 
bawd, "but sixpence! Why who shall pay the rest? I thought sir 
you would have been more open-handed, I sell no corantos at 
such rates. Five shillings is the lowest price I take of any; 
and that you are like to give me before you and I part;" and 
so shut the door upon him. Poor Teague found he was in a bad 
condition; and was glad to part with his money, that he might 
get out of her clutches. And instead of carrying home his 
master's shoes, he was forced to tell his master he had gotten 
a misfortune, and some rogue or other had made pick upon his 
pocket: but his master not being satisfied with that account, 
examined into the matter more narrowly, and at last found out 
the whole truth; and striping the dear-joy of his new livery, 
turned him out of his service, that he might have the more 
leisure to make another visit to his country-woman. But alas! 
He had no need to visit her again, for she had done his 
business already, having so peppered him with the pox, that in 
a little time he was neither able to go nor stand. And not 
having money to pay for his cure, he perished for want of that 
assistance that others, who are better furnished, can 
purchase.

Thus still the bawd drives on her trade of sin; 
By whom unthinking fools are often drawn in 
Her feet are snares, infectious is her breath; 
The pox her punishment, her end is death.



Chapter VI. 
Of a lady's steward that was drawn in by a bawd, and turned 
out into the street naked.

A bawd of the better sort, that used to provide jilts for men 
of figure, had appointed a person of quality whom she was to 
furnish with a fresh bit, to meet her at a certain tavern near 
West-Smithfield; and waiting there for him, it happened that 
there came into the next room a country gentleman, who was a 
steward to a lady of a good estate, and another gentleman who 
lived in London, and was to pay him fifty guineas, which he 
also did. After he had paid his money, and the steward had 
given him a receipt, they drank a glass of wine together, and 
talked of their acquaintance in the country; and then the 
steward asked how such and such persons did in London, and the 
gentleman answered him accordingly: among others the gentleman 
asked him if he didn't know Mrs Pierpoint? "I did know her 
formerly," said the steward; "but 'tis so long since I saw 
her, that I have now quite forgot her. "She's grown ancient," 
says the gentleman, "but she has a daughter that is a very 
fine woman." "Is she married says the steward?" "No," says the 
gentleman, "but she deserves a good husband, for she's very 
handsome; and not only so, but she has a good portion." After 
this discourse, the gentleman takes a glass, "Come Mr 
Brightwell," said he, to the steward, "here's a good health to 
Mrs Pierpoint and her daughter Mrs Betty." "With all my 
heart," replied Mr Brightwell, (for that was the steward's 
name) and then he drank to the gentleman, remembering all 
their friends in Bedfordshire, especially at Hargrave. All 
these passages the bawd, who waited for one to come to her, in 
the next room, heard distinctly, and took especial notice of 
them; determining in herself to make some use of them: for she 
had a very great mind to be fingering of the fifty guineas, 
and was laying a plot how to come at them. And since the man 
of quality that was to meet her failed, she was resolved not 
to spend her time altogether idly. And therefore having paid 
for the pint of wine she had called for, she attended the two 
gentlemen's motion; and finding they were ready to go (she 
having taken a distinct view of them through a hole in the 
wall) went out first herself, and waited in a convenient place 
for their coming out, which was soon after. When they were 
parted, one going towards Long Lane, and the other through St. 
Bartholomew's hospital, the bawd made it her business to wait 
upon the lady's steward, who had the fifty guineas (which was 
the prize she aimed at) she takes an opportunity of getting 
before him, and then meeting him in Long Lane: and just as she 
came at him, making a stand, "I think, sir," said she to him, 
"I should know you: if I been't mistaken, you're a 
Bedfordshire man." "I am so, madam," says the steward. "Then 
sir," says she, "I presume your name's Brightwell." "Yes, 
madam," said he, "it is so; but I don't know you. "No, sir, 
says she, "I believe you have forgot me; but my name's 
Pierpoint." Brightwell hearing her say so, was a little 
surprised, and started: "How madam," said he, "Pierpoint!" 
"Yes sir," says she, "you han't forgot Pierpoint of Hargrave, 
I suppose; I have some small estate there still." "Madam," 
says he, "I am very glad to see you; it is not an hour ago 
since I was drinking your health: I hope your good daughter's 
very well." "She's very well at your service, sir," replied 
the old crone, "and I hope, sir, you'll do me the honour to go 
and see her: "I'll wait upon you another time, madam," said 
he, "but I an't in a condition to wait upon a young lady now." 
"O you are very well," replied she; "come, you shall go along 
with me," and taking him by the hand, leads him along with 
her: the steward was the more willing to go, upon the account 
of what the gentleman had said to him at the tavern about Mrs 
Pierpoint and her daughter, and so went with her the more 
easily.

As they went along together, she asked him about several 
persons in the country, which she had hear the gentleman and 
he talk of; so that he had no manner of doubt but that this 
was the very person she pretended to be. And among other 
things, she asked him who it was that he was drinking her 
health with today, as he was talking; and he telling her it 
was one Mr Hanwell, she presently described his person, which 
she had seen at the tavern with him. At last she brings him to 
her house, which was in an alley on the back-side of St. 
Jones's Lane, and has him into a parlour very well furnished; 
and then tells him she'll go and fetch her daughter: and goes 
to one of her first-rate girls, and having given her her 
lesson, has her into the steward, who compliments her to a 
great degree, and told her he had heard a very good character 
to her, both as to her beauty and parts; but that he found 
they came far short of what she merited; & added, that he 
thought himself very happy in meeting with her mother, because 
by that means he had the honour of being introduced into her 
good company. The jilt knew whom she was to personate, and 
carried herself is demurely as could be; but both the bawd and 
she plied him with good store of wine, which made the steward 
very merry and frolicsome, and according as Mrs Betty found 
him, she put herself forward. But it beginning to grow late, 
Brightwell would have been gone, but the pretended Mrs 
Pierpoint would by no means suffer him to go, till he had 
supped, which was a getting ready on purpose for him, by which 
means he was drawn to stay till supper was ready; and to make 
the time seem less tedious, the old bawd calls for a pack of 
cards, and sets her pretended daughter and he to play a game 
of cribbage together. At last supper was brought in, and her 
servants waiting upon them at table, like a person of quality; 
Mrs Pierpoint every now and then drinking a health, sometimes 
to Mr Hanwell, and by and by to all their friends at Hargrave; 
then to his good health, which engaged him to drink theirs: 
till supper being ended, the bawd asked one of her servants 
what o'clock it was? Who answered, past eleven: the gentleman 
at this begins to get up, to be going; but it was now too 
late, and they would by no means let him at that time of 
night; to which end they urged that it was an obscure place 
they lived in, and it might be very dangerous (though his 
greatest danger was in being there) and that he should have a 
good bed at his service there: the gentleman finding himself 
almost flustered, and thinking he was secure where he was, 
agreed to stay till the next morning: upon which the t'other 
bottle of wine was brought in, & then he began to be very 
frolicsome, and would needs be kissing Miss Betty, who 
pretended a great kindness for him; which pleased Brightwell 
so much, that he wouldn't go to bed without she'd lie with 
him; which she not only promised, but was as good as her word; 
yet engages him to take no notice of it to her mother, and 
then as soon as he was abed, she'd come to him: accordingly, 
after he was abed, she comes to bed to him, as she before had 
promised: and after they had both gratified their wanton 
desires, the whore professing a great deal of love to him, and 
pretending she should never be happy till they were married, 
Miss Betty all of a sudden pretends to want the chamber-pot, 
which she desired him to help her to, who feeling about for it 
for some time, couldn't find it; upon which she told him she 
remembered the maid left it in the window and desired him to 
reach it there; which he going to do, and treading upon a trap 
door, it presently gave away; and down fell our amorous spark 
into the alley; his fall was but little, and so did but stun 
him for the present, and his being only in his shirt quickly 
made him sensible of the cold; as soon as he came to himself 
he got up, and it being very dark, he knew neither where he 
was, nor which way to go; but endeavouring to find a door, he 
went on till he came to Clerkenwell Green; where seeing a 
light at the watch-house, he went thither; a person all in 
white being seen by one of the watch-men, he gave notice of it 
to the constable; who with his whole watch was very much 
affrighted, and began to exorcise this supposed spirit; who 
being almost dead with cold, (for it was cold frosty weather) 
told them he was no ghost, but flesh and blood as they were; 
but Mr Constable was loth to believe him upon his own word, 
and therefore commanding him to stand, sent one of the most 
courageous of his watch-men to see whether it was so or no; 
who having found him to be what he said, he was taken into the 
watch house, and put to the fire, and examined how he came 
into that condition; who gave the constable an account how he 
met with one Mrs Pierpoint his countrywoman, by whom he was 
invited to her house, and what befell him there, related: but 
neither constable nor any of the watch-men knowing any such 
person, they supposed rightly that he had been drawn in by a 
bawd, and had lain with a whore, who had together cheated him 
of what he had. For by a ring on his finger, and the gold 
buttons on his shirt, which was all he carried off, they 
supposed his other rigging was suitable thereto; which made Mr 
Constable so kind as to lend him his night-gown, to cover his 
nakedness. And likewise to offer him his assistance, to 
recover his losses; but being in the dark he was altogether a 
stranger to the place, that he could give 'em no manner of 
directions, so that it was but like seeking a needle in a 
bottle of hay. However they went and searched several of the 
most notorious reputed bawdy-houses, but found nothing, and 
had only their labour for their pains: whilst the bawd and the 
whore triumphed in their wickedness, and were glad they had 
met with so easy a cully, from whom they had obtained so good 
a booty.

In the morning our reduced gallant sent a messenger to Mr 
Hanwell to come to him, and related to him the unhappy 
rencounter he had met with from Mrs Pierpoint; who soon 
perceived how he had been imposed upon; and furnished him with 
more money to new rig himself, and supply his occasions, ere 
he durst appear before his lady; Mr Hanwell promising him, 
when he was at leisure, he would have him to the true Mrs 
Pierpoint, from whom he engaged he should meet with better 
entertainment than he did from the counterfeit one.

Thus still the bawd does her old game pursue; 
Her end's the same, although her method's new. 
Her baits are various, which she still does suit 
To ruin those that love forbidden fruit. 
And by her management of things we find, 
She's one knows how to sail with every wind.



Chapter VII. 
How a citizen went to a bawdy-house for a whore, and the bawd 
helped him to his own wife.

A certain citizen in London, in the late times had a very fine 
woman to his wife; and had but her virtue been equal to her 
wit and beauty, she might have deserved the first rank among 
women: but lust had so great an ascendant in her, that her 
husband was unable to satisfy her over-strong desires to the 
delights of Venus: and therefore having communicated her 
thoughts to an old bawd that kept a house of private 
entertainment for the accommodation of persons of quality of 
both sexes, she told her that for a guinea in hand to her, and 
two guineas for the drawing of her picture, she might be 
entered into her academy; whereby (says the bawd) you may both 
receive the satisfaction you want, and gain money likewise; 
for the first charge is all you will be put to, which will be 
but three guineas, and ten shillings to the attendants, who by 
the services they will do you, will very well deserve it: then 
she enquired of the bawd what the custom of the house were, 
and how she must manage herself in that affair? And then she 
could the better tell her whether she could order matters so 
as to comport therewith.

To this, the bawd returned this answer: "I have as genteel a 
house as most in London, with several chambers very well 
furnished for accommodation of gentlemen and ladies: and a 
looking-glass in each chamber so conveniently placed, that 
those who have a mind to't, may see what they do: for some 
take as much delight in seeing as in doing: my house goes 
under the notion of being let out in lodgings, and every 
gentlewoman that is entered, has her picture drawn, which 
hangs up in the dining room; where when gentlemen come, they 
choose which person they please by the picture; and for a 
guinea paid to me, they are admitted to her, with whom they 
make what bargain they can agree upon. And by this means we 
are sure that none but persons of quality can be admitted: and 
the ladies' honours are thereby secured."

"But for ought I perceive" (said the citizen's wife) "here is 
constant attendance required, to be in the way; or else how 
shall a gentleman do, that chooses the picture of a person 
that ain't there?" "As to that," replied the bawd, "the more 
any gentlewoman is there, so much the better 'tis; and so much 
the more money they get; but those that can't attend always, 
have their certain hours; and if a gentleman has a fancy to 
such a one, when he knows her hour, he will come accordingly. 
Now you yourself can best judge what hour will be fittest for 
you." "That I am at a loss how to resolve," says she. "Tell me 
how you spend your time, all day," says the bawd, "and then 
I'll tell you what you shall do." "Why," says she, "many times 
I rise at five o'clock in the morning, and having got myself 
dressed by six o'clock, I go to the lecture at St. 
Antholine's, which is done a little before eight, and then I 
return home; and at ten --." "Hold," says the bawd, "you need 
say no more; there's nothing in the world blinds a man like a 
pretence of devotion; and therefore if you can get out at six 
o'clock to go to the lecture, 'tis the only time you can take; 
and by that time the lecture's done, you may be at home again: 
nor need you stand much upon dressing; for if you come in a 
loose morning-gown, you're the fitter for business." She liked 
the bawd's contrivance very well, and accordingly paid her 
entrance money, and deposited two guineas for the drawing of 
her picture. And in the meantime went constantly to the 
lecture every morning: which her husband was very well pleased 
at. But her being of late more constant at the lecture than 
she used to be, caused some suspicion in her husband, who 
rising one morning (which happened to be the day before her 
picture was ready,) he followed her unseen, to know whether 
she went to the lecture or no; and she going directly thither, 
and staying there all the time; her husband had a mighty 
opinion of the devotion and piety of his spouse: and began to 
blame himself for having entertained an ill thought of her.

All things being now ready at the old bawd's, and her picture 
done to the life, so great was her beauty, that she wanted no 
customers, each person that came generally made choice of her 
to do the trick with; whereby she not only satisfied her 
lustful desires, but was supplied with money likewise, without 
robing of her husband of his coin, though she wronged him more 
nearly another way: which he not knowing, nor believing, 
thought himself as happy in her, as any man in London was in a 
wife: so true is that proverb, That what the eye sees not, the 
heart rues not.

But there were other citizens' wives that were as full of 
lechery as this, though not so handsome: and they found 
trading very sensibly decay, since this fair sinner was 
entered into the college. And she by her beauty having 
monopolized the topping customers to herself, was looked upon 
with an envious eye by all the rest, who consulting together, 
found it was absolutely necessary to give her a remove, but 
how to do it, was the question: at last one of 'em told the 
rest it should be her province; and she would do it 
effectually, so she should never know who hurt her: upon 
which, without asking her the means, they left the matter 
entirely to her.

The jilt, to whom the business was left was very witty, but 
had but just beauty enough to keep her from being ugly, and 
consequently one that suffered most by this new interloper; 
which rendered her so malicious, that she had rather the whole 
house should be blown up, than that upstart should run away 
with all the trading: and therefore she writes the following 
letter to her husband.

To Mr R----ds----n, 
	Sir, 
	Though I never was ambitious of the honour of being 
an informer, yet the sense I have of the wrongs you 
suffer from a wife that abuses your good nature, and 
under a pretence of devotion prostitutes her chastity, to 
every libidinous stallion, thereby breaking her marriage 
vow, and dishonouring the marriage-bed; has prevailed 
with me to let you know so much. And though an 
information of this kind may perhaps hardly be believed; 
yet if you will but give yourself the trouble of 
following her incognito any morning, you may easily 
satisfy yourself, whether the account I have given you be 
true or no: and the better to enable you to detect her in 
her lewd practices, when you have seen her housed a 
little while, you may go in after her; although without a 
particular recommendation, you will hardly be admitted; 
and therefore if you please to ask for the gentlewoman of 
the house, and tell her you was directed thither by Tom 
Stanhope, to take a survey of the ladies in the dining-
room, she will straight let you see 'em; and after that, 
you may proceed as you please; and can no longer doubt of 
the truth of what I say, if you will but believe your own 
eyes. And if you find it so, I am sure you will be 
satisfied that I have performed the office of, 
	Your unknown friend, 
	A.B.

This letter she sent by a special messenger, with order to 
deliver it only into his own hand, which was done accordingly. 
But, when he had read it, he was so extremely surprised at 
such an unexpected piece of intelligence, that he knew not 
what to think of it: sometimes he was of opinion that it was 
only an artifice of some that envied his happiness in so 
virtuous a wife, to sow dissension between 'em; but when he 
was referred to so easy a trial, he could not but think there 
was something more in it than so: upon which he resolved to 
suspend his judgment till he had made a farther trial. And 
therefore that afternoon, pretends to have received a letter 
obliging him to meet a gentleman the next morning between four 
and five o'clock at Westminster to treat with him about a 
parcel of goods which he was to go and see, and should not be 
back again till nine o'clock. And in the meantime gets him a 
very beauish suit, wig, and hat, and plants 'em at a friend's 
house; ready to put on in the morning when he came thither. 
The next morning rises very early, pursuant to his design; and 
having gone to his friend's house, and accoutred himself in 
his new habiliments, which had so disguised him, that even his 
friend had much ado to persuade himself 'twas the same man. In 
this garb, about six o'clock, he calls for a glass of purl at 
an ale-house, within sight of his own door, waiting till his 
wife came out; who as soon as he had seen passed by, he pays 
for his glass of purl, and follows her: and she going towards 
St. Antholin's church, he began to think she had been abused, 
and he imposed upon; but he was quickly convinced to the 
contrary, when he saw her go by the church, and cross over the 
way to the back-side of St. Thomas Apostle's, and there go 
into a house: after she was gone in, he stayed about half a 
quarter of an hour, and then according to the directions of 
his letter, he went in himself, and asked for the gentlewoman 
of the house; at which the old bawd appearing, "Are you the 
gentlewoman of the house, madam," said he? "Yes, sir," says 
she, "for want of a better I am: pray what would you have with 
me?" "Why, madam," says he, "I want a certain sort of a 
fleshly convenience, and I am informed you can help me to 
one." At which the bawd looked a little strangely upon him; "I 
help you to one, sir," said she? "I hope, you don't take me 
for a bawd; if you do, I assure you, you are come to the wrong 
house; and I'd have ye to know, sir, I'm another sort of 
person." "Madam," replied he, "if I have offended you, I beg 
your pardon; but I was directed hither by Tom Stanhope, to 
take a survey of the ladies in the dining-room." As soon as 
the bawd heard him say so, she began to look more pleasingly 
upon him, and desired him to walk upstairs, and according to 
his desire had him into the dining-room, where he soon espied 
his wife's picture, drawn to the life. And making choice of 
that, "Pray, madam," says he, "what must I give you for the 
enjoyment of this lady? For she pleases my eye better than any 
of the rest?" "Why truly, sir," (says she) "I have a guinea 
for any of 'em; but there's another gentleman has promised to 
visit that lady this morning, and I wonder he isn't come yet; 
but because I expect him every minute, I can't recommend 
anyone to her this morning." "Is he with her now?" says he. 
"No, sir," says she, "but I don't know how soon he may be:" 
"Nay, madam," said he, "you ought to observe the same rule 
here, as in a barber's-shop, first come, first served: come 
here's a guinea and a half for you." This wrought so 
effectually upon the bawd, that he was immediately conducted 
to the chamber where his wife was. And counterfeiting his 
voice as much as he could, "Madam," says he, "invited by your 
shadow, which I saw below, I am now come to be made happy with 
the enjoyment of the substance." To which she answered (not 
knowing 'twas her husband,) "Sir, you are very welcome to all 
the pleasure I can give you." "What must the purchase be of so 
much happiness?" replied he to her. To which, she straight 
returned, "I am no mercenary person, sir; nor do I make a 
bargain with anyone beforehand; but take what gentlemen are 
freely pleased to give me; to whose generosity I always leave 
it: but what you do, do quickly sir," (continued she) "for I 
am limited to such an hour." Upon which invitation, the 
disguised beau fell to, sans further ceremony, and whilst they 
were a dancing and acting the delights of Venus, the bells of 
St. Antholin's rung very sweetly, which made her say, whilst 
she was thus encountering her supposed gallant, "O how sweetly 
St. Antholin's bells ring!" Which she repeated over as oft as 
they renewed their pleasures. As soon as they had finished 
their encounter, her husband that he might appear like what he 
personated, seemed well satisfied and made her a present of a 
guinea; and so withdrew without discovery. And she, a short 
time after, St. Antholin's lecture being done, according to 
her custom returned home, as if she'd only been at her 
devotions.

When her husband had unrigged, and put himself into his proper 
habit, he returned home according to the hour he had 
appointed, and took no notice of what had passed between 'em. 
But when at night they went to bed, he had a mind to try 
whether he could with the same briskness manage things at home 
as he had done abroad: but finding it on both sides much more 
dull, he told her St. Antholin's bells didn't ring half so 
sweetly then as as they did i'th' morning: but however, says 
he, as long as here it is much cheaper, I like it full as 
well: his wife was so confounded at the words, she knew not 
what to say at first; nor could she guess how he should know 
that she had spoke such words in the morning: at last she was 
resolved he should explain himself; and therefore asked him 
what he meant by those expressions. "Nay, what did you mean by 
'em," says he, "when you repeated them so often in the 
morning?" "How," says she, "in a scornful way, I repeat 'em in 
the morning?" "Yes, madam," says he somewhat angrily, "'twas 
you repeated 'em in the morning, when I lay with you at the 
bawdy-house disguised like a gallant, in such a place, and 
gave you a guinea for your morning's work." "Was it you then," 
said she, "that was with me in the morning?" "Yes, Mrs 
Impudence", says he, "that it was. Can you talk of being with 
you in the morning, without blushing?" "To what purpose is it 
to blush?" replied she, very confidently. "For if I do, you 
can't see it: nor do I know any reason why you should call me 
impudence; I am sure I treated you very civilly: and as for my 
being there, you were there as well as I: and we were both 
about one business, and where's the difference then? Besides, 
I see 'tis your own fault; for if you would be but as brisk at 
home as you are abroad, I should be very well satisfied 
without going abroad, with your own performances at home. I 
see you can do better if you will, and if you don't, blame 
yourself and not me, if you are made a cuckold." The contented 
man hearing his wife's allegations, promised that he would do 
better for the time to come; and she on that condition 
promising him to go no more to St. Antholin's to hear how 
sweetly the bells ring, they forgave one another, and were 
both friends.

Thus bawds with wives of citizens gets in, 
And then keeps up a public house of sin: 
And whilst men do maintain their wives so high 
Their lusts are more than they can satisfy.



Chapter IX. 
How a gentleman that fell in love with another man's wife, 
through the advice of a bawd enjoyed her, and upon what terms, 
and what happened thereupon.

An amorous spark having observed a very fine woman sitting in 
a goldsmith's shop behind the counter, was so much taken with 
her, that nothing would serve him but enjoying her; which yet 
he was altogether at a loss how to accomplish, having no 
manner of acquaintance either with her or her husband. In this 
hopeless condition he goes to a bawd, who had several times 
assisted him in his love intrigues, and tells her at what a 
non-plus he was how to accomplish his design: the bawd at 
first persuades him off of her, and promises to help him to 
one that shall not only equal but surpass her: but all that 
was in vain, for nothing would satisfy but only this very 
person. "Well," says this mistress in the mystery of iniquity, 
"I'll tell you how you shall obtain your purpose, if you are 
resolved to pursue it." "Do but that, says he, and you'll 
oblige me for ever." "Well then," says she, "you must take an 
opportunity to go into the shop when she's there, and buy some 
little trifle or other of her, or her husband, and repeat this 
so often, buying sometimes one thing, and sometimes another, 
till by degrees you have brought yourself acquainted with her 
and her husband, and in so doing, you can't miss of an 
opportunity to sound her inclinations: if pleasure has the 
ascendant over her, you'll gain your point the sooner; but if 
money be the idol she adores, you must attack her with gifts, 
and making presents to her, and you cannot fail of 
prevailing." The gentleman liked her counsel very well, and 
was resolved to take it: and accordingly took an opportunity 
to buy a silver snuff-box; and having before bought some fine 
French walnuts, he presented his mistress with some, and by 
cracking of them, had an opportunity to tarry longer in the 
shop, and gaze more on that beauty which had already overcome 
him. In two or three days after, he comes again and buys half 
a dozen silver spoons and forks, and then brought some peaches 
to his mistress and presents her with them; and a week after 
buys some other odd things; and still brought something or 
other which he presented to his mistress; who always looked 
upon it as the effect of his good-nature, and affable temper, 
and had no apprehension of his being her humble servant. After 
he had drove this trade of being a constant customer to the 
shop for several weeks together, and had made no farther 
progress of his amours save to be looked on as a friend and 
acquaintance, and once or twice invited to dinner; at one of 
which times her husband was called down into the shop, to a 
customer; in which interim, he took an opportunity to acquaint 
her somewhat darkly with his passion, which she either did 
not, or would not understand; so that he begun almost to 
despair, and complained to the bawd how much charge he had 
been at, and what little likelihood there was of attaining his 
end.

The bawd told him he had no reason yet to complain; for having 
got an acquaintance there, and once discovered his passion, he 
had brought things to a pretty good forwardness: my advice 
therefore now is, said she, that you let her absolutely know 
your mind, and solicit her for the last favour; and let me 
know your success, and then I'll tell you how you shall 
proceed.

He once more takes her counsel, and going to cheapen some 
knick-knacks there, he finds her all alone; and having bought 
something of her, letting it lie upon the counter, "Madam," 
says he, "I have made many errands hither, but 'tis for your 
sake; for you are my chief business, and your incomparable and 
peerless beauty, has made that impression in my heart as will 
put a sudden period to my life unless your compassion will 
grant me a reprieve: for nothing can retrieve it, but the 
enjoyment of your love, and beauty." "I can't believe, sir," 
says she, "that that poor stock of beauty I am owner of, can 
ever produce any such fatal effects as those you speak of. But 
'tis the common theme that you are pleased to entertain our 
sex withal, though there be nothing in it. However, 'tis 
methinks a great piece of folly to love at that rate, where 
you can have no hopes of enjoyment: for I am otherways 
disposed of: and there are young ladies enough that are 
single, that are more worthy of you." "I question not madam," 
replied he, "but I might have choice of mistresses: but, 'tis 
you only that have wounded me, and therefore 'tis you alone 
that can effect my cure." "What would you have me do to cure 
you, sir?" said she. "Do, madam!" said he. "Grant me the 
enjoyment of your love, for that alone can give me ease." 
"Why," said she, "would you have me wrong my husband's bed? 
Should I do so, how do you think he'd take it?" "E'en bad 
enough, I do believe," said he, "if you should let him know 
it; but sure there's no necessity of that. And if you keep 
your counsel, I shall take nothing from him he can miss." 
"Hold, sir," says she, "you talk as if we were already both 
agreed; but you shall find there will be two words to the 
making of that bargain. Besides you don't--but here's my 
husband coming." says the jilt, "Indeed sir; I have sold you a 
pen'worth in it: I'll be judged by my husband." (Her husband 
coming then into the shop) the gentleman perceiving how 
cunningly she turned off her discourse, told her he did 
believe she hadn't wronged him much, and he was satisfied. And 
then showing her husband what he had bought, and what he paid 
for it, he told him his wife had used him very well: and so he 
took his leave of 'em; and went to his old crone the bawd, and 
told her what had passed. "You may depend upon it," says the 
bawd, "that she'll comply; but you must fee her pretty high, 
or it won't do." This made him shrug; for though he had a 
great mind to enjoy her, he was not willing to be at too much 
charge; which the old bawd perceiving, told him he could not 
hope to carry her under a present of at least fifty guineas; 
"But yet," says she, "if you will give me but five, I'll 
warrant you shall gain your point without being at any charge 
at all." "Make but that out", says he, "and I'll promise you 
the five guineas as soon as e'er I have enjoyed her." "No, 
sir," says the bawd, "I'll have my money in hand; for you 
know, we never trust." "Well," says he, "here's your money," 
and giving it into her hand, "now let me know your method." 
Upon which the bawd thus began.

"Before I proceed, pray tell me the price of that diamond ring 
you wear upon your finger." "Why what would you do with that," 
replies the beau; "I wouldn't part with my ring for an hundred 
guineas, for it cost me above four-score, and I had a great 
pennyworth in it; and if you'd have me to give her that, this 
is all trick and cheat; and I am only funned out of five 
guineas for nothing." "Why so hasty?" says the bawd. "I design 
no such matter; but you won't hear me out. Go to the 
goldsmith, and tell him you are disappointed of a bill that 
you expected out of the country, and that you have a present 
occasion for fifty guineas, which you must desire him to let 
you have, and you'll leave him that ring as a pledge in the 
meantime; and that as soon as your bill comes to town, which 
you expect every day, you'll pay him again. This is a kindness 
he won't deny you, because he runs no hazard in it, and 
thereby he obliges a customer. When you have got these fifty 
guineas, take the first opportunity to discourse your 
mistress; if you find she'll do't for love, your money's 
saved, and you have nothing else to do but enjoy her: but if 
the jade be mercenary, as I dare say she is, you must tempt 
her with gold; and that you may be sure to make her bite, give 
her the fifty guineas that you borrowed of her husband." "A 
pox take ye, for an old bitch", says he, "in a kind of 
passion; is this the way to bring me off for nothing?" "You 
are too hasty still," replies the bawd; "let me have done 
first, and then talk your pleasure: do, as I say; give her the 
fifty guineas; and when you have enjoyed her stay with her, 
either in the chamber, or the shop, until her husband does 
come in: and when you see him, tell him you have received the 
bill that you expected, and have brought the fifty guineas 
that you borrowed of him, and paid it to his wife; and so 
desire him to let you have your ring again. His wife (to save 
her honour) can do no less than own she has received the 
money; and so her husband must restore your ring. And then do 
you be judge whether or no you don't come off for nothing." 
"Well, thee'rt a dear sweet rogue for this contrivance," says 
he, "and I could almost kiss thee, but that thy mouth's so 
strongly guarded by thy nose and chin, that there's no coming 
at it: I like thy plot extremely well; and I'll go presently 
and put it in execution."

Away goes the fop, as well pleased to think he should put a 
trick on his mistress as he should enjoy her, which for the 
lucre of the fifty guineas he no longer questioned. And coming 
to the goldsmith's shop, he pulls his ring off of his finger, 
and asks him what he'll give him for't: the goldsmith having 
looked upon it, told him he'd give him seventy guineas for it. 
It cost me more than eighty, says the beau, but I won't part 
with it; only because I'm short of money, being disappointed 
of a bill that I expected to receive, I must desire the 
kindness of you to let me have fifty guineas on it till I 
receive my bill, which will be in a fortnight or three weeks' 
time at farthest; and I'll allow you what you shall think 
reasonable for it. The goldsmith very readily gives him the 
fifty guineas be desired, and takes his ring as a security. 
And so taking his leave, goes home very well satisfied; he had 
proceeded thus far prosperously.

In two or three days after, he goes to make a visit to the 
goldsmith's wife; and it fell out in such a lucky minute, that 
her husband was from home; whereby he had an opportunity with 
the more freedom to renew his suit; and though he armed 
himself with all the charms he could, taking the auxiliary 
helps both of the tailor, barber, and perfumer; yet it all 
would not do: fain he'd have saved running the hazard of his 
fifty guineas; but when he found he could not without such a 
present obtain his wished enjoyment, he as his last effort, 
addressed her thus: "Well, madam; I do perceive you are of kin 
to Danae, whom Jove himself could not prevail upon until he 
courted her in showers of gold, and that dissolved her quickly 
into love; & I intend to follow his example, and to enjoy your 
favour I make this present to you," and, therewithal gave her 
the fifty guineas. And this had so soon mollified her 
stubbornness, and made her malleable, that she straight made 
him this agreeable return; "Well, sir, I see you are so much a 
gentleman, that I scarce know how to deny you any longer: your 
amiable person and good humour, has overcome me so, I can no 
longer make resistance, but offer myself to your embraces." 
The gallant then enquired if all were safe below, and if they 
should not be in danger of meeting any interruption from her 
husband. To which she bid him never fear, all was secure 
enough. And then conducting him into the chamber, she let him 
have what he so much desired. When he had thus debauched her, 
and satisfied his lustful appetite, he asked her how long 
'twould be before her husband would be at home again, she told 
him he was gone out of town; and would not be at home this 
ten-days. At which he seemed to be surprised, for he was loath 
to be without his ring so long; but since there was no remedy, 
he was resolved to wait till he came home. His mistress seeing 
him so indifferent at the hearing of her husband's absence, 
could not tell what to think should be the reason of it; and 
asked him what 'twas troubled him? Nothing, my dear, said he, 
but I was thinking how crossly things fell out; because my own 
affairs obliges me to be some days out of town just at this 
happy juncture, when I might have been blest so oft with your 
embraces. The cunning baggage (now she had got his fifty 
guineas) was as indifferent as he for that, and told him time 
might present 'em with another opportunity which might be full 
as favourable. And so they parted.

The spark was satisfied with the enjoyment of his lady, and 
that itch now was cured; he only wanted back his ring, or else 
his fifty guineas, that he might demand it of her husband; and 
now reflecting on his short-lived pleasure, he truly judged 
that he had bought it at too dear a rate, although he should 
be only at the five guineas charge he gave the bawd.

But since the goldsmith's being out of town was such a 
disappointment as could not be foreseen, & yet had been 
extremely serviceable to him in the enjoyment of his mistress, 
he goes to the old bawd, and gives her an account of what had 
passed, and asks her further how he must proceed in getting of 
his ring again, without repaying of the fifty guineas? "Give 
me the other fee," says the old jade, "and I'll inform you; 
for I am like a lawyer, and don't know how to speak without a 
fee." "No, no," says he, "I have feed enough before, nor would 
I give so much again, for all the pleasure her enjoyment gave 
me." The bawd, (since she saw nothing more was to be got by 
him) advises him to wait the goldsmith's coming home, and then 
take a fit opportunity to go to her alone, and to pretend he 
was just come to town; and to desire another assignation from 
her, which being made, and you having once more enjoyed her, 
stay till her husband comes, and do as you were first 
directed. And when you have got your ring again, I hope you'll 
then present me with two guineas more." "No, not a farthing 
more," says he, "you know I paid you very well before-hand:" 
and so left her.

The bawd perceiving nothing more was to be got from him, 
resolved she would be even with him, and take another course 
to make a penny of him: and thereupon goes the next morning to 
the goldsmith's shop, and asks the 'prentice if his mistress 
was within; he answers, "Yes," and she replied she must needs 
speak with her, who coming down, the bawd whispers her in the 
ear, that she had something to acquaint her with, of great 
importance to her; which was not fit to be discoursed of 
publicly: and thereupon the mistress asked her to walk up, and 
leading of her into a with-drawing room, desired her to sit 
down, and then entreated her to tell her business; upon which 
the bawd began as followeth.

"Madam, although I am a stranger to you, I doubt not but you 
will excuse the rudeness of this visit, when you shall know 
'twas only the concern I have to see a lady of your worth and 
beauty, so much designed upon and tricked, as you are like to 
be, that has occasioned it: I know therefore, madam, that 
there's a gentleman, who has been for some time a great 
admirer of your matchless beauty, which truly does deserve all 
those encomiums that I have often heard him justly give it. 
This gentleman, under the notion of a customer, has made you 
many visits: and has been pleased (I know not for what reason) 
to make me his confidante; of which I need give you no further 
instant, then that he has acquainted me that but a few days 
past he gave you fifty guineas, for which by way of gratitude, 
he was admitted to enjoy your last favours"--here the young 
lady interrupted her, all blushing and confused, "Madam, 
you've fully satisfied me," said she, "that that false man has 
let you know my weakness, and most ungratefully exposed my 
honour, and betrayed me to the world." "Nay, madam," said the 
bawd, "be not so passionate; I don't believe he has acquainted 
any with it, but myself. Nor let the thoughts of that at all 
disturb you; for, that's a crime that I have known, for more 
than thirty years, the rest of all our sex has scarce been 
free from. But that which more stirs up my spleen against him, 
is for the trick he designs to put upon you still; which is 
the only reason of my giving you this trouble." "You will 
oblige me in it very much," replied the goldsmith's wife. 
"Then this," says the bawd, "it is. He understands your 
husband is now out of town; and will be so for seven or eight 
days' time. As soon as he comes home, your gallant will be 
with you to appoint him a time in which he may again enjoy 
your favour; which when he has enjoyed, he does intend to 
tarry till your husband shall come in, and then accquaint him 
that he has paid to him the fifty guineas that he borrowed of 
him on his ring; and so desire that he may have his ring 
again; which is the thing he aims at. For he well knows, that 
when you shall be asked whether or no you have received the 50 
guineas, your honour is so far concerned, you can't deny it. 
"O treacherous villain," said the she-goldsmith, with some 
indignation, "is this the generosity he so much boasted of?" 
"Yes, madam," says the bawd, "this is what he designs to do; 
but I am so concerned to see a lady of your worth so basely 
and ungratefully imposed upon, I could not but discover it: 
and if you would be ruled by me, you should out-trick the fop, 
and catch him in the snare he'd lay for you." "O I'd do 
anything to be revenged on him," cried the young lady with 
some eagerness, "and do but tell me how, and keep my counsel, 
and I'll so well reward you for your pains, that you shall say 
I'm grateful." "Then madam," says the bawd, "as soon as your 
husband comes to town, before he comes to know of it, send one 
to tell him that you must needs speak with him about earnest 
business, and when he's come, tell him that you expect your 
husband the next day; and therefore beg the favour of him to 
let you have his company that night, and as an earnest of your 
love to him, & that he should not think you mercenary, you'll 
both return him fifty guineas, and give him back the ring he 
gave your husband for a pawn: and tell him likewise you have 
engaged the maid to secrecy; for which if he presents her with 
a guinea, 'tis all he needs to do: this will, I'm sure engage 
him; for he's as covetous as he is lustful: and when he's thus 
engaged, in the next place acquaint your husband how you could 
scarce have any quiet in his absence from this young spark's 
continual solicitations to unlawful love. Then tell him that 
you have appointed him to come that evening, of which you 
thought fit to acquaint him, that he might give him that 
correction which he saw necessary, to cool his too hot blood: 
this will so much confirm your husband in his opinion of your 
inviolable chastity, that all your treacherous gallant shall 
offer to the contrary will be looked upon as the effect of 
malice and revenge. Thus you'll confirm your reputation to the 
world, and keep these fifty guineas he designs to cheat you 
out of, and be sufficiently revenged on an ungrateful man."

"Well," (says the injured gentlewoman,) "I'm pleased with your 
contrivance; keep but my counsel, and you shall see my 
vengeance on this ungrateful wretch, and with how just a 
retribution I shall use him for his intended villainy. And 
that you may be sensible you have not lost your labour, accept 
of this; and therewithal she put ten guineas in her hand, and 
promised her a further token of her gratitude: and so 
dismissed her. The bawd was well pleased with the morning's 
work she'd made; and finding that the goldsmith's wife was 
like to be the better customer, she hugged herself for her 
contrivance, and her treachery to the cully beau.

That afternoon the wrathful lady received a letter from her 
husband, that he intended to be in town the Thursday 
following, and desired her to meet him that day at Hammersmith 
about noon, where he would dine with her, and so come home 
together. She therefore sent a messenger to tell her 
treacherous lover she must needs speak with him on Thursday 
morning, for she had something of moment to impart to him; who 
presently on the receiving of this note, came to her, fearing 
there might be some discovery of their love-enjoyment.

As soon as he was come, she tells him she was extremely 
troubled she had not seen him since; and that she never had 
enjoyed more pleasure than in his embraces; and understanding 
that her husband would be at home on Friday night, she had 
contrived things so, that he might freely, and without 
interruption, lie with her on Thursday night. Which she 
desired on the account of that affection which she had for 
him, and of the pleasure which she took in his embraces; and 
that he might be satisfied 'twas so, she did engage the next 
morning to present him with his fifty guineas, which, she was 
sorry that she had took of him: and as a further testimony of 
it, if he could but procure things necessary for the picking 
of the locks belonging to her husband's cabinet, she'd give 
him back the diamond ring he gave her husband as a pledge for 
fifty guineas; and, as occasion offered, would be very 
grateful to him otherways.

These generous offers overcame the spark to all intents and 
purposes; and he would fain have been a dabbling with her 
then; but she forbid him, and told him 'twas not at that time 
convenient, but she had ordered matters so, that when he came 
on Thursday night, there should be nothing that should 
interrupt them. Telling him further, she had made the maid 
acquainted with their secrets, who was entirely in their 
interests, and that it would not be amiss to give her 
something as an encouragement: and thereupon, calling the maid 
to fetch a bottle of wine, he gave her half a guinea, and told 
her, that was but an earnest of that which he intended her 
tomorrow night. And then drinking his wine up, he gave his 
mistress a salute, and took his leave; she bidding him be sure 
not to forget to bring the picklocks with him, that she might 
help him to the ring.

The plot being thus laid, on Thursday morning, she prepares to 
meet her husband; having before acquainted her maid with her 
design, who mightily commended both her honesty and ingenuity, 
for she knew nothing of what had before passed between 'em.

Being come to Hammersmith, and meeting with her husband there, 
she told him she had something to say to him privately that 
did as much concern his honour as her own: and then, as they 
were walking together in the garden she thus began to tell him 
her design.

"My dear, I doubt not but you are well satisfied that I have 
all along took care in all my actions still to approve myself 
(what you shall ever find me) a chaste and virtuous wife, and 
though I am not sensible I ever gave encouragement to any 
lustful eyes to cast a wanton glance at me, yet so it is, I 
have been solicited to commit folly both against heaven and 
you, with that young gentleman to whom you lent the 50 guineas 
on the diamond ring; & though I have as oft denied his suit as 
he has made it, yet he continues his solicitations still; and 
has been so importunate of late that I could scarce be ever 
quiet for him: and therefore being with me yesterday, & urging 
me for my consent to his unlawful amours, I did appoint him to 
come to me this night; having before received your letter, by 
which I knew you would be then at home. The lustful fool is 
extreme confident that I will yield to his desires; & since he 
wants no money, I thought it best to seem to yield to him, 
that having caught him in your trap, you may deal with him as 
you please. And there's another thing that I have to acquaint 
you with, and that is, that he's as covetous as he is 
lecherous, and did but yesterday solicit me to let him have 
his ring: and though (to put him off) I told him 'twas locked 
up in a cabinet of which you had the key: yet he replied that 
he could bring a picklock with him that could open it. So that 
I am afraid he does design as well to rob you of your treasure 
as your honour. But ere tomorrow morning, I hope you'll have 
it in your power to make him pay for his attempting either. At 
least I have contributed what I can towards it, and leave the 
rest to you."

The poor contented goldsmith, (who thought his wife far 
chaster than Diana or her nymphs; and that the wife of 
Collatine wasn't worthy to compare to her) was hugely pleased 
with his wife's policy; and therefore ordered her to go home 
first alone, whilst he came after her incognito; and when her 
gallant came, he bid her hasten him to bed; and whilst she 
stood before him, that the maid should take away his sword, 
and then he thought he might the better deal with a naked man: 
all which she promised him should be obeyed.

At night the poor deluded cully comes to the goldsmith's, 
according to appointment; and was conducted presently 
upstairs; where, he might the less suspect foul play, he finds 
a good collation was provided, which he and his false mistress 
feasted at, she urging him to make haste into bed, that there 
they might have more delicious dainties, and she beginning to 
undress herself, he made most haste and first got into bed; 
and then the maid (as she was before directed) having 
privately carried off the sword, comes running in upon a 
sudden, and cries out, "O mistress, we are all undone! My 
master's coming upstairs." Up gets the quaking beau 
immediately, and runs under the bed, which he had but just 
done, before the goldsmith entered: who seeing of his wife, 
accosts her thus, "My dear I'm come a day sooner than I 
expected," "You're very welcome, love," said she again, 
looking as one surprised, at which, cries he, "Why how now? 
What's the matter with you?" And then looking about the 
chamber, he sees a very beauish powdered wig; "Ah ha!" says 
he; what have we here? "A wig, new powdered! Pray whose wig is 
this? I'm sure 'tis none of mine;" then looking on the bed, he 
sees a pair of breeches lie, "Hey dey!" cries he, "pray whose 
are these? They're yours," said she, "for aught I know," 
(speaking a little surlily) whose should they be, d'ye think?" 
"They're none of mine," says he, "I'm sure; but let me see, 
what is there in 'em?--then searching of the pockets, he pulls 
out a gold watch, about nine or ten guineas, a silver snuff-
box, and several pick-locks: as soon as he perceived the pick-
locks, so, so, cries he, here's a fine trade indeed! Could you 
get none to serve you, but some Newgate-stallion; one that 
used to break up houses, and pick open locks! Where is this 
villain," says he, "that wrongs my bed, and thus dishonours 
me, that I may run my sword into his heart, and send him of an 
errand to the devil?"

The poor dejected wretch, that looked each moment to be stuck 
to the floor, resolving now to venture on the goldsmith's 
clemency, came trembling out from underneath the bed, & begged 
of him to save his life, and he would tell him all that e'er 
he knew. "Don't tell me" says the goldsmith of what you know, 
"but tell me what satisfaction shall I have for the wrong 
you've done me, to come thus to defile my bed?" "Indeed," said 
he, "I did it never but once before." "How!" says the 
goldsmith, "have you lain with my wife before?" "Yes, if it 
please you, once, and never but once." With that his wife with 
open mouth came to him, "O villain," said she, "art not thou 
ashamed thus falsely to accuse me to my husband, because thy 
own base wicked inclinations are now brought to light? Hast 
thou not been soliciting of me to act uncleanness with thee, a 
long time, and I refused it always? Nay, didst thou not entice 
me to it yesterday, and I appointed thee to come to-night, 
because I knew my husband would be at home to give thee thy 
reward? Let the maid speak, I won't be my own judge." "Yes, 
sir," replied the maid, I know that what my mistress says is 
true."

The goldsmith then seeming to look more wistly at him, what, 
"Mr Bramble," says he, as if he'd been surprised: "is't you 
that did intend to claw me off thus? And then to mend the 
matter, go to accuse my wife too, as if she had been dishonest 
with you; when I am satisfied there ain't an honester woman in 
the kingdom. Why to be plain with ye, 'tis she that has 
discovered all your roguery." As soon as he heard that, 
lifting up his hands and eyes, "O the deceit," said he, "that 
is in women! Pray give me leave to put my clothes on, and then 
hear me what I have to say." "No, says the goldsmith, I'll not 
part with these clothes; but yet I'll lend you something to 
cover your nakedness withal," and then bid the maid to reach 
him an old suit of his. Which having put on, "Now," says he, 
"give me but leave to speak, and I will tell you how false 
that woman is: come," said the goldsmith, "let's hear what you 
have to say." Upon which Bramble thus began.

"I must confess my fault; I do acknowledge I did oft-times 
solicit your wife to let me lie with her, and I must do her 
that justice to tell you that she still refused it; until at 
last I borrowed fifty guineas of you on a ring, and that I 
gave her, and she thereupon permitted me to lie with her. And 
I ne'er thought of lying with her more, until she sent for me 
yesterday morning; and told me how much she loved me, and that 
you were to come home on Friday night, and she would have me 
lie with her on Thursday night; and that to let me know how 
well she liked me, she would return me back again the fifty 
guineas that I gave her, and also give me back the ring I 
pawned to you for fifty guineas. And that was the occasion of 
my coming here tonight."

"But," said the goldsmith, "pray resolve me one thing; what 
made you bring the pick-locks in your pocket?"

"I brought these pick-locks," replied he, "at her desire, to 
open the cabinet, wherein the ring was put."

"By that," answered the goldsmith, "I know that what you have 
said is false. For what need she to have desired you to bring 
picklocks to open the cabinet withal, when as the key of it 
was in her keeping? For I left it with her when I went out of 
town."

"'Tis very true, my dear, replied his wife, and here it is." 
And then going to her chest of drawers, she gave him out the 
key of the cabinet.

"No, sirrah," says the goldsmith, "you're a rascal; and you 
accuse my chaste and virtuous wife because she has discovered 
your baseness. 'Tis plain enough that your design was to 
debauch my wife, and then to rob my house; and I will make you 
suffer for't, before I've done with you. I've lost above five 
hundred pounds already; and for aught I know you may be the 
thief; for I have found you in my chamber underneath my bed, 
with picklocks in your breeches. Here boy, go call a 
constable."

The poor beau finding himself in such bad circumstances, 
begged him for heaven's sake, he would not to call a 
constable; for if he should be sent to goal, his reputation 
would be lost for ever. Matters were private now, and if they 
might be kept so, let him but make his own demands, and he 
would satisfy 'em. This generous submission did somewhat 
qualify the goldsmith's passion. And calling of his man to 
fetch his books up, he looked what he had lost by Mr Thief, 
and finding there about four hundred pounds set down, he told 
him, that he'd use him kindly, and take his bond for three 
hundred and fifty pound, including in it the fifty guineas he 
had lent him; and for the ring, since he had in so gross a 
manner abused his wife, he should bestow that on her, to make 
her satisfaction.

These were hard terms poor Bramble thought; but yet 
considering his circumstances, he judged 'twas better to 
comply than go to gaol, which would be the result of being had 
before a justice.

The bonds being made and sealed, he fetches him the ring, 
which he, (with begging of her pardon,) presents the 
goldsmith's wife, and desires her to accept of it for the 
affront he so unworthily had put upon her. And then, after a 
bottle of wine at parting, they let him go; restoring him his 
clothes and all things again. She telling of him, as he was 
going out of doors, she hoped that this would be a warning to 
him how he hereafter went about to put tricks upon 
gentlewomen, or make his boast what private favours he had 
received from 'em.

Thus still the bawd tempts all she can to sin, 
And leaves them in the lurch, when once they're in: 
To heap up gold, which she so much adores, 
She makes men atheists, and women whores, 
She lives by sin; and if she can but gain, 
She has her end, let those that list complain.

Chapter X. 
How the goldsmith's wife went to the bawd, and gave her an 
account how she had served her treacherous gallant; and how 
the bawd related several of her own exploits, &c. in a short 
history of her life.

About a week after poor Mr Bramble had been so miserably 
handled by the contrivance of the old bawd, and the splenetic 
and vindictive temper of the goldsmith's wife; whereby she 
doubled on himself all the design he had of cheating her: she 
thought upon the promise she had made to the old bawd, of 
giving her a visit, and enlarging her gratuity: for she saw 
clearly now her words were true, and Bramble made a full 
account to cheat her, though 'twas by the exposing of her 
honour, which she could never have retrieved had it not been 
for the old bawd's advice; although indeed, when she had put 
her in the way, she did herself improve it further to her own 
advantage.

She therefore took ten guineas in her pocket, which she 
believed she had deserved; and which she also thought would so 
engage her, that she need not fear discovery. And being come 
to her house, (to find which she before had given her 
directions) she had no sooner asked for her, but found her; 
and the old bawd taking her up into her dining-room, told her, 
that she was glad to see her in her poor habitation. "O 
mother," says the she-goldsmith, "I found that treacherous 
villain the same false man you represented him; and if I 
hadn't took your counsel, my honour had been ruined; for the 
insipid sot told all that e'er had passed between us to my 
husband; but thanks to my good stars, & your sage counsel, I 
clearly got the ascendant over him, for which I here present 
you with a farther testimony of my gratuity." The bawd, (who 
met with such large fees but seldom) was so well pleased with 
her ingenuous and generous temper, that she both thanked her 
heartily for what she had presented her and told her that if 
hereafter she could by any means oblige her, she would be sure 
to do it: "for I assure you," added she, "that trading now is 
very dead, and I have got but little custom." This made the 
gentlewoman ask her what trade she followed (for she was 
ignorant she was a bawd.) "Madam," replied the old crone, "you 
have so far engaged me by your generosity, I can deny you 
nothing; and therefore if you please, I'll give you the 
history of my life: in which you may perhaps find something 
that may be diverting: for I have in my time run through 
varieties of changes, and met with very odd rencounters: which 
if I may not too much trespass on your patience, I'll relate 
to you with all the brevity I can." To which, with an obliging 
bow, the gentlewoman told her, she should esteem herself 
indebted to her for so great an obligation; and then the bawd 
began as followeth.

"Madam, before I give you that account of my life which I 
design, I think myself obliged first of all, to answer the 
question you were pleased to put to me, viz. What trade or 
calling 'tis I follow, the knowledge of which, will make that 
I shall afterwards relate, the more intelligible to you.

"Know therefore, madam, that the house which I now keep, is a 
house of convenience for gentlemen and ladies: and goes under 
several denominations: some call it the School of Venus, 
others a vaulting school; other the assignation-house: and 
some that are my enemies, bestow upon it the title of a bawdy-
house; but this title I neither lay claim to, nor take 
pleasure in. Though I confess, my business is to help a 
gentleman that is in distress, to the enjoyment of a 
gentlewoman; and a gentlewoman that has the like occasion, to 
a gallant. In which I always take care to help either sex to 
that which may be for their purpose; and always warrant those 
I help 'em to, to be safe and sound; for I value my reputation 
more, than to put a bad commodity into any man's hand. I am 
not unsensible that this is decried as a very unlawful 
calling; but for my part, to be plain with you, madam, I am of 
another opinion: for nature that has given us appetites, has 
also given us an inclination to satisfy 'em; and 'tis no more 
than the satisfying the natural desires and inclinations of 
men and women; that I concern myself about. I know it will be 
objected that marriage is appointed as a remedy in that case. 
And to those that are equally matched, without any impediment 
on either side, I grant it: and whether there be any such 
impediment, or not, they can best tell, that have such wives 
or husbands. It is not my business to ask 'em and if they do't 
without occasion, 'tis their own fault, and not mine. I know 
(and know it by experience too) there's many a man that looks 
as likely as your husband does, and yet can't give a woman 
that which nature calls for. Some men (and so some women too) 
have greater stomachs, and some less, as nature orders it; and 
if their diet been't proportioned according to their stomachs, 
some may be surfeited, and others starved. For that which one 
can live on very well, would starve another; and the 
concupiscential appetites of men and women, do differ as much 
as do their stomachs. And therefore married people are not so 
much to blame in making use of others besides their wives or 
husbands; provided that they take that prudent care and 
circumspection which is so requisite in such affairs. And 
because madam, you are yet but a beginner, and may perhaps be 
startled at this doctrine, I'll let you see 'tis not my single 
notion, but is the judgment of a learned author, who long ago 
has written on this subject, a choice copy of verses, which 
I'll here repeat to you. He entitles it,

Upon love fondly refused for conscience sake.
"Nature, creation's law, is judged by sense, 
Not by the tyrant conscience; 
Then our commission gives us leave to do 
What youth and pleasure prompt us to: 
For we must question else heav'ns great decree, 
And tax it with a treachery; 
If things made sweet to tempt our appetite, 
Should with a guilt stain the delight. 
High'r pow'rs rule us, ourselves can nothing do, 
Who made us love, hath made love lawful too. 
It was not love, but love transformed to vice, 
Ravished by envious avarice, 
Made woman first impropriate; all were free; 
Enclosures men's inventions be. 
I'th golden age, no action could be found 
For trespass on my neighbour's ground: 
'Twas just, with any fair to mix our blood; 
The best is most diffusive good. 
She that confines her beams to one man's sight, 
Is a dark lanthorn to a shining light. 
Say, does the virgin spring less chaste appear, 
'Cause many thirsts are quenched there? 
Or have you not with the same odours met, 
When more than one have smelt your violet 
The phoenix is not angry at her nest, 
'Cause her perfumes makes others blest: 
Though incense to th'immortal Gods be meant, 
Yet mortals revel in the scent. 
Man is the lord of creatures; yet we see 
That all his vassals' loves are free; 
The severe wedlock-fetters do not bind 
The pard's inflamed and am'rous mind, 
But that he may be like a bridegroom led 
Ev'n to the royal lion's bed. 
The birds may for a year their loves confine, 
But make new choice each valentine. 
If our affections then more servile be 
Than are our slaves, where's man's sovereignty? 
Why then by pleasing more, should you less please, 
And spare your sweets, being more sweet than these? 
If the fresh trunk have sap enough to give, 
That each insertive branch may live; 
The gardener grafts not only apples there, 
But adds the warden and the pear; 
The peach and apricot together grow, 
The cherry and the damson too; 
Till he hath made, by skilful husbandry, 
An entire orchard of one tree. 
So least our paradise perfection want, 
We may inoculate and plant. 
What's conscience, but a beldam's midnight theme; 
Or nodding nurses idle dream? 
So feigned as are the goblins, elves and fairies, 
To watch their orchards and their dairies. 
For who can tell when first her reign begun? 
i'th' state of innocence was none: 
And since large conscience (as the proverb shows) 
In the same sense as bad one goes; 
The less, the better then; whence this will fall, 
He's perfect that hath none at all. 
Suppose it be a virtue rich and pure; 
'tis not for spring or summer sure; 
Nor yet for autumn; love must have his prime, 
His warmer hearts, and harvest time. 
Till we have flourished, grown, & reaped our wishes. 
What conscience dares oppose our kisses? 
But when time's colder hand leades us near home 
Then let that winter-virtue come: 
Frost is till then prodigious; we may do 
What youth, and pleasure prompts us to." 
[Thomas Randolph (1605-1635)]

When the bawd had made an end of repeating her verses, the 
goldsmith's lady told her they were very ingenious and 
diverting lines, and that she had obliged her extremely by 
repeating them. And then prayed her to go on with her 
discourse which she liked very well. Upon which the bawd thus 
proceeded.

"I think madam, I have said enough to justify both sexes, in 
the gratifying of their amorous desires, though they be 
married; for 'tis not strange at all to hear that men and 
women have been married, and yet have been uncapable of 
answering the ends of marriage, or satisfying the delights of 
Venus. It is not long since I was told of a young pretty 
virgin that happened to be married to a man who was deficient 
in his virility, which the poor thing (being ashamed to speak 
on't and not knowing any other remedy) laid so to heart, in a 
short time it killed her: but had I been acquainted with her, 
I could have helped her to a brisk young man, one that had 
given proof of his sufficiency, which should have eased her 
pain, and saved her life. And therefore, madam, since married 
persons may stand so much in need of my assistance, and much 
more may they that are unmarried, who doubtless have the same 
desires that married people have: nay, their desires are 
generally more impetuous; for finding of their natural 
concupiscence stirring 'em up to a desire of copulation, they 
apprehend that there's more in't then what they find, when 
once they come to try. And these things, madam, in Italy (as I 
have heard by several) are so common, that 'tis scarce thought 
a crime: or, if it be, 'tis but a venial one, as all the 
devout doctors of the Roman church, (nay, and the Pope 
himself) assures us: and therefore madam, to deal freely with 
you, I have long since declared myself a Roman Catholic, for 
that religion allows us the most pleasure while we live, and 
promises us heaven when we die. And having thus given you an 
account both of my calling and religion; I come now to perform 
my promise, in giving you the history of my life.

"The place of my nativity was the imperial chamber of Great 
Britain; my father being an haberdasher of small wares; and 
had as much to do as most men of that calling; and whilst he 
lived, he gave me all that education that the most wealthy 
citizens bestow upon their daughters, he keeping me at board 
at Hackney school. And when grown up to marriageable years I 
wanted not for store of sweethearts, and some of them of very 
good estates: and yet my father thought none good enough. But 
he being one that was a great and zealous stickler for the 
parliament in opposition to the King, and thinking that 
Charles Stuart (as then they called King Charles the Second), 
would never be restored, laid out his money in purchasing of 
crown-lands, having (as he thought) got a mighty pennyworth: 
but Oliver being dead, and Charles the Second coming in, all 
his estate was lost; and he forced to abscond; the grief of 
which soon after broke his heart. My father being dead, and 
his estate lost by the King's restoration, my mother quickly 
took me from the boarding-school; and those whom I had scorned 
before, begun now to scorn me as much; my hopes of a good 
portion being gone, my sweethearts quickly vanished; but being 
a young maid and pretty handsome, an old rich bachelor that 
had a kindness for me in my father's life-time, (whom both my 
father and myself had then denied) thinking that in this ebb 
of fortune he might be more successful in his suit, again made 
his addresses to me; and though I had as great an aversation 
to him then as ever, yet he was mightily encouraged by my 
mother; who thought in our declining state, he might support 
our family: and therefore she not only showed him all the 
countenance he could desire, herself, (for whom indeed he 
would have been a fitter match) but also charged me likewise 
to receive him well, for he must be my husband. And when I 
told her I couldn't love him, she called me fool, saying, I 
should marry him first, and love him afterwards: and when I 
farther objected our disparity in age she answered with 
another musty proverb, that 'twas good taking shelter under an 
old hedge; and that it was far better being an old man's 
darling, then a young man's worldling: and though this didn't 
satisfy me, yet I soon found I must have him or none; for 
having been brought up too high to make a working tradesman's 
wife, that portion now was gone that should have helped me to 
a better husband. And therefore making a virtue of necessity, 
I began to be more complaisant to my inamorato than I had been 
formerly; which quickly won his heart to that degree, that in 
a short time after we were married--and though the first night 
that I went to bed with him, I was a maid, and so knew nothing 
of that which a new married couple ought to do, more then what 
nature dictated; yet I then thought he went about his business 
like a fumbler, and did that little which he did, at such a 
rate, it had almost as good have been let alone; for what he 
did, served only to stir up in me greater desire for what he 
couldn't do. I found the exercise he offered at, had something 
in it that was very pleasing, which in the height of the 
encounter I was disappointed in. And I must own, that I found 
this a very sensible affliction, and caused in me a greater 
aversion to my husband than I had before: and therefore I 
resolved to try what those venereal recreations were, that I 
had but an imperfect taste of, as soon as I could get an 
opportunity.

"Nor did I wait long before my good fortune put one in my 
hand; for my husband's 'prentice, a handsome brisk young man 
(who had but about two years' time to serve) I had observed 
was very sweet upon my maid, who was handsome enough; and 
having observed that he courted her, I used to watch them, and 
by that means knew both the time and place of their courtship; 
where they used to spend some hours in an evening when the 
shop was shut, according as they could find opportunity. By my 
listening and overhearing their amorous discourse, I perceived 
he solicited her hard for her last favours, which she would 
not consent to; and being resolved to improve this opportunity 
to the accomplishing my own desires, having overheard 'em make 
their next appointment, when the time drew near, I called my 
chambermaid down (for she it was that the 'prentice courted) 
and sent her of an errand at a considerable distance, that she 
could not be back in two hours' time, taking care to see her 
out of doors myself by a back pair of stairs, so that I knew 
the 'prentice could know nothing of her being abroad, my 
husband very fortunately being absent likewise, I went to the 
place of meeting myself; and the young couple being accustomed 
to converse without any light, as being unwilling to be 
discovered, I seated myself where my chambermaid used to do; 
and the apprentice coming as usual, came up to me, and 
caressed me; whereupon I clapped my hand upon his mouth, as a 
signal of his being silent, and then embraced him very 
tenderly; and he being ecstasied with this soft entertainment, 
which was very pleasing to him, he was so far blinded with his 
passion, that he made no farther search, but imagining that 
his sweetheart was now come to his terms he pushed on his 
design, and met with such a compliance from me which he did 
not so easily expect; and I must say, that I had not till that 
time tasted the delights of love: for he managed his business 
with so much briskness and vigour, that I was very much 
pleased with the encounter. When we had both performed our 
parts to equal satisfaction; I caught him about the middle, 
and told him he should not go, till I knew who he was; for I 
made him believe I knew him not, and first thought it was my 
husband, but happened now too late to find the contrary. My 
spark at this was much surprised, and his amorous passion 
exchanged into fear; and therefore begging of my pardon, he 
told me he took me for the chambermaid, and desired I would 
conceal what had happened, and not ruin him. "Well, well," 
said I, "I'll keep your secret; but it shall be on this 
condition, that you think no more on the chamber-maid; and get 
you to bed forthwith, otherwise it will be worse for you." And 
this I enjoined him, lest he should have told the maid. My 
spark was very thankful that I suffered him to come off so 
well, and accordingly went to bed. The next morning I paid my 
maid her wage, and turned her off, not letting her so much as 
bid her lover adieu. After which my young spark and I used to 
have frequent rencounters, to each other's mutual 
satisfaction: and I used to supply him with money for his 
pocket expenses, furnishing him always with what he wanted; 
until at last our kindness for each other was taken notice of 
by my husband; who not being willing to have a public talk 
made of it, gave him up his indentures when he had a year and 
a quarter to serve.

"This was a very sensible trouble to me; for having been used 
to those delights which my youth and high-feeling required for 
about three-quarters of a year, it became very irksome to me 
to be abridged of 'em. And my husband being grown jealous of 
me, by the familiarity he had observed me to have with his 
man, after he had turned him off, as I have related, gave me 
this gentle reproof:

"'Wife, you cannot but be sensible that your familiarity with 
your man is become a town-talk; I have done what I can to 
prevent it, by turning him away; but if you don't mend your 
manners, and reform your life, all that I can say, will be to 
no purpose. I am afraid you han't been innocent in this 
matter: but since what is past can't be recalled, I will say 
no more of that; but I expect for the time to come that you 
avoid both his and all other suspicious company: you know I 
took you without a portion at a time when your family was 
fallen to decay; and I maintain you as well as any citizen's 
wife in London; and for you to requite me with being false to 
my bed, is not only to be very dishonest, but highly 
ungrateful. And therefore as you expect the continuance of my 
love, pray let me find a reformation of your manners.'

"To this I answered him, that 'twas possible that a free and 
affable temper, as mine was, might give too much occasion to 
those that had no kindness for me, to speak evil of me: and 
that if to be accused, was enough to make one guilty, it was 
impossible for any to be innocent. However, since the freedom 
I had used had given such occasion of offence, I would take 
care for the future to walk more circumspectly, and be more 
reserved. With this promise, my husband was very well 
satisfied, and thereupon embraced me very tenderly.

"But all this was only like the raking of a few ashes over 
live coals, which in a little time break forth again, and burn 
more violently. My husband's impotency, being now about 
seventy, grew daily more upon him; and my desires after that 
due benevolence he could not give me, still increased, so that 
what he could not do for me, I was under a necessity of 
getting done elsewhere, and knew no other person to whom I 
could repair for a supply, but he who had so often done it to 
my own content before: to him therefore I found means to send 
a letter, appointing him to meet me at such a place and time, 
which he accordingly did, and there we had that mutual 
enjoyment which we both desired: and though we met thus 
several times, it was with so much caution, for fear of a 
discovery, that we were often forced to change both time and 
place, and take new measures.

"One night above the rest, when I was sure he was engaged to 
stay late at the tavern, I had obliged my spark to give me a 
meeting at our house; and had on that occasion, sent all the 
servants up to bed, upon pretence that they must rise early in 
the morning. When they were gone to bed, and all was sure, my 
servant entered, with all imaginable privacy and caution; and 
then, without much ceremony, entered upon those melting joys 
we both so eagerly desired, which we had hardly finished, 
before my husband (who had dispatched his business quicker 
than we had done) knocks at the door; which I no sooner heard, 
but springing from the arms of my affrighted gallant, I took a 
sheet out of the chest of drawers in the chamber, and tying it 
with a copped crown upon his head, I made him look methought 
just like some fornicator, a going to do penance in a parish 
church, and then turning him into the next room, I bid him, if 
my husband came in thither, (who was a very timorous man, and 
almost trembled at the talk of spirits) to counterfeit a 
ghost, by which means I would quickly use a stratagem which 
should relieve him without danger. And as soon as he had put 
himself into a suitable posture, and placed himself in a 
convenient corner to play the devil with my husband, (in case 
the cuckold should come into the room which he had taken for 
his sanctuary) I framed a counterfeit smile, and let in my 
husband; whom I received with very kind words, and gave him a 
dissembling kiss or two; and then putting on his flannel night 
cap, and fetching him his slippers, which he put on, we went 
upstairs together; in the meantime, the ghost had found a 
piece of whiting; which the maid happened to lay there to make 
the chimney fire next morning; and this he takes and breaks to 
pieces, and daubs his face all over with it, that he then 
looked more pale than death itself; insomuch that even I was 
almost startled at the first glimpse of him. Before my husband 
went to bed, he always went into the dining-room to prayer; 
which I appeared as forward for as he, and presently brought 
him a cushion, upon which he kneels down, and falls a-praying; 
not as yet seeing the ghost: but as he was at prayer, my spark 
endeavouring to get the weather-gage of him, that is, the 
door: my husband chanced to spy him, which so disordered and 
affrighted him, that he was ready to sink down. Before he 
spied him, he was praying thus. 'Thou know'st Lord, there are 
wicked people in the world, and some of them have wronged me 
very much, but Lord, I hope thou wilt be even with 'em, and 
let 'em have no rest till they acknowledge it, and make me 
satisfaction for all that wrong they have--' (then seeing the 
counterfeit ghost, he forgot his prayer, and cried) 'O lord, O 
Lord! What's this? What's this? O Lord! O Lord!' and then 
rises up, and makes towards the door, which the ghost seeing 
beckons him; at which he cries 'I won't, I won't, I won't!' In 
the meantime, though I knew what the matter was, I run to him, 
and cried, 'Dear husband what's the matter?' as if I had been 
frighted; and went to hold him; but he struggled to get from 
me, crying out 'The devil! The devil! The devil!' 'Where, 
where?' said I, 'I see nothing.' 'O 'tis yonder, 'tis yonder, 
'tis yonder!' says he. 'See how it stares and beckons to me!' 
'I see nothing, not I,' says I: and with that, the ghost came 
nearer us; at which my husband run into the bedchamber, and I 
after him; and shut the door to us. By which means my spark 
had an opportunity to go out without discovery. My husband 
immediately got into bed, and covered himself over head and 
ears, and then thought he was pretty safe, and charged me 
presently to put the candle out: which I obeyed, and straight 
went to bed to him; being well pleased I had so cleverly 
brought off my lover.

"The next morning, I asked my husband what the matter was that 
made him so extremely discomposed last night: 'Why,' says he, 
'did you see nothing last night?' 'Not I,' said I, 'but only 
you disordered as you were praying.' 'O love,' said he, 'I saw 
death coming towards me as plain as I see you; and I believe I 
shan't trouble you long; for death held up his hand and 
beckoned to me several times.' ''tis nothing but your fancy 
sure,' said I, 'for I saw nothing.' ''tis certain true as you 
are there: and that you could not see it, makes it more 
evident that death came only unto me.' 'But how do you know,' 
said I, 'that it was death, if you did see something?' 'Know!' 
says he, 'why I knew it very well, and if you'd seen it you'd 
a said of it as I do: for never anything looked more pale in 
the world. The very thought of it frightens me still.' Besides 
the kindness that contrivance did me to make way for my 
gallant's escape that time, 'twas very serviceable to me 
afterwards; for the remembrance of the ghost was always so 
fresh in my husband's memory, that he would never venture into 
the room again by candle-light. So that my love and I had 
other assignations afterwards: and if my husband happened to 
come home before he went, it was but putting him into the 
dining-room and he was safe enough, for I was sure my husband 
never would come there.

Thus I advantage of his weakness made, 
Who was by fear to cuckoldom betrayed 
And upon all occurrences, I still 
Contrived to blind his eyes, and act my will: 
For those in their design will often fail. 
That know not how with ev'ry wind to sail.

"But after some time my gallant fell sick, and in the midst of 
his sickness, he was very much troubled with qualms of 
conscience for his sins, and had no more wit and honesty but 
to send me a letter to acquaint me with it, and to exhort me 
to repent; which letter my husband happening to receive, all 
our intrigues were thereby discovered; which made my husband 
absolutely relinquish me; and turn me out of doors with much 
disgrace. Which yet could not at all reclaim me, for by my 
husband's exposing me, I was past shame, and cared not what I 
did: but being in a very good garb, and having some money, I 
took me lodgings, and walked the streets at a night, picking 
up whom I could get.

"Once I remember going along Cheapside, late at night, a 
citizen in a very good garb, coming up to me,'Madam,' said he, 
'will you accept of a glass of canary?' I thanked him, and 
went with him to the Bull Head tavern; where he called for a 
bottle of the best canary; which being brought, after two or 
three glasses a piece, and as many more kisses, he began to 
take up my petticoats; and I seeming a little coy, putting of 
'em down, he grew more eager; and was for a little diversion 
upon the tavern chairs; and whilst he was eager in finishing 
what he was about, I began to dive into his fob, which I found 
well furnished with guineas, besides a gold-watch, which I 
took out, and looked upon it, and put it up into his pocket 
again very carefully; and this I so often repeated, telling 
him I was a person of quality, and that what I did, with 
respect to the liberty I allowed him, was only for the 
gratification of my youthful fancy, and as for anything of 
filthy lucre, or bring a mercenary creature, I did both scorn 
it, and was much above it: all this by the richness of my 
garb, he was apt enough to believe; and therefore was the less 
upon his guard; but I beginning now to be reduced, (not having 
my husband's bags to go to, as I used to have) thought he 
ought also to pay for the pleasure he received from me, as 
well as I formerly used to pay my gallant for the pleasure I 
received from him; and therefore taking twenty guineas out of 
his pockets, and telling them before his face, I pretended to 
put them all in again; but had cunningly conveyed them into my 
own pocket, and told twenty milled shillings into his; and 
also taking out his watch again, as I had done several times 
before, I conveyed the watch into my own pocket, and the case 
only into his: as we were just a parting, that I might come 
off with more credit, I bid him feel in's pocket, and see he 
had his watch and all his guineas; and clapping of his hand 
upon his thigh, and feeling the case, he said he had: I 
further asked him if he had all his guineas, and bid him tell 
'em; and he putting his hand in's fob he told twenty, (which 
he took for guineas, his silver being in another fob) and told 
me I was very honest, he was sure he'd all; and then desired 
to know my name and where my lodgings were; that he might wait 
upon me some other time, and have the like enjoyment; which I 
seemed to desire as much as he, greatly commending his 
performances (though to speak truth, his will was better far 
than his ability, and his gold watch and guineas much exceeded 
either, for he was one of them which we call antiquated 
whoremasters) and so to satisfy him, I gave him such 
directions as sent him to the other end o'th' town, to seek a 
needle in a bottle of hay."
Thus the rich cuff of's gold and watch was choused<9> 
Whilst I therewith in racy wine caroused 
'Tis fitting that such dabblers should be caught 
And by their losses to repentance brought: 
Who will not say I served him in his kind? 
For he had that to which he had most mind. 
And since his watch has left its empty place, 
I leave, him to bemoan his own light case. 
For he may now by dear experience say, 
Time oftentimes unknown will slip away.

"The next week after this, I was picked up by a brisk spark, 
who likewise had me to the tavern, and seeing me in a rich 
garb, (and though I say it, tolerably handsome then) was very 
civil to me, and treated me with much respect, giving me a 
good dish of fish for supper, which with good store of wine, 
served as a fit provocative for that which followed after. But 
before we began those pleasures to which the treat was but an 
introduction, he flung me down a guinea, and told me he 
designed that for a pair of gloves for me; which when I seemed 
unwilling to accept of, as looking somewhat mercenary; no, 
madam, says he, this is what I freely offer, and can't 
therefore be thought mercenary: but now you talk of that, I'll 
tell you a good jest was put last week upon a friend of mine, 
a linen-draper, who 'hough he had so much holland of his own, 
would needs be taking up of other folk's. For this old 
cuckold-maker being got flustered, and something late out one 
night the last week, picks up a gentlewoman and has her to the 
tavern (and so repeated the whole story I before have told 
you, madam; with this addition, which but for him I never 
should have known), that when the old fornicator was come 
home, he had a severe lecture from his disgruntled lady, who 
told him he had either been asleep or worse; for that it was 
near two o'clock. But the old cuss thinking to pacify her 
anger by convincing her it wasn't so late, would needs go look 
upon his watch; but quickly finding that although the nest was 
there, the bird was flown, put up the case again, with only 
saying, good lack a day! How strangely time will slip away in 
company, before a man's aware! But the next morning being to 
pay a merchant's man a bill for a small parcel of Hamburgh-
cloth that came to 22 guineas, and his cashier going to reach 
the money, he put his hand into his fob, hold (says he to his 
man) I have twenty guineas here, and I can make them up in 
silver, and so flings his supposed guineas down upon the 
counter; but was exceedingly surprised to see that they had 
lost their colour, and were all white instead of yellow. 
However at the present he stifled his resentments, and told 
his man that he must fetch the money out of the till, for he 
remembered now he had paid away all his guineas. Presently 
after which, (says my gallant, that told the story to me) he 
came to me, and I perceiving him extremely out of humour, 
asked what the matter was? Never was man, says he, so tricked 
as I have been last night. For being out somewhat late, says 
he, and somewhat flustered, I picked up a small girl, which I 
thought was the honestest that ever I met with, but she has 
proved the veriest jilt that e'er I had to do with, and 
tricked me out of a gold watch and twenty guineas. And then, 
said he, related all that I have told you; and bid me be sure 
to have a care of them that would pretend they were not 
mercenary, for they'll be trebly paid for what they do. 'But 
you, madam,' said he to me, 'look like a gentlewoman above 
such shifts as those.' 'If you respect me, sir,' said I, 'you 
have the remedy in your own hands; and therefore if you please 
I will withdraw.' 'No, madam, by no means,' says he, 'I only 
told you this story to divert you, madam.' In short, we soon 
agreed; for he was much a gentleman, and performed what he 
undertook to my great satisfaction; and I (or else he 
flattered me) gave him as much content.

"But 'twas not always I had such good luck, for not long 
after, I met with one, who though he appeared very well to 
sight, gave me more than I cared for; and more than I could 
rid myself on for a great while after. 'Twas then, madam, by 
taking mercury, and using salivations, to be rid of that 
unwelcome guest, the pox, that I lost all that beauty which I 
once could boast of. And then, as one misfortune seldom comes 
alone, my husband, whilst I was in this condition, died; who 
while he lived, allowed me some small maintenance; but hearing 
on his death-bed the misfortune that had then befallen me, he 
became so exasperated against me, he only left me twenty 
shillings to buy a coffin for me, as thinking I should ne'er 
recover; whereas before, as I have since been told by the 
executors, he designed at least a hundred pounds for me.

"The great expenses of my sickness (which had besides made me 
unfit for business) had brought me pretty low; and I was now 
quite destitute of any other way to help myself but the old 
trade of whoring; and yet I was afraid of being now a common 
night-walker, lest I should meet with such another job as I 
had met withal before; which would have ruined me to all 
intents and purposes: but by a friend of mine, that had been a 
well-wisher to the calling, I was advised, as much the safer 
way, to list myself as a retainer to a private vaulting 
school; where I was told (and indeed found it so) that there 
were none admitted but what were sound and tight. To this, 
although the gains to me was less, yet since there was less 
hazard of the pox, I thought it best to hire myself: and this, 
madam, was such a house as now I keep myself. Where we don't 
only take special care, that none but what are free from all 
distempers be admitted; but likewise have surgeons and 
apothecaries with whom we are in fee, who, if we but suspect 
the least miscarriage, straight give us something that may 
carry't off.

"Here I continued for some time: and though I say't, behaved 
myself so well, that I was preferred to the best gentlemen; 
for though, my natural beauty had been much decayed, yet I by 
art so patched it up again, that I by my good management, 
passed for a maid at first to all that didn't know me: and 
besides what my mistress got, I am sure I had ten guineas 
given me by an esquire for parting with my maidenhead; which I 
had parted with many years past; and yet I sold it to new 
customers several times after.

"During the time that I was in this station, I met with 
several odd adventures; some of which I shall briefly give you 
an account of.

"Having been one day abroad, my mistress desired me to call at 
the carriers, to see if there was any young country-lasses 
come to town (for our calling is not to be carried on to 
advantage without now and then having fresh goods) I went to 
that purpose to Bosom's Inn; and had that day dressed up 
myself like a country-lass that I might with the less 
difficulty engage 'em. But when I came thither, I found there 
was none: while I was asking the carrier when I might expect 
any, I saw a couple of young gentlemen standing near me, as if 
they had some business with the carrier when I had done; which 
occasioned me to make the more haste: as soon as I had left 
the carrier and was come away, before I was got into St. 
Lawrence Lane, they overtook me, and asked me if I was not a 
Lancashire maid? I told 'em yes; being resolved to know what 
their design was. Then they asked me what part of Lancashire? 
I told 'em Preston; for I was acquainted with the names of the 
chief towns there. They then desired me to go and take part of 
a glass of wine with them; which I at first seemed to scruple, 
but being more importunately urged, I was easily persuaded. 
And so went to the Feathers Tavern near Queen Street corner in 
Cheapside; where a glass of canary being called for, one of 
'em drank to me, and I drank to the other. After which one of 
'em came pretty close up to me, and would needs have been 
feeling where I wasn't willing to let him, whereupon I told 
him he was very uncivil to invite one that was a stranger to a 
tavern; and then to offer any such thing to her. 'Let her 
alone,' says the other, 'I believe she's but new come out of 
the country, and does not understand the way of the town: 
pray, sweetheart,' says he, addressing himself to me, 'how 
long have you been in town?' 'Ever since last Friday,' said I, 
'but pray, why do ye ask?' 'To be plain with ye,' says he, 
'this young man and myself have a request to you, which if you 
grant, may be for your advantage as long as you live.' 'Pray, 
sir,' said I, 'what's that?' 'Why' says he, 'we are both 
apprentices in one house, at a linen draper's in Cornhill, 
(but 'tis no matter for that, for you don't know places yet) 
and we have a mind to keep a young woman between us; and we 
would willingly have a country-maid, that isn't much 
acquainted with the town; and if you please, you shall be 
she.' I presently smoked their design, but behaved myself as 
ignorantly as I could on purpose, because I found there was 
something to be got by 'em. So I replied, 'With all my heart, 
sir, if we can agree, for I want a good service.' 'Well,' says 
the other spark that would have been so forward with me, 'we 
shan't disagree, I dare say. What wages do you ask?' 'Why 
sir,' says I, 'I have lived in good gentlemen's houses in 
Lancashire; and I think I deserve four pounds a year.' 'Well, 
well,' says the other, 'we shall give you four times four 
pounds a year and more: but then you must do what we'd have 
you.' 'Yes,' said I, 'I shall be willing to do what you'd have 
me, if you please to tell me what it is:' 'Why' said he, 'your 
business will be easy enough, and pleasant enough: for we 
intend to take a very good lodging for you, and provide you 
with all things necessary; and your business shall only be to 
lie with one of us one night, and the other another. The chief 
thing we shall desire of you, is only to keep yourself 
entirely to us, and not stir out without our approbation. And 
for other things you shall have what you will, and be 
maintained like a gentlewoman; for we'll maintain you; and the 
money you shall have, shall be for your own occasions, and to 
find you new clothes.' 'Well, sir,' says I, 'for such things 
we should not differ; but we in the country think 'tis a 
wicked thing to lie with folks, unless they be married; and 
then they mun be married but to one nother: and so that mun 
not be, sir.' 'I know not what you do in the country, says one 
of the sparks, but here in London 'tis as common as washing of 
dishes. And people of the best quality do it. Look ye', 
continued he, 'to encourage you, we will give you thirty 
pounds a year: and maintain you besides. We could have enow in 
town to serve us, and thank you too; but we look upon you to 
be an innocent country maid, and for that reason we had rather 
have you than another, 'Are you sure you are a maid?' said the 
other. 'Sure!' said I, yes, I think I am.' 'Yes, yes,' said 
the other, 'I believe she is.' 'But I believe,' said I, 'you 
but taak'n all this while, for nobody mun do such things.' 
'No, I'll assure you,' says the more serious of the two, 'we 
are in earnest; and we'll pay you down half your money, 
fifteen pounds now, to put yourself in a good garb, fit for a 
gentleman's mistress.' 'But what mun I do for't?' said I. 
'Let's agree upon that first.' 'You shall be mistress to us 
both, said they: and let one of us lie with you one time, and 
the other another: and we'll now go along with you, and take a 
lodging for you; and you shall go under the notion of our 
sister, and we will be your brothers; and so no notice shall 
be taken of it.'

"But not to trouble you longer, madam, with the particulars, 
we at last agreed the matter; and I had fifteen pounds paid me 
down for half a year's pay: and my two sparks cast lots, to 
decide the important controversy of who should lie with me 
first: and it happened to him that was the most civil of the 
two; and he was to tarry with me till ten o'clock at night, at 
my new lodgings, and then to go home, for he could not stay 
all night. So to it we went, and I gave him all the 
satisfaction he desired; counterfeiting the matter so well, 
that he was mightily pleased with the enjoyment he had: and 
went home very well satisified; telling me, he would acquaint 
his fellow-'prentice that was to come the next night, that he 
had found me all love and charms. And so took his leave of me.

"When my young gallant was gone, I began to consider that I 
had all I was like to have of 'em: and that one fool was 
enough to be troubled with; and since they had paid me but one 
half of my salary, and for that one of 'em had enjoyed me, & 
had what he wanted, I thought we were pretty even. And so 
getting up early the next morning, I left at once my lodgings 
and gallants. And at night when the other came, (as without 
doubt he did instead of meeting with me,) I left him this note 
in the key-hole,

"For your small stipend, I'll ne'er live in goal, 
Go seek a trull that can divide her tail: 
One half I've pleased, I one half am paid: 
Had I got all, I should have longer staid. 
And yet you can't say I was ungenteel, 
For I let one kiss and the other feel.

"How pleased the disappointed fop was with my poetry, I know 
not; for I ne'er went again to my new lodging to enquire after 
'em."

"Well," said the goldsmith's lady, "I ne'er heard of a 
prettier intrigue before and I dare say you served 'em very 
handsomely--but pray proceed."

"Another time, I served a goldsmith's 'prentice a pretty 
trick; for having been abroad about some business, and coming 
home i'th' evening, a young spark, exceeding beauish, (with a 
new modish suit of clothes on) that had been drinking hard all 
day, would need be picking of me up, when I didn't at all 
intend it. But seeing him so earnest for a bout, that I 
couldn't get rid of him, I had him to a house I was acquainted 
with by the way, and there after a heartening cup or two, and 
having handled his posteriors, to see he didn't put a trick 
upon me, I let him have what he so eagerly desired; and diving 
into his pockets i'th' mean while, I found he had but one poor 
single shilling left; which vext me so, that I resolved I 
would be even with him another way; and therefore when he had 
done what he'd a mind to do, I presently called briskly for a 
fresh bottle of the best, which whilst we were drinking, I 
said 'Well, spark, as a reward for your excellent performance, 
which has been beyond my expectation, and showed you to be a 
good woman's man, I will divert you with an entertainment 
worth your seeing. Come, it shall cost you nothing; only I 
must beg the favour of you to unrig, and lend me your clothes 
for half an hour; and I will bring you a mant and petticoat to 
wear the while; and you shall see a jolly crew of active 
dames, which will perform such lecherous agilities as will 
stir you up to take the other touch, and far out-vie whatever 
has been either done, or related to be done, by Madam 
Creswell, Posture Moll, the Countess of Alsatia, or any other 
German rope-dancer whatever.' The spark was extremely tickled 
with the fancy, and presently uncased himself; and gave me all 
his bravery, and was so over-forward, that he not only gave me 
his clothes, but his rings, cane, and hat, and wig; so that he 
left himself nothing but his shirt and his stockings; and the 
mistress of the house being my friend, I borrowed of her an 
old mant and petticoat; which the fool of a fop put on. I told 
him I must entreat his patience for half an hour's time, till 
the company was dressed, and so went downstairs; and telling 
of my friend how it went, and we being to go half snips in the 
booty, I went off with the things, which I pawned for about 
four pounds, keeping his rings to myself, and left my landlady 
to manage the rest. After the disrobed spark had waited for 
the space of an hour with great patience, and longing 
expectation, for this comical show, and nobody came at him, 
his patience was quite tired, and therefore knocking with his 
foot, the maid of the house came up, of whom he enquired for 
such a person, as well as he could, describing me. The maid 
pretended an entire ignorance of the matter, and so whipped 
downstairs again. But he knocking again, up comes the 
mistress, who seeming to take him for a woman, asked him, what 
he would have? He answered, such a woman to whom he'd lent his 
clothes; but she not only made herself ignorant of the matter, 
but called him bitch, whore, cheat, pick-pocket, and all to 
nought, concluding her harmonious harangue in this manner, 'Ye 
dirty drab, don't think to put your cheats upon me: you came 
in here with a spruce young man, and for ought I know you have 
picked his pocket, and sent him away, and now you go about to 
cheat me of my reckoning; but that shan't do ye whore, for 
I'll have my reckoning quickly, or else I'll strip your gown 
off your arse;' but the poor rogue having no money to pay, she 
forthwith stripped him of his mant: and thus half naked, in a 
petticoat slit up to the breeches; an old broken pair of 
stays, and a few ragged head-clothes, he was kicked downstairs 
into the street. And being willing to know the end of this 
comical adventure, I had planted one to watch what he did: who 
followed him at a distance till he went into an alehouse in 
Foster Lane, where my spy went in after him, and called for a 
pot of drink; and there heard him tell a lamentable story how 
he was robbed by some foot-pads (as he came from Hampstead, 
where he had been to see his uncle) who had stripped him of 
all his clothes, and given him those things to cover his 
nakedness: the people of the house compassionated him very 
much, and lent him a suit of clothes, hat and wig, with which 
he went to his master's, who was a goldsmith, and lived at the 
sign of the ---- in Cheapside. and I appeal to you madam, 
whether he wasn't served in his kind."

"I think", replied the goldsmith's lady, "you are very happy 
and ingenious in all your contrivances; and for aught I know, 
might have contributed more to reclaim him from those courses, 
than all the lectures and sermons that could have been 
preached against 'em; for one would think he should have but 
little mind any more to those sweetmeats which were attended 
with such sour sauce--but pray go on with the story of your 
life."

"Madam," said she, "having continued for many years with my 
mistress, where we kept very good orders, and lived in 
reputation also among our neighbours, for we went constantly 
to church, not only to make a show of being religious, but to 
expose ourselves to the view of the gallants: for our mistress 
or governess always ordered us to follow her, and to take all 
opportunities, as we came downstairs from the galleries, or as 
we passed over the kennels in the streets, to lift up our 
coats so high, that we might show our handsome legs and feet, 
with a good fine worsted or silk pair of stockings on; by 
which means the gallants would be sure either to dog us 
'emselves, or else to send their footmen to see where we 
lived, and then they would afterwards come to us themselves. 
By which means we have got many a good customer. And when we 
came home from church, we generally, if we had none of our 
gallants with us, spent our time in reading of play-books, 
that we might know the better how to entertain our guests with 
witty discourses. Having, I say, spent several years in this 
calling, and got some moneys by me, our mistress happened to 
die; and I finding the decays of nature come upon me, and that 
I began to grow unserviceable, I bought the goods and 
furniture myself, and so kept others under me, as my mistress 
had done before me. And drove that trade in the same house 
(which was in St. Thomas Apostle's) for many years, and might 
have been there still, had it not been for one unfortunate 
accident, which I'll next relate to you.

"One day a gentleman in a very good genteel habit, knocks at 
my door, which I opened myself, and asked him what he'd have? 
Upon which, coming in a-doors, 'Madam,' says he, 'I understand 
that you are a person charitably disposed, and do now and then 
help a languishing lady, or a love-sick gallant: and therefore 
I took this opportunity to salute you, hoping that you will 
show the same kindness to me, that you have done to others 
upon the same considerations.' 'Sir,' said I, 'you must give 
me leave to ask you some questions before we enter into any 
further conversation.' 'With all my heart, madam,' said he.' 
'Then, said I, pray who recommended you to me, on that 
account? I hope you don't take me for a bawd?' 'Nay, madam', 
said he, 'pray don't affront me; neither do I look like a 
porter, common soldier, or lackey, so as to stand in need of a 
bawd's assistance: nor am I one of those who will take up with 
what the street affords: for I assure you I don't eat baked 
pudding or apple-pie at Holborn Bridge, or such other places, 
as common carmen do. Nor, to be plain with you, madam,' said 
he, 'am I one of those fellows that usually dine at any greasy 
ordinaries; and therefore I am for something fit for a 
gentleman, and will pay accordingly.' 'Very well, sir,' says 
I, 'I hope you will take nothing amiss; I see you are a 
gentleman; but I have sometimes had tricks put upon me, and 
therefore am as choice in the company I entertain, as you are 
in keeping your company. Upon which account be not angry if I 
repeat my question, pray who recommended you to me?' To which 
he replied, 'Madam, I thought you had not been so very 
scrupulous at this time of day, when money is so very scarce. 
But seeing you press me to it, I know that you helped ---- 
Esq, to a very fine mistress.' The gentleman he named, being 
one I was well acquainted with, and whose necessities I had 
often supplied with some of my first-rate frigates, as he used 
to call 'em; I had no more mistrust of him; and therefore 
taking him to be a friend of his. 'Nay, now,' said I to him, 
'you begin to speak sense. Be pleased to go along with me;' 
and so I led him into a room which joined to my parlour that 
was hung round with pictures; representing all the amours of 
Ovid's heathen Gods; and amongst them were intermixed several 
of those ladies of pleasure I kept in my house, drawn in very 
amorous and inviting postures; one with her golden tresses 
dishevelled upon her shoulders & her breasts naked; another 
was drawn putting on her smock, a third tying her garters, and 
a fourth in the arms of her gallant: when he had well looked 
round about him, 'Madam,' said he, 'I perceive you have 
entertainment to provoke the dullest appetite; and if you have 
really the original of these pictures, I don't much wonder 
that you insist upon good terms. Therefore pray let me know 
what you expect to oblige me with the dishevelled golden 
locks.' 'Sir,' said I, 'my lowest is a guinea in hand, and a 
guinea a week for the accommodation of my house; and taking 
care that you may have her ready for your use, so long as you 
continue my pensioner: but as for her own terms, I leave that 
to yourself and her.' 'But,' said he, 'may I not see the 
person first, that I may be satisfied the painter has not 
flattered her?' 'Yes, sir,' said I, 'provided that you don't 
spend too much time before you come to a conclusion.' 'Leave 
that to me,' said he, 'for you shall be no loser;' whereupon I 
slipped out of the room, and called one Mrs Gertrude (which 
was the person he desired) who came in immediately; and going 
up towards the gentleman, he desired her to sit down; and as I 
was a withdrawing he called to me likewise, and told me he 
must discourse with us both, before he entered into any 
further familiarity; and then, addressing himself to Mrs 
Gertrude, said, 'Well, my pretty madam, what gratification do 
you expect for your company per week?' She answered him, 'Two 
guineas;' 'But,' said he, what assurance, madam, shall I have 
that you will be my sole property during the time that you and 
I agree upon? And that you will not dispense your favours, 
likewise to others?' 'Nay, sir,' said I to him, 'if you intend 
to monopolize her wholly to yourself, you must raise your 
price, or we cannot else maintain ourselves like gentlewomen; 
and afford accommodations fit for gentlemen.' 'Well, ladies,' 
said he, 'I will now pull off my mask: you have both confessed 
your way of living to me, and I have discovered your crimes, 
without being criminal myself: and therefore not doubting but 
both of you pretend to be Christians, for I am told you go 
constantly to church, I adjure you by his name whom you 
profess, to tell me how you can answer it to him, or to your 
own consciences, to live in downright disobedience to his holy 
laws, and in defiance to the known laws of the land?' With 
much more preachment to the same purpose, too long to repeat. 
I must confess both myself and Mrs Gertrude, were both struck 
with some amazement at this unexpected entertainment; and 
seeing her a little daunted, I answered, 'Sir, I shall quickly 
bring you those that will give you better satisfaction.' And 
so rise up to call in a couple of men-servants belonging to my 
house. Upon which he rise up likewise, and catching me by the 
arm, pulled out a short constable's staff, commanding me to 
sit down, or otherwise I should find it was in his power to 
take another course with me. This indeed increased my 
surprise, and made me a little mute for the present; which he 
seeing, got between the door and us, and then was so uncivil 
as to tell me, that I was a vile woman; and all the difference 
he knew between a bawd and a procurer, was only such as was 
between a common tom-turd man<10>, and a person of quality's 
house-maid, who emptied close-stools: and then told Mrs 
Gertrude that the difference between her and the trulls that 
plied in the streets, was no other than betwixt a common vault 
and a private close-stool. Upon which she told him that his 
comparisons were very odious; and that such language didn't 
become a gentleman: but he answered, that our language wanted 
words to express the fulsomeness of our crimes, calling us 
dogs, and swine, and goats, and a deal of such billingsgate 
stuff, till he had so provoked my passion, that I told him 
boldly, that I didn't value his fanatical cant, for there were 
men of better sense than he, thought it no sin; and that I 
knew the opinion of the greatest wits in the town, in those 
things; and cared not what a parcel of canting coxcombs said. 
To which he replied, 'My coming hither was to do you good, and 
to turn you (if possible) from your wicked courses; but seeing 
you are hardened in it, and will not be reclaimed, I will take 
care to have your quarters beat up, and spoil your trading 
here for time to come.' And so he left us.

"This unexpected adventure put us all to a stand. And after 
consulting what was best to be done, I resolved not to venture 
being exposed, and so immediately withdrew, and took down all 
my pictures, leaving only a servant in the house for some 
days, to see whether he would be as good as his word: and in 
three days after, a constable came with a warrant to search 
the house for disorderly persons; but finding only a servant 
there, he told her he perceived the birds were flown. The 
search being over, some of my women were for returning again; 
but I opposed it, as not judging it safe; and the event proved 
it so; for the day they designed to have gone, there was 
another search made, and a strict enquiry after what was 
become of us? Which made all to commend my caution and 
conduct.

"This last search made us look upon that place as unsafe to go 
to again; for I perceived that disguised constable was a busy 
fellow, and would be always jealous of our returning again. So 
I threw up my lease of that house, and from thence came 
hither: where I have continued ever since. And carrying a good 
correspondence amongst my neighbours, I have never been 
molested here, but when there is any trade stirring, I have my 
share of it. And thus, madam, I have given you the history of 
my life hitherto; which I have been more particular in, 
because of your civility and generosity towards me. And if you 
find at any time an occasion to make use of any gentleman to 
supply any deficiency you may meet with at home, or to gratify 
your inclination with a desire of change I will be always 
ready to serve you to the utmost of my power."

The bawd having thus finished her narration, the goldsmith's 
lady gave her many thanks, and told her that her relation had 
been very diverting to her, "But," said she, "there is one 
thing that I have had a mind to ask you two or three times and 
still forgot it." "Pray madam," said the bawd, "what may that 
be? For I am very ready to resolve you in anything I can." 
"That is," replied the she-goldsmith, "whether or no these new 
attempts for reformation be not a very great hindrance to you 
in your business? For I am told that some of the members of 
the society put themselves into all shapes, that they may make 
a discovery of such houses. And I suppose he who disturbed you 
at your other house might be one of them. And therefore 
methinks this should quite spoil your trade: for as matters 
are now managed, how do you know who to trust?"

To this the bawd replied thus: "As to what you say madam, 
there is this in it, that it makes us use more caution than we 
used to do. For we now admit of none into our houses that are 
strangers. But perhaps you may say, that I used a great deal 
of caution with the other person who was a trepan before; 
which is really true enough; and when he mentioned to me ---- 
Esq., I thought I might very well have trusted him: but I'll 
tell you how that happened; ---- Esq. had it seems been 
talking to some intimate friends of his, of some very pretty 
ladies that he had to do withal: for indeed being a good 
customer, and paying very well, he had always the cream of all 
that came to my house; being very much a gentleman; and one 
whom I would be glad to help to your embraces, if you would do 
me that honour, and I am sure you can't have to do with a 
completer person, and one better fitted to serve a woman." 
"You would make me have a mind to him," replied the lady. 
"Well, madam," said the bawd, "ere it be long, I'll bring you 
two together. But, as I was a-saying, he having told some 
intimate friends of his, that he had the enjoyment of a very 
fine lady: said one of 'em, 'Prithee ---- Esq, who is't that 
helps you to these fine ladies that you talk of?' Upon this, 
not doubting but they would keep his counsel, he told 'em 
'twas I that helped him, upon such occasions; and one of these 
gentlemen told another of his comrades in the hearing of the 
disguised constable, who made that use of it I have already 
told you. But now, to prevent the like accidents, we admit no 
strangers, unless they bring a letter from the person they are 
recommended by, and therein an account of the last time they 
were here. By which means we are very secure; and though the 
society for reformation, as they call it, does utterly ruin 
all such as are public houses of assignation, yet our trade is 
rather made the better by it; because here they may meet 
without danger of being exposed, as a worthy gentlewoman had 
like to have been not long ago, which might have been her 
ruin, had she not fallen into the hands of gentlemen."

"Pray how was that,?" said the goldsmith's lady.

"It is a story worth your hearing," replied the bawd; "and if 
you please I'll give you the relation of it, as I had it from 
one of the gentlemen concerned therein." "You will oblige me 
very much; answered the lady." Whereupon the bawd thus began.

"It happened that two gentlemen belonging to the army (of 
which the one was my particular acquaintance, and a good 
customer to my house) taking water at the still-yard, was 
minded to divert themselves upon the river, by going up to 
Chelsea Reach; where they sometimes met with pretty ladies 
proper for their purpose, but as they were going along, they 
perceived a very fine gentlewoman in a rich garb, in a 
sculler, all alone; and also observed that she made the 
sculler, who was a good likely young man, row her sometimes 
one way, and sometimes another, without going to any certain 
place. This gave 'em occasion to conjecture that she had 
appointed some spark or other to meet her thereabouts, whose 
coming she expected with some impatience; as they easily 
perceived

For that which frets a woman most, 
Is when her expectation's crossed.

"After she had near half hour in that manner fluctuated to and 
fro upon the silver surges of Thamesis, like one of the 
Nereides, and found she was disappointed; she bid the sculler 
land her at the Three Cranes, which he accordingly did; and 
the gentlemen likewise ordered their oars to land 'em at the 
same place; and observed, after the lady was landed, that the 
sculler asked for his money, and she bid him follow her; and 
after he followed her into Thames Street, he began to grumble, 
and told her he could go no further, and therefore he would 
have his money; which she would not give him without he went 
whither she was going, telling him she would pay him for his 
time. This made the gentlemen dog her, and soon after saw her 
go into the Three Cranes tavern, and the sculler after her; 
which the gentlemen seeing, and (being resolved to know the 
bottom of this intrigue) followed them into the same tavern; 
and bid the drawer, if it was possible, let them have the next 
room to that which the gentlewoman had, who came in just 
before 'em with a waterman following her: the drawer told 'em 
there was company in the next room then, but they were paying 
their reckoning, and would be gone immediately; and in the 
meantime desired 'em to walk into a box in the yard, which 
they accordingly did; and whilst they sat there, they saw the 
waterman go out again. Presently after the drawer came and 
told 'em that the room was now empty, which they forthwith 
went into, and had the conveniency through a hole in the wall, 
to see the gentlewoman unseen, who sat leaning her arm upon 
the table, in a very melancholy posture, as one much 
dissatisfied; having a glass of wine before her, and pen, ink 
and paper. Soon after the waterman comes in again, and tells 
her the gentleman had not been at home since morning, nor did 
they know where he was. 'Where's the note that I gave you,' 
says she? Which he giving her, she took and tore it, and then 
burned it, then taking the glass, 'What's your name, 
waterman?' said she. 'An't please you, madam, my name's John.' 
'Well, then honest John here's to ye,' says she, and drank off 
her glass, and made John fill a brimmer and drink it off. And 
then John offering to go, she said, 'No, John, you shan't go 
yet, I have something to eat, and you shall stay and eat with 
me: don't be uneasy John, for I'll pay you well for your time. 
Presently up comes the drawer and brings a lobster and a piece 
of sturgeon, with him; then bidding the drawer bring a quart 
of canary up, she asked John whether he loved lobster and 
sturgeon? 'Yes, very well, Madam,' replied John, but they are 
too good for my common eating.' After the other quart of 
canary was brought up, and the drawer gone down, she bid John 
come nearer and sit down; and at last having both eat and 
drank plentifully, she pulled John close to her, and told him 
he looked like a clever well-made fellow, and asked him, if he 
didn't think himself capable of doing a lady's business? Which 
put John so much out of countenance he didn't know what to say 
to her: upon which, first embracing the dull fool in her arms, 
'Come,' says she, 'let's see how well you're furnished;' and 
then putting her hand into his breeches, John began to think 
she was in earnest, and made as bold with her; giving her what 
she wanted; and then calling for another quart of wine, and 
having drank and repeated their amorous embraces two or three 
times, she gave John a guinea; and told him she liked him so 
well, that she would go by water with him that day 
sennight;<11> and charged him to meet her then at five 
o'clock, at Paul's Wharf; and she would then give him such 
another treat. Which John promised her to do, and so went away 
very well satisfied. The two gentlemen who (unseen of her) had 
seen and heard all those passages; were resolved to make a 
further discovery of the gentlewoman and so dogged her home to 
her own house, which happened to be at a woollen-draper's in 
St. Paul's Churchyard. Having thus seen her at her own house 
they left her, and went to their own lodgings.

"The next morning they went into Paul's Churchyard to make the 
lady a visit, but passed many times to & fro before the door, 
but couldn't get a sight of her. In the afternoon they came 
again, and having waited up and down about an hour, they at 
last saw her in the shop, and knew her to be the same person: 
whereupon going into the shop they asked her to see some of 
the best scarlet-cloth, and whilst the other gentleman was 
busy in choosing the cloth, my friend took an opportunity to 
tell the lady what a passion he had for her, and how ready he 
would be to serve her with the greatest hazard, and how he 
hoped to be made happy with the enjoyment of her last favours; 
but she seeming to be mightily affronted at his discourse, 
told him, that if he didn't leave off prating at that rate to 
her, she would call to her man to kick him out of the shop: 
which disdainful carriage did so much exasperate him, that he 
replied with some heat, 'Why madam, do you think I can't do 
your business as well as John did, at the Three Cranes tavern 
in Thames Street, last night?' These words made her change as 
pale as death: 'Sir,' said she, 'as you are a gentleman, I 
hope you won't expose me: and I'll oblige you in whate'er you 
ask me. Choose your cloth,' says she, 'and I'll come down to 
you presently.' And then going upstairs she returned again in 
two minutes, and put twenty guineas into his hands, to pay for 
the cloth, appointing to meet 'em at the old tavern an hour 
after; which she did accordingly, gratifying both the 
gentlemen with the same favours she had bestowed the night 
before upon John the waterman, whose nose these gentlemen had 
put out of joint. Judge you now, madam, what a case this 
gentlewoman had been in, had she fallen into other hands. But 
all such accidents are avoided by those that make use of such 
a house as mine."

The bawd having made an end of her discourse, after a little 
pause, the goldsmith's lady thus began:

"I return you many thanks for the relation of your life: your 
advice before has saved my reputation to my husband and the 
world; which he who had first tempted me to lewdness, and 
overcame me through the love of money, would have afterwards 
exposed; for which I think myself obliged to you: but the 
relation you have now given me, has obliged me much more; for 
it has made me quite out of love with the trade you have all 
along followed; if for nothing else, because of the dangers 
that attend it. For if you look back, and reflect upon your 
first going astray, it was full of danger and hazard; and how 
private so ever you thought you were in it, yet it could not 
escape your husband's jealousy and mistrust; and at last, when 
you least suspected it, was fully discovered by your gallant 
himself. And that occasioned your being turned out of doors; 
and that taking all sense of shame from you, (as you well 
observed) exposed you to a thousand temptations; which being 
suited to your own natural inclinations, you presently closed 
withal; which in a little time was, it seems, attended by the 
pox; and which besides, many times laid you open to the 
cognizance of the civil magistrate; and made you afraid of 
every one you saw; which must needs be a very uneasy life. I 
can speak something of this by my own experience: for after I 
had given way to Mr Bramble's desires, and yielded to his 
unlawful embraces, I was so full of guilt, that whenever my 
husband called hastily to me, or spoke in the least angrily, I 
thought it was to tell me of my playing the whore with Mr 
Bramble, my guilt still flying in my face; so that I would not 
be exposed to the like fears again, for double the value of 
what I received from him. But having been overcome by him, the 
fear of his exposing of me, as I perceive he intended, had not 
you helped me to prevent him, caused me to serve him as I did. 
But you cannot imagine, (said she) what a consternation I was 
put into the other night, when a constable that lives hard by 
us, and is one of the society for reformation, came to our 
house, and told my husband he came to tell him of some 
discoveries he had lately made, which were worth his hearing: 
my blood came all into my face, and I did not question but 
that I was to be the subject of his discourse. But when I had 
heard out his stories, I was better satisfied: though they 
were such as sufficiently declare the danger, that such as you 
are daily in, of being detected, as those were of whom he gave 
my husband a relation: which indeed I thought to be diverting 
enough, as long as it did not concern me. For though we care 
not to be exposed ourselves, we are yet ready to take a kind 
of pleasure in hearing that others are so."

"If it were not too great a trouble," said the bawd, "I should 
be glad to hear what those discoveries were, that he made to 
your husband; which perhaps may be of use to me in knowing how 
to prevent the like disasters."

"I shall esteem it no trouble," replied the gentlewoman, "to 
tell you anything I can, that may be serviceable to you; 
especially, if it may but prevail with you to leave off a 
calling that is so hazardous as well as wicked--but that will 
be more proper to discourse, when I have given you the 
constable's relation; and that I shall give you in his own 
words; which were as follows:

"'Being resolved, if possible, to prevent all that debauchery 
that is acted in the streets of this great city every night, I 
dressed up myself as like a beau as possibly I could, and then 
taking my short staff in my pocket, I went t'other night 
abroad, to see what discoveries I could make: and as I went 
along the strand, I met with a young woman by the new 
exchange, who pretending to stumble, catched hold of my coat, 
to save herself from falling, and begged my pardon for her 
rudeness: I soon understood her meaning, and looking upon her 
to be one of those cattle I was in quest of, I asked her 
whither she was going? She told me as far as Sheer Lane, to an 
aunt of hers, where she lodged, and she should be glad of my 
company; by which, being confirmed in what I before thought, I 
bid her go on, and I would follow her, which I also did: and 
coming to the place," said he, "I found there an old withered 
bawd, who presently had us into a room, and asked us what we 
would drink? I told her what the young woman pleased; who 
hereupon called for a bottle of ale. I told her I couldn't 
drink, and therefore bid her call her aunt to drink with her: 
the old woman coming in, I bid her sit down, and asked her, 
how long she had followed that trade; 'What trade, sir,' says 
she? 'Of keeping nieces,' said I: 'for I understand you are 
this young woman's aunt.' 'O sir,' said she, 'you are a merry 
gentleman. I have followed this trade of being an aunt, ever 
since age made me uncapable of being a niece.' 'That's a long 
time ago,' said I; 'but I believe it had been better for you 
to have gone a nurse-keeping, then a niece-keeping.' 'That's 
your mistake sir,' says she, 'for as old as I am, I had rather 
hear a young girl and a brisk spark sing their song by turns, 
than to hear an old man grunting a-bed, and be obliged to hang 
my nose continually over a close-stool or a chamber-pot. A 
glass of good ale or wine now and then, or a dram of cool 
Nantes, is more cheering to my old spirits, than to be sipping 
and tasting a little stale pearl cordial or juleps, or indeed 
any apothecary's slop.' 'Well,' said I, 'you are a cunning old 
woman; but pray let me talk now to your niece a little. Pray, 
how many such aunts have you?' 'Why, truly sir,' said she, 'I 
have one at every corner of the town, and lodge sometimes with 
one, and sometimes with another, as I have occasion.' 'Well 
but', said I, 'had you not better go to service then be 
burdensome to your friends?' 'No, damn it,' says she, 'I had 
rather be my own mistress, and go to bed and rise when I will, 
then to be curbed by every snotty dame. I remember once,' said 
she, 'I met with an old master, who had a colt's tooth in his 
head, and he would be snuggling me, and kissing me in a 
corner, though his breath was enough to turn my stomach: but 
for the sake of a rusty shilling now and then, I was content 
to humour him. But when once my mistress came to know it, I 
had a peal rung about my ears, with the tongs, and was forced 
to pack out of doors. Another time, I met with a young master, 
and an old dame, and he would always watch for an opportunity 
to catch me making the bed when my old mistress was abroad at 
market, or else sat wrapped in flannel by the kitchen fire; 
and with a thousand langushing looks and soft expressions, he 
would wish his wife were as young and as handsome as I: or 
that she was dead, that he and I might make a match on't. By 
which means I was betrayed to part with my virgin-treasure, 
and lick the butter off my old mistresses bread, with a very 
good appetite. At last, the rising of my belly discovered what 
I would willingly have concealed; this caused me to be turned 
out of doors, and left to provide for myself and a child. 
Which, when I was brought a-bed, I disposed to a poor woman, 
who got her living with it, by begging in the streets. And 
then finding I couldn't be free from men's solicitations 
whilst a servant, I e'en betook myself to the present 
employment, wherein I meet with men enough, and am at no care, 
to provide for children.' "When she had given an account of 
her life," "said the constable, "I then thought it was time to 
reprove them. And, addressing myself to the wench, said I, 
'Would it not now have been a great mortification to you, if 
instead of following you to your lodgings, I had delivered you 
to a constable, who had made you sit up all night in the 
round-house, and sent you next morning to Bridewelll, to beat 
hemp for your living?' The young slut nothing daunted by what 
I had said" (says the constable) "presently plucked up her 
coats, and told me she'd find me other business to do. I 
seeing that pulled out my short constable's staff, and told 
her she didn't know her danger, and had therefore best forbear 
her impudence, or I should quickly make her sensible that I 
had power to punish her. This put both the old woman and 
herself into a great fright; and altering her tone, she prayed 
me not to molest 'em and they would gratify me any way 
imaginable. And the old woman prayed me not to be severer to 
her than others of my office had formerly been: for, said she, 
'This is not the first time that I have been threatened in 
this manner, and I never yet found a constable, nor indeed 
scarce a justice of peace whom it was not in my power some 
time or other to oblige, either by my purse, or in the way of 
my trade. For I have such fine women at my command, continued 
she, as are able to charm the most insensible persons.' "I 
then told them," says the constable, "that good advice was 
merely thrown away upon 'em, but I would take another course 
that was more effectual; and so" (says he) "calling the watch, 
they were both sent that night to the compter, and the next 
day to Bridewell; where they are still beating hemp. And this 
course" (said the constable) "I intend to take, as often as I 
meet with any of them."

"When the constable had made an end, my husband and I both 
applauded his conduct. And though I have once been overcome; 
yet I resolve never to be guilty of the like folly again. Nor 
is it yet too late for you to repent," said the goldsmith's 
lady to the bawd; "though you have run through so long a 
course of wickedness; which if you still continue in, will 
sooner or later bring you to certain ruin."

"Well," said the bawd, "I thought to have served you, by the 
way of gratitude, for your kindness and liberality to me, in 
my way of business: but seeing you are otherwise determined, I 
thank you for your advice: and am very glad that by my 
discourse and seeing the errors of my life, you may come to 
rectify your own: my advice herein being the same with that of 
a late great debauchee, that writ a book of his life,

Read, but don't practice: for the author finds 
They that live honest, have most quiet minds."

FINIS.



The Midnight Spy by John Cleland (1766)
The Midnight Spy, or a view of the transactions of London and 
Westminster from the hours of ten until five in the morning. 
1766 
https://books.google.ie/books?id=MRM_AQAAMAAJ 



Title Page

THE
MIDNIGHT SPY,
OR, A
View of the Transactions
OF
LONDON and WESTMINSTER,
FROM
The Hours of Ten in the Evening, till 
Five in the Morning;
Exhibiting a great Variety of Scenes in
HIGH and LOW LIFE,
With the Characters of some 
Well known Nocturnal Adventurers of both Sexes.
ALSO, the HUMOURS of
ROUND HOUSES, 
NIGHT HOUSES, 
BAGNIOS, 
JELLY HOUSES,
GAMING TABLES, 
ROUTS and other 
PLACES of MIDNIGHT 
Resort
WITH 
General and Particular Descriptions of Women of 
the Town.
=================================================
LONDON: 
Printed for J. COOKE, at the Shakespear's Head 
in Pater-noster Row. 
MDCCLXVI.



Chapter I.  
Introduction showing the author's Plan.

As no person has a more equitable right to set up for a 
moralist, than a reformed rake, nor can any depict vice in 
more glaring colours than a penitent debauchee; the author 
presumes to offer the following sheets to public notice, not 
doubting of their tendency both to instruct and entertain, 
which are the principal ends of all literary productions. 
Though he blushes to acknowledge his having been present at 
many of the scenes hereafter mentioned; as well as conversant 
with many of the characters hereafter displayed, he is certain 
such personal acquaintance must entitle him to allowed 
propriety of representation, and consequently add a sanction 
to his sincere endeavours in the cause of virtue, truth and 
justice. He has chiefly confined his animadversions to that 
space of time; in which villainy, too often stalks triumphant, 
and to those actions, which the most impious almost blush to 
commit in the face of the sun; because such restriction is 
most conducive to detect the guise of fraud, and strip the 
mask of sanctity from the face of hypocrisy.

To facilitate the plan, the work is ranged in distinct parts, 
according to the different hours, which furnish distinct 
scenes of action, or are devoted to peculiar amusement or 
improvements. A regular progress is maintained, during the 
respective spaces of time throughout this extensive 
metropolis, and every scene worthy of notice impartially 
described. The principal persons in this descriptive essay are 
Agrestis and Urbanus, of whom, (to elucidate the design of the 
work), the reader is desired to take the following anecdotes.

Agrestis was descended from a reputable family in the county 
of Denbigh. Being an only son, he was the darling of his 
parents, under whose immediate eye, he was trained up. He 
received a genteel education at a Grammar School, and made a 
considerable progress in the Belles Lettres. His mind was 
early formed to virtue by the admonition and example of a most 
worthy father, enforced by the improving conversation of a 
pious and learned divine, who performed the duty of six pounds 
per annum, and was therefore a constant guest at the old 
gentleman's hospitable board.

He lived several years in the enjoyment of health and plenty, 
happy in himself, a blessing to his parents, and a benefit to 
society. At length his father being called upon to pay the 
debt of nature, an estate of five hundred pounds a year 
devolved an the son, who being now in a state of independence, 
became eccentric in his desires, nor could rest contented 
within the confines of his villa.

Prompted by a fatal curiosity to see the world, he determined 
on a tour, nor could he be diverted therefrom by the tears of 
a disconsolate mother, or solicitations of an importunate 
friend. Thus resolved, he set out for this metropolis, 
attended by an old trusty servant, who will make a part in our 
future relations, under the title of Fidelio.

After a series of adventures, attended with the loss of his 
health, and one half of his estate, he had resolution enough 
to abandon this alluring scene and retreat to his native soil, 
where, by industry and temperance, he repaired his fortune and 
constitution, and now lives to enjoy rural life as heightened 
by its secession from noise, vanity, and vice of very kind.

Urbanus derived his extraction from an eminent merchant in 
this city, was early initiated in the commercial life, and 
remarkable for his attachment to his father's business. As he 
was bred in London, he had an early opportunity of seeing its 
various follies, and being endowed with good sense, and great 
resolution, was a spectator, without being a party concerned. 
Urbanus was not so immersed in commerce, as to be unacquainted 
(which is often the case) with everything else: he had read 
much, and had a very competent knowledge of men and things, 
being capable of discerning most minutely, the intrinsic merit 
of human actions.

He despised the parade of title, and the trapping of dress, 
esteeming honour the most glorious characteristic, and 
integrity the brightest ornament. His greatest pleasure, and 
general employment was in relieving indigent virtue, 
supporting dejected honesty, and diffusing his bounty amongst 
worthy objects.

With such a disposition, he was capable of moralizing on the 
various occurrences in life, as well as detecting its 
different impostures, and unravelling its many chicaneries.

As he delighted much in speculation, he conversed much with 
books and men, and visited all the different assemblies in 
this motley scene. From the good he imbibed enhanced ideas of 
virtue; from the bad he conceived a more inveterate aversion 
to vice.

Thus accomplished, he was completely qualified to guide the 
unwary and inexperienced through the mazes of this alluring, 
though inhospitable world, and is in every respect equal to 
the task we have allotted him in our little moral drama.

Agrestis was conducted by this experienced attendant, during a 
series of nights, throughout the various parts of this epitome 
of the world. His remarks on the different persons and things 
which occurred, compose the substance of this volume, which is 
designed as a portrait (in miniature) of life, or descriptive 
view of mankind under the prevalence of vice and folly.



Chapter II. 
Acquaintance commenced between Agrestis and Urbanus. Brief 
description of the town, interspersed with remarks moral and 
entertaining.

Urbanus, after the fatigues of business, used frequently to 
take a tour from the city to St. James's Park not more for the 
benefit of the air than the indulgence of his speculative turn 
of mind.

One evening as he was walking in the Birdcage Walk, he 
observed, seated on a bench, a country looking gentleman, a 
courtesan, and a man, who by his appearance, seemed to be one 
of those indolent infamous wretches, who live upon the wages 
of prostitution. Desirous of prying into the design of the two 
latter on the former, he passed them several times, affecting 
not to notice them; but at length from an hour's perseverance 
in converse, having reason to suspect an intrigue formed 
against the innocent young gentleman, he called him aside and 
and thus addressed him.

"I doubt not, Sir, but you will readily pardon my abrupt 
behaviour when I ensure you it arises from the honest motive 
of delivering you from the wiles of the most abandoned of 
mortals; who are capable of every villainy the infernal fiend 
can suggest. Your mien bespeaks you a gentleman, though from 
my long experience, I can easily discern you are a stranger in 
town, and wholly unacquainted with its numerous tricks and 
fallacies. Anxious therefore for the preservation of your 
health, and property, I warn you to shun those persons with 
whom you have been so long engaged in converse, as no benefit 
can accrue to any gentleman from such an acquaintance, which 
is rarely contracted without much prejudice, as well as never 
abandoned without much difficulty." Agrestis returned him 
thanks for the interposition, though, assured him he could not 
from the drift of their words or behaviour apprehended any 
design repugant to the laws of modesty, or honesty, as they 
behaved with the most officious civilty, and even proffered 
him a lodging in their house, till he could furnish himself 
more agreeably to his own mind.

"I presume, Sir," replied Urbanus, "you are lately arrived in 
town, and unprovided with a convenient place of residence, 
permit me therefore to make the same proffer; you will find 
upon enquiry, I am a man of honour, and one, whose 
acquaintance will do you no disgrace."

The countrymen gratefully acknowledged the favour, accepted 
the invitation, and walked into the city with his new 
acquaintance, who as they passed along, thus bespoke him. 
"Those men and women, gay and polite as they appear to be, are 
the very dregs of mankind. The one a common prostitute, the 
other an arrant gambler, who in conjunction, lay in wait to 
seduce the unwary. If they had prevailed on you to accompany 
them, they would either have drawn you into play, or wheedled 
you into amorous embraces, or if neither of those arts 
succeeded, would have ill-treated you under some false and 
scandalous pretence; it is almost impossible for any person 
that is cajoled into their trammels, to escape without much 
detriment both in person and property." "Surely," said 
Agrestis, "'tis not common for persons here to assume an 
appearance thus different from their characters? What! Is this 
London world in a mask? How then are we to judge of mankind? 
If persons of such a genteel appearance are capable of such 
dirty actions, what must we think of those whose very garb 
denotes infamy?" "Garb denotes infamy!" (returned Urbanus with 
a smile of contempt) "mistaken, though. general notion! What, 
do you think that a bit of lace constitutes dignity, or that 
merit is centered in brocade? Experience, my friend, will 
teach you the contrary, and evince, agreeable to Dodsley's 
observation, that knaves here very often appear in embroidery, 
and the honest man in a threadbare coat." Here they were 
interrupted by supper being introduced, which finished, 
Urbanus, according to promise, reassumed the discourse, and 
Agrestis was agreeably entertained the remainder of the 
evening with a general description of the town.

"The motley scene I am about to describe, may be justly deemed 
a world by itself, as it comprehends more singularities, than 
the universe besides. If one grand idea could represent to the 
mind the numerous transactions of this seat of noise, hurry, 
and impertinence, we could not entertain it without 
astonishment. It contains a jumble of high and low, rich and 
poor, honest men and knaves, all pursuing different objects, 
according to their different dispositions. It is a seat of 
uninterrupted action, and like the perpetual motion, never 
standing. At court they are striving, for titles, places and 
pensions; here prevail in the highest degree, vanity, pride 
and dissimultation, nor can the face hardly be considered as 
the index of the mind. In the courts of judicature, you may 
hear long harangues to little purpose, modesty and good sense 
overcome by froth and affrontery, and honest men bullied out 
of their property by rogues in office. In the church there is 
great contention for pluralities, but little zeal for the 
honour of religion; much talk of charity but little practice; 
long prayer, but little devotion; great preferment with little 
merit; and much merit without reward.

"In the city, the wheels of commerce roll perpetually; in this 
centure of business you may observe, persons of all degrees, 
employments and professions. Here the different objects 
perplex the gazing eye, and ravish the astonished mind, while 
the ears are stunned with incessant cries. The streets are so 
many veins wherein the people circulate.

"Their actions succeed one another with such rapidity, that 
they begin an hundred things before they have finished one, 
and finish a hundred others before they can properly be said 
to have begun them.

"They are incapable both of attention and patience, and hardly 
allow themselves time to hear or see, but like moles, work in 
the dark, and undermine each other.

"Now," said Urbanus to his friend, "is not this medley a 
pleasant confusion, and a perfect amusement?" The astonished 
countryman replied, without doubt the indigested chaos was but 
an imperfect representation of this congregated huddle. "But 
what most amazes me," said he, "is, to hear them speak all 
languages, when by their actions and countenances they seem to 
talk of nothing but traffic."

"That is the case," returned Urbanus, "and if you possess but 
money, you may pass the whole product of nature, and be 
furnished here in a short time with its various commodities; 
for here, to use the vulgar phrase, 'Money, and money alone 
makes the mare to go.'

"We have here," continued the describer, "divers kinds of 
walks, in some of which you go to see and be seen, and in 
others to be felt, heard, and understood.

"The Park is the rendezvous of the quality and inhabitants of 
the western quarter of the town, and the Mall in Moorfields, 
for the recreation of the city and mercantile part.

"In those places, and others of the like kind, persons 
assemble to see and be seen, censure and be censured: the 
ladies to show their art in dress, and fops to expose their 
folly, observe the beauties, and fix on a toast for the 
approaching evening.

"Here are also to be seen a number of tawdry misses, lying in 
wait for a fool of fortune, or an unexperienced countryman; in 
short, the walks exhibit a motley scene of vanity, folly and 
knavery.

"This," concluded Urbanus, "is a brief hint of the state of 
this metropolis; but as I design to accompany you on a tour 
through it, at those times when most of its tricks are 
glaringly displayed, I have omitted many remarks, which will 
occur in the course of our perambulation; and for this night 
take my leave with wishing you a good repose."



Chapter III. 
A City Tavern and Coffee-House Described.

According to agreement, Urbanus and Agrestis, set out about 
nine the following evening, for their proposed tour through 
London and Westminster. As they passed through Cornhill, the 
countryman observed a company of grave gentlemen enter a 
certain tavern, and prompted by curiosity, desired his 
companion to follow them. When they approached the bar, a 
dressed-up women started up, and by hastily pulling the bell, 
alarmed two or three nimble-footed fellows, one of whom 
immediately showed a room; but Urbanus, finding on enquiry, 
that he was acquainted with the major part of the company, by 
sending up word, was introduced, together with his friend, to 
the club of venerable cits.

After many formal compliments, they took their pipes, and 
began to discourse in select parties, on different topics. 
Some vindicated the propriety of the Stamp Duties on our 
America Colonies, while others as vehemently opposed them. 
Some laid down plans for the good of trade in general, while 
others proposed schemes for the benefit of an incorporated 
society of merchants in particular. Another recommended Mr 
Deputy Doublejug, as a worthy candidate for the next gown that 
should be vacant in his ward, while his neighbour proposed an 
important hint to be laid before the next meeting of Common 
Council. A patriotic old gentleman in particular exclaimed 
against the city's too servile compliance with several late 
transactions, absolutely repugant to the liberty of free -born 
Britons, and instanced. Mr Alderman Pickle as unworthy of his 
dignified office.

This declaration raised much dispute in the midst of which 
were introduced two excellent capons, a couple of ducks, &c. 
and a profound silence soon succeeded; our politicans being as 
much attached to their appetites, as the good of their 
country.

The two gentlemen having made their compliments to the grave 
assembly departed, and the citizen, as they passed towards 
Temple Bar, entertained his country friend with some remarks 
on the tavern, and company.

"The house we have just left," said he, "is frequented by the 
most respectable personages in the city, and celebrated for 
ther most delicate provision and choicest wines. Thousands are 
daily circulated therein, and guineas are as trite there as 
halfpence in one of our modern ginshops, glossed over with the 
title of Coffee-house.

"Hither repair many incorporated societies to settle the most 
important concerns both national and personal, as well as many 
gentlemen who reside in country places, to refresh themselves 
after the fatigue of transacting business on the Royal 
Exchange.

"In short, for politics and guzzling this house can challenge 
the whole metropolis, and in expending provisions, I believe 
it exceeds any two within the bills of mortality.

"The company to which I introduced you is composed of a set of 
gentlemen, who have acquired competent fortunes in trade, and 
being almost superannuated, are perpetually talking, though 
seldom to the purpose. They are of the number of those 
persons, who arrogate to themselves a precedency from a 
consciousness of posssessing ten or twelve thousand pounds, 
and are really actuated by the most sinister motives.

"If a person younger or poorer than themselves presumes to 
contradict one of their absurd propositions, they construe it 
into the height of impertinence, and pronounce it deserving 
the severest chastisement. They are in general as dogmatical 
as erroneous, and as most of them are illiterate, they derive 
no other consequence in point of credibility, than what arises 
from their possessions.

"That red-faced old codger, who was so strenuous in 
vindication of the stamp duties in America, is at this time 
tampering with an indigent knave in office, to procure a post 
for his son: and his opponent is a frequent guest at the table 
of a certain alderman eminent for his boldly asserting the 
liberty of the subject.

"The old fellow with the plodding countenance, and square-toe 
shoes, from an humble porter, is arrived at the dignity of 
Common Council Man; and is respected for his extraordinary 
knowledge in commerce.

"Did you observe the man in the full-bottomed wig, who so 
warmly proposed as a candidate for the next vacant gown; his 
son makes love to the Deputy's daughter, and he is elated 
beyond himself with the prospet of so honourable an alliance.

"If any of the company possessed a degree of sense or 
impartiality, in my opinion, it is the dry cuff, who made some 
pertinent remarks on the variable turn of mind which some 
people evince; at one time bellowing out, like Sempronius for 
their country, and at another, holding up their hands, for 
measures destructive of the very foundation of liberty.

"I remember the man he mentions as unworthy the honour 
conferred on him by his fellow-citizens, a fanatic in the 
country party, whereas through some family connections, he has 
since been a cat's paw to the court.

"This company indeed, as well as most others, is an epitome of 
the world mortally considered, which seldom appears to be what 
it really is; and while a fair and spacious outside is 
maintained, everything mean, base and sordid lurks within."

By this time they had reached a certain coffee-house, in a 
street near St. Paul's. "Come," says the citizen to his 
friend, "Let us step in, as you are a stranger to the town, 
this place will afford you some diversion."

When they were seated, they began to take a view of the 
company. "Do you observe," said Urbanus, "the old sophister, 
who is quaffing in that corner, and looking steadfastly at the 
candle; he's a famous projector, a member of the Royal 
Society, and was principally concerned in bringing the 
weatherglass to perfection. He has.a great many oddities, 
rises, eats, plots, and sleeps at precise hours. He is also a 
great antiquarian: he tells you of some rarities he possesses 
of a very extraordinary nature, deposited in a closet of 
curiosities that exceeds the Museum. He pretends to have the 
pipe, out of which Sir Walter Raleigh first smoked tobacco, 
the beak of one of the eagles that were preserved in the ark, 
a piece of St. Paul's cloak, and part of the lanthorn with 
which Diogenes sought through Athens at noon, to find an 
honest man. These and other improbabilities he  imposes as 
truths on the weak and credulous.

"Take notice of that spark, who now enters the room; what an 
air of consequence he assumes; how gaily he is attired, yet he 
has not the least merit, mental or personal. Four years ago he 
could not procure credit for a crown; but by dint of 
effrontery he passed himself for apothecary, arrogated to 
himself some nostrums in medicine, and is now deemed worth ten 
thousand pounds."

"I have heard it remarked," replied Agrestis, "that money is 
thrown into the very mouths of fortune's minions and some men 
must grow rich, if all the lucky accidents that chance can 
give, will make them so. I know an apothecary, who, if a man 
will trust him with the care of his family, once in the course 
of a year, will take care to dispatch his help-mate; and I 
have often heard him declare, that women are always the best 
patients, especially if they die under his hands, for then 
said he, though I make a most unreasonable bill, it is never 
taxed, but discharged with as much cheerfulness, as an 
extravagant heir does the expenses of his father's funeral."

"Observe that little smart black<12> man," said Urbanus, "that 
is talking with him in the shabby full trimmed coat. He is a 
bookseller in the neighbourhood, who has acquired a fortune by 
starving authors, pirating the works of others, and 
stockjobbing."

"That smart little fellow there, poring over a pamphlet, is a 
prodigy in his way: he lives apparently genteel, yet nobody 
knows by what means he spends many hours of the day in this 
place, consequently cannot have much employment; but what he 
has, one must imagine very lucrative. I have frequently 
observed him in company with persons of much good nature and 
some property, from whence I look upon him to be one of the 
class of spongers or hangers-on.

"Pray take notice Agrestis," continued the citizen, of that 
gentleman, who just now ordered his coach to the door: I have 
a very remarkable anecdote concerning him.

"A certain woman, not far from this place, who sold greens, 
had the good fortune to be left 40,000l. by a rich relation: 
hearing of which this gentleman, (being an adventurer, though 
a man of family) paid his addresses to her. The woman assured 
him, that as she had never received any testimonals of his 
affections, before the happy change in the condition, she was 
persuaded his desires tended to her money, not her person; she 
could not admit his visits, and therefore desired him to 
desist.

"Upon this he feigned a fit of melancholy, and sighing, told 
her his passion was so great, that unless she gave him a 
satisfactory answer, he would drown himself at Paul's wharf.

"The poor woman wrought upon by this artifice, permitted his 
addresses, and soon after he made himself master of her person 
and fortune.

"Thus you see," said Urbanus, "that the coffee-houses, in this 
metropolis, comprehend a great variety of characters, are 
frequented by all kinds of people, and also, that they afford 
a stranger a very good notion of the inhabitants in general."



Chapter IV. 
Remarks on the Theatres, and the adjacent places at the time 
of breaking up of the Play.

The following evening the citizen, with his country 
companions, began their nocturnal perambulation between the 
hours of nine and ten, attended at the request of Agrestis, by 
his old trusty servant Fidelio, who was likewise very desirous 
of seeing the humours of the town.

In about half an hour, they reached the purlieus of Covent 
Garden, when the countryman, alarmed by a prodigious noise of 
coachmen, chairmen, link-boys, and others, enquiring the cause 
of such distraction--"This," replied his friend, "is the 
opening of the night scene in these parts; the audience are 
just come from the Playhouse, and departing for their 
respeecive destinations, which are as various as their 
situations in life.

"That gentleman decorated with the red ribbons is ready for a 
transition from one species of entertainment to another, and 
driving full speed to Lady Hairbrain's rout, as is that 
decrepit old knight to Lady Wonton's levee.

"Observe with what obsequious officiousness that spark in 
regimentals, hands his doxy into a chair, and follows her in 
another, lest they should receive an injury from the inclement 
air, in passing to a bagnio, not above fifty yards distant.

"Those three couple of sparks and misses in regular 
procession, are crossing over the way to that coffee-house, as 
it is called, to render themselves as contemptible, as you can 
suppose human nature capable."

"But who," demanded the countryman, "are those grave orderly 
people that have just entered this tavern?" "They are," 
returned his friend, "a citizen from Leadenhall Street and his 
family who rarely visit the Playhouse above once a year, and 
never deem their entertainment complete without a regale for 
the stomach, as well as the mind." The old servant, who had 
minutely observed every person that mixed with the motley 
crowd, had particularly noticed several well dressed-young 
fellows, come through the same passage repeatedly, and 
therefore enquired of his master's guide, the motive of such 
reiteration. "These, my honest friend," said Urbanus, "are a 
kind of beings, with which you country people are wholly 
unacquainted; they are of the number of those who without any 
fortune live without any reputable employment, a species of 
lazy vermin, who infest there parts, and are always on the 
look out for their prey.

"They are dextrous at picking pockets, and inveigling 
strangers into their haunts, in order to strip them of their 
money. Their chief rendezvous is amongst bawds and whores, 
they eat their bread and fight their battles, hector and 
insult their cullies, sometimes gather their contributions, 
and occasionly pimp, betray and set." The company from the 
theatres being thus separated, and observation made on their 
respective characters, Urbanus proposed to his friend a visit 
to several houses in those parts, that he might be an eye-
witness to what a shameful degree human nature could debase 
itself.

The proposal being agreed to, they entered a house, in Bridges 
Street, vulgarly denominated a jelly-house, where their eyes 
were dazzled with the excessive glare of the company. When 
they were seated, the guide according to promise began his 
remarks. "This scene," said he, "is a prelude to every kind of 
vice, folly, and debauchery, that lust and liquor can possibly 
incite. The fine lady in the bar, thus decorated at the 
expense of fools, is nothing more than a chairman's daughter, 
but being nearly related to the master of the house, he has 
placed her in this station, where she has little else to do, 
than to dress, paint, patch, ogle her uncle's beaux customers, 
and tattle with an amorous extravagance in order to induce him 
to squander his money, in hopes of obtaining the favour from 
her; though at length she disappoints him of the derived 
felicity; and having amused him, while his money was flush, 
with kind glances and amorous witticisms, dispatches him, when 
it is exhausted, with a sullen reserve and affected air of 
modesty.

"That well-looking person you observe in the arms of a rotten 
strumpet, is an eminent merchant, who has a virtnous, loving 
wife and several fine children at home, but basely prefers the 
feigned embraces of a harlot, to the soft endearment of a 
virtuous love.

"See that company of young fellows, each with his doxy upon 
his knee; how jovially they carouse! They are apprentices and 
journeymen, who take care to fleece their masters, to maintain 
their whores. The beautiful girl who sits pensive in yonder 
corner, being deprived of both father and mother, was 
importuned a long time by a young gentleman, to submit to his 
passionate desires; a large settlement was offered her, but 
she nobly declined accepting the wages of her dishonour.

"He then offered her marriage, and suborned an infamous wretch 
to sham the ceremony; but a month's cohabitation sated the 
hero, who after undeceiving, abandoned her to absolute penury.

"Thus deserted, the master of the house arrested her for the 
rent; and her present landlady being sent by the mock husband, 
compassionately paid the debt, and carried her to her own 
house, a notorious brothel. The sequel you may easily guess.

"The antiquated Messalina, in company with the brawny flesh-
coloured man, is a lady of figure, who having tired all her 
servants, is compelled to have recourse to the frequenters of 
the stews; but her desires are unconquerable, and she returns 
to her house every morning, tired but not satisfied."

"Are the magistrates and their officers ignorant of these 
infamous houses?" said the honest Fidelio. "By no means," 
replied Urbanus, "the magistrates and their officers squeeze a 
good livelihood out of them, by visiting them once a quarter, 
demanding hush money, and making them promise to behave better 
for the future."

From thence they proceed down the street towards the Strand, 
and entered a certain alehouse where there were a company of 
blackguard fellows, carousing in a box by themselves. Suddenly 
a man came in and gave them a watch, on which they all arose 
and instantly departed. "That man," said Urbanus, "is one of 
the vigilant and trusty guards of the night, who having 
conducted a drunken man home, picked his pocket of his watch: 
he has now been giving that gang of thieves intelligence of a 
house he found left open by negligence, and they are gone to 
plunder it, whilst the worthy informer is going his rounds.

"What a quarrel is there between a whore and rogue; the former 
threatens to plunge a knife in the bosom of the latter: learn 
hence the dire effects of gin and jealousy -- Hark! what 
terrible shrieks are those at the door. They are the cries of 
an unfortunate woman under the cruel hands of a relentless 
scoundrel, because the cannot furnish him with money, to 
adminster to his idleness and extravagance."

At this moment came in a miserable object in a most tattered 
garb and piteous plight of body, to ask the favour of a dram 
to fortify her against the cold; from which she had no 
prospect of being exempt the whole night.

On enquiry, the Spy found she was the only daughter of an old 
baronet, who was possessed of a large estate; but having 
forfeited her father's favour by marrying without his content, 
he, like too many rash parents, absolutely refused to see, 
forgive, or succour her, married his cook-maid, and settled 
his whole fortune upon her.

The lovers struggled together a long time, till death kindly 
relieved the husband from a life of misery. The widow renewed 
her applications to the father, but was inhumanly denied 
admittance, and ----; but let compassion obliterate her faults 
and suggest to the humane, that when griping penury stares us 
in the face, that virtue must be next to impregnable, that 
will not cede on such pressing occasions.

They then proceeded towards St. Giles's, and hearing in a 
street, near Long-acre, a company singing and dancing, 
enquired the cause, and were informed, that they were a club 
of beggars bred up in idleness, but enabled by the charitable 
donations of well disposed persons, to spend every night in 
riot and debauchery.

In the chimney corner of the same house, was a poor author, 
whose landlord had refused him admittance into his lodging, 
because he was unhappily, through dearth of business, a month 
in arrears with him for rent. He has obliged the world with 
some ingenious productions, but through want of taste in this 
ignorant age, they have been utterly neglected. He was then 
finishing an elaborate performance, which met with the same 
fate as its predecessor.

"Observe," said the guide, "that woman, who so cordially 
embraces her husband. The poor fellow has been married these 
four years, and never since enjoyed a moment till the present. 
His ears have been rung with an incessant peal from her tongue 
till within these ten minutes, impatient of his sufferings, he 
strapped her heartily, and you see the good effects of such 
disipline.

"That cruel villain, who is kicking his wife about the room, 
has been with his whores till near midnight, and is thus 
rewarding a virtuous woman, whom he left supperless, for 
waiting his return; but I fancy this is the period of her 
woes, and if she dies of bruises, the scoundrel will make his 
deserved exit at Tyburn."

"But who," said Agrestis, "is that swaggering old blade, with 
the pimpled face, to whom the servile wretches around him seem 
to pay such extraordinary deference?"

"He is one," replied the guide, "that has acquired five 
thousand pounds by keeping a twopenny lodging house, and 
occasionally receiving stolen goods. His infamous character 
excluding him from reputable company, he frequents this house, 
where he can be head of a necessitous mob."

"What," cried Fidelio, "will money, got by such means as those 
entitle the possessor to respect?" "Sure," returned Urbanus, 
"money nowadays implies industry, honesty, good sense, and 
every commendable quality. I know a certain person, lately 
chosen overseer of the poor, whose fortune is the assured 
product of fraud and extortion."

Agrestis and his old servant expressing their admiration at 
such extraordinary scenes, desired their sage conductor to 
guide them home, and defer their speculations to a future 
opportunity, though their absence from their habitations was 
prolonged by an incident that happened in their way.



Chapter V. 
Description of a Watch House, with the Characters of a Parish 
Beadle, and reforming Constable.

In consequence of the desire of Agrestis, our peripatetics 
bended their course to the eastward; but were interrupted at 
Fleet Ditch, by a great clamour in the watch-house, at which 
they stopped, on Urbanus's informing them, that it was a scene 
worthy their attention. On their entrance, the countrymen were 
struck with amazement, at the motley group, which presented 
itself. The benches were lined with decrepit fellows quaffing 
tobacco, and disputing about their vigilance in their duty.

Before the bar stood a well dressed man, to answer to the 
impertinent queries of a pragmatical coxcomb of a constable 
who presided in this nocturnal court. Near unto him was a very 
beautiful woman, bedewing her cheeks with tears, and lamenting 
her unhappy fate in being exposed to the capricious award of a 
merciless myrmidon, who, under the sanction of law, basely 
preys upon the unfortunate, and cruelly aggravates the misery 
of the wretched.

The honest Fidelio, prompted by curiosity, entreated his 
master to stay the event of this mighty trial, the particulars 
of which, we hope, may gratify the curious reader, as they are 
related to expose the villainy of those, into whose hands too 
often is committed the distribution of justice. It appeared 
from the course of enquiry, that this man and woman had been 
apprehended between the hours of eleven and twelve by one of 
those pettifogging officers, called beadles, merely from a 
view of preying upon them, to the joint emolument of himself 
and constable, who had long practiced this oppression 
conjunctively.

The man was a person of character and fortune, the woman 
indeed was one of those unhappy wretches, who, having lost 
with her virtue, the means of living honestly, was compelled 
to have recourse to prostitution, to avoid such practices, as 
tend to an ignominious death.

The constable was an indigent, idle fellow, who had several 
years served in that office, not that he was repeatedly 
elected to it, but employed by such persons as were, and who, 
to avoid the cares and anxieties attendant on this, as well as 
other offices of justice, chose voluntarily to make him a 
nocturnal allowance, to represent their persons, and support 
their dignity.

This scandal to humanity, as a pretence for his acceptance of 
an office, so disagreeable to every benevolent mind, 
impudently alleged as his motive, a regard to virtue and 
religion, though from the sequel, he appeared as destitute of 
either, as most of his brother reformers.

The gentleman incensed at his abrupt treatment, expostulated 
with him on the illegality of interrupting any persons who 
quietly passed about their business, merely on a suspicion of 
their character; observed that those women and those only 
could be deemed obnoxious to the public, who plied in the open 
streets, and abruptly seized on persons as they passed, and 
that therefore the proceeding of the beadle was unjustifiable.

He then resolutely demanded the immediate dismission of 
himself and the woman, on the penalty of a most rigorous 
prosecution. The nocturnal monarch, assuming his usual 
consequence, assured him that his insolent behaviour would but 
enhance his misdemeanour, and that if he expected lenity at 
his hands, he must treat with him in milder terms; as he had 
special orders from his superior officer, not to suffer one 
woman of the town to pass unnoticed.

"I defy," replied the gentleman, "both you and your officer; 
and again demand immediate dismission, as you would avoid 
showing cause, for stopping any person on the high-way, 
without a justifiable pretence."

"Is not that hussy a strumpet, and liable to punishment on 
that account?" returns this mockery of power; "That," replied 
the gentleman, "by no means interferes with the propriety of 
your proceedure, nor can I answer to the question; but I will 
venture to affirm, that to confine any person on a mere 
suspicion of being a woman of the town, without being able to 
allege any misdemeanour against her, is contrary to all law 
and justice whatsoever."

Various altercations ensued; but the constable at length 
apprehending from the appearance, and pertinent remonstrances 
of the gentleman, some future loss would accrue to himself and 
partner in iniquity, thought proper to dismiss him and the 
woman, with warning them to be cautious, how for the future, 
they insulted an officer on his duty.

The affair being decided, our spy and his two companions 
having ordered in their gallon of porter, as is usual on these 
occasions, proceeded homeward, and the former as they walked 
along entered upon his remarks on this occurrence for the 
amusement of the latter.

"From this scene, you may learn," said he, "how flagrantly 
justice is often perverted, and that the most salutary 
institutions are sometimes prostituted to the most infamous 
purposes.

"To punish vice is doubtless essential to the welfare of 
society; but when the rod of correction is vested in unworthy 
hands, the very exercise of it becomes a curse. The sanction 
of law has too often screened complicated villainy, and knaves 
have perpetrated the most iniquitous actions under the mask of 
justice.

"Strange though it may appear to a mind untaught in the school 
of vice, perjury is retailed in the courts of judicature, nor 
are there wretches wanting, disposed at all times, to barter 
their veracity for one pound one.

"Hence it comes to pass, that the fortunate scoundrel vaunts 
over distressed virtue, and injured innocence complains 
unredressed. Indeed the transactions of this night together 
with those of every hour, combine to prove the validity of 
this maxim; paraphrased from the ingenious Gay; 'That money 
can often avert the stroke of justice; and that if riches did 
not generally procure an exemption from law, Jack Ketch would 
have many more customers.' But as we are at some distance," 
continued Urbanus, "from our respective habitations, I will 
give you a sketch of a parish beadle, and reforming constable, 
as they were the principal persons concerned in this act of 
iniquity.

"Before I enter on my design, I must intreat of you ever to 
remember, that as there are no rules without exception, you do 
not conceive a general prejudice against any sect or 
profession, because of the disgrace, which some may reflect on 
the same; and likewise to rest assured, that when I 
characterize a species of men, such display is agreeable to 
the received and confirmed opinion of the intelligent part of 
mankind.

"Those gentry arrayed in parti-coloured horsemen's coats, and 
broad laced hats, are servants to their respective parishes, 
and called beadles. They go to church, and patrol the streets 
during the time of service, carry the staff before the 
Reverend Doctor; whip the dogs and noisy boys; and perform a 
number of such like important services in the course of their 
ecclesiastical function.

"At night they are employed in the service of virtue, to 
search for abandoned women and disorderly men, whom on 
apprehension they are to bring before the officer of the 
night, at his tribunal, a watch or round-house.

"Thus, though the institution of their office is serviceable 
to society, it frequently furnishes them with an opportunity 
of availing themselves of the same, to the corruption of 
justice and oppression of the poor; and as they are in general 
indigent and commonly lazy and drunken, they are as commonly 
eye servants, who pretend to assiduity under the immediate 
inspection of their superiors; while unnoticed, they are 
capable of every mean act, that will produce a shilling.

"A modern reformer of vice, or a reforming constable, most 
commonly is a necessitous wretch, who, like the pimp, lives 
upon the debaucheries of others.

"He searches a brothel not to punish vice, but to obtain a fee 
for his connivance. He preys on the poor whores, whom he robs 
of the product of their iniquities, and by that means adds to 
their wickedness, in as much as he obliges them immediately to 
renew their vices to obtain the very means of living.

"Like a prudent minister, he determines to render his post as 
profitable as possible, and is in fact, the encourager of what 
he pretends to suppress, by protecting for bribes, the very 
delinquents he should punish; persuaded that each brothel he 
breaks deprives him of considerable gain.

"The gay courtesan with her pockets lined with gold, may whore 
with impunity, while the needy strumpet is daily in danger of 
being chained to the hempen block; where instead of being 
reclaimed, she is hardened in her preverse course, by the 
example of the abandoned wretches around her.

"The suppression of vice and reformation of manners," added 
the Spy, "is a most laudable undertaking in the society; but 
unless they fix on worthy men for the execution of this 
salutary design, and prevent the daily abuses committed by 
their officers, there is reason to apprehend such remissness 
will be attended with considerable injury to their reputation, 
as well as prevent many well disposed persons from encouraging 
a work, in itself, worthy of their assistance.

"Whilst a set of mercenary, profligate fellows are employed to 
detect others, who are hardly worse than themselves; the 
innocent will frequently suffer, and the guilty be screened 
from justice, for the sake of a bribe offered to miscreants, 
who make it their business, not so much to suppress base 
women, and those who harbour them, as to share with them the 
fruits of their prostitution, and extortion. I once met with a 
humourous circumstance happily illustrative of the pious 
effects of these fellows vigilance.

"Passing along the Strand, I heard a man, who by means of one 
of these useful members of society had fined for swearing, 
thus address his companion, 'I warrant, they thought they had 
produced a great reformation on me, because they fined me a 
shilling for an oath, when I had not another in the world; but 
i'faith, I was pretty even with them, for going home, and 
relating the circumstance to my wife, we cursed the constable 
for two hours successively; which was the only compensation we 
had for going to bed supperless.'

"A mercenary officer of the peace in fine is the greatest pest 
to society, in that he frequently substitutes vice for virtue, 
and virtue for vice, puts modesty to the blush, protects 
infamy, oppresses the friendless, and emboldens the impious 
delinquent to brave the laws of his country, and undertake the 
commission of every act that can injure his fellow creature, 
and disgrace human nature."

Agrestis and his honest servant could not but discover their 
surprise, that there were such infamous beings in human form, 
as well as declared, that vice might well reign triumphant in 
the metropolis, where its averred correctors were secretly its 
greatest abettors, where the rod of correction was diverted 
from its proper use, and justice was lame as well as blind.

"Your remarks are just," observed the citizen, "and the more 
you see of this world, the more you will be confirmed in them: 
but alas! through the prevalence of ambition, and avarice, 
there are few amongst us who nobly dare to oppose the torrent 
of vice by word and example, because nowadays, the path of 
plain dealing too frequently leads to poverty and disgrace, 
while that of falsehod, treachery, and detraction as 
frequently ends in riches and worldly honour. But be it my 
greatest glory to persevere in my integrity amidst all the 
changes of this transitory life.

This closed the night's speculation, and Agrestis took leave 
of his worthy friend, with enhanced desire of his company on 
the like beneficial occasion.



Chapter VI. 
Description of a Rout, with Remarks on the Company.

The Spy and his companion having met according to appointment; 
the former proposed to conduct him to one of the politest and 
most fashionable entertainments, this seat of luxury and 
dissipation can possibly furnish. It is commonly called a 
rout, and comprehends an assembly met to commit all that can 
be repugnant to justice, honour and modesty.

Here vice shines triumphant; here virtue rarely enters, and if 
perchance she mixes with the deluded votaries of the former; 
it is with the utmost danger of receiving a lasting taint.

Urbanus, having introduced his friend, chose an obscure corner 
of the room, that unnoticed, he might communicate his 
observations. "Behold," said he, "at that card table, a 
disgrace to her sex, one whose mental deformity exceeds her 
personal beauty, a wretch lost to honour, lost to virtue; a 
female gambler. She once lived with reputation, but the desire 
of gaming eclipsed that brightest of jewels, and will, if long 
prevalent, reduce her to the lowest degree of infamy.

"Descended from wealthy and virtuous parents, she received a 
liberal education, and was trained to every graceful 
accomplishment. At the age of twenty she was married to a man 
of fortune and character, with whom she lived for some time in 
the most refined endearments of connubial life.

"Her husband was an example of virtue, one who dared to 
maintain his integrity, amidst the scoffs of a modish 
acquaintance, as well as remonstrate with them on gaming, as 
nothing less than a guise for picking of pockets. Influenced 
by his noble principles, she trod in his paths, and was at 
once the ornament of her sex, and the delight of mankind. But, 
alas! as evil communication corrupts good manners, an unhappy 
acquaintance with a neighbouring lady soiled her virtuous 
resolutions, and gradually allured her into snares of vice. 
This abandoned woman first drew her into play under pretence 
of amusement; and when she had contracted a propensity to it, 
at different times won from her such considerable sums, that 
she was obliged to apply to her husband, for cash to discharge 
those debts of honour. This occasioned a supicion in his 
breast, notwithstanding he complied with her request, with a 
gentle admonition to avoid profusion.

"Pursuing this destructive inclination with inflamed desire, 
she lost in one night more than her husband's whole fortune 
could discharge, and to avoid his knowledge of her 
disingenuous conduct, prostituted her person to the wretch who 
had won her money, to recover her loss.

"From this fatal moment her misery commenced. Every artifice 
was practised to conceal the injury she had done the best of 
men, the most indulgent of husbands. But, as justice generally 
pursues the guilty, even in this state of existence, the 
villain exulted in his conquest, and insolently boasted of the 
favours he had received. The incensed husband, sent him a 
challenge, and by a lunge of resentment, retaliated the 
injury.

"Having dispatched his adversary, his indignation abated, he 
proposed to pardon his wife, and preserve her if possible from 
utter destruction. But her mind was become insusceptible of 
every generous impression, and she treated his clemency with 
the most aggravating petulancy. A separation ensued. She is 
now absorbed in the lust of gaming, to which she devotes her 
whole life, whilst her afflicted spouse is hastening to the 
grave."

"Abandoned monster!" exclaimed Agrestis, "how dare she show 
her guilty face; how assume that smile of complacency? is 
conscience dormant in her breast?" "No," replied the Spy, 
"that monitor never dies; she now feels all the horrors of 
guilt, and only assumes a mask to conceal the agonies that 
torture her distracted mind.

"Dreading a moment's reflection, she flies to this scene of 
dissipation, to drown her thoughts in riot and luxury; but 
these hours of revelling are wasting her to age, and 
deformity; when the bloom of those cheeks shall fade, and 
those sparkling eyes become languid, when every comfort shall 
desert her, and all prospects of bliss present and future 
vanish irrevocable.

"But there let her remain with her guilt upon her head, and 
observe that airy spark in green and gold; he's a wretch as 
obscure as wicked; from a candle-snuffer at the play-house, he 
became an under-actor, and having a tolerable figure, with a 
consummate effrontery, gains on the affections of silly girls, 
and frequently serves them in the honourable capacity of pimp, 
the profits of which added to his salary from the theatre, 
enables him to make a splendid figure, and pass himself upon 
the ignorant as a man of abilities."

"And are there people," returned Agrestis, "weak enough to be 
thus imposed upon by the mere shadow of appearance?" "Parade," 
replied his friend, "ever goes down with the million, and if 
you desire popularity, you must make a glaring figure without.

"Take notice of that grave curdmudgeon, who sits as pensive 
over his cards, as a poet over his papers under a desertion of 
ideas; that's Mr Donefirst, who lives by calculation, and 
availing himself of the particular circumstances of every 
interesting event that occurs. He'll take the odds on the 
death of his most intimate companion, or a life most valuable 
to the public. He's grand match-maker at Newmarket, and an 
adept in the art of jockeying. Whilst the gay part of the 
company are displaying their raillery, that old fox watches an 
opportunity to slip a card, and hugs himself in the thought of 
being a knave undetected. Observe with what good nature that 
smart young fellow in the blue frock loses his money to the 
lady that sits over against him. But he starts up and makes 
his exit--his pockets are emptied, and he's gone to recruit by 
dint of the pistol. The passengers on the western road must 
furnish him with his demands, which obtained, he'll instantly 
return, and pursue his game as eagerly as before."

"By your description he must be a highwayman," cried Agrestis. 
"You guess right," returned his friend; "and one cannot but 
pity the unaccountable levity of a man, who can calmly suffer 
himself to be fleeced of that, at a gaming table, which he 
acquires at the hazard of his life.

"There are others of the same profession in the room, and 'tis 
much, if we read not some of their lives in the next Newgate 
Magazine. The lady with whom he played, well knows by what 
means he obtains the money which she has won; she's as arrant 
a bilk as he's a thief; and having been debauched by a 
notorious gambler, has so far imbibed his principles, as to be 
capable of practising the most palpable frauds without the 
least remorse.

"Being dismissed from her keeper's service she associated with 
a set of sharpers, who having let her into the knowledge of 
all the chicaneries of play, arrayed her in gay apparel, and 
reported abroad, that she was a widow lady of considerable 
fortune.

"The plan succeeded, she obtained access to persons of the 
first quality, and as she was handsome, a number of amorous 
youths courted the company of this toast, who pretending to be 
fond of cards, fleeced them pretty handsomely before they 
departed. By these iniquitious means, she has amassed a 
considerable fortune; and as she has never been detected in an 
intrigue, passes in this part of the world for a woman of 
unsullied reputation."

"During the course of your remarks my good friend and 
monitor," said Agrestis, "I could scarce keep my eyes from 
that meagre figure, whose very countenance seems to indicate 
his necessitous condition." "That," replied the Spy, "is the 
once gay and gallant Hippolito, the pride of the Park and the 
Play-house.

"Having lavished a large fortune in riotous living, he is 
reduced to the disagreeable necessity of accepting a weekly 
pittance, from the very men who shared the spoils of his 
ruined estate. He is now preparing for the press, a new 
edition of the ingenious Mr Hoyle's useful treatise on gaming, 
with notes critical, emendatory, and explanatory.

"This publication, he hopes will in some tolerable degree 
compensate for the losses he has sustained, as there are few 
persons of distinction, but will grace their library with so 
ornamental a volume. Observe that old fellow in the tie-wig, 
formal cravat, and square-toe shoes; his name is Lovegold; he 
constantly attends these honourable assemblies. Those heaps of 
money, that are placed in order on the table before him, he 
lends to those losers, whose security he knows to be valid, at 
the moderate interest of fifty per cent; by which he has 
amassed a prodigious sum."

"What strange group of mortals are they," enquired Agrestis, 
"at yonder table, on which the dice are rattling?" "That 
company," replied his friend, "is a medley of all sorts, from 
the man of distinction to the mechanic. The game, with which 
they are diverting themselves, is called hazard, from the 
great sums that are won or lost at it, by the single cast of a 
die.

"The gamblers will persuade you 'tis the fairest of all kinds 
of play, depending absolutely on chance, wholly irrespective 
of judgment, but they have a method of changing the dice, and 
introducing such as they can manage to their advantage. You 
may observe with what eagerness each takes up the cup 
impatiently waiting a throw in his favour.

"How different the countenances change, as the games go for or 
against them, expecting his award of fortune, with as much 
anxiety, as a condemned criminal hoping for the sovereign's 
reprieve!" "But do not these persons of eminence think it 
derogatory to their honour to rank with others so much their 
inferiors?" cried the countryman. "Not on these occasions, 
said Urbanus: for death and the dice level all distinctions.

"Indeed persons in general entertain very false notions of 
good and bad company; and what is called the best company, 
will often upon reflection appear to be the worst. It is not 
their magnificence, their pompous buildings, and luxurious 
divertisements, which constitute that title. No! they are 
ornaments of a different kind, that compose the truly great 
man.

"In this whole circle, I fear there is not one free from 
pride, intemperance, and many other vices. He who would 
frequent the best company (according to the received opinion 
of the present age) must divest himself of every virtue, be 
ashamed of all morality, and openly avow such principles, as 
are incompatible with humanity, clash with true honour, as 
well as repugnant to common honesty.

"He must be able to laugh sobriety out of countenance, drink 
hard to drown reason, and thus reduced to a level with 
brutality, plunge into shameless extravagancies, which the 
most sensible beasts, were they endowed with the faculty of 
speech, would condemn as the disgrace of the creation.

"Villainies are daily perpetrated under the genteel mask of 
gaming, and it is the allowance of such corruptions, such 
detestable manners as these, that makes persons of the first 
rank, the very worst company, although called the best. Where 
gaming is practised, avarice presides, and every man views the 
money in his neighbour's purse with an eye of desire.

"In company of this kind, a man's having money to play is a 
sufficiency of merit, and brings him upon a level with the 
most opulent or dignified. But hark! the clock strikes two, 
let us hence. Remember this scene and the remarks I have made 
upon it, which you will find consonant with further experience 
in the future course of our speculation."



Chapter VII. 
View of the Town at Midnight, with many Characteristical 
Anecdotes.

The sober and industrious part of mankind are now retired from 
the cares and hurry of life, to the downy pillow, that mansion 
of sweet repose, which recruits the spirits of weary mortals, 
and capacitates them for the business of the approaching day. 
The streets echo with the sound of watchmen bellowing past 
twelve, the wanton shouts of drunkards, and the shrieks of 
profligate women. The sons of lewdness creep from their 
skulking places, to gratify their more than brutal 
inclinations, under cover of the night. The painted harlot, 
whose emaciated figure, and wan complexion, disgust by day, 
now through favour of the burning taper, possesses charms, and 
wins to her bed the deluded rake, whose desires sicken on the 
ensuing dawn. Reason is now hushed, and little awakes but riot 
and debauchery. In short, little superiority is discernable 
between the human and the brutal creation.

Urbanus, who was no stranger to this dark scene, and therefore 
less liable to be seduced by its enchantments, could behold it 
with advantage, and render the most glaring spectacles of vice 
incentives to his perseverance in virtue.

Having spent the evening in agreeable converse with his 
friend, he reminded him of their mutual design, which they now 
prosecuted, still attended by the trusty Fidelio. The Spy, to 
fortify the mind of the unexperienced Agrestis against the 
temptations, to which he knew he must shortly be inevitably 
exposed, in some measure caused him to anticipate the 
approaching scene.

"You must now," said he, "my dear friend, summon your every 
virtue, and collect your reasoning powers; for you are 
entering on love's enchanted castle, and numbers of bewitching 
nymphs will soon play around you. Every art will be used to 
seduce, every device practised to trepan you. Remember 
therefore that I present not to your view these objects to 
inflame your desire, but excite your aversion, and if outside 
appearance should gain upon you, consider the sink of 
uncleanness, that lurks within. But as I have reason to hope 
you are virtuous from principle, I shall desist from 
admonition, and proceed to our main design."

They had now reached the [Covent] Garden, when Urbanus paused, 
to consider to which of the many scenes in the neighbourhood 
he should first introduce his friend. Passing through Russell 
Street, they heard a clamour at a certain house not far 
distant from the stage door of the theatre; "O!" said the Spy, 
"let us enter; this is one of the principal nurseries of vice 
in the whole town, and about this time is in high charge."

Having knocked at the door, a fellow peeped through a wicket, 
demanded their business, and after a little prevarication, 
granted them admittance. They were ushered into a room, which 
contained a medley of males and females, and resounded with as 
many, as are comprehended in the gamut. Some were singing, 
others crying, some dancing, others swearing, some, heated 
with liquor, tore their throats with boisterous rant, while 
others, overcome by riot, were snoring with their heads 
reclined on a chair.

There was a continual ingress and egress, as well as incessant 
buzz, like bees in a hive. Their appearance was as variegated 
as the rainbow, and their converse as different as their 
features. After waiting near half an hour, the Spy and his 
companion observed a vacant corner, which commanded the room, 
and made choice of the same as the seat of their speculation.

The astonished Fidelio stared about him, and discovered as 
much surprise, as a peasant at the first time of going to a 
country fair. Addressing himself to the Spy: "Sure sir," said 
he, "those fine, pretty ladies are not whores; one would think 
they could any of them get husbands every day, as they are 
most of them young and handsome; what pity 'tis they should 
utter such horrid oaths" "Your honest unsuspecting mind, 
trusty Fidelio," replied the Spy, "induces you ever to judge 
with candour, and as you have never seen human nature in its 
utmost deformity, you cannot conceive what hideous beings 
there are in the world. But if you attend a little to the 
discourse of this blessed company, it will furnish you with a 
stronger idea of their principles than I can possibly express. 
Their attention was then engrossed by the following genteel 
parley between a strapping black-ey'd wench, and a little 
dapper fellow, in a brown frock, short red waistcoat and 
buckskin breeches, with his front decorated by a Tyburn-
top.<13> "You blackguard dog, have not I maintained you these 
thirteen months like a gentleman, and did not you twice in 
that time tip me the favour, and make me pawn my clothes to 
pay the doctor?" "Bl----st your eyes you whore, if you nag, 
I'll tip you such a right one, that I'll make you believe the 
devil's come for you before your time," replied the bully.

During this improving converse, there entered a tall genteel 
fellow, smartly dressed, who, like a second MacHeath, saluted 
all the girls in the room. "The pimps," said the Spy, "are 
more obliged to this buck for pretty wenches, than all the 
town besides. Though he is never free from a complication of 
disorders he is the reigning debauchee of his time, and so 
great a favourite with the women, that he frequently boasts no 
girl can resist him. He maintains a connection with the whole 
procuring faculty, because, as he seduces a number of girls, 
he frequently recommends to them tit-bits, of which they make 
great advantage.

"When by his infernal artifice, he has formed an unhappy girl 
perfectly for vice, to render her totally callous, he 
introduces her to the company of his abandoned acquaintance, 
by which means he frequently comes off without paying his 
reckoning, or obtains the favour of a rake of quality. The 
worthy gentleman's name is Bamwell; his father is an eminent 
apothecary, near Red Lion Square. He received a good 
education, and was put apprentice to a neighbouring gentleman 
of his father's profession, but his passions being strong, and 
his reason weak, he abandoned Galen to follow Venus, and soon 
reached the first form in the school of love.

"His master treated his neglect of business with great lenity 
for some time, but at length, provoked by his dissolute 
behaviour, warned him either to reform his conduct, or quit 
the house, and follow the guidance of his unrestrained 
desires. Barnwell chose the latter, and having burned his 
indenture, took his leave of the family, and commenced the 
gentleman at large.

"When his finances were exhausted, he feigned a pretence of an 
engagement to go abroad, by which means he obtained from the 
old gentleman, a bank note of an hundred pounds, together with 
a stock of fashionable clothes.

"Thus recruited, he applied himself closely to the various 
games practised in town, became an adept in most, and lived 
like many others--nobody knows how.

"As he is versed in all the arts of fraud, he is a great 
favourite with the lady in the white satin sack; he has the 
run of her house, which together with the profits of play, 
enable him to make a figure in life. Her name is Jenny Decoy, 
she is as arrant a jilt as any in town, and by a demure look 
and oily tongue, draws into her trammels, numbers of heated 
youths, and amorous dotards, whose contributions enable her to 
live with the utmost splendor, and supply the wants of her 
favourite man; for most of these ladies have their favourites.

"Observe those two blades sitting each with their doxies on 
their knee, almost drunk, and shouting bawdy songs as if 
emulous of excelling each other in obscenity. The person in 
the uniform is Commodore Downright; the other is Sir Nicholas 
Frothy.

"The former is a brave officer, lately returned from the East 
Indies, where he signalized his valour in the service of his 
country. Rather than lead an inactive life, he beats the 
rounds almost every night, with the gaudy prig who sits next 
him, Tom Babble, Lord Brainless, and other choice spirits of 
the first rank. The commodore is too blunt, to be a favourite 
with the ladies; if he thinks a woman handsome, damn him, 
he'll tell her so; if otherwise he'll declare his mind with 
the same frankness.

"His chief delight is either in his bottle and whore, or over 
his bowl, to relate his adventures to a few friends around 
him.

"With all his oddities, he has a good heart, is ever disposed 
to relieve the indigent, and may be deemed as complete a tar 
as England ever produced. Sir Nicholas was born in Ireland, 
and after the reigning fashion of the age, sent to Paris for 
education, where he became intimate with some French rakes, 
who were devoted to all the fopperies of that flippant nation.

"Here he imbibed not one virtue; unless the prevailing notion 
of a precedence in point of rank, being sufficient to justify 
a gentleman in pinking any scoundrel who should dare to 
affront him, may be deemed one. As he neglected his studies, 
he had only a smattering of the classics or sciences, which 
instead of improving, intoxicated his mind, and rendered him 
the more despicable coxcomb.

"He has an excessive passion for dress, which, as it ever 
draws respect from the common herd of mankind, causes him to 
arrogate to himself a degree of merit to which he has no 
claim.

"In short, he is a compound of pride, vanity, conceit, and 
impertinence, without the mixture of a single good quality. 
His extravagance has almost exhausted his fortune, and he 
associates with the Commodore for special purposes. As he has 
acquired an immense sum abroad, he stands captain, and very 
often rewards him generously for recommending a fine woman to 
him.

"That youth surrounded by a posse of ladies, is just at age, 
and having received a pretty fortune bequeathed by an 
industrious father, is thus squandering it in riot and 
debauchery. The fellow next to him is a sponger or hanger-on, 
who by imposing on his credulity, indulging him in his 
foibles, and occasionally fighting his battles, exacts from 
him an entire maintenance.

"His name is Ned Hardy; he is a noted bruiser, and has lived 
some years on young fellows of fortune, who vainly affect the 
company of such vermin, as an indication of their courage and 
gallantry, or a protection for their insolence and effrontery. 
'Tis much if a quarrel ensues not soon amongst the ladies; as 
he is young and foolish, he will be deemed a prize worth 
contending for. But alas! poverty and disease will attend a 
perseverance in this course, and those, who now cajole, will 
then reject him with the most contemptuous disdain.

"But behold," said Urbanus, "an object that at once excites 
our aversion, and pity. A fine woman extended on the floor, 
exposing those parts, which, was she not thus deprived of all 
sense, she would labour on such occasion to conceal. Being 
addicted to drams, she generally comes into this house much 
elevated, and having drank three or four gills of Maderia, 
frequently exhibits to the company this shocking spectacle. 
See she is carried out like a beast; and the savages deride 
her condition, and are delighted with such a prostitution of 
matchless beauty."

The Spy had scarce finished his remark, when a clashing of 
swords was heard in the adjoining room. They dispatched 
Fidelio to enquire the cause; he instantly returning, told 
them, that a gentleman was expiring in the arms of his friend 
of a wound received in a duel. It appeared on examination, 
that the unfortunate victim had been grossly affronted by a 
woman in company with his antagonist, who resented his reproof 
of such unjustifiable behaviour. "Is it possible," said 
Agrestis, "that women devoid of honour, should occasion so 
fatal a catastrophe? Must not the man be a lunatic, who 
hazards his life to humour the caprice of such wretches?"

"To a man of reason and reflection, it doubtless appears so," 
replied Urbanus; "but these people are so immersed in 
sensuality, that the nobler powers lie dormant, and nought 
prevails with them, but the gratification of the baser 
passions.

"Too many of this cast will dare to acquire the title of a man 
of courage among the ladies, who would desert a cause, that 
honour, justice and humanity enjoin them to assert.

"You see upon the whole," added the sage Urbanus, "to what 
pursuits passion unrestrained by reason, hurries mankind; and 
that a mind destitute of virtue, is capable of every act 
injurious to individuals, destructive to society, and 
derogatory to the dignity of human nature. But let us quit 
this scene, with enhanced ideas of virtue; and with confirmed 
resolutions, let us,

Still in the paths of honour persevere, 
And ne'er from past or present ills despair: 
For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds; 
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds. 
[The Mourning Bride, by William Congreve, Act IV. Sc. 2]



Chapter VIII. 
Midnight View continued. Adventures at certain Taverns in the 
purlieus of Covent Garden.

Our peripatetics being disgusted with the company and 
conversation of the motley tribe, with which they lately 
mixed, departed in quest of new entertainment, and at the 
instigation of the Spy called at the R---- in Br----s Street, 
as a place worthy the notice of persons of their speculative 
turn of mind.

Urbanus, when they had called for their bottle of Burgundy, 
sent for Harry Nimble the waiter, a veteran in the service, 
and by the promise of a handsome reward, obtained from him 
such strictures on the different companies, as proved highly 
entertaining to his country friend.

Harry in his youth was obliged to fly to London, for a 
trespass on a park, adjoining to his father's cottage, in 
Buckinghamshire, and was reduced soon after his arrival to the 
necessity of carrying a taper, to light the company in their 
passage from the play-houses. His agility and address at 
length recommended him to the notice of the person, who then 
kept this house, by whom he was entertained as an errand boy.

Being an acute lad, by his assiduity he grew into favour with 
his master, and was preferred from the knife board to the 
kitchen, where he attended the cook, and improved to such a 
degree, that in the space of two years, he could serve up a 
dish, equal to the desire of the most luxurious appetite.

To this qualification he added a most dextrous manage of the 
napkin, together with that cringing submission requisite to 
recommend him to the customers, as well as ward off many a 
blow or lunge in the guts. Nor was his art in procuring 
inferior to that of H--r--ss himself; he always kept as 
regular a list, and could suit the taste of a cully to as 
great a nicety, provided he was well paid. No person therefore 
could be better adapted to furnish the Spy with such 
information as he required.

Harry, having entered the room, and made his compliments, at 
the request of the gentlemen took a chair, and began as 
follows.

"In compliance with the desire of that gentleman, to whom I am 
under infinite obligations, I will unfold many secrets, which 
will surprise those, who are unpractised in the frauds of 
mankind. If you attend to the characters I shall describe, you 
will find that few in this place are in reality what they 
affect to be; on the contrary, that the major part are the 
very reverse; for instance, the sanctified priest will appear 
an infamous hypocrite; the swaggering bully, a cudgeled 
coward; the pretended physician an illiterate quack; the 
modest matron, a lascivious harlot; the noble count a French 
barber; some whores with honour, and some chaste women 
without; the gentleman a mountebank; the player, a gentlema; 
an honest man with a bad character; and a knave with the title 
of a man of principle.

"No person has had a better opportunity than myself of tracing 
the dark paths of human life, as I have lived more than twenty 
years in this house, and been witness to scenes, of which you 
have not the least notion."

He then led them into a large room, in which was a company of 
men and women, who by their dress appeared to be persons of 
distinction. "These are all characters," said the guide, 
"worthy of notice. As for the women, by their behaviour they 
evince their profession.

"The smart young gentleman in blue and gold with his face 
towards you, is eldest son to Sir Timothy Totter, Baronet, and 
heir to eighteen thousand pounds a year. As his father cannot 
long survive, he borrows considerable sums of old Lovegold the 
usurer, which he chiefly spends in the Garden amongst the 
women." "But who," said Agrestis, "is that meagre figure, who 
is deeply engaged in toying with the little black-eyed girl in 
green?" "That," replied Harry, "is a doctor of music, eminent 
for a late ingenious comic opera; his name is Catgut; he 
procured the honorary degree of Doctor at the expense of what 
should be held most sacred, and maintains it by professing 
principles repugnant to the dictates of his heart. Though one 
would imagine by his emaciated carcase, the power of enjoyment 
had failed him; a more lascivious cully resorts not the 
Garden, nor does the most heated debauchee labour with more 
eagerness to gratify his passion.

"Time would fail me, should I endeavour to recount the number 
of women he has deprived of their virtue, or of men he has 
adorned with horns. He is as much enquired after by the women, 
as an eminent toast by the other sex; notwithstanding which he 
is particularly fond of a bunter,<14> and is often seen in the 
street in full scent after an oyster-wench.

"His talents in his profession are excellent, which, added to 
a general knowledge of things, and an insinuating address, 
procure him the favour of many persons of distinction, by whom 
his company is much courted.

"That grave looking gentleman, said he, is a clergyman; he was 
tutor to young Totter, whose favour he conciliated by 
indulging him in his youthful foibles, to the neglect of his 
morals and education. The reverend pedagogue, having an eye to 
future interest, took care never to thwart his pupil, so he 
studied just as much under him, as he thought fit, nor did Mr 
Compliance ever contradict him.

"If report is true, the same worthy divine introduced him to 
Poll Cole, as well as initiated him in the rites of Bacchus, 
to which he is himself most zealous devotee. However that be, 
it is well known, that Mr Compliance, through the interest of 
his pupil, obtained a fine cure of two hundred pounds per 
annum, and was retained in the house, as guardian of the young 
Baronet's conduct; nevertheless he has been seen supporting 
his feeble patron, as he reeled from hence to M--l--'s under 
the Piazza, about three in the morning."

"Execrable hypocrite!" cried Agrestis, "thus to pervert the 
design of the father, and encourage the vices of the son, 
under the mask of a most sacred function; no wonder that 
infidelity prevails, when the ministers of revelation, by 
their infamous practices, reflect such disgrace on the cause 
they pretend to espouse." "That person who seems to squint to 
the right," returned Harry, while he ogles the lady on the 
left, is the right honourable the Lord Viscount Lurewell; he 
rarely looks a man in the face, because, being addicted to 
lying, he ever questions the veracity even of his own 
assertion. Having ruined his fortune at play, he infers his 
right to practice those tricks upon others which he has 
learned at the greatest expense. He is a man of penetration, 
and can easily discern the disposition of those with whom he 
converses. By indulging young Totter in his ridiculous 
humours, he often draws him into play, strips him of his cash, 
gets his note for a cool hundred or two, and dismisses him 
with as polite an air, as a whore of fashion her bubbled 
cully.

"His Lordship will frequently condescend to join in any of his 
frolicsome schemes, and together with the pious Mr Compliance, 
associate in the laudable employment of what the bloods call, 
beating the rounds. They are very dextrous at overturning 
punch bowls, breaking pier-glasses, knocking down 
superannuated watchmen, kicking waiters, and many other heroic 
actions, which are the pride and glory of a modern gentleman 
of taste and spirit.

"Young Totter, though dull in his academical studies, is a 
proficient in those accomplishments, which constitute a good 
fellow, and rivals the first buck of the age, in any 
enterprise of pith and moment. That little well-set man in 
white and silver, is the only son of an eminent brewer not far 
from Spitalfields; his name is Frantic; his affectionate 
father kept him at boarding school till he was very near 
fourteen years old; but, as his master received special orders 
never to correct him, instead of improving in knowledge and 
virtue, his natural perverseness of temper increased with his 
years, and he contracted every disagreeable quality that could 
render him obnoxious to society. When he left school, he 
committed such outrages in his father's neighbourhood, that 
complaints were perpetually lodged against him, and it was 
determined by his friends to try what effect an India voyage 
might have towards reclaiming this headstrong youth.

"During the course of the voyage, though recommended to the 
captain's peculiar care, through his refractory behaviour, he 
became at once the contempt and hatred of the whole crew, and 
having been expelled the company of the officers, and even the 
sedate part of the private men, was reduced to the necessity 
of messing with some of the most infamous wretches who were 
going as soldiers to the company's settlements.

"On his landing at Bengal, he took elegant lodgings, hired a 
servant to attend him during his stay, and assumed a genteel 
appearance. But he soon sullied the renown he acquired through 
this glare, by his scandalous behaviour, and was as much 
detested and rejected on shore, as he had been in the wooden 
world. During the homeward bound passage, he lay under so 
odious a stigma, that he was obliged to mess by himself; and 
returned to England, with as much disgrace as he set out on 
his voyage with �clat. Soon after his arrival, he contracted 
an intimacy with, and engaged the affections of a young lady 
of considerable fortune, who (strange as it may appear) lived 
but in him. Instead of returning the generous ardour, he 
lavished his money upon harlots, the knowledge of which so 
affected the virtuous lady, that a few months brought her with 
sorrow to the grave.

"Such is the prevalence of love, and such its blindness to the 
faults of its darling object, that notwithstanding the 
ingratitude of the wretch, she bequeathed him her whole 
fortune, amounting to upwards of twenty thousand pounds. This 
sum enabled Mr Frantic to gratify the height of his excentric 
disposition, and he cut a figure as contemptible as it was 
expensive: by persons of sense, he was shunned as a fool, by 
those of honour as a knave, and by those of fashion, as a 
complex of the clown and fop.

"Affecting the fashionable taste, he hired lodgings in 
Berkeley Square, and took into keeping a celebrated courtesan, 
whom he maintained in the utmost splendour. He then set up his 
chariot, and being Phaetonically inclined, would frequently 
drive his mistress to some neighbouring villages, on parties 
of pleasure. As he went to bed every night so drunk and 
debilitated, that he could rarely employ her in her proper 
profession, she had several gallants who were well paid for 
performing his duty.

"At last, having wheedled him out of a handsome settlement, 
she left him and cohabitated with a smart young officer, who 
had inclination and ability to gratify her utmost desires. 
Frantic having squandered his fortune, was thrown into goal 
for debt; from whence after a continuance of four years, his 
father released him, and now allows him a weekly pittance for 
his support; though at a season of dotage, he frequently 
obtains considerable sums, from the credulous old gentleman; 
but care is taken that on his demise, the disposal of his 
affluent fortune will not be left to his prodigal son."

These remarks having been made on the company, Harry begged 
leave to retire, and Urbanus with his friend at the same time 
withdrew, heartily cloyed with the subjects they had heard 
related.

From hence, they adjourned to another house no less eminent 
for midnight transactions. They were ushered into a room, 
where they listened to some extraordinary discourse between 
Jack, the famous pimp master general, and Canter, an underrate 
actor, well known amongst the ladies of pleasure, as they were 
carousing over a bottle in an adjoining apartment.

Mr Canter stood warming his back by the fire, and Jack by his 
side, with a glass in his hand, saying, "Egad sir, she's a 
very smart girl, and wonderfully engaging in company; I am 
sure she must make a great deal of money. Mr Canter, so many 
years as I have known the town, I never remember any one man 
so generally in favour with the ladies as yourself. Whether it 
be owing to your attracting behaviour in life, I know not, but 
the encomiums I daily hear passed upon you, often induce me to 
envy your happiness. 'Bless me,' says Miss Dye Languish, 'what 
a sweet fellow is that Canter! I dreamt last night--but I will 
invite him to my lodgings.' 'Bridewell be my portion,' cried 
Peggy Fanciful, 'if I would not risk the loss of my pension 
from Sir Peter Doolittle, for a single night with him.' I 
suppose, Sir, you have seen Peggy; faith she's a charming 
creature, pity she's such a reprobate. She can mould a man to 
her mind, as the potter does the clay, perhaps she's as fine a 
sized woman as the town affords, and then for skin, eyes, and 
shape, she's the paragon of her sex."

Here the discourse was interrupted by the entrance of Mr 
O'Hara, the poet; "Ha! what my little Paddy," said Canter, 
"did not I play my part in your last piece to admiration?" 
"Faith, man, like an angel; and in the next I write, I'll 
adapt a part to your improving genius, that shall ensure you 
three encores, and an addition of twenty shillings to your 
weekly salary."

"Well, but what became of the little Tit I recommended to you 
last night, was not she a delicate piece of flesh?" "Arrah, 
the jade was well enough; but she was plaguy coy at first," 
returned the bard; "she would not come to, till I promised to 
take her into keeping, and then we made a night at the Key 
Bagnio; and a luscious hussy she is." "I suppose you came down 
Pat," says Canter; "Not a doit," replied the other, "I never 
pay my women with money; if a lady of the theatre does me a 
favour, I recommend her to a part; or puff for her in the 
newspaper; if of the town, I write sonnets on her as the 
nonpareil of her sex, and thereby augment her fame, and 
consequently her income."

"Faith, Pat, you judge right," cried Canter, "and for my part 
I always think it very well if I do them the favour, without 
paying for it." As Mr Canter was elaborately discussing the 
various arts of gallantry, and displaying the mystery of being 
a knave with reputation, there bounced into the room, a woman 
of a most commanding presence, her features though large were 
regular, her eyes black and brilliant, her hair dark brown, 
her neck like polished ivory, and her heaving bosom tempting 
to the enraptured view. With eager fold, Canter embraced the 
lovely girl, and enquired by what means she knew he was in the 
house; "My dearest Tom," said she, "I cannot possibly stay 
now, but Dick told me you was here, and I could not rest, till 
I feigned a pretence for leaving my company, for a short 
interview with my darling Canter. But I must go back again, 
being engaged to captain Chintz, and Jack knows he is an 
excellent cull, if a woman can but please him." "A word more," 
said the favourite, "before you go. Grant no favours, without 
first securing the reward; unless you well know the man with 
whom you engage."

"Be not allured by a star or laced coat. I have known many 
persons of rank arrant bilks, and many plain men spend their 
money like princes. There's Lord Tinsel generally bilks his 
wench, whereas Mr Sugarsops the plain cit in a frieze coat 
never gives less than two guineas. The reason's plain, the 
former's as poor as a rat, and the latter as rich as Croesus."

Jack then broke in, and addressing himself to Mr Canter; "Now 
Miss is present," said he, "I have a remark to make, which I 
think may redound to her interest. Dolly Dowlas sounds but 
oddly; and I assure you a pretty name as often recommends a 
girl to company, as a pompous title to a new book, or a quack 
medicine."

Jack's remark was received very cordially, and it was agreed 
that the should immediately assume the name of Fanny Spencer. 
This important business was no sooner settled, than a waiter 
entered the room out of breath, and assured them that the 
captain swore he would pink him, unless the lady was 
immediately produced.

The new christened Miss Fanny obeyed the summons, and having 
kissed her favourite and his friend the poet, departed with 
the waiter, who introduced her immediately to the Captain, and 
thereby escaped the effects of his resentment. Their pockets 
and the last bottle being drained, and Jack dismissed to wait 
on Colonel Bluster, who was just come in with Commodore Bounce 
to make a night on't. The tapers being well nigh spent, and 
the fire extinguished, a consultation was held by our gallants 
concerning the reckoning; and as they were both low in cash, 
it was agreed to score up, and that Canter should lodge with 
the poet at his chambers in Lyon's Inn.

The settled, they departed cheek by jowl; and left the Spy and 
his companion to animadvert on the scenes they had beheld. The 
sole remark the sage citizen made was, that, as on the stage 
attempts to expose vice have often proved, through the 
weakness of resolution and strength of passion, rather 
incentives to it, than dissuasives from it; so in real life, 
as many by beholding vicious transactions, are corrupted in 
their principles, the utmost caution was necessary on the part 
of Agrestis, to guard against their bewitching influence.



PART II. 
Chapter I. 
Transactions at the Court End of the Town, between the Hours 
of Twelve, and Two in the Morning.

The Spy, having conducted Agrestis and the trusty Fidelio to 
the environs of St. James, directed their attention to a 
spacious room, adorned with curious looking-glasses, finely 
illuminated, and exhibiting to the beholder a most brilliant 
appearance.

"This," said he, "my friend, is the pinnacle of human 
grandeur; here resort the gay and gallant youth, on whom 
depends the future fate of their country; hither too repair 
the infirm soldier, and superannuated statesman, to pass away 
an hour, in recounting former achievements in the field and 
cabinet, and observing the rising heroes, who are shortly to 
succeed them in those important departments. Mark with what 
complacency that gaudy spark views himself in the glass, and 
seems to plume himself in the elegance of his attire.

"How trippingly he passes from one end to the other, by his 
levity, indicating a mind at ease." "Surely," said Agrestis, 
"he is arrived at that summit of happiness, so long sought for 
by philosophers in every age.

"Perhaps he has just now generously extended his benevolence 
to indigent virtue, or rescued injured innocence from the 
oppressive spoiler. Perhaps he has lately patronized genius, 
or given a sanction to neglected science. Perhaps he has 
provided for the education of some friendless orphan, or 
reared the drooping head of some disconsolate widow." 
"Mistaken, but honest Agrestis" exclaimed the Spy, "that youth 
is one, who having espoused a lady of considerable birth and 
fortune, commenced gamester, and has been a bubble to every 
sharper in town.

"His afflicted consort died of grief within a twelvemonth, and 
as he persisted in his idle courses, regardless of his most 
important concerns, in a few years, through play and the fraud 
of his steward, he was totally ruined.

"Having a good genius improved by a finished education, a 
certain man of quality recommended him to the ministry, as a 
proper person to represent one of the boroughs at their 
disposal. As the situation of affairs, and completion of their 
designs required the assistance of men, capable of sacrificing 
both their country and conscience; a petty borough in the west 
of England was commanded to return him, and he took his place 
in the grand assembly of the nation. He proved a convenient 
tool, a handsome pension was assigned him, and he now obeys 
his masters most implicitly; yet impudently dares to exult, as 
if he neither had sold his honour nor liberty."

"What a number of stars and fine ribbons!" cried Fidelio, 
"perhaps they are met to consult on the means of reducing the 
present exorbitant price of provisions, easing their country 
from some of the most oppressive taxes, or stopping the 
progress of vice and infidelity. From the joy that appears in 
every countenance, I am confirmed in my opinion."

"They have great reason to be thus elated, having just settled 
a most meritorious affair," replied Urbanus. "To make a party 
to go to the Opera in the evening, and from thence proceed to 
Mrs C----s in S---- S----, in order to pick each other's 
pockets in a politer manner than that which is practised by 
the rabble."

"Is it not surprising," said Agrestis, "that the squalling of 
a eunuch should be preferred to the well acted plays of a 
Shakespeare, a Jonson, a Fletcher, or even the inferior 
dramatic writers? Formerly the great were the patrons of 
merit, and encouragers of genius, and those authors were the 
delight of their country; but now the fashion is reversed, and 
reason and sense must submit to sound, froth, and 
impertinence.

"Observe that table thronged with gamesters, and blush that 
England's interest is thus neglected, while her senators 
squander their time in company with sharpers and villains. But 
to err is the lot of humanity."

"How that old sychophant smiles on his patron in the corner!" 
said the Spy, "See, he puts his hand into his purse to reward 
him for his virtue, or perhaps his treachery: How kind a look 
his lordship deigns to cast upon him, which, added to the 
present he just now made him, will certainly give resolution 
to his laudable designs." Having thus spoken, Urbanus with 
Agrestis, and the honest Fidelio, proceeded up Albermarle 
Street, towards Grosvenor Square, and the former, as they 
passed, made many pertinent remarks.

"Observe that garret," said he, "where the light is; it 
contains an indigent clergyman, framing a speech to be 
delivered in the House tomorrow, by a certain member, who 
being devoid of genius, for a paltry pittance, suborns others 
to write that which he passes on the House as his own, and 
thereby maintains the repute of a man of abilities." "But is 
it not derogatory to the character of the patron, to suffer 
the man whose genius he appropriates to himself, thus to live 
in want and misery?" demanded Agrestis. "Indeed," said the 
Spy, "it is little better; for Sir William allows him but 
thirty pounds a year to maintain himself, his wife, and six 
children, which added to some trifles, arising from performing 
occasional duty in his function, is his sole livelihood.

"They were both bred at the same college. Sir William devoted 
his time to dress, and other fopperies, while Prudens, his 
friend, whose sole dependence was his industry, pursued his 
studies with indefatigable assiduity, and at length obtained a 
fellowship; but having forfeited the income arising from the 
same, by marrying a young lady of beauty and merit, without a 
farthing portion, he was reduced to the utmost straits when 
his old friend took him into his service, and generously 
allowed him the above mentioned pittance.

"In that magnificent building, is an old man ready to expire; 
and, O, shocking to humanity, his son who stands by his 
bedside, instead of supporting, is pulling the pillow from 
under his head. He is willing to hasten his journey, that he 
may become lord of all, but he'll find himself greatly 
deceived in his expectations; for the old curmudgeon, to 
purchase an exemption from justice on his former frauds and 
extortions, has bequeathed the greatest part of his fortune to 
hospitals, and other public charities."

In the course of the night's ramble, they met with two 
gentlemen, who seemed to have undergone a most severe 
drubbing, and whose fine clothes were bedaubed from head to 
foot. On enquiry, a bystander related to them the following 
adventure.

Having reeled out of a tavern between the hours of twelve and 
one, as they were staggering home, a door stood invitingly 
open, two candles were placed in the hall, one lay carelessly 
in the middle of the floor, and the other stood on the top of 
a banister, whence it gave light upwards to a stair-case. To 
illustrate the sequel, it is necessary to observe, that these 
gentlemen were Lord Rake, and Tom Squander. The former 
catching the latter by the sleeve, stopped his farther 
progress, while he inspected the premises of this enchanted 
castle, which he was resolved to storm.

After the necessary observations, he declared it was a bagnio, 
and swore he would enter, and blow up the wenches. Squander, 
who could see more clearly than his Lordship, endeavoured to 
dissuade him from his design; but my lord, being positive, d--
--nd his advice, and grasping him by the arm, they both 
tumbled into the house together, but had not advanced two 
steps, before they staggered different ways. Some invisible 
agent tripping up Squander's heels, and laying him flat on his 
face, "Zoons my Lord," says he, "where the devil are you? 
Somebody has knocked me down." "What art mad Tom!" replies my 
Lord; "why the devil a soul's in view, but a couple of horses, 
which stand at the door belonging to a chariot!" Upon this he 
arose, not without much difficulty. His hands and coat were 
much of a livery, and sent forth such a smell, that his 
Lordship was induced to think his companion had made that 
discharge which frequently results from fear and amazement, 
and indeed was confirmed in this opinion, from his resolution 
to withdraw.

Having in consequence of this incident, abandoned their 
enterprise, my Lord, in his retreat, received such a blow from 
a hand unseen, on the side of the head, as laid his honour in 
the dust, and rendered his hands and clothes of the same 
colour with those of Tom Squander.

By this time they in some measure recovered their senses, and 
found, to their great surprise, their supposed Bagnio was a 
Tradesman's house, and their Chariot nothing more than a Cart, 
for carrying away in the night, what might have proved a 
nuisance to the neighbours and passengers in the day. The 
blows were given by some of the myrmidons employed in that 
necessary office, and may be deemed the just reward of such a 
ridiculous curiosity, as nothing but the fumes of liquor would 
possibly excite.

Urbanus having thanked the stranger for the relation, observed 
to his friends the effects of drunkenness, which degrades the 
rational being to a level with the brute creation, and prompts 
to such absurd behaviour, as cannot but be attended with shame 
and confusion on sober reflection.

The next object which presented itself to the view of our Spy, 
and his friend, was a gentleman in a sedan, attended by two 
servants, whose aspect indicated the highest degree of grief 
and anxiety. Their worthy master had just received a mortal 
wound in a duel, occasioned by a dispute at a noted gaming 
table, not many miles from Grosvenor's square.

The Spy enquiring of the servants, whether the antagonist was 
in custody, or imprisoned, was informed, that he had made his 
escape, as the great men in company never interfere in such 
cases, though the combatants have been their constant 
companions for years; or there may be the greatest inequality 
between them in point of rank. "Instead of great," said 
Agrestis, "you must mean, very worthless men, for such I ever 
esteem those, who associate with sharpers."

"Such is the state of the case in your honest opinion," 
replied the Spy, but through the prevalence of custom and 
fashion, the greatest scoundrel in town, if he dresses well, 
and plays deep, is a companion for the most dignified 
character in it; nobody pays the least regard to merit, at 
this end of the town. The most lucrative employments here are 
pimping and gaming, and the best adepts in those noble 
sciences, will get most money, and attract the highest regard; 
indeed the latter of late has obtained the preference, because 
men of taste and fashion now treat their mistresses with as 
much contempt as their wives.

They had not walked many steps, before they were interrupted 
by three officers, one of whom, having got their servant 
Fidelio in a corner, began to amuse himself with that humane 
diversion, called sweating. The honest countryman, brave by 
nature, though awkward in address, remonstrated with the red-
coated gentleman, on the cowardice of attacking a naked man 
with a sword, and indeed of showing such a weapon to a man 
from whose aspect he might be assured of his being ignorant of 
the use of it.

The hero, who was an Hibernian, reviled him as an insolent 
scoundrel in attempting to call in question the behaviour of a 
gentleman; and threatened to stick him against the wall, 
unless he confessed his fault.

Agrestis and his friend, who were armed, resenting the ill 
treatment of the trusty servant, interposed, and 
notwithstanding their conviction of the illegality of 
duelling, insisted on satisfaction for so wanton an affront. 
The gentleman soon evinced his heroism by an ample confession, 
as well as solemn assurance of his being ignorant, to whom the 
man belonged.

The Spy, and his friend, then pursued their way, and the 
former made this remark on the last incident. "You may rest 
assured, Agrestis, that cowardice and cruelty are inseparable 
companions; and that true bravery will ever exert itself in 
the defence of oppressed innocence and injured virtue."

In a short time they arrived at a certain square, where they 
heard a rattling of carriages, and saw a glare of flambeaux, 
as if the play or opera was just broke up, though it was then 
on the verge of two in the morning.

"What means this mighty bustle," cried Agrestis? "It is a part 
of the company coming from a rout that is held at Lord 
Groom's, said the Spy; though in all probability they will not 
break up till daylight, as it is customary in this part of the 
world to substitute the night for the day; to distinguish 
themselves from the vulgar, who unpolitely follow the dictates 
of nature.

"We have adopted these fashions from our neighbours the 
French, whose natural levity disposes them to the practice of 
every vice and folly, that wears the appearance of diversion. 
Crowds of our most conspicuous blockheads flock over to Paris 
every year to improve--not their understandings. I know not a 
man attached to foreign manners and fashions, but he has 
either a weak head or a bad heart; and you may depend upon it, 
that the interest of England will proportionately decline with 
the propensity of its leading men to the maxims and principles 
of its inveterate enemy.

"Relaxation is necessary to unbend the mind from the cares and 
fatigues of human life; but when it is pursued beyond the 
bounds of reason and virtue, its main end is perverted, and we 
are rather disqualified for the pursuit of its various duties. 
What then can we think of the British weal, when our very 
senators abjectly condescend, to mix in these enervating 
amusements, so incompatible with that sublimity of mind which 
should ever characterize dignified personages?

"But let us proceed to other scenes, and by exploring human 
nature, confirm ourselves in the belief of that trite maxim, 
That virtue is the only nobility."



Chapter II. 
View of certain Night-Houses, with a Description of the 
Company.

By this time our peripatetics tired with their walking, betook 
themselves to one of those convenient receptacles called 
Night-houses. It was one of the politer kind, and situated 
near Whitehall, whither resorted the first order of 
irregulars.

On their entrance their noses were saluted with the fumes 
arising from hot coffee, punch and purl<15>. In the bar sat a 
jolly dame, whose ruddy face indicated the effects of good 
living, as did her yawning those of her vigilance. The seats 
were lined with tenants of different professions, garbs, and 
completions. Their conversation was as various as their 
features, and they exhibited a motley view of human nature. 
The Spy observed that the attention of the company was 
principally engrossed by two persons, who had the appearance 
of gentlemen's gentlemen.

These apes of dignity had been on a visit to some of their 
fraternity, and being warmed with the master's Burgundy, had 
left the remembrance of themselves, and assumed the 
consequence of those whom they served. Their conversation 
chiefly turned upon politics, in the terms of which they 
seemed to be well versed, nor were they unpractised in the 
significant look of those gentry, who storm castles, and take 
towns over a pipe of tobacco or a glass of capillaire<16>.

They ran through the whole proceeding of the last session of 
parliament, and expatiated very elaborately on the utility of 
several acts which had then passed both houses.

But they displayed their talents most remarkably on the 
pernicious proposal of abridging servants of their vails<3>, 
which in their opinion was of the most destructive tendency to 
society, and wholly inconsistent with the regard due to 
industry and fidelity.

However they consoled themselves with having acquired a 
sufficiency to embark in business, should the detested 
proposal be generally generally complied with. Thus, though at 
first by an affected parade, they endeavoured to conceal their 
situation in life, their zeal in the cause, extorted from them 
a confession, as well as exposed them to the ridicule of the 
company, some of whom having lampooned them very severely, 
they paid their reckoning, and sneaked out amidst a general 
hiss. "Though," said the Spy, "I cannot approve the conduct of 
these people, in thus abruptly treating those two men, I think 
it should effectually warn others from affecting to be what 
they cannot; as such guise will never elude the penetration of 
the discerning, and ever expose them to the contempt and 
ridicule of the world around them."

Having cast his eyes about the room, Agrestis espied a youth 
whom he knew in the country, though he then appeared in a very 
different plight; on enquiry he found that from an unhappy 
attachment to expensive and irregular company, he had 
forfeited the favour of an indulgent master, who for his 
eccentric conduct had turned him out of doors and abandoned 
him to an inhospitable world; when after spending his little 
pittance, he was often, for want of money, to pay for his 
lodging, obliged to have recourse to one of these nocturnal 
caverns to shelter him from the inclemency of a very severe 
season.

On his relating this circumstance to the Spy, he was reminded, 
that though he should always cherish an aversion to vice, he 
should pity those over whom it prevailed; and particularly, if 
of his acquaintance, whom he should endeavour by his influence 
and example to reclaim from such courses, as generally end in 
disgrace and infamy.

From thence they proceeded eastward, and turned into one of 
those convenient houses provided for the entertainment of 
chairmen, coachmen and others, whose avocations demand an 
early attendance. "Though in this populous place," said the 
Spy, "such houses are absolutely necessary, they are too often 
rendered subservient to iniquitous practices. They are 
frequently the resorts of idle vagrants, who frequent them in 
quest of prey, which they sometimes make of persons 
intoxicated with liquor, or ignorant of the town. Various are 
the arts they practise, and the schemes they concert to trepan 
the unwary; and 'tis difficult for an inexperienced person to 
enter these premises without sustaining considerable injury, 
either in person or property; for the truth of these 
observations, I need but appeal to the present scene, which I 
am certain will furnish such examples as will at once amaze 
and disgust you.

"That Gentleman surrounded by a set of Irish chairmen, is a 
person of extensive bounty, and genuine humanity; his 
principal foible, when in liquor, is profusion, of which those 
scoundrels take care to avail themselves by humouring his 
weakness, and thereby obtaining money to render themselves 
more beastly than they now appear to be. How fulsome is their 
low adulation to a sober person! How odious their awkward 
compliments to a man of breeding! How disagreeable their 
cringing servility to a man of spirit! Nature seems to have 
fitted their souls to the employment of their bodies; and as 
they condescend to the office of brutes, to have rendered the 
instinct of the latter at least adequate to the reason of the 
former, according to the opinion of Otway, who seems to 
connect servility of body, with meanness of soul, in this 
line,
Base minded, dull, and fit to carry burdens.

"Observe that person sleeping, without either hat or wig; when 
sober he will detest himself, and many days anxiety will pay 
the forfeit of one night's revelling. He has probably been 
robbed by a villain, on whom he has conferred his bounty; for 
nothing is more common in these places, than to repay kindness 
with injury, abuse good nature, and impose on generosity.

"That poor fellow shivering in an old tattered waistcoat, I 
remember as airy a spark as any in town; he had some property, 
and a little understanding; but having wasted the former, and 
perverted the latter, is become the most miserable of objects, 
and doubtless wishes he had never existed. He applied but 
yesterday for relief to a woman, on whom he had lavished great 
part of his fortune: the ungrateful strumpet not only rejected 
his petition, but upbraided him with that profusion, of which 
she had been the principal cause. But it is not to be wondered 
at, for the loss of chastity is generally attended with the 
desertion of every other virtue."

"What clamour is that in the passage?" cried Agrestis. "It is 
occasioned," said his friend, "by two men, who having 
resolution enough to withstand the solicitations of some 
strumpets, are exposed to their abuse, because they cannot 
avail themselves of their compliance.

"In most of the passages leading to these houses, you will be 
accosted by the lowest class of whores, who lay in wait to 
trepan such as chance may throw in their way, or decoy those, 
who being deprived of their reason, are open to their 
deceitful arts."

As the Spy was thus descanting on the various characters 
around him, a formal kind of a figure fixed his eye upon him 
with more than ordinary attention; this occasioned Urbanus to 
ask him, if he had any acquaintance with him. He replied, he 
had frequently seen him at the coffee houses about the 
Exchange.

This gentleman was one of those, who having run through many 
professions without success, as merchant, brewer, &c., was at 
length, through a natural propensity to exert his wit, turned 
sharper.

The next object that presented itself to the view of the Spy 
and his friend, was a shabby fellow, in an old cocked hat, 
queue wig, and rusty mourning coat. On enquiry, the gentleman 
appeared to be an itinerant comedian, known by the title of 
the Captain of the Four Winds. This appellation he acquired by 
his rapid removal from place to place; his baggage consisted 
of an old shirt, a pair of patched silk stockings, a ragged 
handkerchief, and a rusty foil.

As he excited the laughter of the company, Agrestis expressed 
his indignation, that the distress of one man should be the 
source of mirth to others. "Your principle I applaud," said 
Urbanus; "but that fellow deserves neither pity nor relief, 
and is a just object both of contempt and ridicule: of the 
former, for his excessive ingratitude and injustice to the 
numerous friends who have from time to time relieved him; of 
the latter, for his intolerable vanity in assuming a 
consequence so incompatible with his situation of life.

"But turn your eyes from that worthless being, to a more 
despicable object, that young fellow in the opposite box, who 
is carousing with a company of blackguards. He is descended 
from a reputable family, was genteely educated, and placed to 
a profitable business. But through the prevalence of idleness 
on the one hand, and a despicable pride on the other, he 
neglects his employ, saunters from alehouse to alehouse, and 
is never so happy, as when he can give law to a number of the 
lower class, with whom he spends night after night in these 
houses, instead of preparing himself by seasonable repose, for 
the business of the ensuing day. In the morning he staggers 
home to his disconsolate wife, and helpless little ones; and 
so lost is the wretch, even to the feeling of consanguinity, 
that neither the entreaties of the former, nor cries of the 
latter, can divert him from his destructive course, which he 
pursues without the least restraint or remorse.

"But let us quit this scene of noise, hurry, and impertinence, 
and repair to the city, where we may probably find some 
transactions worthy our notice."

They then passed on without meeting any thing in particular, 
till they arrived at a certain house near Newgate Street, 
which, as being one of the nocturnal receptacles, they 
entered, in order to gratify their speculative disposition.

They were hardly seated, before they were saluted by a bluff 
fellow (whose blown cheeks, and prominent belly indicated good 
living) with "coffee or tea? Wines or spirituous liquors of 
any kind, Gentlemen, do you want beds, pray? Shall I make you 
a nice toast, my masters? Make room there for the gemmen." The 
Spy could not but stare at this voluble and officious 
attendant, and to anticipate his farther impertinence, ordered 
coffee, as most agreeable at that season. This company was a 
very different turn from the last, yet afforded as many 
entertaining and instructive remarks.

The conversation of the former was obscene and frothy, but 
that of the present, grave and philosophic. The Spy and his 
friend, received not a little pleasure from the ingenious 
discussion of some intricate points in natural philosophy, by 
a person of very mean appearance, and could not but express a 
sincere concern, that he either neglected his talents, or the 
world his merit, as his abilities certainly entitled him to a 
much superior figure in life than that which he then made. The 
unhappy cause however, they found arose from the former. This 
man being devoted to idleness and sotting, never exerted his 
talents, but as the means of obtaining a bare subsistence, and 
as he was wholly regardless even of decency, a trifling 
pittance supplied his wants, and was therefore the extent of 
this ambition.

Thus immersed in supine indolence, he passed many years in 
obscurity, and neglected those parts which improved would have 
acquired him respect, during life, and transmitted his fame 
with �clat to posterity.

The person with whom he conversed was of a similar 
disposition, but having the advantage in point of fortune, 
made a more decent appearance, though by his garb it was easy 
discernable, he was no friend to gaiety.

Indeed men of learning are seldom over-nice in the decoration 
of their persons, persuaded that the ornamenting of the nobler 
part, has a prior claim to their attention.

As their discourse turned on the nicer points of speculation, 
it was not regarded by the major part of the company; though 
the Spy and his friend were particularly attentive, especially 
as they were strict advocates for revelation, and the others 
seemed, from various hints, inclined to favour the tenets of 
Deism. However Urbanus listened to their positions and 
inferences concerning topics far beyond human comprehension, 
and as it was no pedantry to display his acquirements before 
men of literature, broke out into this rapturous exclamation--

O Finis, sine fine manens! sine origine, origo! <17>

This occasioned an intercourse, and as they agreed in the 
grand essentials of religion, which consist in piety and 
benevolence; they dropped that subject as too grave for the 
present occasion, and conversed with much freedom, on human 
nature in general.

Agrestis, who listened most attentively to their discourse 
could not but express his surprise, that persons endowed with 
such perspicuity of discernment and rectitude of judgment, 
should be thus enslaved by the meanest passions.

"I honour your remark," said Urbanus, "as an infallible proof 
of the goodness of your heart; but if you pursue the study of 
mankind, you will find in most, a vast difference between 
their principles and practices, and that the major part act in 
absolute repugnance to the very convictions of their reason 
and conscience; a strong instance of the depravity of human 
nature, as well as convincing proof of the necessity of a 
Supreme Agent to assist in the very exertion of those powers, 
with which we are endowed.

"Upon the whole, from these scenes, we may learn, that an 
adherence to the rules of temperance and modesty, is the 
incumbent duty of reasonable beings; and that a deviation 
therefrom cannot but be attended with shame and infamy.

"But it is time to repose, let us therefore to our respective 
abodes, and defer our remarks to a further opportunity."



Chapter III. 
Transactions at certain noted Bagnios.

The Spy, desirous that his country friend should be privy to 
every scene worthy of notice in this extensive metropolis, 
conducted him to Goodman's Fields, as a spot which afforded 
many remarks.

Agrestis being armed with good instruction, and all necessary 
caution, had in some measure divested himself of his rural 
bashfulness, and assumed that degree of confidence, which is 
necessary to carry a man through the various scenes of this 
busy and changeable state of existence; so that he was capable 
of making pertinent strictures on the occurrences which befel 
them, during the future course of their nocturnal progress.

Ranging through Goodman's Fields they stepped into the Turk's 
Head, and in a large room, adjoining to the bar found seated 
at a corner table, a set of jolly, rough hewn sons of Neptune, 
whose ruddy faces seemed to dare hardship, and bid defiance to 
every danger. Bumpers of punch went briskly round, joy 
appeared in every countenance, and they seemed resolved to 
drown care in a flowing bowl.

The Spy soon found by their dialect they were masters of 
ships, who resorted thither, whenever they were disposed to 
sacrifice to Bacchus and Venus. After many toasts had gone 
round, they rang the bell, ordered the drawer to replenish, 
and supply them not only with liquor, but wenches, who came 
bouncing in, on a certain summons, with as many airs, as the 
whores in the Opera, and ranged themselves in order by their 
respective cullies. The regale was now complete, and the tars 
were as happy, as liquor and love could make them.

"By the rapture and ecstasy of this company of jolly fellows," 
said Agrestis, "one would imagine they were borne above 
themselves, and thought one night's enjoyment an adequate 
compensation for the toils of a voyage." "You conjecture 
truly," returned the Spy, "these honest tars have the highest 
sensation of indulgencies, because so generally deprived of 
them, for which reason they spare no cost to gratify their 
desires, and frequently lavish that in a week, which is the 
product of a year's labour on the briny ocean.

"But observe that grave old gentleman, who is sitting by 
himself over his bottle, with looks as demure, as if in a 
sanctuary. He put on those boots, to impose on his family 
through pretence of going out of town; but this is the extent 
of his journey, and if he rides, it will not be on a 
quadruped. Though I apprehend his tottering carcase, will not 
bear much jolting. But there are more means of recreation than 
one, and his obliging landlady will furnish him with suitable 
entertainment.

"But see! the waiter whispers him, and he retires; his flame 
just now whisked through the bar, into a little snug room 
behind, whither the old lecher is following her. That old 
ogling hussy is versed in all the arts of her trade, and has 
cunning enough to fleece the greatest miser in Christendom.

"As she is young and handsome, she is the flame of those 
dotards, whose desires outlive their ability, and who always 
pay for what they cannot do. When the curmudgeon is sated, he 
will sneak home, and curse the gross passion, which he has 
gratified at such vast expense; for such is his avarice, that 
he almost denies himself the necessaries of life, and has not 
purchased a new coat since his wedding suit."

"This will ever be the case," observed Agrestis, "where an 
equilibrium of the passions is not maintained; for we cannot 
indulge one desire immoderately, without retrenching the rest; 
and lust and avarice are so opposite, that they cannot rule 
together without perpetual contention; and administering a 
swarm of plagues, to the slave who is under their subjection."

"That smart young lad also waits for a doxy. Having toyed with 
his master's daughter, till desire became urgent, he has 
repaired hither to extinguish that flame, which she by 
admitting him to indecent liberties has raised, but cannot 
indulge consistent with her reputation. The prevailing foible 
of the young women of this country, is an affectation of 
levity, and negligence of dress, which indicates an intention 
of prompting desire; and ladies of this stamp can never with 
propriety be offended at that behaviour, to which themselves 
are the very incentives.

"If a woman is virtuous from principle, or interest, she 
should act correspondent with the maxims of modesty, and 
rather check, than encourage every inordinate sally of 
youthful ardour.

"That old fellow sneaking out at the door is a parson, whose 
austere look and devout appearance, make him pass for a saint; 
but as the flesh will sometimes overcome the spirit, the 
doctor on those occasions you find, has no aversion to a 
little amorous dalliance with a pretty girl in a corner.

"That formal fellow with the strait hair, who skulked out with 
such affected privacy was a pious tallow-chandler; but having 
been wrought upon by the noisy harangue of a modern sectary in 
this neighbourhood, he joined the brotherhood, and soon left 
the melting cellar for the rostrum, where he bellows out hell 
and damnation against all, who will not embrace his fanatical 
tenets. It has long been matter of dispute with me, whether 
these ridiculous ranters were not more knaves than fools, 
Agrestis? However they may expend their breath, with roaring 
out anathemas; they always take great care to fill their 
pockets. No wonder that these gentry are continually 
exclaiming against good works, when they practice them so 
little.

"By visiting these scenes of iniquity, you become an 
eyewitness to the hypocrisy and dissimulation of mankind, 
vices which prevail amongst all ranks and degrees, vices more 
predominant than any other, because as most persons affect a 
good name, they endeavour to conceal their foibles from the 
public eye.

"But let us to the politer part of the town, and observe the 
prevalence of the same passions in a more exalting sphere of 
life."

They then called a coach, and were soon transported to that 
circle which claims a superiority in those amusements, which 
are adapted to the entertainment of the gay and polite part of 
the world. Though it exceeded the hour of three, the nymphs 
and swains were still paying their adoration at the shrine of 
Bacchus, and the choice spirits were in the meridian of their 
glee. Chairs were posted one after another, to convey the 
ladies from their lodgings to the arms of their doting 
admirers, who were waiting their arrival at the different 
places of entertainment, with the utmost patience.

The first object that claimed the attention of the Spy and his 
friend, was a very beautiful girl that entered a certain 
bagnio under the Piazza, noted for its elegance, and dignified 
company.

As the curiosity of Agrestis was now excited to the utmost 
pitch, no expense was spared to gratify it; they therefore 
entered this magnificent brothel, and fixed themselves in the 
most convenient place, to observe all who came in or out.

In the bar was a jolly dame, whose breath savoured much of the 
richest cordials, which had bloated her cheeks, and dispersed 
a ruddy hue over her countenance.

Next this lump of iniquity, sat a smart wench in character of 
barmaid; she was a cast-off lady; but having put immense sums 
into the bawd's coffers, she now repays the obligation, by 
maintaining her in the house.

They were not long seated, when they observed a gay spark come 
out of a chair and in a tone of authority, call for a room. 
This was his usual hour of attending on the rites of Venus; 
for as he generally sleeps all day, it was the same in point 
of distance of time with him, as the evening with the man of 
sobriety and regularity. "The gentleman's name, I am told," 
said the Spy, "is Puff, but he had added the title of Sir 
Peter to it, which together with a laced coat, and a feigned 
story of an uncle, immensely rich, whose death is hourly 
expected, is of great service to him amongst the women. His 
honour has been detected in many despicable tricks, and lately 
brought a very pretty girl to this place, whom he regaled, and 
afterwards enjoy'd. When the time of departure approached, he 
pressed her hand, expressed the utmost concern that he could 
not at that time make her ample compensation for the favour 
she had conferred upon him, and therefore intreated her to 
appoint another meeting with him, till which he should be the 
unhappiest of mortals.

"The girl, who had been often thus amused, conceived the 
design, and determining to avail herself of the present 
moment, acquiesed with Sir Peter's proposal, but did not fail 
to assure him, that as her circumstances at that time were but 
indifferent, a small present would be of service to her. The 
pretended knight, to evade present compliance, promised 
generous things, at the appointed interview. 'I hope Sir,' 
returned the poor girl, 'you will consider, that all the 
little wealth I had, was my virtue, and that therefore some 
little present, till I see you again, will be very acceptable; 
for I really stand in need of it.'

"'This importunity,' said Sir Peter, I cannot withstand; you 
shall have a small piece of gold; I am very sorry I cannot 
spare more at present.' He then put his hand into his pocket, 
and started as if amazed, crying out. 'No, by Jupiter, 'tis 
gone.' 'What, have you lost any thing,' cried the girl? 'What, 
you want to plead ignorance? But it won't do, slam me.' Upon 
this he called up two of the waiters, and insisted on the 
girl's stripping immediately, if she produced not the purse, 
which he swore she had stolen.

The girl then protested her innocence, wept bitterly, threw 
herself on her knees at his feet, and entreated him not to 
expose her in so gross a manner; for though she had lost her 
virtue, her character as to honestly remained unsullied. To 
enforce her entreaty, she seiz'd him by the sleeve with such 
force, that the cuff fell upon the ground, and the purse 
dropped, to the joy of the girl, and astonishment of the 
waiters.

"She treated him with the contempt he deserved; the scoundrel 
pocketed the affront, walked down to the bar, paid the 
reckoning, and made his exit with an air of unconcern, 
peculiar to this sort of gentry, who assume a parade to 
perpetrate every kind of villainy.

"Observe," said the Spy, "that elderly gentleman, in black 
velvet, who wears good humour pictured in his face; 'tis Sir 
Christopher Careless. He is a man of immense fortune, and one 
of the best benefactors to the pimps that frequent this seat 
of Venus. He's always degag�, disposed for any thing that may 
be proposed, together with Sir Solomon Spendthrift; he 
entertained last week twelve of the finest women on the town; 
and the expense to pimp, house and presents, did not amount to 
less than fourscore pieces.

"Sir Christopher's an eternal bubble; for though he wants not 
understanding, such is his negligence of temper, that he will 
not give himself trouble to enquire, whether a demand made 
upon him is reasonable or unreasonable."

"Such persons," cried Agrestis, "alone, one would think, 
resort to these places of luxury and extravagance, where they 
devise every means of expense, study profussion, and exceed, 
if possible, desire itself."

"The lady that now enters is one of the most celebrated 
courtesans in this metropolis, and has had the honour of 
obliging some of the principal personages in the kingdom. Her 
name is Lucy Lofty, she was the daughter of an obscure 
mechanic, and obliged to drudge through the menial offices of 
domestic life.

"As ambition is the ruling principle of mankind, she 
considered her situation far inferior to her supposed merit, 
and determined by a bold essay to make a shining figure in the 
beau monde.

"Lucy had often viewed herself in the glass, and like 
Narcissus became enamoured of her own person; so that she 
could not but curse her hard fate, in being destined to the 
rough work of a dirty scullion.

"She at length determined to prosecute her design, and being 
arrayed in her best apparel, one Sunday noon made a sally into 
the park, and attracted the notice of a wealthy old gentleman, 
who stood in need of high provocatives to stimulate a depraved 
appetite. The gentleman accosting her with many encomiums on 
her personal beauty, informed her that he had something to 
communicate greatly to her advantage, and would acquaint her 
by his servant with the time and place of interview.

"Lucy embraced the favourable opportunity, and by an arch 
smile signified her consent. Before she surrendered to the 
desires of the amorous dotard, she demanded her own terms, 
which were immediately granted; so that she at once commenced 
the fine lady, and lived to the excess of pomp and luxury. But 
to be the property of one man agreed not with Lucy's sprightly 
temper, so that being detected in an intrigue with a youthful 
gallant, a separation ensued between the old gentleman and his 
charmer; but not without her having previously obtained a 
handsome settlement.

"As merit cannot long be concealed; an incredible number of 
the first personages, both old and young soon offered incense 
at her shrine, and she rode triumphant on a splendid car, 
through all the fashionable scenes of vice and folly. She has 
maintained a consequence a considerable number of years; but 
if I can see into futurity, contempt, disgrace, disease, and 
poverty will close a life of lust, ambition, vanity, and 
extravagance. But let us turn our back," said the Spy, "upon 
this scene of dissipation and folly, and bend our course 
towards another still more ludicrous and absurd."



Chapter IV. 
View of several Famous and Infamous Houses, between the Hours 
of Two and Three in the Morning. 

Our peripatetics were now at a stand which way to move, till 
the Spy proposed the renowned Mr M----'s in R---- St., as a 
place which would furnish many useful remarks.

Under the conduct of their sage guide, Agrestis and his trusty 
servant entered this refuse of debauchery, which receives the 
outcast of bagnios, and other receptacles of lust, whose sober 
landlords thus early retire to rest.

Before they had well seated themselves, they were accosted by 
a couple of mortal angels, who by their appearance, seemed 
after rumpling their feathers in a hot engagement, to have 
just rectified their disordered plumes, to make ready for a 
fresh encounter. With their usual effrontery, they each helped 
themselves to a glass, and in a short time grew so very 
mercurial, that they launched out into their accustomary 
wantonness, and uttered as many hideous oaths, as you could 
expect from a Thames bargeman, or boatswain's mate.

The Spy finding they were veterans in the service of Bacchus 
and Venus, by plying them briskly with liquor, obtained a 
general account of this early assembly. The most expert of 
these ladies, was Polly Brazen, who addressing herself to 
Urbanus and his friend, told them, she could discover a new 
humour, which they had never heard of.

"That grave looking fellow," said she, "is one of that class 
in the black school of Sodom, who by proficients in the 
science of debauchery, are termed flogging cullies. These 
unnatural beasts pay an exorbitant price for being scourged on 
the posteriors.

"During the time of discipline, they beg for mercy like a 
soldier on the parade, and beseech forbearance; but the more 
importunate they seem for lenity, the severer vapulation the 
woman is to exercise, till they find by their brutal ecstasy, 
when to withold the instrument of correction." The astonished 
Agrestis and his old servant, in a rapture of amazement, 
expressed their concern that human nature could thus 
degenerate into brutality, nay, exceed it in odious practices, 
repugnant to the very instinct of nature itself. "Detest, but 
wonder not, my honest unsuspecting friend," said the Spy, "for 
where lust prevails unrestrained, 'tis inconceivable to what 
enormous practices it hurries its abject slaves.

"Observe that ruby complexioned lady, who seems somewhat 
declined into the vale of years. She was once an eminent toast 
among the bloods and bucks, but having impaired her beauty and 
constitution by an excessive attachment to venery and geneva, 
she first turned procuress, then set up bawd at large, and now 
rivals the town in ebriety and extortion.

"That tall genteel lass, who skims her eye round the company 
is Fanny Flirt, she piques herself on the number of her 
acquaintance, and idly arrogates a consequence from being 
notoriously infamous. She cannot behold a handsome man without 
desire, or a beautiful woman without envy.

"In short she is a slave to her passions, a subjection which 
cannot but terminate in deformity, diseases, and penury. Those 
mean looking fellows, whose aprons indicate their servility, 
are journeymen of different callings, who when they have 
received their wages on Saturday night, frequently lavish them 
on whores, instead of purchasing a weekly provision for their 
families, which are now destitute of the common necessaries of 
life."

"Inhuman wretches," said the honest Fidelio, "thus to squander 
the fruits of their labour, unaffected by the cries of those 
who are most near, and should therefore be most dear to them. 
Recommend to me the industrious peasant, who, unknown to these 
destructive places, enjoys his little earnings in sweet 
society, with his provident dame, and healthful children, 
whose countenances indicate honesty and temperance, and the 
salutary effects of following the dictates of nature."

"Your reflections are just, honest Fidelio" said the Spy, but 
such persons as these never permit themselves a moment's 
serious thought concerning their present state; and wisely 
give up all pretensions to another world, so they can but 
gratify their appetites and passions." "And are there rational 
beings," demanded Agrestis, "who disbelieve the existence of a 
God?" "No," replied his companion, "those gentlemen, who are 
dignified with the title of free-thinkers, endeavour to 
disbelieve; but when death stares them in the face, you will 
hear them in the agonies of despair, implore the mercy of that 
Supreme Power, whose existence they have impiously affected to 
deny. But let us from this low scene, and take a view of the 
transactions of high life at this early hour."

The guide then conducted his companion to a certain tavern, 
near P----d Street, eminent for the most capital assignations 
and intrigues in town. Just as they entered, a gentleman and 
lady made their exit in two sedans, and the Spy in consequence 
of a perfect knowledge of them, related the following 
circumstances of their lives and characters. "The gentleman, 
whose name is Wouldbe, is the son of an eminent and wealthy 
clothier in the county of Berks. His father having given him a 
good education, removed him to college, not that the young 
gentleman had any inclination to learning, but it was the 
fashion to be a student, and no man affects more taste, who in 
reality possesses so little.

"His father dying when he was about two and twenty, left him a 
very handsome fortune, upon which he threw off the 
restrictions of a college life, so highly accomplished, that 
he was absolutely incapable of spelling his mother tongue. A 
reflection on the number of blockheads that our universities 
annually send forth, reminds me of a very sensible question 
lately proposed for discussion at the Robin Hood. The querist 
demanded, whether it would not be proper, prior to the 
admission of persons to the clerical function, to examine 
whether they could read or not? I am sorry to say, that few of 
them are more capable of reading the Liturgy, or delivering a 
sermon, than the great Jonson was of criticising upon the 
works of the much greater Shakespeare.

"The best idea I can give you of Wouldbe is, that he is rich; 
if you enquire as to his virtues, I am dumb. He is as positive 
as ignorant, no man is so busy the first night of a new play, 
or more ready to anticipate its damnation; though he knows no 
more of character, sentiment, diction or action, than the 
candle snuffer.

"His dresses are gaudy, but never of a piece, because men of 
genius are generally negligent. In winter he fears to walk, 
lest the inclemency of the air, might hurt, or the fall of a 
tile level him; in summer, lest the warmth of the weather 
should inflame his blood, or his neighbour's mad dog seize him 
by the collar.

"His library is well furnished, he knows all the titles of the 
books, but is very superficially acquainted with the contents. 
He's an absolute stranger to the great arts of being silent, 
and of discoursing; and having two or three commonplace 
stories, introduces them to every company without the shadow 
of a reason.

"He frequently makes flagrant mistakes in language, such as I 
have not got none; Lady Lear is one of the most finest and 
sensiblest girls, amongst all the toasts is in town. Yet with 
all these ridiculous qualities, he has the art of passing for 
what he is not, and in spite of his profound ignorance, and 
odious conceit, is thought a man of genius and learning by the 
servile mob, and passes for a man of gallantry with the silly 
women. And wherefore? -- For the reason before alleged -- he 
is rich.

"Lydia Lear (for that is the name of the gentleman's favourite 
lady, with whom he is just departed for St. James's Bagnio) is 
the daughter of a publican, and though of mean extraction 
endowed with many amiable qualities both of mind and person. 
She is charitable to a fault, and would sell her very clothes 
to relieve an object of distress, nor does any person retain a 
more grateful sense of favours conferred. But with these 
virtues are blended the vices of drinking and swearing, in 
which she equals any porter, coachman, or chairman, from Hyde 
Park to Whitechapel. She is wild, inconsiderate, noisy, fond 
of every man she sees, and variety is the very soul of her 
life. She gets much money, but squanders it upon two or three 
hangers-on, who being worn out in the service, live upon the 
prostitution of others. She had lived with several gentlemen 
of quality and fortune, but lost their favour through her 
passion for variety, as she shortly will that of Mr Wouldbe, 
whose conceit cannot bear a rival in the esteem of his 
mistress.

"In this place," continued Urbanus, "are carried on many 
intrigues between city ladies and their gallants; it being 
very convenient for such purpose, on account of its remote 
situation, and the arch method of the landlord, to conceal the 
amours of his customers. He was an eminent pimp at the R----e, 
where, having acquired a sum of money by his skill in the 
profession, he set up a petty tavern; but being, through his 
irregular proceedings, obliged by the magistrates to quit the 
same, retired to a certain city in the west, whence for 
renewing his old practices, he was expelled, and obliged to 
have recourse to the same in this part of the town.

"His name is too well known to need mentioning, and his 
character too notorious to require further description. But 
lest your mind should be captivated with any of the scenes to 
which I have introduced you, and what I have already related 
become rather an incentive to vice, than lesson of virtue; I 
shall endeavour to display such characters of women of the 
town, that cannot (if properly attended to) but effectually 
divert you from any fatal attachment to those alluring 
objects."



Chapter V. 
General and particular Descriptions of Women of the Town.

Urbanus, having paused a little, began to entertain his friend 
in their departure home, with the following relation. "I 
remember," my dear Agrestis, "a friend lately complained to me 
that he was engaged in the pursuit of an amour, to which his 
mind was so devoted, that he could attend to no other 
business. He confessed that the object of his passion was 
neither maid, wife, nor widow, but a woman, who though 
extremely beautiful, was yet a mercenary strumpet.

"This, he assured me was the source of his disquietude, being 
desirous of casting off the fatal attachment, but ignorant of 
the means necessary for the regaining his liberty, and 
dethroning so infamous a passion. He told me he had applied to 
several men of reputed experience; but all their prescriptions 
proved ineffectual.

"For this reason he earnestly entreated that I would point out 
the means, by which he might be exempted from so perplexing a 
circumstance. Affected with his piteous case, I thus addressed 
him. 'Know then, that you are now infected with a most 
dangerous disease, of which you cannot recover, but by 
undergoing many difficult operations. For, my good Sir, every 
man who is in love is sick, nay, not only sick, but a very 
slave and madman. I speak of unlawful love; for it is a virtue 
to love God, our parents, country, wife and children.

"'Your case is very different, for you are in the pursuit of 
unlawful love, which, according to the description of Seneca 
in one of his tragedies, is nothing else, than a certain force 
or great energy of mind; a heat of youth, begot by luxury and 
idleness, nursed, and cherished by ease and plenty. This robs 
a man of his understanding; perverts his judgment, stupifies 
his senses and extinguishes his reason.

"'A lover of this kind is transformed by an unhappy 
metamorphosis, into another man, he neither speaks nor acts as 
he was wont to do. You say your mistress is beautiful, and 
charming in your eye; but do you think she will be always thus 
beautiful and charming? Beauty is fleeting, and the woman who 
in the evening enchants you, in the morning may affright you.

"'A woman's beauty, unadorned with chastity, is of no price; 
and you pursue her not for her chastity, you are not enamoured 
of her virtue, but her looks; and those alas! have but a 
fading glory; a flower that like a rose expands its beauty in 
the morning, and languishes with the evening sun.

"'But not to multiply words, the woman you dote on is not 
yours alone, nor can her love be so confined to you, but that 
she has some to bestow on other admirers. In such a woman 
there's no stability, no constancy; she who seems fond of you 
today, tomorrow will caress another; perhaps ridicule your 
dotage the moment you have left her. A woman who admits of 
criminal passions, is an imperfect being, various, fallacious, 
subject to a thousand turbulent passions, without fear, 
without piety. But perhaps you are not wholly taken up with 
the enjoyment of your mistress' person, but pleased to look 
upon, and hear her talk. Do her looks carry in them any thing 
so transporting, that you cannot find their equal? That much 
admired form may be ruffled by a fever; those sprightly eyes, 
which now dart such killing glances, may soon become beamless 
fires; that mouth, which now breathes odoriferous sweets, may 
soon emit a nauseous stench; that neck, now erect with stately 
pride, may soon bow under the pressure of penury; and all that 
lovely body soon become a shriveled, dry, and sapless trunk.

"'Let these considerations impress your mind and cut off the 
fallacious promises of hope. Fly from her, before she flies 
from you, for it is much better to contemn a thing than lose 
it. The only cure for this infatuation, is a persuasion and 
conviction of the mind, that love fixed on improper objects is 
the worst of evils. Think of the fickle temper of women, think 
of the loss of your time, than which nothing is more precious; 
think of the waste of your fortune, which is not easily 
repaired, and finally remember, that life is short and should 
be spent in nobler pursuits.'

"In this manner I harangued my friend," said Urbanus, "and my 
sincere efforts were attended with the desired effect, for 
from that very hour he deserted the perfidious fair, and 
behaved like a man of reason and reflection."

"From what I have observed in the course of our nocturnal 
progress," returned Agrestis, "I have the utmost cause, to 
concur with you both in the description and admonition, and 
shall make the latter the rule of my future conduct." "Then my 
labour will be amply compensated, Agrestis," said the Spy; 
"but as there are no rules without exception, so some women on 
the town are patterns to the rest, in that they display many 
amiable and commendable qualities.

"The lady who last entered the tavern in P----d Street, 
deserves the highest encomiums in many respects. Her name is 
Charlotte Weldon; her stature is tall, she is extremely 
genteel, her eyes are brisk and piercing, her mouth small, and 
all her features elegant, her air is fine, her address polite, 
and her taste in dress indisputably genteel; she is a woman of 
good sense, but talks less than most of her sex, except she is 
perfectly well acquainted with her company; then few women can 
be more agreeably entertaining.

"She owed her birth, as well as excellent education to an 
eminent merchant in Austin Friars, who forced her to marry the 
son of a rich banker, that having fallen in love with her, 
asked her without any fortune.

"He was not only an idiot, but incapable of fulfilling the 
rites of matrimony. In vain did she solicit her father to 
release her from this purgatory. He threatened to disclaim 
her, if she persisted, and he kept his word. At length she 
obtained a divorce; but as she brought him no fortune, had but 
forty pounds a year allowed her for maintenance, nor would her 
enraged parent ever increase it.

"She took a milliner's shop, near Holborn Bars; and a handsome 
young fellow, who lodged in the house, paid his addresses to 
her, and at length obtained the surrender of her virgin 
charms.

"He soon grew tired of her, though she loved him to 
distraction; and at length stripped her of almost every thing 
she was worth, so that she was obliged to shut up shop, and 
with what little she could save, set out for York, where she 
threw herself under the protection of an aunt, who humanely 
permitted her to lie-in in the house, and afterwards 
recommended her to nurse a child for a lady of quality, with 
whom she came up to London; where my lady's eldest son 
persuaded her to quit the place, and took her into keeping; 
but being likewise soon cloyed, sold her to a young lord for a 
bottle of Burgundy.

"She has since passed through many hands, and her fate seems 
much to be lamented, for had she moved in a more elevated 
sphere of life, she would have cut an amiable figure; and if 
you except her present unfortunate state, few women possess 
more exalted virtues; as she has done actions, that might put 
precise, penurious chastity to the blush."

"This character," said Agrestis, "corresponds with a remark, 
which occurred at our outset, that there are harlots, woman of 
strict honour; the relation has much affected me, and it would 
afford me the highest satisfaction, could I contribute towards 
the alleviation of her sorrows, and settling her in an 
agreeable situation in life."

"True," said Urbanus, "but instances of this kind are very 
rare, for when virtue is once lost, every amiable quality 
generally deserts the unhappy fair. I know a certain fine 
woman, whose character in life amply illustrates this remark, 
and as the design of our nocturnal progress is to descant upon 
human nature, I presume the relation will not be deemed 
tedious.

"The lady's name is Sally Ploughman, she was descended from 
poor parents, who dying when she was eleven years old, she was 
taken into the service of a neighbouring farmer. Here she 
drudged on four or five years, happy as conscious innocence 
could make her, till at length her sparkling eye and ruddy 
complexion raised the curiosity of a recruiting captain, and 
obliged him to speak to her.

"He found her innocent and credulous; but his lace coat soon 
took possession of her heart, and his smooth tongue of her 
faith, in consequence of which, having made the soldier happy, 
and herself as wise as her mother, she forsook the farmer, and 
attended her gallant to his quarters.

"Here she soon became acquainted with the world, and began to 
distinguish man from man, and being rather eccentric in her 
amours, was dismissed the Captain's service, and cohabited 
with a gentleman of fortune, who brought her up to London, to 
see the beau monde. By frequenting the theatres, she became 
acquainted with several ladies of her profession, whose 
principles she soon imbibed, and her corruption was completed; 
for though she had lost her chastity before, she preserved her 
moral honesty, and had some other virtues.

"Her keeper soon after having detected her in an intrigue, 
gave her a short reprimand, and fifty guineas in her pockets; 
bidding her provide for herself in the best manner she could. 
In this situation, she applied to the honest man I lately 
described, who introduced her to polite company, where she got 
much money.

"At length she contracted a virulent disorder, and was obliged 
to seek the aid of a surgeon, who stripped her of every penny, 
and reduced her to the necessity of applying to a bawd, but 
her face being known to the sparks of the town, who avoided 
her correspondence for fear of contamination, her last 
resource for a livelihood was to sell oranges at the 
playhouses.

"In this low ebb of fortune, she took possession of the heart 
of Sir John Manly, who took her into keeping, and allowed her 
a very genteel maintenance.

"But she pursued her inclinations without restraint and 
privately admitted to her embraces, one of the figure dancers 
at the Opera, till Sir John having incontestible proof of her 
infidelity, discharged her as a vile ingrate, and she returned 
to her former life of dissipation, riot, and obscenity.

"From hence amongst numberless instances," continued the Spy, 
"it is evident that when once a woman launches into this 
abandoned way of life, and becomes hardened in iniquity, she 
obliterates all reason from her mind, and is a stranger to 
reflection.If a man raises her from the ebb of poverty, to 
which her infamy has sunk her, and makes her the companion of 
his bed and board, notwithstanding her repeated protestations 
of fidelity, you find her led by the ingratitude of her heart, 
when fixed in affluence, to forget her solemn promises, follow 
the directions of her loose desires, and daily abuse the 
generosity of her benefactor.

"The life of a woman of this stamp, is an eternal round of 
deception, a deception of a double kind, not only of the 
credulity of him, who weakly caresses her, but of herself; for 
she at length falls a prey either to excess of luxury, or the 
severe attacks of a nauseous distemper. Her loose behaviour at 
last throws her on the common, where having spread the 
infection, she miserably perishes in an hospital or workhouse. 
But let us close our remarks with a morning's tour through 
town."



Chapter VI. 
General View of the Town between the Hours of Three and Five 
in the Morning.

The votaries of Venus and Bacchus now begin to depart, the 
temples of the latter to sacrifice the shrine of the former. 
The taverns are discharging their sinful burden in close 
curtained chairs, while the bagnios await the arrival of the 
nymphs and swains, to consummate those joys, which were begun 
over the bottle.

The streets echo with sound of chimney sweepers, and 
clattering of carts laden with fruit for the different 
markets. The yawning sons of debauchery are reeling home, 
stupefied with liquor, and the hackneyed strumpet grown 
haggard with watching, repairing to her miserable cot.

The early part of the regular world begin to prepare for 
business, while the eccentric mortal is but just thinking of 
repose.

The Spy and his friend were sometime at a stand which way to 
move; at length Urbanus proposed a visit to Billingsgate, as a 
place capable of affording great diversion, through the 
various humours of the maritime mobility. Accordingly they 
steered their course thither, and in a narrow lane stumbled on 
the threshold of a gloomy cavern which they no sooner entered, 
than they heard a number of female tongues engaged in 
promiscuous tattle, with as much eagerness, as a party of 
ladies over the tea table. Their chief clamour was against the 
fashion of French night caps, and long sacks, which concealed 
the face, leg, and foot.

"Lord help my poor masters," said one of them, "they look as 
if they had disobliged their wives or their landladies, and 
they would not let them in tonight." They then tumbled into 
another company of medley mortals. One by his appearance 
seemed to have been stripped of his money at a gaming table, 
another, as if the grey mare were the better horse, and had 
denied him entrance for keeping late hours; a third as if just 
come to age, and had got his means into his own hands; but 
thinking the day too short for his fortune, had resolved the 
night should make up the deficiency in lengthening out his 
pleasures.

While the Spy and his friend were making their remarks, there 
entered a spruce blade with a pretended wife, who enquiring 
when the Gravesend boat went off and being told about five, 
affected weariness and desired to lie down for an hour or two. 
The pious landlady replied, "by all means, Sir, we have 
several couple in bed that wait for the tide as well as you." 
So they were immediately lighted to new joys.

Having thus amused themselves with these scenes of novelty; 
they turned down towards the market, where their ears were 
saluted with the harmonious sounds of scolding fishwomen, 
reprobate porters, and upstart salesmen. "From this place," 
said the Spy, "the sons of luxury are supplied with sea 
dainties; it furnishes part of the most elegant entertainments 
and though at present so offensive to the smell, its 
commodities are suited to the most delicate palate."

As they passed to the westward, they were shocked by beholding 
many of those objects of misery, who being destitute both of 
money and shame, are the nocturnal tenants of shop doors, and 
forsaken bulks.<18>

"These asylums of wretchedness," cried Urbanus, "are generally 
stripped of their inhabitants by our upright officers of the 
night, while the most noted houses of debauchery lying in 
their walks, are passed by unmolested, though their doors gape 
on every side for the unwary passenger, like so many whelming 
gulfs of destruction; at which generally appears some painted 
whore to allure the purse-proud fool, while others sally out, 
and range the benighted streets in search of him.

"The progress and designs of these ladies are very seldom 
disturbed by the night watch, nothing is more common than to 
see them conjunctively retire to the saloon or gin shops, 
where the former generally pays the price of their mutual 
intoxication. As the prostitute preys upon the cull, whose 
appetite she is to gratify, so does the watchman upon the 
belated citizen, whose intemperance compells him to fly for 
defence and assistance to these vigilant preservers of the 
public tranquillity." When our peripatetics had reached the 
Strand, they were alarmed by the groans of a person, who lay 
upon his back, and exhibited a spectacle shocking to the 
beholder.

It seems he had denied the request of some Irish chairmen, who 
had solicited a bounteous treat; but being incensed at his 
repulse, knocked him down, and treated him with such cruelty, 
that the poor man soon after expired,to the irreparable loss 
of a disconsolate wife and four helpless children.

The villains escaped detection, and consequently public 
justice, but we hope so melancholy a circumstance will excite 
the vigilance of those, to whom is committed the 
superintendance of these rascals, who unobserved, will not 
only promote the designs of robbers but even connive at murder 
itself.

If the tawdry whore and blown up fop are too delicate to 
sustain the jumble of a coach, and therefore encourage these 
scoundrels to attend them with their convenient vehicles at 
all hours, proper stands as well as officers should be 
appointed by the legislature, to prevent such scandalous 
transgressions of the laws of justice, decency, and humanity.

In their farther progress our Spy and his companions were 
perplexed with the importunate solicitations of many 
unfortunate women, who having obtained no money the preceeding 
night, were debarred a lodging by those inhuman wretches who 
absolutely exist on their prostitution.

"From circumstances of this kind," said Urbanus, "I cannot but 
pity the fate of these unfortunate women, who are not only 
exposed to the insolence, inhumanity, and extortion of knaves 
in office; but the more than brutal ingratitude of the 
infernal minx, or diabolical pimp, who are not only accessary 
to the loss of their virtue, but their continuance in 
prophaneness and debauchery."

The next extraordinary incident which occured, was a sedan 
occupied by a rake, and his whore, the latter was belching 
within, half undressed, while the former was roaring out bawdy 
and blasphemy on the roof.

From the jelly-house they had repaired to the hospitable Mrs 
W----y's and from thence to a neighbouring tavern; and having 
in the course of the night perpetrated every act of indecency 
and bestiality, were now exposing to the world, pictures 
odious to every rational beholder.

"Though," said the Spy, on reflection, "one would think that 
stupid mortal would hate himself; he will, even when sober 
glory in the exploit, and arrogate the tide of a Good Fellow, 
from disgracing his very species. But let us adjourn to a 
place convenient for a few summary observations."

After a short pause, the sage Urbanus thus began. "My good 
friend Agrestis, I hope the design of our nocturnal progress 
will be effectually promoted, by producing a happy tendency 
both on your principles, and practices.

"Though you received a virtuous education in the country, and 
was under the influence of pious example, you was not then 
exposed to the temptations of an alluring town, and 
consequently are more liable to be trepanned by its devices, 
and seduced by its enticements.

"I have not therefore witheld from your view any scene, that 
could either excite your love to virtue, or aversion to vice.

"I have assumed the monitor, and endeavoured to make suitable 
reflections on the different circumstances and characters, 
which have occurred, as well as shown their correspondence 
with, or deviation from the invariable maxims of right and 
wrong.

"I have stripped the mask from the face of hypocrisy, and 
endeavoured to rescue merit from that oblivion, to which the 
world would consign it.

"The different courses of life, to which you have been 
witness, said Urbanus, must convince you of the truth of the 
remark made by our instructor at the R----e, that few persons 
are in reality what they pretend to be; and that dissimulation 
and hypocrisy generally prevail.

"You have seen virtue united with poverty, and infamy with 
opulence. The representation of a wealthy villain must hurt 
the mind of every ingenuous Englishman, who cannot but revere 
a man, though descended from the dregs of the people, who 
inherits the soul of a prince; as well as despise the fellow, 
who boasts the noblest lineage, with the heart of a beggar.

"With me, I admonish you to consider mankind equal in the rank 
of creation; and though subordination is requisite to the 
general good of society; remember no man is worthy the regard 
of the wife, but him who is intrinsically good. In fine, let 
me entreat you to consider a beneficent disposition, and 
upright heart as most inestimable, and to cultivate and retain 
these, in spite of all the events of a transitory life; 
remembering the amiable character described by the poet,

"He was a man that lived up to the standard of his honor, 
And prized that jewel more than mines of gold."


Agrestis having returned his friend the sincerest thanks for 
his admonition, and promised a firm compliance; after a mutual 
farewell, they departed to their respective habitations.

FINIS.



Nocturnal Revels (1779)
Nocturnal Revels; or, the History of King's-Place and Other 
Modern nunneries. 2 vols. London: Printed for M. Goadby, 1779. 
https://archive.org/details/NocturnalRevelsOrTheHistoryOfKings
-placeAndOtherModernnunneriesVol/ (Vol. 1) and 
https://archive.org/details/AWell-
knownBookAboutLondonsBrothels.CultClassic.nocturnalRevelsOr 
(Vol. 2)



Title Page

NOCTURNAL REVELS: 
OR, THE 
HISTORY 
OF 
KING'S PLACE, 
AND OTHER 
MODERN NUNNERIES 
CONTAINING THEIR 
MYSTERIES, DEVOTIONS AND SACRIFICES. 
Comprising also, The 
ANCIENT AND PRESENT STATE OF PROMISCUOUS 
GALLANTRY 
WITH THE 
PORTRAITS of the most CELEBRATED 
DEMIREPS and COURTESANS of this PERIOD: 
AS WELL AS 
Sketches of their Professional and Occasional Admirers. 
___________________________________ 
By a MONK of the ORDER OF ST. FRANCIS. 
___________________________________ 
THE SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED AND IMPROVED, 
WITH A VARIETY OF ADDITIONS. 
____________________________________
Il vero est, quod ego mihi puto palmarium, 
Me reperisse, quo modo adolescentulus 
Meretricum ingenia & mores posit noscere: 
Mature ut cum cognorit, pepetuo oderit.<19> 
Terence, The Eunuch. Act 5. Sc. 4. 
_________________________________ 
LONDON: 
Printed for M. Goadby, Pater-noster-Rowe. 
1779.



Dedication, 
Inscribed with Permission, by the Author to Himself

Sir, 
	As there are few persons with whom I have had a longer or 
closer intimacy than with yourself, permit me, from the 
personal knowledge I have of you, and your many excellent 
qualities, to lay this Bagatelle at your feet. I am convinced 
of your capacity for enjoying all the wit, humour, and 
pleasantry, that these volumes contain. Your brilliant and 
sterling sallies have often pleased and diverted me, as they 
are, without vanity, so congenial with my own; and persuade 
me, that the flights of fancy in the following pages will 
amuse and entertain you.

Sensible that you are very far from being a rigid cynic, and 
that you can relax the brow of severity in behalf of you 
risible muscles, I am induced to believe, if in any part you 
should fancy my descriptions too luxuriant, or my canvas 
rather overcharged with luscious images, that you will impute 
this fault, if it be one, to the warmth of imagination, the 
glow of juvenile fancy, and an impetuous desire to please.

Most of the characters are taken from real life, with whom you 
are equally well acquainted as myself; they are, indeed, for 
the far greater part, truly original; nevertheless, they are 
not so outr�, but that they may be traced in either the 
purlieus of St. James's, Convent-Garden, or Marylebone.

This little work is not altogether devoted to excite the 
passions, or gratify a vicious curiosity. Many of the memoirs, 
which are authentic, may serve as beacons to the innocent and 
unwary, to avoid the rocks and shoals of female treachery, as 
well as male artifice. There are some scenes that must inspire 
us with horror at the distortions of complicated Vice, and 
make us be enamoured with Virtue, if it were only for her own 
sake.

The treachery, perfidy, and stratagems of what are styled Lady 
Abbesses, are depicted in their genuine colours, and afford a 
melancholy but useful picture of the depravity of human 
nature, and to what lengths infamy can prevail even in a 
female breast.

Upon the whole, Sir, as I am almost persuaded you will approve 
of this production with as much partiality as myself, from 
your wanted prepossession in my favour, I shall only add, that 
I am,
Sir, with the greatest cordiality, 
friendship and esteem, 
your constant admirer, 
and very humble servant,  
THE AUTHOR.



Introduction

As the reader is acquainted in the title-page, that this 
performance is written by a monk of the Order of St. Francis, 
it may be necessary to illustrate this character, and give 
some account of Medmenham Priory, the feat of wit, pleasantry, 
anecdote, and gallantry; as this was the spot where these 
memoirs were collected and penned, during a sojournment of 
some weeks, in company with a set of the first rate geniuses 
of this area.

A certain nobleman, who had made the tour of Europe, and 
visited most of the capital cities on the continent, where he 
made judicious observations upon every interesting object that 
presented itself, particularly the different religious 
seminaries, founded, as it were, in direct contradiction to 
nature and reason; on his return to England, thought that a 
burlesque institution to the name of St. Francis, would mark 
the absurdity of such sequestered societies; and in lieu of 
the austerities and abstemiousness there practised, substitute 
convivial gaiety, unrestrained hilarity, and social felicity.

Having communicated his idea to some gentlemen of the same 
pleasant turn of thinking as himself, they agreed to construct 
a small but elegant building upon a little island in the River 
Thames, not far from Hampton. It was divided into a number of 
convenient apartments, which contained a library, music, 
instruments, etc. and cards and other games were admitted. The 
project being so far carried into execution, it was styled 
Medmenham Priory; and it was agreed to retire thither for a 
few weeks occasionally in the summer season, and there, like 
another Sans Souci, to indulge, "and to their genius freely 
give", without either control or restraint, except such as are 
established by good-manners and politeness, every one being 
allowed to amuse himself, according to his own disposition, 
either in reading, writing, play, or conversation. They, 
however, always meet in one general set at meals, where, for 
the improvement of mirth, pleasantry, and gaiety, every member 
is allowed to introduce a lady of a cheerful, lively 
disposition, to improve the general hilarity. Male visitors 
are also permitted, under some restrictions; the Master of the 
Ceremonies, upon this occasion, being their merit, wit, and 
humour. There is no constraint with regard to the circulation 
of the glass, after some particular toasts have been given. 
The ladies, in the intervals of their repasts, may make select 
parties among themselves, or entertain one another, or alone, 
with reading, music, tambour-work, etc.

The salt of their festivities is generally purely attic, but 
no indelicacy or indecency is allowed to be intruded without a 
severe penalty; and a jeu de mots must not border too much 
upon a loose double entendre to be received with applause.

The habit of the Order of St. Francis is indiscriminately 
worn, as well by the regular monks, as the visitors male and 
female; and they are required to take an oath of secrecy, 
which, however, is rather a matter of form that is frequently 
dispensed with. The ceremony of admission is performed in a 
chapel allotted for that purpose, upon the tolling of a bell, 
accompanied with solemn, plaintive music. The candidate, at 
his entrance, bows with reverence, and advancing in a slow 
pace towards a table, at the farther end of the chapel, makes 
a profession of his principles, and requests admission within 
the rails, the appointed station of the original twelve 
members; arrayed in clerical habit. After this ceremony is 
performed on one candidate, others advance, make the same 
professions, and lay their claim of admission. The established 
monks having attentively heard the pretensions of the 
competitors, the Superior then proceeds to collect the votes 
of the others; and the candidate who appears to have a 
majority in his favour, is pronounced duly elected; then his 
title and station in the society is determined.

Notwithstanding the rules of decency and decorum which are 
observed in this society, in opposition to the females who 
take the veil in foreign seminaries, the ladies are not 
compelled to make any vows of celibacy upon their admission, 
any more than the monks; the former considering themselves as 
the lawful wives of the brethren, during their stay within the 
monastic walls, every monk being religiously scrupulous not to 
infringe upon the nuptial alliance of any other brother.

The ladies in particular subscribing to an oath of secrecy, 
and as it is their reciprocal interest to confine the 
knowledge of their rites to the monastic walls, there has 
scarcely been a scandalous report on their account, as 
individuals, since the first institution of the Order, which 
might otherwise have increased the number of divorces at 
present so prevalent in this kingdom. That no lady may be 
taken by surprise, either by her husband or any other 
relation, they are admitted in masks, and do not unmask till 
all the brethren have passed them in review, that they may 
avoid if they judge it expedient, meeting with an unwelcome 
acquaintance. In this case, no eclaircissement is required 
from them; but they may retire without making any apology, or 
revealing themselves to any but their temporary husband.

Disquisitions of an amorous and platonic kind sometimes are 
introduced, in which full liberty of speech is allowed, within 
the prescribed line of decorum. In case the topics should 
unexpectedly become too warm and passionate, the use of fans 
is allowed, to prevent the appearance of ladies' blushes; and 
under these circumstances, some females seize this opportunity 
for a temporary retreat with their paramours. The monastery is 
not destitute of the aid of the faculty, even of those who 
profess the chirurgical as well as the obstetric art; as the 
ladies, in case they find it necessary, may make a temporary 
retreat from the world, and assist posterity with respect to 
the rising of generation. The offspring of these connections 
are styled the sons and daughters of St. Francis, and are 
appointed in due order officers and domestics in the seminary, 
according to their different abilities, or by drawing lots.

Such is the general outline of the laws, customs, and 
regulations of the Society of the monks of St. Francis, many 
of whom have contributed, by their information, to the 
production of the following sheets.



Chapter I. 
The rise and progress of polite gallantry: With a descriptive 
account of the different seminaries for amorous recreations in 
the last reign.

This �ra of improvement and refinement in arts, sciences, 
taste, elegance, politeness, luxury, debauchery, and even 
vice, could not help being particularly distinguished in the 
mode and ceremonies used in the devotions paid to the Cyprian 
Goddess.

Our forefathers were so unenlightened, so unpolished, so 
entirely unacquainted with what is now called the Ton,<20> 
that they thought it infamous in any man, let his station have 
been ever so exalted, to keep a mistress; even the follies of 
youth were by some thought unpardonable; and it was pronounced 
that a state of perfect celibacy should ever precede the 
matrimonial vow, which should be most religiously observed on 
both sides. Adultery was then thought one of the greatest 
crimes that could be committed; and whenever a woman was found 
guilty of it, though classed amongst the first nobility, she 
was shunned by her friends and relations, banished from 
society. But these Gothic notions are now happily exploded, 
and true politeness, upon the most liberal principles of the 
Savoir Vivre, at length prevails. Like all other improvements, 
that in gallantry gradually advanced, till it attained its 
present degree of perfection.

It is true, that in the reign of that witty, wicked monarch 
(as he was called) Charles II. some strides were made towards 
crushing the barbarous notions which prevailed in the days of 
his predecessors; and he set an excellent example, in the 
choice and number of mistresses, for courtiers and subjects. 
But when that monkish, bigoted Prince James (who, as Louis 
XIV. jocularly observed, had lost three kingdoms for a mass) 
came to throne, all the progress that had been made in 
gallantry was banished from these realms; and soon after he 
himself was banished.

When the phlegmatic William seized the sceptre, he brandished 
it with a Dutch misanthropy, that made his courtiers resemble 
mourners at a funeral, and the ladies seemed to be in the 
first coach. We will not credit some innuendoes thrown out 
even by his encomiast Bishop Burnet; but it is certain that, 
in his reign, the ladies were less regarded at St. James's 
than they had ever been before.

Upon the accession of George the First, the gloom was 
dissipated; the ladies reassumed their wonted power; gaiety 
and conviviality promoted a frequent intercourse between the 
sexes; no party was complete without ladies, who at once gave 
a zest and a polish to conversation. Hence more private 
parties arose, when opportunity and importunity favoured the 
designs of the lover, whole mistress, with seeming reluctance, 
yielded to his solicitations. Intrigue began to wear a modish 
aspect, the palace had stamped indulgence upon it, and 
courtiers at least were compelled to follow the taste of the 
drawing-room.

In the reign of George the Second, gallantry was more 
purified; it became a science, and was studied by those who 
would intrigue with dignity. The women now had the leading 
power at St. James's; a great man's mistress was more courted 
that the Prime minister; and even the dignitaries of the 
church did not think it dishonoured either themselves or their 
profession, to solicit the smiles of a favourite Tha�s, who 
has often conferred mitres as well as titles.

The present reign, however, is that in which gallantry has 
attained its summit, and intrigue may now be pronounced in its 
zenith. Refinement is carried through every stage of life in 
this respect. The impotent, hobbling, peer who keeps half-a-
dozen mistresses to support his reputation, though in fact he 
has not the least occasion for one, politely winks at his 
wife's amours. If, upon his return home in the morning, he 
meets his cornuter upon the stairs, still warm with her 
ladyship's embraces, his hair en papillote, and all his dress 
denoting his recent situation; nay, perhaps half his night-cap 
hanging out of his pocket, the only pass� parole is, bon jour, 
monsieur -- bon jour, mi Lor. Punctilios being thus happily 
preserved, we never hear now of a duel, or a rencounter upon 
the score of a wife's infidelity;  but when suspicions arise 
concerning a wh----e's honour, then satisfaction must be 
demanded, or a man's honour will be called in question who 
lets pass unnoticed his mistress's inconstancy.

Divorces were never so numerous as they are at present, as the 
uncommon harvests of the civilians and lawyers can testify; 
but let it not be imagined that these are occasioned by any 
real affection of either of the parties; for as they were 
linked together for interest or alliance, so are they 
disunited, either for interest or caprice; or with the view of 
another marriage, after being completely forfeited with their 
present connection.

From kept mistresses we shall descent a line lower, and 
consider those fair ones who are to be obtained at a minute's 
warning, for a stipulated sum. Before the modern institution 
of nunneries, the chief scene of action for promiscuous amours 
lay in the vicinity of Covent Garden. There are some 
debauchees still living, who must remember the Nocturnal 
Revels at Moll King's in the centre of Covent Garden market. 
This rendezvous was a general receptacle for rakes and 
prostitutes of every rank. At that period there was a public 
gaming table under the Piazza, called Lord Mordington's. To 
this association many families have owed their ruin. It was 
often the last resource of a failing tradesman, who repaired 
thither with the property of his creditors to make a push, 
when there were so many sharpers to surround him, and so many 
artifices used to defraud him, that it was a miracle if he 
returned with a guinea in his pocket. From this gambling set 
many a broken gamester was repaired to Moll King's to snore 
out the remainder of the night, for want of a shilling to 
obtain a lodging. It he should change to have a watch or a 
pair of silver buckles remaining, whilst he was paying his 
devotion to Morpheus, the nimble-handed gentry of either sex 
were labouring in their vocation, and the unhappy victim to 
fortune became the still more unhappy victim to Mercury and 
his votaries. From this receptacle the son of Bacchus reeled 
home at day-break; the buck took his doxy to a bagnio; and the 
blood carried off his moll in triumph in a chair, himself at 
the top of it, with a broken sword, and a tattered shirt, 
escorted by the link boys, watchmen, and pick-pockets. There 
is a print at the shops that gives a very natural and just 
representation of one of these scenes, which was actually 
taken from the life; it is so truly picturesque and 
descriptive, that any one desirous of forming a perfect idea 
of such a frolic, cannot avoid being furnished with it. As a 
proof of the reality of the description, we shall add, that 
the parties were Captain Overton, a well-known blood, at that 
time, about the Garden; and the lady within, the celebrated 
Poll M-nt-g-e, who then lived in Spring Gardens.

This lady (who was has been very successful in life, and has 
since laid claim to a coronet, through her connection with the 
late Lord C----t, with whom she lived many years; as well 
during his retreat at Boulogne, for certain reasons of 
finance, as since he returned to England) soon after her 
nocturnal adventure in Covent Garden met with a whimsical 
accident going to Epsom races in a phaeton. Another lady of 
the same immaculate character as Miss M-nt-g-e was her 
companion; but Poll, who was always fond of flourishing a 
whip, was the driver. Unfortunately, by some accident she was 
thrown off her seat, and falling upon the foot board, it 
partly gave way; when being of a ponderous size, the horses 
took fright, and Miss M---- displayed, a posteriori, a very 
uncommon and laughable spectacle, to the no small amusement of 
many score spectators upon the road. The ladies received no 
hurt, and recovered themselves so well from their fright, that 
they were in sufficient spirits to appear at the booth, and 
lay their money with as much perseverance as if they had not 
broke down upon the road; though every one of the turf thought 
that the odds were greatly against the riders of any kind, in 
such a predicament.

When Moll King quitted her nocturnal rendezvous, she retired 
to live upon a very easy fortune, which she had amassed by the 
follies, vices and profligacy of the age. She built a row of 
houses near Hampstead where she resided until her death.

About the same period, Mother Douglas, well known by the name 
of Mother Cole, and so finely caricatured in Foote's Minor, 
was in all her glory. Her house was calculated for the 
superior rank of debauchees. Princes and peers frequented it, 
and she fleeced them in proportion to their dignity. She had a 
piece of plate which she constantly exhibited on her side-
board, and which she called Billy's bread basket, it being a 
present from a certain Prince of that name who often visited 
her. Women of the first rank came here frequently incognito 
the utmost secrecy being served; and it frequently happened 
that while my lord was enjoying Chloe in one room, in the 
adjacent apartment her ladyship was cornuting her caro sposo 
with a pair of the largest antlers she could procure. Demi-
reps of an inferior class also resorted hither. The celebrated 
Campioni and Peg Woffington have often sacrificed at the altar 
of Venus in this chapel; and it is said with some degree of 
authority, that it was owing to the detection of an intrigue 
between the last lady and Sir Hanbury Will----ms, that little 
Davy escaped from being noosed in the connubial knot with 
Peggy.

At the same time, there were several other retreats round 
Covent Garden of inferior note. Mrs Gould's stood foremost in 
the list, after Mother Douglas's. This lady plumed herself 
much upon being the gentlewoman; she despised every woman that 
swore or talked indecently; nor would she suffer any female 
who was addicted to intoxication to enter her doors. Her 
customers chiefly consisted of rich citizens, who frequently 
made a trip hither in their boots on a Saturday night, and 
remained here (upon their nominal country-tour) till Monday 
morning. These friends she accommodated in the best manner she 
was able; her liquors were good, her attendants civil, and her 
beds and furniture in a very elegant gusto. She had a cher ami 
in the person of a certain Notary Public of Jewish extraction, 
for whom she entertained, a very great penchant, on account of 
his uncommon parts and great abilities.

Near the same spot was another house of amorous recreation, 
kept by a lady known by the name of Hell-Fire Stanhope. But 
let it not be imagined, that any personal disposition in her 
gave rise to this title: It was owing to a former connection 
which she had with a gentleman who was called Hell-Fire S----, 
on account of his having been President of the Hell-Fire Club. 
Mrs Stanhope passed for a woman of wit and pleasantry; nor was 
she entirely destitute of either, without descending to 
vulgarisms, which women in her line of life are too much 
addicted to. She generally had some of the best pieces in the 
Garden at her house, and never entertained any whom she judged 
improper to go into company. Some of the first rate Tha�ses 
who afterwards figured in gay life, were trained in her 
seminary. She has retired from this business for some years; 
and having acquired a very early fortune, she lives snug, and 
enjoys herself and her riding-master.



Chapter II. 
Some account of Weatherby's. The kind of associates to be met 
with here. Sketch of Lucy Cooper and her companions. Some 
traits in the character of Beau Tracey. Outline of King 
Derrick. Bon Mot of Dr. Smollet. The Parisian Seraglios 
delineated. First Institution of nunneries in England, by Mrs 
Goadby.

We shall begin this chapter with an account of those two 
famous or infamous places of nocturnal rendezvous known under 
the name of Weatherby's and Margeram's.

The first of these receptacles for rakes and prostitutes, 
highwaymen, pick-pockets, gamblers and swindlers, was 
originally instituted about thirty years since, by one 
Weatherby, as a substitute to Moll King's, some time after 
that retreat was shut up. No sooner had Weatherby's plan got 
wind, than his house was resorted by the great number of 
female votaries to Venus of all ranks and conditions, from the 
charioted kept mistress, down to the two-penny bunter who 
plies under the piazza. A capuchin<21> was the only function 
required: this was a sufficient passport to this scene of riot 
and dissipation. The unfortunate strumper who had been 
starving in a garret all day, whilst she had been washing her 
only and last shift, upon making her appearance here, might 
probably meet with a green-horn apprentice-boy, who would 
treat her with a mutton-chop and a pot of porter; and if his 
finances were in proper plight, he might be induced to tip her 
eighteen-pennyworth of punch, and perhaps, after that, be 
deluded to a horse-pond bagnio to pass the remainder of the 
night.

At this mart of beauty and prostitution, the late Lucy Cooper 
used often to make an appearance. Not that she meant to 
dispose of her charms at the market price of the place. No, 
she was not then influenced by necessity; she was then kept in 
a voluptuous manner by the late Sir Orlando B----n, an old 
debauchee, who was besotted with Lucy's repartees (for that 
was the greatest attraction she possessed), that the dotard 
would have married her, had she not been so generous as to 
refuse his hand, that she might not bring a scandal upon his 
family. However, allowed her a very handsome maintenance, 
supported her in a very elegant house he furnished for her in 
Parliament Street, and kept a chariot for her, which would 
often be at Weatherby's door for twenty-four, and sometimes 
eight-and forty hours successively. After this relation, the 
reader may be curious to know what could induce her frequent 
such a house of riot and debauchery, when she might have been 
far more comfortable at her own hotel. But dissipation was 
Lucy's motto: the old Baronet she abhorred, at Weatherby's she 
could meet with Palmer the player (since dead), Bet Weyms, 
Alexander Stevens, Derrick, and some more choice geniuses. 
Here has Stevens often repeated those lectures upon heads, 
which have since turned out so much to his emolument, but 
which he then thought were well disposed of for a support and 
a reckoning. Lucy was usually pay-mistress general; and wit, 
frolic and fun, circulated at her expense.

Upon the demise of the old Baronet, Lucy's affairs took a very 
different turn. No longer did she give dinners to Beau Tracey 
and King Derrick, who was then a very menial and necessitous 
subject. His Majesty has often, in his hours of distress, 
counted the trees in the park for a meal, unless he met with 
some friendly acquaintance who would take compassion on him, 
and ask him home; otherwise he took the run of Lucy's or 
Charlotte Hayes's kitchen. This latter lady was at that time 
in keeping with Tracey, one of the most dissipated men of the 
age, with regard to the fair sex. He was about five feet nine 
inches high, of a Herculean form, with a remarkably agreeable 
countenance; and on account of the extravagance of his dress, 
he was justly entitled to the appellation of Beau Tracey. 
Abstract him from women, and he was a man far above 
mediocrity, with regard to sense and learning. He was a 
tolerable good scholar, had a very pretty library, and was so 
fond of reading, that whilst he was under the hair-dresser's 
hands, he constantly perused some favourite author; remarking 
upon the occasion, "That whilst the outside of his head was 
embellishing, the interior region of it should always be 
polishing; or else the powdered fop could be considered in no 
better predicament than a barber's block." We wish the young 
men of the age, who affect being called Macaronies, would 
attend to this judicious remark of a man of professed 
dissipation and debauchery, and who destroyed himself by his 
vices, before he had attained his thirtieth year, though he 
possessed an excellent constitution. But the present race of 
Macaronies think (if they can be allowed to think) of nothing 
but externals; and many of them have not so much expression in 
their countenances as the barber's blocks that are exhibition 
in various parts of the town.

Derrick's poverty was at some times so great that he had 
neither shoes nor stockings that were wearable. Being in this 
situation one day at Forrest's Coffee House, Charing Cross, he 
retired several times to the Cloacinian Temple to coax his 
stockings, which wickedly displayed every few minutes such 
conspicuous holes, as put even the King out of countenance. 
Doctor Smollet was present, and perceiving his embarrassment, 
said to him, "Why, Derrick, you are certainly devilishly 
plagued with a looseness, or else you would not repair so 
often to the cabinet?" Derrick thought to get rid of the 
observation by a joke, and, in exposing his poverty, obtain a 
pair of good stockings, as there was no stranger in the room -
- "Egad Doctor, " said he, "the looseness is in my heels, as 
you may plainly perceive." "Faith, Derrick,", said Smollet, "I 
always thought so, for your feet stink damnably." The 
misfortune was, the observation was but too true. However, the 
Doctor, to make him some reparation for the severity of his 
jest, took him home to Chelsea, gave him a good dinner; and, 
upon his departure, slipped a guinea into his hand, to equip 
his legs and feet for the next day.

We have given these little sketches of the outlines of the 
associates of Lucy Cooper, and the other high flying 
courtesans and their companions who frequented Weatherby's at 
the time it was in the zenith, in order with some historical 
propriety to pursue our narration. Soon after this it 
declined, and in the disturbances that nightly occurred, so 
much interrupted the neighbourhood, that the master of the 
house was indicted for a nuisance; and he suffered the 
penalties of the law, not only by being debarred a licence, 
but by imprisonment and the pillory. Had a certain Premier<22> 
then been in power, probably R----'s punishment would have 
been much softened, by his influence; as he had the honour of 
marrying one of his lordship's cast-off ladies, who has turned 
out a very good wife.

Margeram's, a house almost directly opposite in the same 
street, was conducted nearly upon the same plan as 
Weatherby's; but it generally served as the petite piece of 
the drama of the evening; or rather, it stood nearly in the 
same predicament as formerly Vauxhall did to Ranelagh; that 
is, after the company were cloyed with the amusements of one 
place, they resorted to the other, and closed what they called 
the remainder of the evening. This rendezvous was of very 
short duration, after the suppression of the other, which has 
not since been imitated, but in a much inferior degree at the 
Blakeney's Head in Bow Street.

Having thus far gone through the rife and progress of 
intrigue, gallantry, and licentiousness, in its various 
stages; we now approach the period when these Nocturnal Revels 
were put upon a more eligible and polite footing than they had 
hitherto been, which was by the institution of nunneries at 
the west end of the town.

Mrs Goadby first planned this institution at her house in 
Berwick Street, Soho. She had been upon a tour to France, and 
has been initiated at the Serails (Seraglios) upon the 
boulevards at Paris. These were two licensed hotels, at that 
time under the direction of Mesdames Paris and Montigny, two 
veteran procuresses, who were well acquainted with all the 
mysteries and arcana of their profession. Under each of their 
roofs were assembled about a score of the handsomest 
prostitutes in the purlieus of Paris: they were of all 
countries, and many religions; but they all united in one 
doctrine, which might be called the Paphian Creed. It 
consisted but of few articles. The first was a most implicit 
faith in the Mother Abbess, whose decrees were irrevocable, 
and her conduct pronounced infallible. The second article was 
a just attention to the rites and ceremonies of the Cyprian 
Goddess; the strictest attention to please their admirers in 
all their whims, caprices and extravagancies, that their 
assiduities might anticipate their lovers' wants, wishes and 
desires, and lastly, to avoid all excesses in drink, and the 
effusions of ribaldry, that they might convey, at least, the 
ideas of modesty and decency, even amidst their revels. These, 
and a few more articles constituted their creed; with this 
final one, that it was the greatest heresy they could be 
guilty of, to conceal from the Mother Abbesses any presents or 
pecuniary gratifications beyond the usual stipulations of the 
Serail. These stipulations were very moderate: A night of 
pleasure with a Sultana, a good supper, and all expenses, were 
cleared for a Louis; a sum here that would scarce gratify a 
lady for the loss of her time, besides chair hire, ribbons, 
and the other decorations of the evening; not to mention 
supper, burnt Champagne, and the house.

These devotees of Venus in the Parisian Serails, usually 
passed their hours after dinner, till the evening, in a large 
saloon; some playing upon the guitar, whilst vocal performers 
were accompanying them; others were employed with needle or 
tambour-work. No liquors were allowed here, excepting orgeat, 
capillaire, and such like innocent beverages; by which means 
their spirits were never exhilarated with wine, and the 
strictest decorum observed.

An Avanturier de Dames<23> might resort hither before the play 
or opera, and, like the Grand Signior, drop his handkerchief 
to his favourite sultana of the night. If she took it up, it 
proved she accepted of the engagement; and, according to the 
laws of the Seraglio, she was to remain constant to her 
betrothed inamorato for that night.

Upon Mrs Goadby's return from France, she immediately began to 
refine our amorous amusements, and regulate them according to 
the Parisian system. She fitted up a house in elegant style; 
engaged some of the first-rate filles de joye<24> in London; 
employed a surgeon to examine them as to their health, and to 
admit none that could in this respect be pronounced doubtful. 
Having brought over a great quantity of French silks and 
laces, she was enabled to equip her Tha�ses in the highest 
gusto<25>; and for which she took care to make a sufficient 
charge: but in imitating the plan of the French Seraglio, 
there were two circumstances to which she did not advert, the 
economy of the prices, and their abolition of liquors till 
supper-time. Mrs Goadby's Serail was not a Seraglio for les 
bourgeois; she aimed at accommodating only people of rank and 
men of fortune, whose purses dilated with their passions, to 
the extravagance of which she always proportioned her demands. 
By these regular means, she in a short time amassed a 
considerable sum of money, purchased into the funds, and set 
the Worship Bench of Justices at defiance, who having 
interrupted her in the pursuit of her lawful calling, she has 
proved herself a woman of fortune, and of course a virtuous 
lady of character and reputation.



Chapter III. 
Charlotte Hayes the next imitator of Mrs Goadby. Her first 
setting-out in life with Lucy Cooper, and Nancy Jones. Some 
memoirs of these females. Charlotte's Connection with Tracey: 
"Her manner of fleecing him. She is lodged in the fleet: Her 
acquaintance with a certain Count. Whimsical anecdotes of him. 
A bon mot of foote. Charlotte's regulation of her household.

Mrs Goadby's uncommon success in her new enterprise, soon 
induced many ladies, who judged themselves properly qualified, 
to imitate her plan, and, if possible, improve upon it. 
Charlotte Hayes, a lady well known for her address in matters 
of intrigue, took the lead; and having hired and fitted up a 
house in King's Place, Pall Mall, entered upon it with great 
�clat a short time after.

A sketch of the life of this lady will not, we believe, be 
unentertaining to our readers.

Charlotte Hayes, Lucy Cooper and Nancy Jones, started upon the 
town at the same time from obscurity, and on a sudden shone in 
splendour at all the public places. A small outline of Lucy's 
character has already been given: as to poor Nancy Jones, she 
was only the meteor of an hour. From having been one of the 
prettiest-faced grizettes upon the town, being seized with 
smallpox, this cruel disorder so entirely distorted her 
features, and removed the smallest vestige of beauty, that it 
was impossible to have recognised her. The consequence must be 
evident to a female in her situation of life. As Nancy had not 
now the least pretentions to captivate, but, on the contrary, 
was rather disgusting in appearance; her old acquaintance 
deserted her, the bagnio keepers no longer introduced her. 
Forced out of her lodging, destitute of clothes, (which had 
been converted into money for her present relief during her 
illness) from rolling in a gay, brilliant chariot, she was 
compelled to trudge the street, in hopes of meeting with an 
inebriate cit, or holiday 'prentice, who might afford her a 
breakfast, or the miserable repast of a few sprats. In the 
course of such a shocking career, she soon contracted a 
certain disorder that qualified her for a patient in the Lock 
Hospital, where she luckily soon paid the great debt of 
nature.

As to Lucy, after the death of her quondam friend, Sir 
Orlando, her affairs took a very disagreeable turn. She had by 
intemperance and debauchery greatly injured her constitution; 
her person, which was at most but genteel, was now much 
changed, and even her vivacity failed her. Palmer, who 
occasionally relieved her wants, died; and she has not charms 
sufficient to captivate a man of such affluence as could 
support her in the same degree of splendour, as she had for 
some time lived. It is true, Fett--ace assisted her as far as 
he was able; but his affairs were so much deranged, that he 
was obliged to make a retreat to the continent, to avoid the 
impertinence of his creditors. Lucy, thus deserted on all 
sides, after having disposed of her plate and furniture for a 
maintenance, soon found the way to the King's Bench, where she 
remained till such time as she was relieved by the Act of 
Insolvency.

After her enlargement, Lucy found she had the world to begin 
again, at a time that, for a female in her line of life, she 
should have made provision for the remainder of her days: She, 
however, found friends to put her into a house the upper end 
of Bow Street, where she carried on business in the small way 
for some time; but being emaciated by her irregularities or 
constant Nocturnal Revels, at the end of a few months she also 
yielded to the Grim Tyrant. Having thus dismissed two of this 
celebrated trio, we now come to the remaining Tha�s, who is 
more immediately the subject of this chapter.

Charlotte, having made a very advantageous connection with 
Beau Tracey, had him so much at her command she could fleece 
him at will; and she had taken the hint from the song, which 
about that time was addressed to Bet Weyms, and ascribed to 
Alexander Stevens:

Dear Betsy, when you get a man, 
Be sure you fleece him all you can, 
As I do every one.

An anecdote of Bet Weyms, which we think will not be 
disagreeable to our readers, we are assured is well 
authenticated. Everyone who knew her is sensible that she had 
an agreeable cast in her eye, not dissimilar to that of the of 
the present Mrs Crawford (late Mrs Barry); but there are few 
who were acquainted with the cause of the dead letter in her 
visual faculties, which made her be nominated the Wall-Eyed 
Beauty. She really possessed but one natural eye, the other 
was artificial. Jack Harrison, of the Rose, came to her one 
evening in a great hurry for Sir Richard Atkins, just as he 
had quarrelled with Fanny Murray, which was usually the case 
once a week. Bet Weyms had been very much intoxicated over 
night with Lucy Cooper at Weatherby's, and she had misplaced 
her artificial eye, which she constantly took out every night 
when she went to bed and lay alone. Harrison returned three 
times, and no eye was to be found. She sent to every Oculist 
with the Bills of Mortality, and no one was to be met with. At 
length the great oratorical operator Dr. Taylor arrived with a 
fine assortment of eyes, of all colours and complexions --

"Your servant, Ma'am! I am very sorry for the accident -- had 
I been apprized with it, you should have been furnished with 
eyes from head to foot in the twinkling of an eye; -- but, as 
it is, I think -- I have brought with me as pretty an ocular 
assortment as could be expected upon so short a warning. Try 
this, Madam, it will do to a shade a perfect twin rival, 
Madam, of your other. Why, Ma'am, one would think that you had 
sat for it. Lady Pentweazle never had such a piercer. Never 
did a chicken glove fit better. I vow, Ma'am, I am almost in 
love with you myself; and if I was not married, I really could 
not resist, for the eye's in the soul, and soul's in the eye. 
Never was there a finer socket, or a happier arrangement."

The sequel of this historiette is, that she arrived just as 
Sir Richard was paying his bill, and when he had almost 
surmounted his refinement to Fanny. However, Bet's sparkling 
eyes prevailed, and proved that Taylor was no botcher.

Charlotte highly approved of the doctrine couched in the song 
above alluded to, and accordingly practised it upon every 
occasion. Tracey, we have already observed, was a very weak 
man with regard to women, though in other respects far from 
devoid of parts and understanding; so that though Charlotte 
was notoriously unfaithful to him, he still winked at it 
without upbraiding her. When she had an inclination to enjoy 
the company of a favourite man, she would take him to the 
Shakespeare or the Rose, and regale him at the Beau's expense 
in the most sumptuous manner; for he having very simply given 
her credit and those houses, often, when he thought there 
might be a score of four or five pounds, there was one of 
thirty or forty. When Charlotte wanted extras, she had a very 
ingenious way of obtaining them. She would call upon Bob at 
his chambers in the Temple, dressed to the greatest advantage, 
and pretend to be in a violent hurry to go to the play, or 
some other public diversion; when having, by these artifices, 
well known to the ladies of her cast, influenced his passions, 
she would not stay a moment, unless he would toss up with her 
for a guinea each time. To this he readily yielded, for the 
sake of her company. Whenever she won, she always took it; 
when she lost, she did not pay. By this means, in about a 
quarter of an hour, she would ease him of all his ready money, 
then bounce away and laugh at him.

It must appear obvious to everyone, that, by pursing such a 
line of conduct, Tracey might in time have squandered away the 
most ample fortune in England. Indeed, he greatly injured his 
own, though very considerable; and at his death, which 
happened a short time after, his affairs were much disordered.

Charlotte ere this had broke with Tracey, and she found it 
expedient to look out for some other admirer, if possible as 
easily prey'd upon as he had been. But this was a difficult 
task; and after a variety of vicissitudes, we find her closely 
immured in the Fleet for debt. While she remained here, she 
made a particular acquaintance, who has since figured away in 
gay life, particularly upon the Turf. He was at that time in 
the same predicament as Charlotte, and was compelled to submit 
to the meanest offices to get a livelihood. At length he 
obtained his liberty by the same means as his Dulcinea, and 
soon fulfilled the adage that "Throw an Irishman into the 
Thames at London Bridge, naked at low water, and he will come 
up at Westminster Bridge, at high water, with a laced coat and 
sword." The Count had not been released from prison many days, 
before he appeared at the tennis court, and some of the polite 
coffee-houses at the West End of the town, dressed in the 
manner above described. In a short time, by dint of assiduity, 
we will not say legerdemain, he got into an elegant house in 
the New Buildings, and absolutely wore gold buckles in his 
shoes. This circumstance is mentioned not so much on account 
of the Count's extravagance, but to display his ingenuity, and 
at the same time his constant eye to temporary resources, 
without displaying his poverty. The County had a pair of 
pinchbeck buckles, made exactly after the same pattern as his 
gold ones. When it was necessary that the latter should make 
an excursion to the pawnbroker's, he substituted the pinchbeck 
ones, and it was almost impossible to distinguish the 
difference, unless taken off to search for the stamp. Thus, 
amongst his acquaintances being known to wear gold buckles, he 
was supposed always to wear them. However, he sometimes found 
it expedient to throw off the deception, and avow the 
imposition; but then, this he never did but to his advantage. 
When in company with some flats, a bet was proposed by one of 
his colleagues, that the Count's buckles either were or were 
not gold; most generally the pigeon would take the bet that 
they were metal. Upon these occasions he had both pairs about 
him, and a had a gold one and a pinchbeck one on at the same 
time. If they were to be produced gold, the proper one was 
first taken off; and whilst that was examining, he substituted 
the other of the same metal from his pocket. By this 
stratagem, he has gained many hundreds, and he still carries 
it on very successfully.

Soon after he began to figure in this vortex, a sum of money 
was won at the Bedford Arms tavern of an American officer, who 
refused paying it, insinuating that he had been defrauded of 
it. The Count being in the mess, as posted at the Bedford 
Coffee-House, where some skirmishes happened, and the Count 
was, by the losing party, brought before Sir John Fielding, to 
give an account of his manner of living. In this situation Sam 
Foote befriended him, and brought him off. However, the Count 
thought himself greatly injured, and swore revenge against the 
American Officer, upon his return to Tom's Coffee House with 
Foote. "By Jasus," said the Count, "he has ruined my 
character, and I will commence an action against him." "Pooh, 
pooh", said Foote, "be quiet -- if he has ruined your 
character, so much the better; for it was a damn'd bad one, 
and the sooner it was destroyed, the more to your advantage." 
The laugh against the poor Count, upon this occasion, was 
intolerable; but he was obliged to laugh too, against his 
conscience, as he was under obligations to the wit; and had he 
resented this fally of humour, he would only have exposed 
himself to some other sarcasms that might have been still more 
cutting.

Whilst the Count was thus labouring in the polite circles to 
fill his purse by the long shuffle, Charlotte was not idle at 
her nunnery in King's Place. She took care to have the 
choicest goods, as she called them, that could be had at the 
market. In other words, her nuns were of the first class, and 
she gave them such instructions as enabled them to pay their 
devotions with great purity and fervour to the Cyprian 
Goddess. Being initiated into all the mysteries of a tally-
woman, by the well-known professor in this branch of the 
Haymarket, Mrs Ward, who had fleeced Charlotte in this way of 
many hundreds; she knew how to fix the price upon a gown, a 
sack, a trollopee<26>, a watch, a pair of buckles, or any 
other trinket. She charged them in proportion for their board, 
washing and lodging; and by keeping her nuns constantly in her 
debt, she secured them; and when any one dared to elope, she 
was secured in a lock-up house till the debt was paid, or she 
agreed to return to her duty, and to yield up all perquisites 
and presents to the Abbess, till such time as the sum, with 
interest, was fully liquidated. Having thus established her 
household, we shall, in the next chapter, communicate some 
anecdotes that will illustrate the mode of her conducting 
business in various different lines, besides the common 
routine of affairs.



Chapter IV. 
Some account of Charlotte's friends and customers. A curious 
Bill of Fare, with the different allotments of her several 
guests. An intrusive visitor, in the person of Captain Toper, 
who throws the whole nunnery into the greatest confusion. A 
whimsical and distressful scene. The sequel and catastrophe.

Charlotte having thus regulated her household for common 
customers; such as debilitated peers, who depended more upon 
art than nature, for any gratifications they might receive 
from female charms; for having worn out their regular 
passions, if passions can be called regular, they were obliged 
to have recourse not only to the whole Materia Medica, but to 
every factitious aid of female invention; such as impotent 
Aldermen, and rich Levites, who fancied that their amorous 
abilities were not in the least decayed, but that they did not 
expand in their greatest vigour within the civic walls, where 
their incessant thoughts of business, the rise and fall of 
stocks, and the like, so engrossed, and as it were, riveted 
their attention by a kind of instinct, that they could not 
give any scope to ideas of a more liberal kind, or work up 
their imaginations to a sufficient pitch of luxuriant frenzy, 
as zealously to pay their devotions to the Cyprian Goddess: 
These Charlotte considered as some of her choicest friends. 
And though on the eastern side of Temple Bar they calculated 
interest of a shilling for a half an hour, when once they had 
emerged beyond that boundary, they forgot the value of gold, 
or, like the citizen in the play, parted with it very easily 
when it was light, and they could not pay it into their 
bankers. For these inamoratos, who aimed at youth and beauty, 
she had always a stock of virgins in store, who administrated 
inexpressible delight by their vestal embraces. A Kitty Young, 
or a Nancy Feathers, being new faces to the fumbling cits, 
they could easily be passed off for vestals, with a little 
skilful preparation; and these, with some other innocent 
vargins, have been played upon almost the whole court of 
Aldermen by turns, and have also supplied the Stock Exchange 
for several months with real immaculate maidenheads.

To see Charlotte's bill of fare, upon these occasions, would 
make a cynic smile.

Sunday, January 9th
A maid, for Alderman Dry-Bones -- Nell Blossom, 
about nineteen, has not been in company these four 
days, and was prepared for a state of vestalship 
last night. 
20 
guin.
A Bona Roba,<27> for Lord Spasm -- If the first-rate 
at St. Clement's should not easily be found, Black 
Moll from Hedge Lane, if out of the Lock, and in 
good health, or Barge-a----se Wilson, from Rupert 
Street.
5 guin.
Sir Harry Flagellum, exactly at nine ---- Nell Handy 
from Bow Street, or Bet Flourish from Berners 
Street, or Mrs Birch from Chapel Street
10 
guin.
Colonel Tearall ---- A modest woman.Mrs Mitchell's 
Cook-Maid being just come from the country, and a 
new face; or the Countess of La Fleur, from the 
Seven Dials. N.B. Her flash-man, La Fleur, must 
dress her to the best advantage.
Paper 
at 
least.
Doctor Frettext, after church is over ---- Delicate, 
with a very white, soft hand, pliant, and affable. 
Poll Nimblewrist, Oxford Market, or Jenny 
Speedyhand, from Mayfair.
2 guin.
Lady Loveit, just come from Bath, much disappointed 
in her amour with Lord Atall; desires to go upon 
sure ground, and be well mounted this evening, 
before she goes to the Duchess of Basto's rout ---- 
Captain O'Thunder, or Sawney Rawbone.
50 
guin.
His Excellency Count Alto ---- a woman of fashion, 
for la bagatelle<28> only, for about an hour. Mrs 
O'Smirk, just come from Dunkirk, or Miss Graceful 
from Paddington.
10guin.
Lord Pyebald, to play a party at piquet, patter les 
tetons,<29> and  the like, without coming to any 
extremity but that of politeness and etiquette. ---- 
Mrs Tredrille, from Chelsea.
5 guin.


This specimen of Charlotte's bill of fare will give the reader 
some idea of the manner of her conducting business; but, 
perhaps, he will be at a loss to conjecture how she could 
provide her customers with different apartments, sufficient to 
accommodate them all at the same time, according to their 
various favourite amusements. Upon an emergency, this might be 
done; and she was so excellent a Directress and Superintendent 
of her household, that all her friends were suited agreeable 
to their wants and their prices. The Doctor was mounted in the 
three pair of stairs; Lady Loveit had the drawing room, sofa, 
and the adjoining tent bed; Alderman Drybones was crammed in 
the chintz chamber bed, which, though small, was elegant and 
used only upon vestal occasions; Sir Harry Flagellum was 
whipped in the nursery, where there were accommodations of 
every sort to please him; Lord Spasm had the high French 
bedroom; the Colonel took his chance in the parlour upon the 
settee; and the County and Lord Pyebald were entertained in 
the saloon of chastity and the card room. Whilst Charlotte was 
preparing the bill of fare just given, she was interrupted by 
the arrival of a certain young nobleman, whom she had often 
entertained at her house, and to whom she had given the most 
ample satisfaction. His Lordship entered with his usual 
hilarity, and after calling for a bottle of champagne, desired 
Charlotte's company to drink a glass; she readily consented, 
telling him, at the same time, that she had a deal of business 
upon her hands, and hoped his Lordship would soon dismiss her. 
After drinking two or three constitutional bumpers, agreeable 
to the Charter of the Seminary, he told Charlotte, he was come 
about a very important business, and in which she must be the 
principal agent. Said he, "I was last night at Arthur's, and 
having a run of ill luck, and being not a little vexed that my 
rival should be my successful rival as well at play as in bed, 
I offered him a thousand guineas, that he would once within 
this month be confined with a certain fashionable disorder."

"Well, my Lord" said Charlotte, "and how can I assist you in 
this business?"

"Why, I'll tell you," he replied; "to my certain knowledge, he 
has a criminal intercourse with my wife: by your procuring me 
a piece that is in proper order for the purpose by tomorrow 
night, I shall be enabled to be completely revenged of my wife 
for her infidelity, and of my rival for his former good 
fortune."

"Heavens!" cried Charlotte, who thought he wanted to insult 
her, and call the credit of her house in question -- "you 
astonish me! And I think you use me very ill, my Lord, 
considering the constant care I have always paid to your 
Lordship's health and welfare. I know of no such rotten cattle 
as you talk of; they never come under my roof, I assure your 
Lordship."

It was now time for his Lordship to come a still more 
particular explanation; and by way of convincing her of the 
truth of what he said, and that he did not mean to insult her, 
he took out his pocket book, and presented her with a thirty 
pound bank note. This kind of advocacy had its usual kind of 
prevalence: Charlotte now listened to him with attention, and 
promised to procure him an object suitable to his wishes; a 
happy consummation ensued, and here we shall the curtain for 
the present.

In about a fortnight's time, Lord ---- disappeared at 
Arthur's, and the injured husband was convicted that the two-
fold inoculation he had intended had taken the desired effect. 
The next time the connubial rival appeared in public, his 
antagonist demanded his wager; and, in order to avoid a 
farther discussion; and, in order to avoid a farther 
discussion of the affair, he immediately paid the money.

Thus, we see in what a variety of services Charlotte was 
obliged to engage; she was necessitated to produce virgins 
that long since had been deflowered; females disposed for 
gratifying every possible or imaginary caprice which flesh is 
heir to; riding masters for ladies, capable of giving the most 
sensible lessons at almost a minute's warning; like 
Tattersall, to procure cattle warranted sound, under severe 
penalties; and, still more extraordinary, cattle warranted 
unsound, under similar penalties.

Towards nine o'clock Charlotte had got through most of the 
important business of the evening, and was preparing for a 
comfortable meal, having had no time to sit down to a morsel 
all day, when one of the maids, in going for some porter, 
imprudently left the street door open. Captain Toper, coming 
reeling from the tavern, made in consequence an unexpected 
entry, and going up stairs, opened the drawing room door, 
which Captain O'Thunder had by a national mistake forgot to 
bolt, and Lady Loveit was too much in a hurry to think of such 
trifles. Captain Toper discovered O'Thunder and her Ladyship 
in amorous dalliance upon the sofa, where she was giving a 
loose to her fondest desires, and much resembled, in her own 
opinion, the Venus de Medicis; O'Thunder was in his shirt and 
without breeches; the reader will readily supply any farther 
description of their situation. Their astonishment and 
surprise was equal to their alarming distress, when Toper, 
instead of retiring, upon finding his error, could not refrain 
from crying out with ecstasy, "An angel, by heavens!" whilst 
he gazed upon her Ladyship's charms with rapture. Mr 
O'Thunder, though an Irishman, was so confounded and ashamed, 
that he could not for some moments recollect himself, or know 
what to say, or how to act; at length he exclaimed, "By Jasus, 
this is very rude and impertinent to interrupt a gemman and a 
lady in their private amusements!" In saying this, he jumped 
from the sofa, and taking Toper by the collar, began to baste 
him pretty lustily. The lady screamed out; and the noise and 
uproar brought together as whimsical a group as every was 
pictured upon canvas. Doctor Frettext came running, or rather 
tumbling down stairs, with his breeches unbuttoned, and his 
shirt hanging out; and Poll Nimblewrist without her stays, and 
her dugs hanging below her apron string -- Alderman Drybones 
appeared with a pot of pomatum in his hand, with a torrent of 
liquid snuff oozing from his nose into his mouth. Count Alto 
expressed his surprise in saying, "Diantre, quel fracas pour 
une maison si bien regl�e!"<30> Lord Pyebald came with his 
cards in his hands, greatly mortified at having lost his deal, 
occasioned by the uproar, though he was playing for nothing. 
Colonel Tearall, with his modest lady, appeared almost in 
puris naturalibus<31>, much terrified at the apprehensions of 
fire. Lord Spasm shook like an aspen leaf, and stumbled, for 
want of vigour, upon Lady Loveit. As to poor Charlotte, she 
fell into fits, lest the character of her house should be 
called in question, and Lady Loveit's reputation suffer the 
least blemish from this riotous interruption.

It was soon resolved and agreed on by all parties, that 
Captain Toper should be expelled; and Captain O'Thunder 
undertook the task of disciplinarian upon the occasion; but no 
sooner had Toper reached the street, than, meeting with some 
of his inebriate companions, who had staggered after him, they 
made an attack in form upon the defenceless chairs that stood 
unguarded in Pall Mall; they plunged their swords into these 
useful leathern conveyances, and broke the glasses, which soon 
called forth their masters from an adjacent night-cellar, when 
a general engagement ensued. The chairmen having armed 
themselves with their poles, presently brought the tremendous 
Captain Toper to reason; and he, with his corps, being 
levelled with the ground, they were secured and conveyed to 
the round-house to pass the remainder of the night. Here we 
shall at present leave them to snore away their misfortunes, a 
prey to watchmen and constables of the night, in order to be a 
still greater the morning to a Trading-Justice, where we shall 
attend to them, in order to bail them if they should want it, 
or afford them any other assistance in our power.



Chapter V. 
Some curious examinations before Justice Stubble, with the 
equity of his learned decisions. Captain Toper's appearance 
before him for his frolic the preceding night. His reception. 
Curious dispositions of his accusers. Stubble's attention to 
business. Captain Toper challenges O'Thunder, who refuses to 
accept it. The consequences.

The next day, about noon, Captain Toper and his friends were 
convened before Justice Stubble, not far from the parish of 
St. James's. As this was Saint Monday, there was a very 
respectable appearance of Barbers, Publicans, Butchers and 
Informers; the last of whom came upon the most important 
business imaginable -- that of eating. Justice Stubble, with 
his usual eloquence, learning and judgment, interrogated some 
of the delinquents in nearly the following matter;

JUSTICE. Well, Sir, (to Razor, the first), what have you got 
to say for yourself?

RAZOR. Please you Worship's honour, I was only shaving a 
neighbour's wife, that she might make a decent appearance at 
the tabernacle, where she never fails going every Sunday 
morning; and please you, this act does not say there is any 
fine or penalty in shaving a woman on the Lord's day.

JUST. I do not know that; besides, I don't know whether it was 
a woman or a man, or a hairy mophrodite, and most probably she 
was a hairy mophrodite, or else she would not have a beard; 
and it is a great sin, and a crime, and a shame to encourage 
such monsters. Pay the penalty this instant, and think 
yourself very well off that I don't send you to Bridewell. 
Shaving hairy mophrodites on the Lord's day! Was there ever 
such a thing known in a Christian country!

JUST. Ay, Mr Bounce: you keep a tippling house for disorderly 
people of a Sunday, and in sermon time! Can you denyit?

BOUNCE. Why, your Honour's noble worship -- there is nobody 
more careful than me of keeping my doors shut on the Sabbath; 
but a poor man fell into a fit, and I thought it was charity 
to give him a little water; and that he did not drink, for it 
was flung in his face.

JUST. Very charitable indeed! A pretty story! Strong water, 
you mean, to bung his eye with. No no, that won't do. What 
business had you with a man in a fit? Could not you mind your 
own concern! Charity begins at home. I never give anything 
away -- no, not so much as a drop of water; but I know the 
law. Pay the fine, and never think of assisting people in 
fits, especially on a Sunday. You know it is contrary to law 
and justice, and everything else. Who is the next? Oh! Mr 
Surloin. Well, Sir, what excuse can you have?

SURLOIN. Why, please your Worship, many poor working men 
cannot get their money time enough to go to market on a 
Saturday night, and I think it no sin or crime to prevent 
their starving on a Sunday.

JUST: Why, you blockhead, do not you know that it is contrary 
to the Act of Parliament to sell meat on a Sunday? And if 
these poor people starve, as you call it, on Sunday, they 
starve according to law. Pay the penalty.

These, and some other delinquents for trifling offences, being 
thus summarily and judiciously dismissed, the Captain and his 
friends were brought forward, and allowed to be seated: as 
Justice Stubble very shrewdly guessed that a pretty penny 
might be made of them, he thought this indulgence should be 
allowed.

JUST. Gemmen, I am sorry to see gemmen of your rank and 
appearance, and all that, upon such an occasion: but you know 
I must see justice done, and all that; whereof I must enter 
into the merits of your demerits, and all that.

CAPTAIN TOPER. A mere frolic, your Worship! Such a one as I 
dare say you've often been concerned in, when a young fellow.

JUST. I don't know what you mean by a frolic. Frolics may be 
attended with serious consequences. I've known a waiter thrown 
out of a two pair of stairs window, and killed on the spot, 
and then the master of the house ordered to put him in the 
bill -- and this was a frolic. You Chairmen there, what have 
you to allege against these here gemmen?

OMNES. By Jasus, and plase your Honour.

JUST. One at a time, or I cannot hear you. [To his Clerk, mind 
and keep an exact account of their Oaths.] 

1ST CHAIRMAN: 'Pon my soul, and my own conscience, the Captain 
and these three other gemmen beat, bruised and maimed our 
chairs in a most unmerciful manner; and when we came to our 
friend's assistance, they drew their swords, and knocked us 
down and up, and down again, by main strengths. Look at my 
head, and by St. Patrick's own dear self, you'll see how I 
have been used and abused, not at all at all.

Three other Chairmen of the same country deposed to the like 
effect, and with equal precision; one only adding, that the 
uproar was so great, that it terrified his wife, who lived in 
St. Giles's, who miscarried of two twins, who were likely to 
die and do well.

Captain Toper and his friends being called upon to offer what 
they had to urge in their defence, said, that as they had done 
the Chairman's property some little damage, they were willing 
to make any reasonable satisfaction. This proposal being 
agreed by all parties, a chair maker was called in, and 
deposed, that the to the best of his judgment, the damage 
might amount to five or six and twenty shillings; but that he 
thought a guinea and a half would be a full compensation.

The Chairmen grumbled very much at this decision, and began to 
talk about loss of time whilst the chairs were mending; but no 
attention was paid to their murmuring; the Captain and his 
friends paid the money, and what other reasonable demands were 
made upon them, and departed.

The Justice now resumed his seat, saying, "Well, Mr Clerk, I 
think you have got a guinea and a half in hand; now, how many 
oaths have these bog trotters sworn?" Upon which the Clerk 
replied, in an audible voice, "forty-eight". "Why then," 
resumed the Justice, "at a shilling an oath, you have just 
sixteen shillings and six pence to pay upon balance."

The Chairmen now were quite outrageous, and were for departing 
without settling this just account; but half a dozen runners 
being in readiness to handcuff them and conduct them to 
Bridewell, and a mittimus being ordered for their commitment, 
for insulting the Justice in his office, they found themselves 
under the necessity of submitting, and returned to their 
stands without a shilling among them.

The Captain being returned to his lodgings, after cleaning and 
refreshing himself, began to reflect upon last night's 
adventure. He ruminated upon the grossness of the insult he 
received from Captain O'Thunder, and therefore, the honour of 
his cloth, resolved to call Mr O'Thunder to account in a 
gentleman-like manner. He accordingly made inquiry where 
O'Thunder lodged, and having found out his address, wrote him 
a billet to the following purport.

"Sir, 
The insult I received from you last night is of such a 
nature, that, as a gentleman and soldier, I must insist 
upon immediate satisfaction. Your time and place I expect 
by your answer."

To this Captain Toper received the following reply:

"Upon my shoul now, this is a very quare business you 
want to be after; but it will not suit me at all at all, 
for I have killed my man at Drogheda, and another at 
Lucas's; and so you see as how, whether I kill you or you 
kill me this time, I am fighting with a halter about my 
neck; and if I was to die upon the spot, I might be 
hanged afterwards; which by the way is very 
uncomfortable. So my dear Sir, you'll plase excuse me, 
Being in every thing else, 
Yours to command, 
Patrick O'Thunder"

This curious epistle of Captain O'Thunder being publicly 
exhibited by Captain Toper, Patrick did not dare show his face 
in any coffee house afterwards; but what was still worse for 
poor O'Thunder, Lady Loveit having heard of his cowardice, 
would not suffer him to meet her at the usual rendezvous; 
thinking, as he had declined defending his honour as well as 
her own, he was beneath her notice, notwithstanding the 
vigorous and successful efforts he had made to please her, 
when upon amorous duty; and she immediately took Sawney 
Rawbone into constant pay. What is become of poor Patrick, is 
not generally know; but it is imagined he may be found on 
board the Justitia under another name.



Chapter VI. 
Some account of Mrs Mitchell's method of conducting business. 
Adventures of Miss P--lm--r. Her acquaintance with Mrs 
Mitchell. An alarming situation, followed by a most 
extraordinary discovery. The agreeable consequences of this 
affair to Miss Palmer.

We shall now change the scene, for the sake of variety, and 
call in at Mrs Mitchell's next door. This lady did not deal so 
much with nobility, as she did with citizens, and sometimes 
their wives. Her best customers were to be served with choice 
goods, as she considered the reputation of her house depended 
upon this circumstance. Accordingly she constantly lay in wait 
for young ladies, who, either disgusted at the rigour of their 
parents, or from their ambition to shinein high life, and 
insatiable fashion for dress, or from an irreparable faux pas, 
had eloped from their friends, and quitted the path of 
chastity for the high road of destruction.

Miss P--lm--r, whose father was a considerable merchant in the 
city, being a widower, and willing to see his daughter settled 
in the world before he reengaged in the state of matrimony, 
had found, as he imagined, a good match for her, in the person 
of a Portuguese merchant, who was esteemed vastly rich. The 
young lady was at this time but seventeen, was remarkably tall 
of her age, and very genteel; she had fine blue eyes, that 
expressed, but modestly expressed, the emotions of her soul, 
and would have fired an hermit, made him forget his cell, and 
all his vows of celibacy; in a word, her whole frame was 
calculated to inspire the tender passion in its fullest 
extent.

Her intended husband was turned of fifty, and had not been 
favoured by nature with either a graceful person, or a 
pleasing countenance. He had passed the spring and summer of 
his life in those sultry climates which are not very 
favourable to the complexion, and his was now one of the 
darkest that are frequently met with Europeans. By his 
incessant pursuit of business, and plodding for the main 
chance, he had contract an illiberal turn of mind, which 
seemed to be estranged from all the nobler passions, and the 
fine feelings of heart. Figure to yourself then, reader, from 
this sketch, such a man to be the helpmate for life to the 
lovely Lucy we have just depicted. Can it be surprising, that 
she should object to such a lover, or that she did not 
implicitly obey the commands of her father upon this occasion? 
But his mandates were irrevocable, and he could not be 
diverted from the purpose of his resolution, by all the tender 
entreaties, all the imploring felicitations of his beauteous 
daughter; in vain her eyes streamed, whilst upon her knees she 
bathed his hand in tears, only requesting a short respite from 
the dreadful sacrifice. A day was fixed on for their nuptials, 
and she was ordered to prepare for the same. In this dilemma, 
she resolved upon a desperate step she determined upon an 
elopement, which she carried into execution the night before 
her intended marriage.

Her mantua-maker lodged at the extremity of the town towards 
Berkley Square. She was a woman possessed of those female 
artifices calculated to betray innocence, and sacrifice her 
own sex for a little lucre. She had ingratiated herself into 
Lucy's good opinion by flattery, and those apparent 
assiduities and affections which might impose upon a young 
female who had acquired far more knowledge of the world than 
Miss P--lm--r. To this imaginary friend she repaired, with 
what clothes she could conveniently covey by a coach, and with 
what little money she had saved from her pocket allowance. Mrs 
Crisp, for such was the mantua-maker's name, received Lucy 
with open arms; caressed her, as if she had been her own 
child; and having learnt all the circumstances of her story, 
and the cause of taking this rash step, she highly commended 
the young lady's conduct, saying, she should have acted 
precisely in the same manner, had she been in a similar 
situation; "especially," she added, "if she could have replied 
upon so trusty a friend, as she flattered herself Miss P--lm--
r would find in her."

The consolation she received from this artful woman greatly 
solaced the unfortunate wanderer; she recovered her 
cheerfulness, and, a few days after, was prevailed upon to pay 
a visit with Mrs Crisp to a particular friend of the latter, 
who was represented as a very agreeable, sociable woman, and 
who would entertain them nobly.

Lucy was easy persuaded to pay this visit, as she had been 
confined to the house for some days, to avoid detection, 
having seen an advertisement in the papers describing her 
person, with a considerable reward for discovering where she 
was concealed.

A coach was accordingly called, and ordered to drive to Pall 
Mall. The reader will, ere now, anticipate poor Lucy's 
destination, and already shudder at the fate of this 
unfortunate girl. They were received by Mrs Mitchell with 
great politeness, as this lady had previously been made 
acquainted with Miss P--lm--r's story, and was convinced of 
what treasure she would soon be in possession of.

Tea, coffee, sweetmeats, and every kind of refreshment, were 
produced in the utmost profusion. Miss P--lm--r was for 
returning for supper; but she was prevailed upon to stay. Mrs 
Mitchell then strenuously enticed them to remain all night, as 
the weather was extremely bad, and it would be almost 
impossible to get a coach. Lucy very strenuously objected to 
this measure at first; but was over-ruled by Mrs Crisp, who 
said it was a very lucky invitation, as she had entirely 
forgot her apartments were to begin white-washing and painting 
the very next morning. This stratagem had so far its desired 
effect; that is, it induced Lucy to remain all night at Mother 
Mitchell's, but unannoyed by any brutal assailant.

Miss P--lm--r was going to rise early in the morning, but Mrs 
Crisp, her female chum, advised Lucy to remain in bed till her 
return, as the lady of the house did not breakfast till 
eleven; and that she was going to wait on the Duchess of A----
r with a new sack and coat. Under this influence Lucy remained 
till she was invited to breakfast, which was in Mrs Mitchell's 
bedchamber. The breakfast was of long continuance; Lucy was 
urgently pressed to taste some cordials, but she politely 
excused herself. At length dinner time arrived, but no Mrs 
Crisp. Lucy now began to be thoughtful, but suspected no 
design upon her virtue. Mrs Mitchell at this very moment 
received a note from Mrs Crisp, informing her, that she was 
suddenly taken ill at a friend's house, and could not return 
agreeable to her promise to the young lady; but requested, as 
a peculiar favour, that the utmost care might be taken of her, 
and the greatest attention paid her. Mrs Mitchell no sooner 
read the note, than she drank Mrs Crisp's good health, and 
hoped her example would be followed in a bumper. Lucy 
reluctantly complied; but was quite unacquainted with, till 
she had swallowed, the liquor that she was drinking, the 
greatest part of a gill of brandy. It soon operated upon her 
tender frame; she presently fell into a doze, and did not wake 
till Mrs Mitchell informed her, a very particular friend of 
hers was waiting for Miss Lucy. As soon as she had recovered 
herself, she immediately conceived it was Mrs Crisp, who had 
called to take her home; but the case was very different.

No sooner had Mrs Crisp got Miss P--lm--r in her possession, 
than she flew to Mother Mitchell, to inform her what a lovely 
guest she had, describing her minutely; and Mrs Mitchell 
immediately pointed out what advantage might be made of her. 
She said she had a particular friend in the city, a very 
wealthy merchant, who had long panted to be in the arms of 
such an object; and that he had given her a carte blanche to 
procure her; that if things could be brought to bear, Mrs 
Crisp should have her poundage, and a handsome douceur into 
the bargain. The terms were agreed to, the plan layed, and so 
far executed. Mrs Mitchell had written a billet to her 
principal, and he had promised punctually to wait upon the 
fair incognita that evening.

It was thought necessary, even at this crisis, to carry the 
deception on a little farther; and to prevent the blushes of 
real modesty, and the shock of impending ruin, from operating 
too forcibly, to conduct Lucy into a dark room, where her 
friend lay perdu. On her entering the premises, she said with 
great innocence, "Lord, Mrs Crisp, you have stayed a long 
while -- I am glad you are come" -- "And I am very glad," 
replied a male voice; when seizing the fair innocent by the 
hand, he pulled her upon a sofa, and took such liberties as 
soon convinced Lucy of her real situation, and her imminent 
danger. She screamed most vociferously; but this for some 
minutes had not the least effect. At length, when her spirits 
and powers began to fail her; and she could only utter, in a 
faltering voice, "Save me! Oh" Save me, if you are a man, a 
Christian, or a parent!" Mother Mitchell, thinking the 
business was sufficiently accomplished, appeared with candles, 
and a smile of approbation and reproof were at once blended in 
her countenance. The cruel spoiler started from the couch of 
incest, and stood confessed -- HER FATHER!

Reader, let imagination supply the place of words; depict to 
yourself this extraordinary, this critical, this dreadful 
situation. Mr P--lm--r now fell on his knees, and in tears and 
supplications invoked her forgiveness. Her unexpected cruel 
treatment, the astonishment of such a discovery, and many 
concomitant ideas hurried upon her too fast, they overcame her 
reason -- she swooned, and did not recover till she found 
herself in her own bedchamber at her Father's, with the 
following letter sealed upon her chair.
"My dear, sweet, innocent, and much injured girl, what 
apology can I make you for the repeated injuries and 
insults you have received at my hands? You were indeed 
upon the brink of destruction and your own father had 
nearly been the deflowerer of his own daughter; but happy 
I am to find, from various circumstances, in consequence 
of the strictest enquiry, that you are still immaculate! 
May you always remain so, is my most fervent prayer!
"As some trifling atonement for my past faults, errors, 
crimes and vices, enclosed you will find bank bills to 
the amount of six thousand pounds. Dispose of it as you 
please; fix upon the man of your own heart; let him be 
deserving of it, and he must have merit indeed! Then I 
will double sum for your portion, and hope to see you 
supremely blessed.
I am, more than words can express."



Chapter VII. 
On beauty. Female affection for it. A scale of beauty. Some 
observations on the same. Hogarth's Line of Beauty 
exemplified. The violent deviations from the Cyprian votaries.

Saint Evremond tells us, that the last sighs of a fine woman 
are more for the loss of her beauty than for her life; and 
experience seems amply to evince the truth of the affection. 
As I propose confining this chapter entirely to beauty, by way 
of a beautiful digression, of course it will be very short; 
and I hope my readers will not think, that, in imitation of 
the great and flower Mr Burke, they are here to meet with the 
sublime into the bargain. To the point.

SCALE OF BEAUTY
DIVINE.
ANGELIC.
ADORBALE.
CHARMING.
BEAUTIFUL.
PRETTY.
AGREEABLE.
JE NE SAIS QUOI.
LE TOUT ENSEMBLE.
[We doubt not but 
every female in 
England, who is 
justly entitled to 
rank as tout 
ensemble, will think 
herself divine; we 
shall not, 
therefore, class any 
of our fair readers 
upon the Ton -- but 
leave them to take 
their own places to 
their own 
satisfaction.]
	Hogarth has described the line of beauty by an 
S;

Yet we have doubt whether Charlotte Hayes, Mrs Adams, or the 
great Goadby herself ever adverted to this type of beauty, in 
the choice of their Cyprian votaries. Polly C---- more 
resembles a bouncing B than any other letter in the alphabet, 
and seems to be framed after that model exhibited at the 
printer's in Ratcliffe Highway. Kitty M---- calls to our mind 
a long J; and notwithstanding all of the cosmetic art she 
solicits to her aid, the first letter of the jaundice cannot 
be concealed. Charlotte L---- indicates the K by her tetons 
pastiches,<32> and her extravagant cork rump. Mrs M----n 
conveys a very striking idea of a W, by reason of the fluency 
of her neck, as Lord M--n has often passionately experienced. 
Nelly W----r, whenever she does not make a conquest at a play, 
strongly resembles an X; for she is then so very cross, there 
is no bearing to be under the same roof, until the door-bell 
rings to announce Sir Andrew Pimple reeling from the St. 
Alban's. But we approach too near the letter Z, for any 
farther comparisons, even by initials, as the reader will be 
thoroughly convinced of in the following chapter.



Chapter VIII. 
On deformity. The advantages arising from it to the female 
world. Scale of deformity.

By way of contrast to the former chapter, and in imitation of 
the late ingenious Mr Hay; having dismissed all my beauties in 
my former chapter, I have now plenty of room for frights of 
every class. But to put my fair readers a little in good 
humour, and reconcile them to the disagreeable portraits on 
the other side, I shall remind them of the advantages that may 
be derived from ugliness, or even deformity, in its 
superlative degree. Look around the world and examine how few 
women have, in any degree, approached to happiness by road of 
beauty; and how many, far many more, have been ruined by a 
fine face. In the most elevated ranks of life, a fine woman no 
sooner appears upon horizon of gaiety, than she is surrounded, 
nay pestered by the fops and witlings of the day. If she has a 
large fortune to recommend her to a good match, she may, 
perhaps, marry a man of rank, with a broken constitution and a 
vitiated taste, who may, probably, pay her some assiduities 
for a few weeks, and then think, that having conferred a title 
on her, he has sufficiently counterbalanced her fortune, which 
may in a great measure be anticipated by gaming debts, 
mortgages and annuities. Finding herself thus slighted by the 
man whom she listened to for the sake of a coronet only, her 
vanity is hurt at his coolness, and she resolves upon 
retaliation the very first opportunity, perhaps with her groom 
or her hairdresser. A divorce soon ensues, as his Lordship 
finds another fortune convenient, if not necessary. Her 
Ladyship is true, may now roam at large; but then she is 
contemned and despised by the virtuous and sensible part of 
her own sex, and treated with indignity by every man, who 
fancies he has a right to participate of her charms, after she 
has thus publicly recorded herself a prostitute. To a woman of 
sensibility and delicate feelings, this state must be hardly 
supportable; as at times, in spite of all her levity, she must 
endure such reflections, as will be too pungent for any female 
entirely lost to all shame.

But view a pretty female at the dawn of beauty, exposed to all 
the artifices of seduction, all the wiles of pimps and 
pandars. Without friends to protect or advise her; without a 
fortune to secure her a husband; with, perhaps, too much pride 
to condescend to a menial state; judging her beauty entitles 
her to rank with gentry, if not nobility; she falls an easy 
prey to vanity and ambition, and soon finds herself devoted to 
deformity and disease, the tyranny of bawds, and the outcast 
of society; at length, perhaps, doomed to pay the last debt of 
nature in a prison or a hospital. My frolicsome readers will, 
perhaps, think I am too grave upon the occasion, and moralise 
where I should amuse and entertain; I shall, therefore, 
terminate this chapter in a less sententious manner.

As Hogarth has described the line of beauty to be a S, by a 
parity of descriptive reasoning, deformity may be typified by 
a Z, as the most crooked letter in the alphabet; and the scale 
of deformity will stand as follows.

The ne plus ultra of deformity: or the last letter of the 
alphabet;
DEFORMED. 
UGLY. 
FORBIDDING. 
UNCOUTH. 
DISAGREEABLE. 
AWKWARD. 
UNMEANING. 
PASSABLE.

Amongst all my female acquaintances, I do not know one that 
does not think herself more than passable; I cannot therefore 
suppose that any lady whatever will lay claim to a niche in 
this gallery, though there is ample room for two-thirds of the 
female creation to have their busts with great propriety fixed 
here. But as we forbore to mortify any part of the fair sex, 
by giving them an inferior rank even in the scale of beauty; 
much less shall we carry impoliteness so far as to suggest to 
any individual, that even the ne plus ultra of deformity may 
with justice be filled by Miss ----, Lady ----, and many more 
self-created toasts of the age, notwithstanding the advantages 
we have so plainly pointed out arising from ugliness and 
deformity, in the first part of this chapter.



Chapter IX. 
Kitty Nelson's preparations for making a regular devotional 
attack upon a certain ambassador . The unfortunate 
catastrophe. Her acquaintance with Mr O'Fl----ty. Proves to be 
a Romish Priest. His pious instructions, and mode of penance. 
His adventures in nunneries and abroad. His exploits here. 
Commences quack, and his reasons for quitting that trade.

Kitty Nelson (who had lately been discarded from Mrs Goadby's) 
had long heard with envy of Lady Cr----n's successful charms, 
and she was provoked to see her tea-pot in all the print-
shops. His Excellency, the S---- A---- had slipped through her 
fingers, when she expected a very ample douceur from that 
Nobleman's generosity. He had visited her several times, made 
her some small presents, and hinted that he should probably 
make a settlement, were she of the Romish persuasion; she 
declared she was; but unfortunately could not answer some 
interrogatories that were put to her by the Count. 
Nevertheless, upon hearing a rupture had taken place between 
Lady C----n and the ambassador , she resolved upon making a 
bold stroke for recovering her admirer. This was dressing 
herself to the utmost advantage, taking a coach, repairing to 
his own chapel, and placing herself in the most conspicuous 
point of view to attract his attention, and appear as devout 
as a Magdalene.

She rose accordingly very early that morning, sent for her 
hairdresser, and began the operations of the toilette by eight 
o'clock. Her faithful glass was attentively studied for two 
hours, whilst Monsieur Le Friseur entered upon his employment 
of opening her head, for the first time within a month, a 
routing a legion of assailants in every part. A fresh 
collection of rouge, pearly powder, and other cosmetics, was 
for the first time unpacked upon this occasion as she was 
resolved to outvie every devotional beauty present, at least 
in point of complexion. By eleven o'clock she appeared, in her 
own opinion, a perfect Venus, and Monsieur confirmed her in 
this notion. She fallied forth in the full expectation of 
making a most excellent conquest. She had studied her smiles 
and dimples, which she proposed occasionally throwing in 
amidst the operation of her religious ogles.

On her way, she missed her prayer book, which she had prepared 
for this pious attack, and which was the only religious proof 
she had in the world: it was requisite, therefore, to return, 
which she did with the utmost expedition, fearful of being too 
late for high mass. However, she was just in time upon her 
arrival; and on entering the chapel with a majestic air, she 
was saluted in a very unexpected manner. A very zealous 
devotee observing her not to pay proper attention to the pot 
of holy water, kindly officiated for her, and in so copious a 
manner, that she screamed out, and apparently fainted; so 
different an effect had water upon her at this time to what it 
might at some other period. The truth is, her fright was 
occasioned by the depredations made upon her charms by this 
unexpected inundation in her face -- the rouge ran one way, 
the blanc another, and formed small rivulets of red and white 
down her neck. The graces were abolished, the Venus was 
destroyed, and the unfortunate Kitty, from somewhat more than 
an angle, as she imagined herself at starting, was, by this 
holy deluge, washed down to a common woman -- indeed!

A great uproar ensued, and she was obliged to be reconducted 
to her coach, and a surgeon was sent for to let her blood: but 
she soon recovered her senses; and having directly pulled out 
her pocket looking glass, was so terrified at the frightful 
appearance she made, that she now really swooned, and a 
phlebotomic operation was absolutely expedient to bring her to 
herself.

This untoward accident great disconcerted Kitty's religious 
plan, which she was still unwilling to give up, as she 
flattered herself it had not reached his Excellency's ears, 
and as she thought another devotional attack might still prove 
successful. She recollected that an Irish gentleman, named 
O'F----ty, frequently visited her, and notwithstanding the 
disorder and confusion that had arisen from her accident, she 
thought she caught a glimpse of him then officiating at the 
altar; and the next time he visited her, she was resolved, if 
possible, to worm the secret from him, in order to be properly 
instructed in her next attack upon his Excellency. Many days 
did not elapse before he called upon her, and in the course of 
conversation, mentioned Kitty's adventure at the chapel, not 
knowing that she was the very lady in question. She improved 
upon the subject, and told him that she was present, and said, 
she thought she had seen him in a very devout situation. Being 
thus taxed in a so close a manner, he blushed at first, but 
soon recovered his national assurance so well, as to get the 
better of any shame that might lurk under the discovery. He 
said he was glad to find in her a lady of such good 
disposition, and he would endeavour to give her the best 
instructions in his power for the salvation of her soul: that 
theirs was a very indulgent religion: that penance covered a 
multitude of sins; and that confession, and wearing a hairy 
waistcoat next the skin, once a month, did not leave the least 
remorse behind: that with regard to himself, she might sin (if 
sinning it would be called) with impunity, as he was a Priest, 
and save herself the trouble of confession. In fine, he 
explained to her all such mysteries as he thought necessary to 
be explained to her; when at mass to kneel, and rise; when to 
take holy water, and in what quantity; for she was very 
attentive to this circumstance, lest she might make as great a 
blunder herself as another had done for her, and destroy all 
the artifices of the toilette, and the power of her charms.
After having thus revealed to her all that he judged essential 
with respect to religion, he related to her many stories 
concerning the nunneries abroad. He said he had been Confessor 
to a convent at Douay in Flanders; that he was very cautious 
at first, how he made any advances; but being one day 
confessing a young lady who had just taken the veil, he was so 
smitten with her charms, that he could not refrain from making 
such an effort as proved successful. The pretty nun owned that 
she was, perhaps, in a worse situation than himself; and there 
was nothing she wished for so much as to make the first 
overture. This agreeable intimacy continued for some time; but 
it at length being discovered by another sister, he was 
obliged to pay his devotions to her to prevent his disgrace: 
that this second amour did not long remain a secret, by was 
detected by the Lady Abbess herself, whose friendship he was 
obliged to cultivate in the same manner. In fine, after a few 
months, the two sisters proved pregnant, and the Lady Abbess 
so highly approved of his abilities, that he was brought to 
death's door; and he thought, for two forcible reasons, that 
the most prudential step he could take, was to decamp a la 
sourdine.<33>

From hence he travelled to Lisle; and in order to recommend 
himself to Madame de L----s, who was very fond of news, 
especially if it was good, gave out he was just come from 
Paris; and that the King having taken the case of the 
religieuses into consideration, had consented that every 
female in orders "qui pouvait faire une petite bouche auroit 
un mari."<34> To which the Abbess screwing up her mouth as 
much as she could, said, "Est-il possible?"<35> -- "Aye," said 
he, "I have better news still -- that every one qui pouvoit 
faire une grande bouche auroit deux:"<36> when she 
emphatically replied, extending her mouth as much as possible 
-- "Oh, que c'est admirable!" After having thus felt the pulse 
of the Abbess, and the sisterhood, for they all coincided in 
the same opinion, he was resolved to be upon his guard; and as 
every nun and the Lady Abbess could dispense with two 
husbands, he thought it prudent to avoid the same misfortunes 
that had awaited him at Douay; and having frankly offered his 
service to the Lady Abbess, he stuck close to her, on the one 
hand not fearing the dangers of pregnancy, and on the other in 
hopes that a big belly might appear more on his side than the 
lady's. Here he acted like a judicious politician, as well as 
a true Jesuit, as in short he recovered his embon point,<37> 
and fleeced the Abbess of about two hundred pounds, which 
enabled him to make a voyage to Ireland; where having spent 
the greatest part of it amongst his relations and 
acquaintances, and finding his ecclesiastical service was 
there very ill required, he repaired to London, and after some 
time got into prison, upon the information of a trading 
constable. Recovering, however, his liberty, he was 
recommended to a certain dowager of fashion, who always 
recompensed her chaplain, especially if he was young and 
vigorous, very amply. In this service, he continued some 
months; but her Ladyship being somewhat too religiously 
inclined, and over fond of her chaplain's company, at the same 
time of a very delicate constitution, she fell into a decline, 
and quitted this world without recollecting him in her will.

Being once more thrown upon the world, he sought for 
employment, and was recommended to a certain young Baronet, 
who found him very useful in the double capacity of pimp and 
priest; but being unluckily caught in the arms of his 
favourite Dulcinea, he was dismissed his service.

In this situation he commenced quack doctor. He got a number 
of bills printed upon credit, in which he announced the 
certain and radical cure of almost every disorder incident to 
the human frame. He used to rise at the break of day, and, in 
imitation of the celebrated quack at the Fleur de Lis [tavern] 
near Hedge Lane, stick up his bills himself in every 
conspicuous part of the town; but he had the mortification to 
see, that before noon they were generally torn down, or 
covered over with much larger bills, so as to entirely prevent 
his being legible. In this dilemma, he disguised himself in 
women's clothes, with an old red cloak, and distributed his 
hand-bills himself at Temple Bar, the Royal Exchange, and 
elsewhere. This had too good an effect, in one sense; for his 
customers or patients, which ever they might be called, 
flocked to him so fast that he had not time to return home and 
change his dress from the feminine to the masculine. However, 
a few good patients, from whom he received some comfortable 
fees, enabled him to employ a deputy upon both of those 
occasions. He now thought himself in a thriving way, when 
unfortunately a tradesman's wife who was under his hands, 
taking an abrupt leave of this world, her husband threatened 
to prosecute him; and he judged it expedient to shut up shop 
and quit his quarters. He was now applied to by a certain 
nostrum-monger, who rolls in his chariot, and lives near Soho, 
to become his assistant; but finding that medicine by which he 
got the most money was to procure abortions, his conscience 
would not let him yield to the impulse of his ambition; he 
declined the proposal, and soon after obtained the place of 
Chaplain to his Excellency, in which capacity Kitty had 
discovered him.



ChapterX. 
On quacks; quackery; empirics and empiricism. The villainy of 
their practices displayed. A curious anecdote of the late 
French ambassador 's Lady, with regard to one of the most 
shining characters in the chirurgical walk.

The Jesuit's honesty in refusing to engage with an empiric in 
partnership, whose chief emoluments arose from procuring 
abortions, induced Kitty to make some inquiry into this 
business, thinking the Priest might have imposed upon her in 
this part of his relation: but her design was anticipated by a 
handbill being put into her hand, as she was passing through 
Leicester Fields. The purpose of this very curious 
advertisement was a remedy for the fair fex to remove 
obstructions; but they were particularly advised not to use 
this medicine, if they were pregnant. This last item plainly 
pointed out the drift of the nostrum; and upon inquiry, Kitty 
found, that numbers of females had been destroyed by this 
fatal, this unnatural preparation. Indeed it is astonishing 
that there is not a salutary law to prevent the impositions 
daily and hourly practised in this metropolis by ignorant and 
designing quacks, who are certainly some of the greatest pests 
of society. If you were to credit their advertisements, every 
disorder incident to the human frame is instantly to be cured, 
and even disorders that never existed, except in the brain of 
a Valetudinarian; and yet so credulous is the world, even in 
this age of scepticism, that many of these impostors keep 
their equipages, their town and country houses, roll in 
luxury, and riot in dissipation. Quackery is indeed so much a 
trade, that it is no longer a mystery, but a regular calling, 
which may be learned without an apprenticeship, and may be 
purchased or taken up like a freedom. The modesty and learning 
of one of this fraternity will serve to illustrate the skill, 
penetration, judgment and erudition of the rest of his 
brethren.

The modesty of quacks exemplified. 
St. James's Chronicle, Nov. 28. 1778. 
"VANBUTCHER (having nor assistant nor successor) is 
inclined to teach his art of Surgeon-Dentist, for one 
thousand guineas!"

Well said, Master Vanbutcher! No one but a butcher could cut 
up our language in so barbarous, so cruel and so inhumane a 
manner. For heaven's sake, dispose of your art, if it be only 
for five hundred guineas -- do not haggle about trifles -- 
renounce the name of Surgeon, and stick to your real trade, 
Vanbutcher. You certainly would cut not only a great number of 
carcases but a most excellent figure, the corner of Litchfield 
Street; it is a thriving trade, Mr Butcher, whether in the van 
or the rear.

I have, it must be acknowledged, betrayed myself into a vein 
or raillery upon a very serious business. In the first 
instance, little short of murder is daily committed, and 
posterity deprived of its natural and just dues; populousness 
decreased, and his Majesty's subjects diminished in the rising 
generation. For what? To grease the chariot wheels of whom? A 
Christian? No, he must be a Jew in his heart as well as his 
religious profession, to carry on such an infernal trade at 
the price of human blood -- for that in effect is the 
purchase. With regard to other quacks, though they do not so 
immediately and directly point the mortal dagger; they, 
generally speaking, undermine the vital frame, and by degrees 
destroy the human fabric,

As to dentists, they live by rotten stumps; and half of them 
jump, having thrown aside their livery, from behind a chariot 
into one. I could point out several in this metropolis, whom I 
have seen in the situation I have mentioned.

But the impertinence and abuse of physic is not confined 
merely to the tribe of quackery; regulars even from Warwick 
Lane are sometimes infected with a disorder they seldom or 
ever cure -- eradicate they never attempt, except in their 
dear persons. A consultation of physicians has often been 
held, whilst the unhappy patient has been dying; and whilst 
they have been disputing about words, the unfortunate object 
of their consultation has given up his last breath. The mock 
doctor has some lucky strokes at more regular empirics, if I 
may so call them; but they are rather faint, and more 
calculated for the meridian of France than England. In that 
country, physic and the law are paid very moderately; and 
therefore it is not surprising there should be so many 
inexperienced limbs of both, as those professions are seldom 
followed by men of rank or opulence, as being unworthy their 
attention. To evince this assertion, and the opinion that is 
entertained of the faculty by the French nobility, I shall 
relate an anecdote that is indubitable, and as such shall 
mention the party's names.
The Lady of the late French ambassador being prescribed 
phlebotomy, sent for no less a man than Caesar Hawkins; and 
after the operation, presented him with a petit ecu (half a 
crown). He politely bowed, and retired. Her Excellency being 
that evening at a rout, mentioned the circumstance, adding, 
"Qu'elle croiroit que Mr Hawkins fut un tres habile 
chirurgien."<38> Upon which a lady in the company inquired 
what compliment she had paid him for his attendance; to which, 
with great naivet�, she replied, "Un petit �cu."<39> Being set 
right, with regard to her error, she sent for that truly 
skilful gentleman the next day, apologised for her blunder, 
and made him a proper pecuniary acknowledgment.

I am almost tired of this subject. Quacks and quackery I 
abhor; and though, unlike Doctor Pangloss in the Optimiste, I 
still preserve my nose, I cannot think that all is for the 
best. I have personally known several unfortunate females, who 
have unluckily been compelled to apply to what were called 
eminent surgeons; and notwithstanding their friend has made 
ample recompense for a supposed radical cure, they have, to 
the scandal of physic, been literally only patched and 
plastered. So far from being perfectly restored to health, all 
the virus has still prevailed with its utmost potency, and 
they have at length (after circulating the disorder amongst 
friends and acquaintance) fallen martyrs to the infection.

I cannot refrain repeating it, that there is not, amongst all 
the number of evils that issued from Pandora's box, so great a 
pest to society as ignorant and designing quacks, pretended 
surgeons and self-diplomated doctors. If I had occasion to 
call a legal evidence upon the matter, I should only appeal to 
the trial of Miss Butterfield, for the supposed poisoning of 
Mr Scawen.<40> There is a field for observation and 
information; but I really sick, very sick of the subject; and 
shall terminate this chapter -- this chapter of quackery, as 
soon as possible. The next, I flatter myself, will be more 
entertaining.



Chapter XI. 
The most ticklish chapter of all; or, laugh and grow fat: 
containing some whimsical comments upon some whimsical 
characters; in which will be found (it is to be hoped) some 
entertaining anecdotes of the celebrated Kitty Fisher, Lady C-
---r, General Arm----g, etc., etc., etc.

Having dismissed quacks and quackery, and I hope fairly got 
rid of them, at least in a medical sense; let us now consider 
how many self-created quacks there are in this kingdom, who 
destroy themselves without the assistance either of laudanum 
or arsenic. I remember some years ago, when at Paris, that 
there was a very whimsical fellow of a Harlequin at the 
Italian Opera. Having lost his dear, dear Mistress, Mistress 
Colombine, he resolved, in a fit of complete desperation, to 
destroy himself; but the difficulty was how to accomplish the 
business. Drowning was going to such a watery grave, that he 
was afraid it would give him the dropsy, spoil his shapes, and 
ever after prevent his playing Harlequin; cutting his throat 
would be called a bloody, cruel and inhuman murder; pistolling 
he had an utter aversion to, as he never could endure the 
smell of gunpowder; and as to balls, he detested all except a 
bal-par�. Poisoning would never do; it was so slow a death, 
that he might even live all the days of his life, before he 
came to the verge of mortality; as many poisoned themselves 
every day with their relished viands and bacchanalian vigils, 
and still crawled the streets of Paris, as a mere memento 
mori. He could like to go out of a world as a gentleman, and 
would fain be decapitated; but the misfortune was, were he a 
butcher, or even the bourreau<41> himself, he could not 
perform that capital office without a block or a cleaver. 
Hanging was such a dangling, mean, Tyburn-looking situation, 
that his noble soul could never ascend to it. What then was to 
be done? After a pause, said he, "I'll have it; I'll e'en die 
like a laughing Philosopher. I will be a professed disciple of 
Democritus, and meet death not only with a smile, but with a 
ha! ha! I'll positively tickle myself to death." Saying this, 
he began the operation, and not laughed himself out of the 
world, but the whole audience laughed themselves almost to 
death.

How many Italian Harlequins are there in this creation, who 
not only tickle themselves to death, but let the whole 
universal audience, the world itself, in such a titter at 
their follies, that if there were a tax upon laughing, Lord 
North need not open any other budget.

Jack Spindle fancies that the whole glory of this life 
consists in destroying his health, and his fortune. He inverts 
the course of nature; rises with the moon, and goes to bed 
with the sun. He is now but five-and-twenty; but to behold him 
you would pronounce him sixty. He boasts of more vices than 
fall to the lot of all the bucks and bloods of all the Inns of 
Court. He brags of his amours with fruit girls and professed 
harlots; and thinks there is an uncommon share of merit in 
having debauched a common prostitute, by the mercurial (I mean 
pimping) introduction of a guinea. He highly plumes himself 
upon his bacchanalian feats, and when he talks of the powers 
of his head, he says, "Last night -- I mean this morning, 
seven of us -- sixteen dozen magnum bonums -- heads like 
rocks, by G--d." This may be justly styled buckish titillation 
into the other world.
We shall not overlook the ladies in this ticklish 
concupiscence: many have tickled themselves out of the world, 
in tickling their pretty persons to look more beautiful. The 
celebrated Kitty Fisher fell a martyr to the cosmetic art. 
After pursuing an uncommon career of variegated gallantry, at 
length, by a stroke of female artifice, she married a 
gentleman of rank and fortune; and might have wound up her 
history entirely to her own satisfaction, and set to the world 
an example of prudence and female heroism, in the character of 
a female rake reclaimed. But after having for some time levied 
contributions upon the whole club at Arthur's; been esteemed 
the most accomplished, as well as beautiful courtesan of her 
time; she was not satisfied with making a final and honourable 
conquest in the person of her husband: her pride and vanity 
predominated over her good sense, and she could not refrain 
from the impulse of female ambition to make her appear more 
amiable, if possible, than nature had formed her; and by 
endeavouring to create fictitious charms, destroyed at once 
her beauty and her life.

Lady C----y was another votary to this ill judged vanity. 
Though she was celebrated for her charms, and made her fortune 
by her irresistible attractions, she was not contented, when 
moving in the elevated station of a Countess (a rank to which 
she could have no other pretensions that those which beauty 
gave her) to consult her faithful glass, and leave her angelic 
face untickled with the cosmetic art. But conquest was her 
motto, and the sole pursuit of her life; to this she 
sacrificed her fame, her health, and at length her mortal 
existence.

We shall for a while take our leave of the ladies, and return 
to our own sex. General Arm--r, who had passed a life of 
gaiety, gallantry, and dissipation; after, by a kind of 
miracle, he had attained his fifty-fifth year, then thought he 
had reached that period of life when marriage became prudent 
and necessary. But also! The mistaken, debilitated debauchee 
employed a nurse; and not satisfied with his error in its 
first concoction, so far blundered on, as to fix his 
affections upon a beautiful young lady not above eighteen. 
Having once engaged in the perilous maze of matrimony with 
such a mate, his folly, ambition, or vanity, or all united, 
urged him to attempt acquitting his nuptial duties with the 
vigour and powers of a young man of twenty. To this end he 
inquired of a Physician of his acquaintance concerning the 
stimulating effects of that baneful medicine, Cantharides;<42> 
and being informed that a certain quantity would probably 
operate in the manner he desired, emulous of surpassing even 
his first wish, he doubled the dose, and in the arms of his 
beautiful mate breathed his last; tickled out of his life by 
doting love and ecstatic folly.

These martyrs to titillation seem to have been tickled out of 
their mundane vital state by the force of passion, vanity and 
false ambition; but we are come now to some unfortunate beings 
who fell victims to avarice, ostentation, or villainy. The 
story of the unfortunate brothers, the Perreaus, is recent in 
everyone's memory.<43> Hurried on by the false glare of 
grandeur, they precipitated themselves in an abyss of 
inevitable destruction; ostentatious parade and fastidious 
grandeur bewildered them; and they pursued the ignis fatuus 
pomp, till they were plunged into inextricable misery. 

To the number of martyrs in this list, the famous, or rather 
infamous Dr. Dodd may be added.<44> Incredible as one would 
think it, that a gentleman of his profession, endowed with 
great shining abilities, at one time an ornament to his 
profession, and the constant magnet of, at least, female 
devotion, should be guilty of a crime for which alone his life 
could atone: yet the fact is too well known for me to need 
dwell upon it.

Indeed the Perreaus and Doctor Dodd may be said to have 
literally tickled themselves out of the world with a feather. 
Had they luckily used the other end, it might have been a 
laughable amusement, and only excited the use of their risible 
muscles; but unluckily they took the wrong end, and signed 
their own doom with a goose quill.

Perhaps the levity may be thought reprehensible, upon so 
ferocious a subject as the last; but I could wish to laugh the 
world out of their follies, vices and crimes; for it is vain 
to reason with such men as Dr. Dodd: they are already in 
possession of every argument that can be adduced from religion 
and morality against the commission of unjust deeds. Many men 
are more affected with the force of ridicule than the powers 
of reason; and I have known macaronies, notwithstanding the 
ridiculous figures they make in life, dread far more being 
pronounced ridiculous, than vicious or even criminal. If we 
could laugh vice and folly out of doors, we should go a great 
way to prevent crimes; and it were better to hang up a dozen 
puppies in terrorem in their proper colours, than to see one 
poor wretch suspended at the fatal tripod.

Probably the witlings and the pseudo-critics will now find 
fault with me, for being too moral and sententious upon so 
frivolous a subject; but, according to the fabulist, it is 
impossible to please everyone. If I carry the ass, or my son, 
or both, we shall still excite the gibes of the spectators; I 
will therefore leave this chapter in its present state, as a 
crust for the critics to nibble at; flattering myself, 
however, that I have by this time tickled the Reader into a 
good humour, and that he will laugh with me, as well as at me.



Chapter XII. 
A trio of geniuses at the St. James's Coffee House. Mr Chace 
Price reads a curious and witty ironical account of Charlotte 
Hayes's nunnery: entertaining the miracles wrought by her' 
with the laws and constitutions of this Seminary. They 
afterwards resolve upon visiting this society.

Sam Foote, Chace Price, and George Sel----n, being at St. 
James's Coffee House, Mr Price said he had just met with a 
very whimsical and humorous account of Charlottes Hayes's 
nunnery; and if it was agreeable to them he would read it. "By 
all means," said Sam and George; when he read as follows:
A genuine account of the Monastery of Santa Charlotta.

Many important and laudable institutions are kept from 
the world, by a timidity that always attends virtue and 
modesty; whilst enterprises of far less consequence are 
ushered forth to the attention of the public, by 
impudence and presumption; and in proportion to the merit 
of the candidates, the public is injured or imposed upon.

It shall be my task to prove myself the champion of a 
foundation that hath its political as well as civil 
advantages. What parent or guardian need now be at the 
expense or trouble of sending his daughter or ward to St. 
Omer's or Lille, when they may reap all the advantages of 
a nunnery education in a seminary instituted by one of 
our own countrywomen in the most polite part of the 
metropolis? No Gallic prejudices are here to be dreaded -
-no foreign errors in female education, so difficult to 
be eradicated, will here be adopted; but whilst they eat 
English food, and are inspired with the sentiments of 
English liberty, our treasures will be confined to our 
own island, which we have too long squandered upon exotic 
nunneries. Is there a Briton, whose bosom does not glow 
at such a capital stroke of politics, so far beyond all 
the anti-Gallican schemes of former projectors? For this 
institution is not only planned, but actually executed; 
and the building, lately erected, is situation a few 
paces from Pall Mall.

"This establishment was founded by a living saint, whose 
name it bears; and if we may judge by the many miracles 
she has wrought, and is still working, there is doubt but 
she will be canonised, and added to her near relation in 
miracles, St. Januarius. To this the reader must readily 
acquiesce, when he peruses the following list of miracles 
performed and performing by Santa Charlotta."

She liquefies any number of guineas into Champagne, 
Burgundy, or arrack punch instantaneously.

Cures the evil of love, and broken hearted swains, by the 
touch.

Makes fair women black, and black women fair. Makes old 
dotards believe themselves gay, vigorous young fellows; 
and turns vigorous young fellows into old dotards.

Has a peculiar specific for making any man's wife hate 
him, and immediate divorce taking place between them.

Administers absolution in the most desperate cases, with 
confession.

Is possessed of the universal panacea, or philosopher's 
stone; and, to the great astonishment of all beholders, 
transmutes the basest brass into the purest gold, by a 
process as quick as it is unaccountable, and which has 
escaped the discovery of all chemists and alchemists, 
either her predecessors or cotemporaries, etc., etc., 
etc.

Having thus displayed her miraculous powers, which so 
eminently entitle her to be placed among the modern 
saints; we shall now enter upon the laws, constitutions, 
regulations and manners of the seminary.

"Every Sister who is a candidate for the veil, must be 
either young or handsome; if both, the better qualified; 
this being considered a greater sacrifice to the Goddess 
of Venus, to whom this institution is dedicated. She must 
not have been very intimate with the world, nor the world 
with her; and if she has never been abroad, the Abbess 
considers her as still more worthy of being admitted 
amongst the sisterhood.

She must not be married, or have any favourite lover; if 
she should have any tender attachment remaining, she must 
immediately apply for the miraculous touch, to be cured.

As the brethren of the adjacent seminaries are so kind as 
to visit this sisterhood, and in a most friendly and 
loving manner, as is suitable to their characters. Bring 
them to confession and administer comfort; the sisterhood 
must, upon all such occasions, open their bosoms, and 
conceal nothing from these worthy brethren.

Santa Charlotta, in planning this glorious and virtuous 
foundation, having an abhorrence for infidels and their 
laws, so she adopts none of them; not even that 
heathenish, Turkish one, the preclusion of the use of 
wine, though it may carry with it an air of austerity and 
forbearance. On the contrary, she allows the sisterhood a 
moderate use of wine, on particular occasions; and more 
especially when any capital process of the liquefaction 
of gold takes place; these being considered as festivals 
by the sisterhood, and distinguished by red letter in the 
calendar of the Seminary.

Neither does her severity extend to deprive them of the 
enjoyment of rational and innocent diversions; and 
considering dramatic representations of every kind under 
his head, she allows them frequently to visit the 
theatres, and even the Opera; at each of which places a 
particular box is appropriated for the sisterhood of the 
Seminary of Santa Charlotta. As the Irish Jesuits, and 
other itinerary priests of that country are now very 
numerous in this capital, more especially since their 
expulsion from abroad; and as those priests are known to 
be poor and necessitous, the sisterhood are particularly 
cautioned not to confess to any brethren of that kingdom, 
except the prior of the monastery, who, though a native 
of Ireland, does not (for particular reasons) come under 
this predicament.

As the fervent devotion of the nuns should be an object 
of their greatest attention, they are not to be diverted 
from it, either by servants or female visitors, upon any 
pretence whatever.

Should any male visitor of any Order attempt to seduce or 
inveigle any sister out of the Convent, the most 
exemplary punishment is to be inflicted upon the culprit, 
and his re-admission is not to be pleaded for even by 
Santa Charlotta herself.

It is judged advisable, for the good order and regulation 
of society, that they should have no intercourse with the 
sisterhood of any other Seminary; and that they also 
avoid all communication with that order of Medicants 
called Buckonites, so pernicious to the female world.

Notwithstanding the upright intentions of Santa 
Charlotta, and her fervent desire of abolishing all 
heathenish dispositions or connections in this Seminary; 
she nevertheless thinks, it may be convenient for the 
sisterhood to confer sometimes, under certain 
limitations, with the rabbis, whose profundity of 
knowledge and mystic skill may afford instruction and 
satisfaction."

No female visitors are admitted without letters of 
recommendation, setting forth their chaste life and 
virtuous disposition; which letters are to be written by 
those who have given incontestable proofs of their 
attachment to this Seminary. 

Santa Charlotta, who considers exercise as a great 
assistant to health, frequently visits public places, and 
may often be met with in the streets of this metropolis, 
with two or three of the sisterhood. Such examples of 
juvenile beauty devoted to virtue and a monastic life, 
added to the satisfaction and cheerfulness expressed in 
their lovely countenances, have often increased the 
number of votaries to the Goddess who here presides. 

When the weather will not admit of these perambulations, 
they take the air in an elegant equipage, belonging to 
the convent, and they constantly attract the attention of 
all passengers. 

The hours of the sisters retiring to rest and rising, are 
various, according to the different vigils they have to 
keep, and the number of saints they pray to; for, in this 
point, Santa Charlotta is very rigid, and, in case of any 
default, will allow them no remission. In other respects, 
great regularity is preserved, and they associate all 
together at meals, when the strictest decorum is 
preserved. 

As these vigils and prayers may be considered as the 
foundation and main prop of this institution; so nothing 
can give Santa Charlotta more real satisfaction, than to 
find every sister has counted her beads with that servor 
and devotion which should so peculiarly characterise this 
Order. And as the approbation of their confessors is 
generally testified upon these occasions by a diamond 
cross, or some such valuable present; they are each 
allowed to wear one of these crosses hanging to their 
beads, in the form of necklaces, whilst they remain in 
this Seminary. 

As this Institution is not of the most rigid kind, and as 
all the ornamental parts of female education are here 
proposed to be brought into full play, neither music nor 
dancing is prohibited, on the contrary, there are masters 
for both, many of the sisters having made a great 
proficiency in these arts; and the guitar, carillons, and 
even the minuet de la cour, are now played and performed 
with uncommon reputation. 

There is a physician belonging to the nunnery, who acts 
in the double capacity of doctor and confessor 
occasionally, and takes neither fees nor salary. 

In a word, all the innocent joys of convivial delight, 
and social felicity reign uninterrupted in this Seminary, 
uninstructed with that monastic austerity, or priestly 
rigour, which so much the recluse of foreign nunneries. 

After Mr Price had gone through his lecture, he received the 
applause of the whole company, not only for heaving read this 
jeau d'esprit with uncommon propriety, but for being shrewdly 
suspected, as the Author of this pointed composition. Be this 
as it may, it was agreed to make a party that evening, to 
visit Santa Charlotta and her nuns; and we shall not fail 
accompanying this Trion of Geniuses upon the occasion.



Chapter XIII. 
Messrs. Foote, Chace, and S----l----yn visit Charlotte Hayes's 
nunnery. Their reception. A description of the nuns they meet 
with, and the conversation upon the occasion. Sketch of the 
memoirs of Countess of Medina. Her extraordinary adventurers 
and heroism. Miss H----y----d exhibits as a singer and a 
spouter, and is much applauded. Foots resolves to engage her. 
Some whimsical animadversions that arise from the subject, 
etc.

The geniuses met according to appointment, and repaired to 
Charlotte's. They were politely introduced, and after some 
compliments, of which Mrs Hayes has a string ready cut and 
dry, Sam Foote said, that they had come there in consequence 
of reading the rules and laws of her Seminary, which to him 
appeared extremely judicious, and happily calculated for 
promoting decency, decorum, and good order. The Abbess 
politely thanked him for his civility; and being requested to 
introduce them to some of her nuns, she said, she would; that 
Clara Ha--w--d was just dressed, and would make her appearance 
immediately; that Miss Sh----ly had paid her devotions so 
fervently that morning, that to recover her spirits, and 
recruit her vivacity, she was still taking rest; that Miss S--
d--m was engaged with an Old Baronet, who constantly visited 
her twice a week; and that Miss W----lls and Miss Sc----tt 
were just gone to the play at half-price in the Flesh Market; 
but in case they had no success, they would return immediately 
after the performance finished. During this conference the 
bell rang, a sedan chair stopped, and the celebrated Countess 
of Medina was announced as a visitor. Mr Price, who had heard 
much talk of this lady, as a phenomenon in the world of female 
gallantry, begged that she might be introduced. Mrs Hayes 
readily consented, and the Countess was ushered in. Little 
ceremony was used before she was prevailed upon to drink a 
bumper of Champagne. Mr Price being eager to learn the outline 
of her story, pressed her upon that head, and she consented to 
give a short narration of her adventures, in nearly the 
following words.

"My origin is from the ancient and illustrious house of 
Castile, being descended in a direct line from the regal 
family. In my youth, I received an education suitable to my 
birth, and, besides the common accomplishments in the female 
line, I studied arms, and was reckoned one of the best 
swordswomen in all Toledo. This and similar pursuits gave my 
mind a turn for chivalry, which was not a little encouraged by 
reading books upon that subject. I had, ere now, many suitors; 
but finding in myself a very strong passion for amorous 
gratification, I resolved, contrary to the usual manner, to 
marry; not so much for the fake of high alliance, titles, and 
family connections, but to wed a man to whom I thought I might 
be constant in proportion to his vigour. In fine, Count Medina 
appeared in my eyes to be a man entirely after my own heart; 
he was stout and athletic, had an engaging countenance, and 
something, as we are here under the rose, I shall not scruple 
to say was more engaging that all the rest -- this was an 
uncommon protuberance in his breeches. The marriage took 
place, and I imagined myself the happiest woman upon earth, 
having portrayed to myself in the most bewitching colours the 
felicities of the connubial bed. The day of our marriage, 
though the happiest, seemed to me the longest I ever knew. 
Welcome night at length came. And after the usual ceremonies 
upon the like occasions, we were bedded. But, alas! What was 
my disappointment, my chagrin, my mortification, to find that 
protuberance which had promised me so much delighted -- be to 
neither more nor less than -- a violent rupture!"

Here an uncommon burst of laughter issued from all parts of 
the room, and after a pause, Sam Foote said, he supposed that 
one rupture soon produced another.

To this the Countess answered in the affirmative; and that 
finding herself thus deceived, and imposed upon, she never 
would again bed with the Count. She assigned her reasons to 
her female relations, who approved of her conduct. She soon 
after made a particular acquaintance with a young officer, 
who, tired with the supine state of an inactive life, had 
resolved to go a volunteer in the French army then in 
Flanders; and the Countess agreed to accompany him in the same 
capacity. She accordingly equipped herself en militaire, and 
set out upon this heroic expedition.

"I was," said she, "at most of the battles and sieges, at the 
latter end of the war before last, in Flanders, and acquitted 
myself so well as a volunteer, as to be honoured with a 
commission. My attachment was so great to the idol of my 
heart, Don Pedro del Cuiso, the partner of my fortune and my 
bliss, that I viewed with a jealous eye every female he 
converted with. Being at Lille, he formed an intimacy with the 
wife of a colonel, who was esteemed a very fine woman. I had 
too much reason to suspect my lover's fidelity, for I 
surprised him in such a situation with Madame La T----che, 
that would admit of not the least doubt. I called him to 
account; he rallied me for some time, and said he could not 
draw his sword upon a woman; but I drew mine, and bid him 
defend himself. The consequences were dreadful; he wounded me 
in the breast: but alas, a fatal thrust levelled him to the 
earth. I fled for assistance, and sent him a Surgeon 
immediately. As to my own wound (saying this, she opened her 
bosom and showed it) I paid no attention to it; though upon 
its being dressed, it gave my surgeon apprehensions for my 
life. Having recovered, and the campaign being finished with 
the war, I came over to England. Here a variety of fortune 
attended me. Being at first in possession of a considerable 
sum of money, I kept my equipage, and gave a full scope to my 
amorous desires with every fine fellow that came in my way, 
supplying their wants occasionally till at length I began, too 
sensibly to discover my own.

"It was time now to think of levying contributions with my 
charms; and I had scarce come to this pious resolution, before 
Lord Pyebald fell in my way. He introduced himself to me under 
a fictitious name, and passed for a Merchant. I did not know 
then him or his character, but I soon discovered both, for 
upon our first recontre il m'a rat�.<45>

George S----l----n observed, this was quite in character, for 
his Lordship had certainly rat�'d more women than all the rest 
of the peerage put together, Lord Fumble of the stable yard 
not excepted.

Clara now entered, and as Mr Price had sufficiently gratified 
his curiosity with the Countess's narrative, the conversation 
took another turn. Miss H--yw--d was desired to sing a song, 
which she readily complied with, and acquired herself greatly 
to the satisfaction of the whole company. Mrs Hayes having 
said that Clara was an excellent spouter, Foote requested as a 
favour, that she would speak a speech; which, after some 
little hesitation, to recover herself, she did, from The Fair 
Penitent. Sam so highly approved of it, that he swore she 
should come upon his stage, if it was agreeable to her. Clara 
then thought he was merely in raillery, and therefore only 
curtseyed; but a short time afterwards she was engaged in the 
HayMarket, and the applause she afterwards met with, both 
there and at Drury Lane, corroborated Foote's judgement in her 
favour.

Mrs Sh--d--m now descended from the old Baronet; but upon 
being requested to sing, she said, she was so fatigued with 
operating upon Sir Harry Flagellum, that she begged a small 
respite to recover her spirits. "Two long hours, said she, 
have I been with this old curmudgeon; and I have had as much 
labour to rouse the Venus lurking in his veins, as if I had 
been whipping the most obstinate of all mules over the Alps."

Chace Price said, he wondered that a lady of Charlotte's 
fertile imagination had never invented an engine to do with 
drudgery-work: That a thought had, however, just come into his 
head for the construction of one; and like that some years 
since invented for shaving a hundred at a time, at least a 
score Flagellums might have their warmest and most salacious 
wishes gratified at the same period.

Foote was for improving the hint, and turning the scheme to a 
national advantage, as he thought by patent, and a heavy tax 
duty laid upon each; or, if this should not be judged 
expedient, he thought that a considerable duty should be 
levied upon birch.

George S--l--n now began in inquire into the state of 
virginity in nunneries, as he has been assured by Alderman 
Portsoken last night at the London Tavern, being then pretty 
much elevated, that he had a real virgin the night before at 
Charlotte's nunnery, but that he could not conceive how the 
Hymen could be preserved.

Charlotte was here taken somewhat out of her latitude; but the 
Champagne operating by this time pretty powerfully, and 
thinking to support the dignity of the house, she very 
injudiciously replied "As to maidenheads, it was her opinion, 
that a woman might lose her maidenhead five hundred times, and 
be as good a virgin as ever. Dr. O' Patrick had assured her, 
that a maidenhead was as easily made as a pudding; that she 
had tried herself, and though she had lost hers a thousand 
times, she believed she had as good a one as ever, as she had 
been under the Doctor's hands that very morning. With regard 
to Hymen, she always understood he was a God, and therefore 
could not be any part of a woman. She would venture to say, 
that she had as many maidenheads now in possession, as would 
serve the whole Court of Aldermen, aye, and the Common Council 
into the bargain. She had one girl, Miss Sh----y, just come 
from the play with Counsellor Pliant, who had gone through 
twenty-three editions of vestality in one week; and being a 
bookseller's daughter, she knew the value of repeated and 
fresh editions, as she had, for a considerable time, stitched 
under her father's own inspection.

Charlotte having thus concluded this curious narration, which 
was a compound of ignorance, Irish blunders, and false wit, 
took a bumper of Champagne to recruit her spirits. Foote now 
proposed going, and Mrs Hayes proposed cards, saying, the 
Count would be in presently and would make one. "No," replied 
Foote; "I know the Count too well: I am not so ignorant in 
palmistry and the long shuffle, as to engage with Jonas. Not 
that I think the Count a conjurer at it; but it is a rule with 
me, never to contend with any man in his own profession."

Having paid the reckoning, which was pretty well charged, and 
Foote having made an appointment with Clara H--yw--d for next 
morning to engage her as an actress, they retired, and 
afterwards made themselves very merry, at the Bedford Arms, 
with this whimsical adventure.



Chapter XIV. 
Some account of Mrs Mitchell's nunnery. An extraordinary 
device upon her door, and its effects. History of Miss Emily 
C--lth--st. Lord L----n becomes enamoured with her. His Valet 
undertakes the amorous siege on behalf of his Master. Its 
progress. His stratagems; and their success. Becomes Lord L---
-n's Mistress, who is cloyed with her charms. A description of 
her person. A whimsical accident at the Play House. Her 
exemplary conduct to the Sisterhood, etc.

We have paid a sufficiently long visit to Charlotte, and 
having established her nunnery upon so excellent a footing, 
that we think she cannot help thriving. We shall now take a 
peep in at her neighbours.

Mrs Mitchell, her next door neighbour, was, probably, the 
first Lady Abbess who ever, affixed a Latin motto above her 
door, to draw customers, by recommending the goodness of her 
commodity, on a brass plate was inscribed,
IN MEDIO TUTISSIMUS. <47>

The novelty of the thought certainly attracted her a number of 
visitors; and she failed not to procure the best commodities, 
and thereby render the middle was secure. Amongst the foremost 
of her nuns, stands Miss Emily C--l--h--st. As this lady has 
made, and still makes much noise in the world, a little sketch 
of her person and history will not be unacceptable to the 
reader.

Her father keeps a capital shop in Piccadilly; and being 
visible one day when the E---- of L----n came there to give 
some orders, his Lordship was greatly smitten with Emily's 
charms; and upon his return home, ruminated upon the most 
probably means of gaining his possession of her. His trusty 
Valet and Mercury being acquainted with the impression the 
young lady had made upon him, was promised a handsome reward 
if he could procure her for him. The bait was too alluring; 
and he told his Lordship, no stone should remain unturned for 
the accomplishment of his wishes. He accordingly began his 
attack by writing a letter, in which he said, "He had often 
contemplated her charms with rapture, but had flattered 
himself he could have surmounted their power, and that he 
found it impossible any longer to conceal his passion; he 
therefore threw himself at her feet, and implored her mercy: 
that this fate was in her hands, and that she should decide 
his doom as she pleased; that death to him was far preferable 
to a life of incessant torment, which nothing but the love of 
Emily's fair hand could remove." Emily read this epistle with 
some emotion. On the one hand, her vanity was in some measure 
completely gratified, by having made so complete a conquest of 
a handsome young fellow, whom she knew by coming to the shop; 
on the other hand, her pity and compassion were roused at his 
distress. She, however, consulted a female confidante, how she 
should act upon the occasion. Lord L----n's gentleman was an 
object not to be despised; especially as he was known to be so 
great a favourite with his Lordship, as to control the whole 
house and his Lordship into the bargain. His Lordship had 
great interest at Court and might get him a genteel place; at 
all events, she should be well married, a thing she had long 
wished for. She accordingly returned him an answer, which, 
though equivocal, afforded him sufficient hope to proceed with 
success. Mr L----s failed not to avail himself of having 
gained so much ground, and the suit went, seemingly, 
swimmingly on. He had ere now introduced a female 
acquaintance, under the title of his sister, whom Emily 
considered already as her own, and opened to her the inmost 
recesses of her heart, which were speedily communicated to her 
nominal brother. In a word, he found he had in this amorous 
siege already mounted the glacis and might soon be in 
possession of the covered way. A party was proposed for the 
play; and as Mr L----'s sister was to be one, Emily readily 
consented.

They were all extremely pleased, and well entertained, till 
the conclusion of the drama, when unluckily (or rather luckily 
for L----s) it rained violently, and no coach was to be got. 
What was to be done? Adjourn to an adjacent tavern, and take a 
bit of supper, till the rain subsided, or a coach could be 
found. Emily at first started at the name of a tavern; but 
upon her female companion laughing at her false delicacy upon 
such an occasion, especially when in such company, her 
scruples were easily surmounted. A bottle of Madeira was 
immediately called for, and a glass round taken whilst supper 
was getting ready. L----s had not forgot to prepare the waiter 
with a bribe, and to introduce a bottle of Champagne pretty 
well strengthened with brandy. It was a cold wet night, and 
upon coming out of so warm a place as the playhouse, another 
glass could do no harm: this at least was L----s's doctrine, 
and it prevailed to a third. By this time Emily's eyes began 
to sparkle more than usual, which afforded L----s an 
opportunity of complimenting her upon an addition to her 
charms, from hilarity and an unconstrained behaviour. Supper 
passed, and it still rained very much and no coaches were yet 
upon the stand. Now was L----s's time for his grand coup. He 
was prepared with an opiate, which he artfully infused into a 
glass of wine, which Emily drank; it soon began to operate; 
and Morpheus prevailed with all his powers. Emily began thus 
consigned to sleep, L----s and his pretended sister retired, 
when his L----p, who was in an adjacent room waiting for the 
event, entered, and with little difficulty gave a loose to his 
most luxurious wishes. She awoke, and took sensibly discovered 
her situation. She knew his Lordship; she saw she was ruined. 
It was his part now to appease her with all the rhetoric of 
sophisticated love. His passion for her was so powerful, that 
it baffled every effort of reason that he had called into 
play: that he adored, he idolised her: and gave her a carte 
blanche for her own terms of living with him. A chariot, an 
elegant house, five hundred a year, were such temptations as 
few women could resist; and they proved powerful advocates 
upon the occasion in favour of his Lordship's suit. In a word, 
she yielded at discretion, and soon became possessed of all 
his Lordship promised her. But alas! Satiety flows from 
repeated gratification; and after the revolution of a few 
months, he found that his passions was not so inordinate, but 
that, under the pretence of jealousy, he could bring on a 
quarrel, and thereby terminate their connection.

A young female under twenty, with such charms as Emily 
possessed, has seldom prudence sufficient to profit of the 
present, and make a provision for a future day. Image to 
yourself a tall, elegant figure, moving like a Grace; with 
fine regular features, the most seducing eyes, and pouting 
lips that courted a kiss from every male beholder, in which 
were enclosed two rows of ivory that seemed to vie for 
regularity and whiteness -- I say, image such a figure, and 
wonder that her faithful glass told her, that she had a just 
claim to universal conquest: that if one Lord slighted her, 
the whole remaining Peerage was at her devotion. With these 
sentiments, can it be supposed that Emily could ever harbour a 
thought of want? But the vicissitudes of her life are so 
extraordinary and unexpected, that in a short time this was 
literally the case.

Her trinkets, jewels, and most of her clothes being disposed 
of for necessaries without an offer being made that she 
thought worthy of her acceptance, she found herself compelled 
to submit to such other measures as necessity dictated. In 
fine, Mrs Mitchell having found her out, and discovered her 
situation, invited her to her house, and had the persuasive 
eloquence to obtain her for an inmate. This lady had made a 
considerable �clat in the circles of gaiety, and, with more 
propriety than most women, may be styled The Female Phaeton, 
having last season literally blazed a meteor at the Haymarket 
Theatre: in plainer English, the altitude of her cap not being 
calculated for the height of the girandoles, it caught fire at 
one of the lights, and had nearly proved fatal to her, as well 
as the rest of the ladies in the box, from their combustible 
head dresses, had not Mr Gl----n, with much gallantry and no 
small personal risk, extinguished this very capital 
conflagration. Having thus rescued the beautiful Emily from 
the flames of a fashionable head-dress, we shall for the 
present lodge her safe in King's Place.

Emily is in such high estimation for her beauty, and the 
gentleness of her manners, that she can command almost any 
price: she has more than once refused a twenty pound bank note 
because she did not like the presenter. A certain rich Jew, 
who is very fond of Christian flesh, offered to take her into 
keeping, and make her a pretty settlement; but she has an 
utter aversion to circumcision, and refused his offer. A 
certain Lieutenant of Marines, who is not very delicate in his 
female attachments, and who has already sold one wife to a 
rich Baronet, offered Emily his hand in an honourable way; but 
whether she suspected his former wife was still living, or 
that he was desirous of also putting her up for sale to the 
best bidder, she declined the match, though the Captain's 
person was far from being disagreeable to her. Upon the whole, 
Emily is a fille de joye<24> quite out of the common road, and 
might serve as an example to the rest of her Sisterhood, to 
preserve some dignity in the exercise of their 



Chapter XV. 
Ths history of an innocent young lady, who was, by the deep 
laid scheme of a certain Abbess, entrapped into her nunnery. 
The plan and progress pursued for the young lady's seduction. 
A certain Nobleman promises a thousand guineas if it is 
brought to bear. She is at length decoyed by Betsy to be her 
confidante; and every possible method is taken to bebauche her 
morals, but ineffectually. The day and hour of her sacrifice 
is appointed. His Lordship's chair stops at the door, for the 
vile lecher to seize upon the beautiful victim. She is 
miraculously rescued from the jaws of destruction.

I cannot quit the purlieus of King's Place without relating a 
story that must make humanity shudder, and innocent females 
tremble. It is a deep laid stratagem of a certain Lady Abbess, 
to obtain a young lady under the age of fifteen, for a certain 
libidinous nobleman, well known for his exploits of a similar 
kind. His Lordship riding out one day towards Chelsea, 
observed, in a group of young ladies, who were scholars to a 
celebrated school in that neighbourhood, one whose beauty far 
surpassed that of all her companions; she was tall, genteel, 
and graceful; and though very young, her behaviour and manner 
seemed to antedate her age. He was instantly struck by her 
innocent charms; and ordered his servant to dismount and 
follow them across a field, in order to know the precise place 
of her residence; when he soon learnt, and speedily returned 
with the intelligence, and also the name of the young lady who 
had so peculiarly attracted the attention of his Lordship.

Upon his return home, his thoughts were totally engaged in 
meditating the means of obtaining her, for the gratification 
of his lascivious passions. A thousand schemes, by turns, 
usurped the dominion of his mind, and they were successively 
discarded; however, he at length hit upon one that he judged 
would be effectual. This beautiful object of his brutal 
passion so completely engrossed his attention that he even 
forgot the business of the day in a certain Senatorial 
Assembly, where he had received the Premier's mandate to 
attend as a speechless, monosyllable Lord, and say Aye, upon a 
Treasury-bench motion. The house was very thin that day, and 
by some accident a sufficient majority could not be procured, 
which so exasperated the minister, that he threatened his 
Lordship, and some other of his myrmidons, the loss of their 
places, for negligence of duty.

Solely wrapped up with the charms of a the lovely Miss M----e, 
he repaired to a certain Abbess in King's Place, to 
communicate his plan, and require her assistance in the 
execution of it. She heard his Lordship with attention, but 
said she did not approve of it, as he was for kidnapping her, 
and carrying her off by force. She said, "Your Lordship she 
must allow me a few hours to ruminate upon this business, as 
it is a matter of importance, and requires more than common 
adroitness to be carried with success into execution." He 
agreed with her in the justness of her observation, but said 
he could not brook delay, for every hour was an age, till he 
gained possession of the idol of his heart. However, he agreed 
to defer coming to any final resolution till the evening, when 
he returned, full fraught with the expectation of a speedy 
consummation.

In the meanwhile, the Lady Abbess had procured a young girl, 
that nearly resembled Miss M----e, as far as she could 
conjecture, from the description his Lordship had given of 
her, in hopes that she might be lucky enough to make an 
impression of a similar nature upon him. She was the daughter 
of a washerwoman in the neighbourhood, who had literally sold 
her to a certain rich Baronet, who occasionally visited her; 
but she might still pass for a virgin, as Sir John was not 
supposed to have at great knack at penetrating maidenheads. 
His Lordship returned at the appointed hour, and Betsy Collins 
was introduced to him; but though she afforded him a temporary 
solace, she was incapable of erasing the idea of the 
enchanting Miss M----e, who still resigned the complete 
empress of his affections.

The sagacious Matron, finding that her project would not 
succeed in its full extent, now unfolded a new stratagem to 
him. "You see, my Lord" (said she), "that this girl is 
handsome, and tolerably genteel; that she is sensible, and has 
an acute genius; she is entirely at my devotion. Her friend 
the Baronet is out of town, and will not return for some 
weeks. I propose giving her a dancing-master for a few lessons 
that she may throw off her present rusticity; and then I will 
take her to this boarding school, and enter her as a boarder, 
in quality of niece. I shall pass for a merchant's widow, and 
will previously take lodgings in the neighbourhood, at once to 
give a sanction to the tale, and be at hand to avail myself of 
any favourable opportunities that may occur. Betsy shall, from 
the moment she commences a scholar, ingratiate herself into 
the good opinion of Miss M----e, and by every possible 
attention and assiduity, gain her friendship, and aim at being 
her confidante. These previous steps being taken, I will 
occasionally call at the school, and strive also to gain the 
esteem of Miss M----e, by such presents as I may judge will be 
agreeable to her, without offending her delicacy; and at the 
same time I shall endeavour to discover her most prevailing 
penchant, her hobby horse, which I shall not fail to gratify 
in its full extent. When the business is so far ripe, I shall 
inveigle her to town, under some pretence of pleasure and 
amusement, and when I have got her here, there is no doubt I 
shall, by some means or other, bring her to comply with your 
Lordship's most sanguine wishes."

His Lordship stood amazed at the fruitful imagination of his 
judicious procuress; he extolled her project to the skies, and 
said it beat all the politics of Machiavel, or any projector 
whatever; that it was wonderfully clever; and that it could 
not, he thought, fail of success. Saying this, in the fullness 
of his heart, he pulled out a pocket book, and presented her 
with a five hundred pound note, to carry the business into 
execution, saying he would make that sum up to a thousand 
guineas, upon the accomplishment of his wishes.

No time was lost for bringing the theory of this nefarious 
scheme into practice. Betsy, the very next day, began to enter 
upon her dancing exercises, and in a few days walked a 
tolerable minuet. Having by this time got rid of her rustic 
gait, her nominal aunt thought it was time to convey her to 
the boarding school, where she was not to commence her 
novitiate, but to acquit herself with the most subtle 
dexterity, according to the tutelage of her experienced 
mistress.

In this place I cannot help remarking that the fair sex are 
far more indebted for their ruin to female friends (nominal 
indeed) than male foes. There is a lust in a woman who has 
once lost her reputation, to bring every other upon a level 
with herself, that her pride may not be hurt with reproach, or 
upbraided with the voice of scandal. I have known instances of 
the most deep-laid artifices to decoy an innocent girl, who 
plumed herself upon her chastity, into the toils of infamy, 
only for the satisfaction of having done so laudable a deed. 
"Aye" (would a certain lady of some rank in the world of 
gallantry say), "I thought I should prove she was made of 
flesh and blood, as well as myself. This is one of your 
prudes, who fainted at a man's kissing her lips, and who would 
go into convulsions, if the finest fellow in England dared to 
kiss her hand: but nature, sooner or later, will prevail, and, 
as Gay says, it is what we must all come to." Thus has many a 
virtuous young female been debauched by womankind, to convince 
the world, that a professed Messalina was an immaculate 
character as any of her sex. But when this lust is added to 
the lust of gain, it is almost sure to prevail; two such 
powerful opponents are almost sure of prevailing against the 
most rigid virtue. What then must be the perilous state of the 
devoted Miss M----e ? It is time, therefore, that we should 
return to her, and if possible preserve her from her impending 
destruction.

We will now imaging our worthy duenna and her ward at ---- 
board school, not a hundred miles from King's Road, Chelsea; 
and that after complimenting Mrs ---- upon the high reputation 
her school was held in, an agreement was entered into for Miss 
Collin's board and learning; that she was to learn French (her 
father, being a violent anti-gallican, would not, during his 
life-time, permit her to study that language) improve her 
dancing, and acquire a proper knowledge of harpsichord and 
guitar. The terms demanded were readily agreed to, and Miss 
Betsy being introduced into the school her aunt soon descried 
Miss M----e. She could not refrain from approaching his 
Lordship's choice, her figure was so strikingly beautiful, and 
her deportment so uncommonly engaging. It immediately occurred 
to her, that she would be a most valuable acquisition, as, 
besides the thousand guineas she should get from his Lordship 
for her, she judges she should, before she became a stale 
piece, make at least ten thousand of her.

Betsy Collins was at first somewhat out of her element in this 
Seminary, so very different from that which she had just 
quitted in King's Place. She found it necessary to bridle her 
tongue, and carefully avoid using many expressions that too 
much resembled bawdy and swearing, which she had caught, as it 
were by infection, in her late nunnery. She never failed 
having plenty of sweet-meats, with which she constantly 
supplied Miss M----e. Did the latter take a fancy to a ribbon, 
a fan, or a trinket belonging to Betsy, it immediately became 
hers. In a word, this politeness and seeming affection wrought 
miracles in Miss Collins's behalf, and they here so intimate 
as to be incessant companions, and soon found means to become 
bed-fellows. This welcome news she readily communicated to her 
(nominal) aunt, who received it with the greatest 
satisfaction, and immediately paid her niece a visit, to give 
her such useful instructions as might tend to promote the 
great business of her embassy. These instructions tended to 
the corruption of Miss M----e's morals, by teaching her 
various lascivious practices, too often used by boarding 
school young ladies, who, nevertheless, think themselves 
completely virtuous. But Miss Betty's endeavours, in this 
respect, all proved abortive. Miss M----e was shocked at her 
proposals and attempts, and threatened never to lie with her 
again, if she mentioned these filthy operations, in which she 
would fain have had Miss M----e follow her example.

Betsy found it necessary to decline these manoeuvres, or else 
she plainly saw she should forfeit Miss M----e's esteem, and 
defeat her own purpose; accordingly, the artful young 
hypocrite not only discontinued these practices and attempts, 
but pretended to have become a convert to the moral 
remonstrances of her bed-fellow; adding, she was completely 
happy, in having met with so amiable a young lady, who had 
diverted her from those wicked ways, which would, she was now 
convinced, have tended her to ruin. By these artful means, she 
re-insinuated herself into the good graces of Miss M----e, and 
by additional assiduities and attentions, repeated presents 
and well-timed compliments, she gained a greater dominion than 
ever over the innocent, unsuspicious young lady's affections.

It may appear surprising how his Lordship, burning with that 
violent ardour we have already depicted, should remain so long 
in a state of perfect tranquillity, without urging his female 
negotiator to bring the great business she was employed in a 
to a speedy conclusion. This, indeed, was the not the case; 
for he was incessantly endeavouring to prevail upon her to 
complete the catastrophe of this cruel drama; but she appeased 
him, by telling him the plot would be perfectly ripe in a few 
days.

The natal day of his Majesty was the period fixed on for this 
sacrifice. In the morning the worthy Abbess called upon her 
niece, in a new equipage and splendid liveries, to bring her 
to town, and see the nobility at Court. Miss M----e was 
earnestly entreated to be one of the party, and her governante 
readily consented to her making this trip to town with her 
favourite Betsy.

After they had been spectators of the pageants of the day, 
Betsy's worthy aunt recollected she had particular 
acquaintance in the neighbourhood, with whom she could be so 
free as to take a dinner. The young ladies by this time (it 
being near four o'clock and their usual dinner time being two) 
had no great cause for much entreaty upon the occasion, as 
their juvenile appetites were sufficient advocates upon the 
occasion. They accordingly repaired -- whither? To King's 
Place, the Abbess's own nunnery. A splendid repast was 
prepared, and Miss M----e evinced her approbation by the 
attention she paid to it. The choicest wines were on the 
sideboard, and afterwards on the table. Quick libations to the 
regal health, and an uncommon flow of spirits, made Miss M----
e give more into the hilarity of the table, than ever she had 
done before in her life; and in the present conviviality of 
her disposition, aided by music and singing, and every 
possible auxiliary reflection, she yielded to entreaties so 
far, as to let Champagne suspend her reason.

The hour now approached for his Lordship's arrival, and every 
circumstance seemed to strew the way over with flowers for his 
triumphal entry: but providence seemed to interfere, in the 
most critical moment of Miss M----e's life.

She had a cousin, who was an Ensign in the Guards, and who, 
like most young gentlemen in that line of life, gave in to the 
foibles and dissipation of the times; in a word, he 
occasionally visited the nunneries in King's Place. He had 
been, too, drinking a few goblets extraordinary to his 
Sovereign's health; and the generous wine had so far operated, 
as to warm his youthful blood, too prone to amorous dalliance, 
and make him wander into this very house. Being introduced, 
through mistake, into the parlour where Miss M----e was asleep 
on the sofa, he had no sooner beheld her, than he exclaimed, 
"Heavens, what do I see, my sweet angelic cousin -- my dear 
Miss M----e, in such a place!" The familiarity of his voice 
awakened her -- she screamed, and fainted; but she was soon 
recovered to her senses. "My dear life (said he), this is no 
time for explanations -- you must come with me this instant." 
Saying this, he made her immediately huddle on her cloak, and 
taking her under his arm, conducted her to a coach, and 
conveyed her to her father's in Bond Street.

As they passed the threshold, his Lordship's chair had just 
stopped at the door, and one of his Chairmen was on the point 
of ringing the bell.

This story, which is genuine, and can be well authenticated, 
requires no comment. Let it be a caution to all school-
mistresses, governantes, and the fair sex in general, how they 
trust their pupils or themselves into company, even female 
company, without the most authentic vouchers of their 
characters, or before the most rigid inquiry into their 
pursuits, connections and morals.



Chapter XVI. 
A short dissertation upon long corks; or the origin, progress, 
and advantages of cork rumps, illustrated with many curious, 
critical and capricious adventures, in high, low, and middling 
life.

Lovejoy! What a name for amusement, pleasure, bliss! In thy 
mansion surely they must all be lodged! Even the blind Goddess 
herself one would think capable of removing them! But alas! 
Such are the transient movements of this world, the 
vicissitudes of life, though but a span, that there is a 
scarce security even in security itself. The most perfect 
beatitude this mundane ball affords, ist but a spasm, a 
convulsion of nature, which, were it of long duration, would 
be too violent for the human frame to support. So Lovejoy -- 
ill fated Lovejoy was but the gewgaw of an hour, the toy of 
wanton females, the rattle of riotous rakes. A bankrupt! But 
some solace may be still at hand; for Murphy in his Citizen 
tells us, that a Commission of Bankruptcy is the best 
commission his Majesty has in his gift: and who can dispute 
the authority, when this opinion was pronounced by a 
Commissioner of bankrupts himself?

The failure of Lovejoy made the whole Garden re-echo with its 
moans. How many hundred magnum bonums<47> have here been 
toasted to the Cyprian Goddess and all her attributes! Not a 
crevice of her charms was o'er forgot; and whether it was the 
lovely Harriot or the sprightly Charlotte that presided for 
the evening, the Paphian Queen still prevailed, and her 
votaries bowed to her shrine. It is a maxim that has long 
prevailed, and ever will, that good often arises from evil; 
and never was it more forcibly proved, than in the misfortunes 
of our friend Lovejoy. To the accident of his breaking, are we 
indebted for one of the most curious and useful inventions 
that have done honour to the present age. Many of the most 
valuable discoveries have been made by chance. Gunpowder was 
invented by a Priest who was in search of the philosopher's 
stone; and the origin of printing casually fell to the lot of 
a soldier; but it was left for the great and ingenious Mr 
Tape, of Tavistock Street, to institute the noble, ornamental, 
and inestimable design of cork rumps!

Mr Tape, in purchasing a lot at Lovejoy's sale, found himself 
unexpectedly in possession of six dozen of Mrs Allan's long 
corks. He was puzzled to guess to what use he could apply 
them: he had no magnum bonums to stop with them, his wine 
cellar, to speak in the Irish phraseology, consisting of 
nothing but half a kilderkin of sour small beer. But as it was 
an invariable rule with Mr Tape, to turn everything to his 
advantage, and never let any opportunity slip of profiting 
even by accidents; whilst he and his dear spouse were laying 
their heads together upon their pillows, a thought came into 
Mr Tape's noddle, that these same corks might be converted to 
some use -- "Faith, my dear," he said, "I have it," giving her 
a slap a posteriori: "What do you think of a cork rump?"  -- 
"Think!" (she replied, somewhat nettled at the pungent 
application of his hand) "I think it would have been a very 
useful thing just then, and preserved me from that violent 
spank." "I beg your pardon, my dear," he rejoined: "I was so 
elated with the lucky thought, that I really forgot myself, 
but I do not know, whether the making of my fortune and the 
smack did not go hand in hand." "If this is the case," she 
returned, "I should not have minded, if you had hit me two 
smacks, and made mine and your own fortune at the same time."

This dialogue being ended, Mr Tape jumped out of bed, hurried 
on his clothes, dived into the cellar, brought up the cargo of 
corks, set to work, and in a few hours produced a perfect cork 
rump, fit for a first rate lady of fashion of almost any 
dimensions whatever. In the afternoon it was exhibited at the 
shop window, and Mrs Baddeley passing by, took a fancy to it, 
imagining it would be a great improvement to the gentility of 
her person, purchased it, and exhibited that very night in it 
upon the stage.

Such is the origin of cork rumps; let us now consider their 
property, I might say virtue, utility, and advantage. No 
sooner had Mrs Baddeley displayed the elegance of this new and 
useful invention, that at least a dozen ladies of the first 
rank sent to her, and requested the favour to know where she 
had made that valuable purchase. She readily gave the 
necessary information, and in a few hours Tavistock Street was 
crowded from one end to the other with ladies carriages, who 
were extremely anxious to be perfectly well cork-rumped. Lady 
H----ton was corked in the twinkling of an eye; but she found 
fault that the corks were not longer, and large enough for her 
calibre. However, she made shift for the present with it, till 
Mr Tape could supply himself with corks of more proper 
dimensions for her Ladyship. Lady L----ier, Lady Bun--y, the 
Marchioness of C----n, Lady Bridget, Lady D----by, and the 
Duchess of D----e were all corked in one day; and though Lady 
H----n had pronounced the corks monstrously small, they sat 
very tight upon every one of them, except Lady L----r and Lady 
B--b--y. Miss. Br----n no sooner discovered the improvement 
the lady's rumps had received from this happy invention, than 
she flew with her combustible lover to the spot, and equipped 
herself perfectly to her satisfaction with the only one that 
was left from Lovejoy's stock of long corks: had she come give 
minutes later, she would have had the insupportable 
mortification of seeing Mrs Ba----y corked before her.

Besides the advantages derived from a cork rump, with respect 
to elegance and ornament, far more substantial benefits may 
accrue from them. Two young ladies, last summer, narrowly 
escaped from drowning, as they were going to Vauxhall by 
water; owing entirely to their being equipped with cork rumps 
from Mr Tape's manufactory, which proved their utility far 
superior to the skill of the Medical Society instituted for 
the recovery of drowned persons, as they have often failed in 
their design; but upon this and every other similar occasion, 
the wearers of cork rumps have been invariably secured from 
the fatal effects of the aqueous element.

To this valuable invention may the beautiful and chaste Miss 
G--n ascribe her security from the dangerous and critical 
attack of Colonel M----s. She was persuaded by the gentleman 
to take a trip, t�te-�-t�te, to Richmond; he having till then 
paid his addresses to her in an honourable way, and never 
given her the least grounds to suspect his sincerity: but 
having now got her entirely, as he thought, at his devotion, 
as she would not surrender at discretion, he without farther 
ceremony swore, that he would no longer be her dangler, and 
would seize that by force which she would not yield to him 
voluntarily. He had tumbled her upon the carpet, and was 
making such preparations as plainly indicated that tears and 
entreaties would be of no avail to preserve her virtue, when, 
fortunately, her cork rump served as a barrier to his 
assaults, and kept him so long at bay, that he was not able to 
attack her with that vigour which was necessary to accomplish 
his design. Finding himself thus frustrated in his intention, 
he cursed his stars and cork rumps, hurried down stairs, and 
left Miss G----n as immaculate as he had found her.

If, after this, the reader will not agree in the opinion, that 
cork rumps are greatly ornamental, and peculiarly useful to 
the ladies in the most perilous cases, we shall conclude that 
he has been in a predicament similar to that of Colonel M----
s; and that from revenge and resentment only, he has become an 
infidel against his own conviction. For our part, we shall for 
ever admire the inventive genius of Mr Tape, and consider 
virtues of a long cork to extend far beyond a magnum bonum<47> 
of Mrs Allan's best claret.



Chapter XVII. 
Sketch of an extraordinary black character, which has made 
some noise in the world. His origin, with the cause of his 
adopting the name of a certain great Prince. His good fortune 
in England. Is patronised by a certain Duchess, who gives him 
a polite education. Rolls in his chariot. His success with the 
fair sex; and a very curious adventure in Greenwich.

Everyone who has been only upon the surface of the Ton for the 
last seven years, must have noticed a very extraordinary 
personage parading the streets of this town, in an elegant 
equipage, servants in superb liveries, and drawn by fine dun 
horses. "Who is this?" cries Mr Julep, who thought he probably 
would, notwithstanding his complexion, get a fashionable 
complaint; and that he might find some means of introducing 
himself at least as an Apothecary, if not in the Chirurgical 
line. "Why, Mrs Gad, I'll tell you who he is: it is not Omiah; 
no, nor the Prince--of--of--Oronooko, who was here some years 
ago: he is a Prince of Ana--Ana--maboe, who is come here to 
make peace or war with the Premier, and the rest of the great 
folks, for not having properly protected his father's forts 
and settlements. Remember the story of Zanga, and we must 
tremble." -- "I know nothing of the story of Zanga" (said Mrs 
Gad), "but I don't like his appearance here at this very 
critical time. All strangers should give a very particular 
account of themselves, especially when their complexions are 
so so different from ours. I never see a very very swarthy 
man, who appears to be a foreigner, but I think he has some 
dark design: what then must I think of a black, Prince or not 
Prince, dressed so fine, and riding about in such a grand 
equipage?" -- "Pshaw, Mrs Gad, I can assure you his designs 
are very friendly; and it is our interest to cultivate, 
through him, the friendship of his father; the only danger is, 
we should slight his friendly offers, and excite him, through 
revenge, to follow the example of the Americans, and join the 
French." The matter was thus settled, to their mutual 
satisfaction.

But what would you think, reader, if after this he turned out 
a European black Prince; and, what is still more 
extraordinary; a Prince of France? The name of S--se is known 
all over the world; he was a little tanned in the wars in 
Flanders; but our present Prince here has, if we are not much 
ill informed, somewhat tarnished his reputation, if not his 
complexion, in the wars of Venus, even in this metropolis.

To be serious: this extraordinary character is neither more 
nor less that the son of a servant of the Prince of S----se, 
who, having a regard for the fidelity of his Negro domestic, 
stood, by proxy, godfather to his son, and gave him his own 
name. Some time since they came over to England, to better 
their station in some noble family. Young S--se, who at this 
time had no pretensions higher than common servitude, applied 
himself to the French horn, as a farther recommendation to 
favour. However, his father having obtained a place in the 
house of a certain deceased Duchess, and his son being 
admitted with him, by some strange whim, she took a particular 
fancy to the boy, and instead of letting him remain in a 
menial capacity, placed him at a celebrated Academy near Soho 
Square, where he learnt dancing, fencing and riding the great 
horse. He was now upon the verge of manhood, and having made a 
considerable progress in his studies, began to think he was 
superior to the common run of Macaronies, and treated them 
with contempt accordingly. Some of them resented these 
personal insults; but having heard of his dexterity to the 
sword, they declined coming to extremities, and Mungo almost 
never came off with triumph. Add to this superiority over the 
common run of the puppies of the age, that his talents and 
genius had now so far ingratiated him into the good graces of 
the Duchess, that she not only amply supplied his pocked with 
cash, but absolutely gave him a chariot for his own use.

Thus equipped, we may suppose that Mungo indulged in all the 
gaiety and extravagance of the town. His face was very well 
known in the flesh market at the playhouse; he constantly 
frequented the masquerades at the Pantheon and Cornelys', 
where he was very naturally, and much in character, played the 
part of Mungo, by which name he was afterwards called. He was 
soon initiated at all the nunneries in King's Place and the 
new buildings; and the nuns have frequently done him the 
honour of taking an airing in his carriage in Hyde Park and 
elsewhere. Hence we may easily conclude, that his visits were 
not merely of the platonic kind -- no; his soul was too much 
made of fire, and he was one of the Children of the Sun: his 
constitution was full was warm as his complexion, and the 
annals of King's Place say, that he revelled at large amidst 
the charms of variegated beauty; nay, notwithstanding his 
complexion, there was scarce a nun in those Seminaries who did 
not think it an honour to be distinguished by the Prince De D-
---se. Mrs L--w--gt--n, Miss B--t--n, Miss K----g, Miss H--ph-
---s, Miss K----y, and even Miss Emily C--lth--st herself, 
thought it no dishonour to have yielded entreaties of his 
Highness. His pocket was always well replenished; his carriage 
was always at their service; and the ladies gave him the best 
of characters for his manly parts and abilities. Such 
partialities could not fail of recommending him powerfully, 
especially to those filles-de-joye whose sole views are 
centred in lucre, and never consider either the size, 
complexion, age, or infirmities of their admirers: besides, 
Mungo, if he had not beauty, had at least youth and vigour on 
his side, and was very genteelly constructed. It is then 
surprising, that, in imitation of Desdemona, they should give 
the preference to another Othello, before many other insipid, 
debilitated lovers?

But Mungo's ambitious soul soared higher than mere 
grizettes<48>; there is a story told of him, which, however, 
we do not pretend to verify, though it has been circulated 
with much assiduity. But, to illustrate still farther his 
character, we shall give this adventure, which is said to have 
occurred in the Easter holidays, near Blackheath. Miss S----, 
a lady well known in the purlieus of Greenwich, went with her 
confidential maid, in disguise, to partake of the innocent 
diversions of the roly-poly pleasantry down the hill, in 
Greenwich Park. They met with Mungo and his companion, who 
passed for sea officers, and said they had just returned from 
a long and advantageous voyage, with their pockets well filled 
with cash, and their powers of virility, as the painters say, 
in fine keeping. Miss S---- was willing to push the frolic as 
far as she could with decency, and gratify her curiosity and 
inclination with one of Mungo's complexion; her Abigail did 
not care if she was in the mess, as the Prince's companion was 
a comely young fellow, just in his prime; and, accordingly, 
she persuaded her Mistress to repair to the Greyhound, where a 
cold entertainment was served, that was afterwards succeeded 
by a very warm one; which was so well approved of, that the 
fair ones thought a second, aye and a third edition would no 
way cloy their stomachs. The heroes, not knowing who their 
lovely inamoratas were, pulled out their purses, and offered 
them handsome presents; but these were peremptorily refused; 
and, to their great astonishment, when the bill was called, it 
was all discharged by the ladies. After they retired, Mungo 
and his friend's curiosity were much excited, to know into 
what good company they had got, when, to their no small 
astonishment, they learnt from the Waiter, that they were Miss 
S----r and her Maid, in disguise. This affair made some noise 
at Greenwich; and it was rumoured, that a sooty young Premier 
might in a few months be expected in town.



Chapter XVIII. 
S----se resolves to pay his addresses in form, to a lady of 
beauty, rank and fortune. He previously endeavours to improve 
his fortune in an extraordinary way. His apparent success. A 
very curious letter. The effect; and a still more curious 
answer. The consequence. Terminates with a truly laughable 
scene, at the Pantheon Masquerade.

This adventure had so far inflated Mungo's vanity, that he 
began to think he had sufficient merit and accomplishments to 
entitle him to a woman of fortune and fashion, in an 
honourable way. He was, however, conscious, notwithstanding 
his late good fortune in King's Place and at Greenwich, that 
his complexion was a few tinges too dark; and from reading in 
the newspapers so many advertisements of cosmetics and 
nostrums, not only for the renovating of beauty, but even the 
creation of it, as well as complexions, he was so little a 
sceptic, as to begin to think he had been highly neglectful in 
not improving his charms as he seriously believed they could 
secundum artem<49> wash a blackamoor white. He accordingly 
read over, with much attention, all the puffs that are 
obtruded upon the public in the prints, and resolved to spare 
no pains of becoming a pretty fellow tout ensemble.<50>

Having laid in what he judged a proper stock of washes, 
cosmetics, and other beautifying medicines, he began seriously 
to set to work upon this arduous business. The first week 
flattered him with great hopes of success; it being a 
composition of a very corrosive nature, raised a kind of scurf 
upon his skin, which made him fancy this was the first stage 
upon this road to beauty. So elated was he with this 
expectation, that he did not hesitate a moment writing a very 
curious billet to the Honourable Miss G----, a celebrated 
toast, with a fortune of 30,000l. There is at once a naivet� 
and impudence in this letter, that may excite the reader's 
curiosity.

"Dear Miss, 
	I have often beheld you in public with rapture; 
indeed it is impossible to view you without such emotions 
as must animate every man of sentiment. In a word, Madam, 
you have seized my heart, and I dare tell you I am your 
Negro slave. You startle at this expression, Madam; but I 
love to be sincere. I am of that swarthy race of Adam, 
whom some despise on account of their complexion; but I 
begin to find from experience, that even this trial of 
our patience may last but for a time, as providence has 
given such knowledge to man, as to remedy all evils of 
this life. There is not a disorder under the sun which 
may not, by the skill and industry of the learned, be 
removed: so do I find, that similar applications in the 
researches of medicine, have brought to bear such 
discoveries, as to remove the tawny hue of any 
complexion, if applied with skill and perseverance. In 
this pursuit, my dear Miss, I am resolutely engaged, and 
hope, in a few weeks, I may be able to throw myself at 
your feet, in as agreeable a form as you can desire; in 
the mean time, 
	Believe me with the greatest sincerity, 
	Yours most devotedly, 
	My lovely angel, 
	S----se"

This very extraordinary epistle had a very whimsical and 
risible effect upon Miss G----. She received it whilst she was 
at tea with a very particular confidante. Before she read it 
half through, she could not refrain from bursting out into 
such a loud laugh, as made her friend involuntarily do the 
same, without knowing the cause; and the footman, who was in 
waiting, was seized with the same risible convulsion, in spite 
of biting his lips almost through. When this extraordinary 
contagious convulsion, which often communicates itself like 
gaping, was over, Miss W----ms asked Miss G---- what it was 
that could operate so forcibly upon her risible muscles? Upon 
which she said, throwing her the letter, "Refrain from 
laughing, if you can." Upon the perusal of it, the laugh was 
tenfold more than before; and the servant was compelled to go 
out of the room, for fear of a urinary accident.

After they had exhausted the whole stock of laughter in their 
present possession, they began to consult how they could 
sufficiently ridicule so impertinent, so vain, so 
presumptuous, a black, in every sense of the word. " Come 
(said Miss W----ms), give me pen, ink, and paper; I will have 
the first touch at the Moorish prince, and I do not doubt but 
you will be able much to improve upon it." Saying this, and 
the pen, ink, and paper being produced, she wrote as follows:-

May it please your Highness, 
	The unexpected honour you have vouchsafed to do me 
is just come to hand; and I find that female vanity, 
which is so predominant in us, cannot resist the first 
impulse of acknowledging myself far too transported to 
write with that coolness I could wish. Indeed your 
Highness must be blind (pardon the expression) to have 
viewed me in a favourable point of light; but yet I will 
cherish the thought; my ambition is too highly concerned 
in it; and I frankly tell you, that your Highness cannot 
too early come and seize a hand, where you have already 
made a conquest of a heart. I hope this will find your 
complexion entirely reconciled to your wish. As to me, I 
acknowledge a black man was always the favourite of my 
affections; and that I never yet saw either Oroonoko or 
Othello without rapture. But lest you could imagine I 
have not in every respect your warmest wishes at heart, I 
have enclosed a little packet* (some of which I use 
myself when I go to a masquerade), which will have the 
desired effect; in case your nostrums should fail. Apply 
it, I beseech you, instantly, that I may have the 
pleasure of seeing you as soon as possible. Thus 
languishing for the happiness of telling you, by word of 
mouth, how much I adore you, believe me. 
	Most devotedly yours, 
	G----."

*Note: A parcel of carmine, and pearl powder.

No sooner had Miss W----ms penned this billet, which she did 
in a few minutes, than she read it to Miss G----; who could 
not help admiring the readiness of her imagination, and the 
acuteness of her irony; but she was fearful that Mungo would 
not have penetration sufficient to see it in that point of 
view, and taking it in a serious light, might torment her with 
his ridiculous and impertinent visits. But upon Miss W----ms 
saying, she would take the whole upon herself, and receive him 
masked, in the character of Miss G----, the latter consented 
to dispatch the billet, with the contents. This thought 
engendered another, which was to go to the next Pantheon 
masquerade, and have a still more complete revenge upon the 
Prince in person.

Let us now look to the unfortunate S----se, who no sooner 
received this reply, than he was stung to the soul with the 
poignancy of its satire; and what provoked him still more was, 
that being then in company with his trusty Greenwich friend, 
to whom he had not yet communicated the designed alteration of 
his complexion; and having unguardedly shown him the lady's 
letter and contents; his companion was so tickled with S----
se's folly and impertinence on the one hand, and the sarcastic 
reply on the other, that he seemed too to have caught the 
infection from the ladies, and could not resist the impulse 
they so forcibly had upon his risible muscles.

This behaviour in his friend threw S----se into convulsions; 
he burnt the letter and its contents; then fetching his 
cosmetics an nostrums, threw them into the fire also; he next 
threw himself upon the sofa in agonies of despair, cursing all 
the sex, and adding, there was no friendship in the world.

His companion was struck at his expression, for two reason; 
first, because he did not intend to offend S----se on the one 
hand, and on the other, he was in a great measure dependant on 
him. He therefore judged it prudent to endeavour to afford him 
some solace in his present affliction; and knowing that 
nothing gave him so much satisfaction as a masquerade, 
informed him there was to be one the next evening at the 
Pantheon; and that if it was agreeable, they would then go and 
choose their dresses, that they might have the preference. The 
very mention of a masquerade cheered up his heart, and 
disbanded every disagreeable idea. We will now suppose them 
gone upon this errand, and by the next evening they are 
equipped for the occasion: we will also suppose, that Miss G--
-- and Miss W--ms were not idle upon the occasion.

S----se happened to choose the dress of a Sultan, any by some 
accident Miss G---- fixed upon that of a Sultana: they were 
both splendid, and attracted the attention of the whole 
Rotunda. No sooner had Miss G---- cast her eyes upon S----se, 
than she knew him by the discoveries made through the 
apertures of his mask. The elegance of her dress, soon made 
him account her, as his favourite Sultana of the night. 
Nothing could have more happily occurred, for the display of 
the raillery. Upon his saying some civil things to her, and 
amongst others, that he had dropped his handkerchief to her; 
she bid him stand off, he was an imposter -- she could 
perceive he was only a black eunuch in disguise; that she 
should acquaint the Grand Signor of the indignity offered his 
Sublime Highness by such a wretch, and have him slayed: "But," 
added she, in another tone of voice, "that may be an attempt 
you have already made upon yourself, in order to promote a 
farther disguise; in that case, I would send you some of my 
own cosmetics, that you have not make too horrid an appearance 
in the Seraglio for human eyes to behold!"

S----se could bear no more -- there were daggers in every 
word; they pierced to the soul; he retired precipitately, and 
has never since had the least relish for a masquerade.



Chapter XIX. 
Account of the nunnery in Curzon Street, Mayfair. Some 
description of Mrs B----nks, and her different nuns. Sketches 
of some of her visitors. History of Maria Br----n, a Tha�s 
well known upon the Haut Ton.

We have remained long enough in the purlieus of King's Place; 
let us now make a short excursion to Curzon Street, Mayfair. 
Here resided the intelligent, assiduous and polite Mrs B----
nks, who having sensibility enough to know, that she had not 
charms sufficient to captivate every beholder, resolved to 
turn those talents to her advantage, with which nature had 
endowed her, and to make the beauty and allurements of the 
rest of her sex beneficial to herself. To this end, she sought 
the acquaintance of every handsome demi-rep about town. Those 
who were affluent, and only wanted to gratify their amorous 
passions, could, through the agency of this lady, always be 
supplied with such stout and athletic riding masters, as never 
failed giving the strongest proofs of their knowledge and 
abilities. For those who were in indigence, and were compelled 
to make a sale of their charms, she had always a constant 
market, and the best customers within the purlieus of St. 
James's. Charlotte Hayes had long been her tutoress, having 
served a regular apprenticeship to that lady, and under whom 
she afterwards moved in the more elevated station of assistant 
and counsellor upon every critical and important occasion. In 
a word, having saved a sum of money in this laudable vocation, 
she thought it time to commence Abbess upon her own 
foundation; and accordingly took a genteel house in Curzon 
Street.

Clara Hay----d made her first public appearance in this 
seminary, though she afterwards repaired to Charlotte's. Miss 
M--d--s was the next upon the list of her nuns, who was 
celebrated for her transcendent charms, which were so great as 
to captivate the learned Dr. B--k--s. Miss Sally H--ds--n was 
third upon the list, and was so prudent and economical, that 
she saved about two hundred pounds, and proposed soon taking a 
nunnery of her own. The turbulent Mrs C----x we find also upon 
Mrs B----ks's list. Her connections with a young Scotch son of 
Mars, enables her in other respects to pick and choose her 
company; and she bullies any man who offers her less than five 
guineas. Another Caledonian gentleman, who has been 
distinguished in the literary world upon political topics, is 
here also a constant visitor; and it was at first imagined, 
that Mrs C----x was the object of his attention: but this 
error was soon rectified, by its plainly appearing that Mrs B-
---nks alone engrosses all his affections, and reigns Empress 
of his heart, notwithstanding her homely visage, and less 
graceful figure; he declaring, she has that je ne sais quoi 
about her, that no man of sense can resist.

Miss Betsey St--n--s--n acts in the capacity of one of the 
sisterhood, when there is a great run of business, and nobody 
else in the way, rather than disappoint a customer, or drive 
him to another nunnery; but her general vocation is that of 
assistant to Mrs B----ks, in which capacity she displays great 
knowledge and industry. Indeed the fatigue of action in this 
double station, generally induces her to make a retreat in the 
summer season to one of the watering places, for the benefit 
of bathing, and bracing up her relaxed frame. Mrs W--ls--n 
indulges herself so much in the gratifications of the table, 
that she has attained that embonpoint that is rather 
ungraceful; but her pretty eyes, and pouting lips, still 
command admirers, and her size to some customers is far from 
being disagreeable. Mrs Br----n, generally known by the 
denomination of The Constable, being an excellent mould for 
grenadiers, should be pensioned by Government for recruiting 
his M----y's forces.

Mrs F--gs----n, the last upon this list, is a very useful 
hand; she never says nay to anything, or anybody. Be he Jew or 
gentile; brown or fair, short or tall, crooked or straight, it 
matters not, if his money is not light; as she constantly 
carries a pair of scales in her pocket for weighing gold, and 
thereby never is imposed upon. It is to this lady that we are 
indebted for the print at the shops, representing a lady of 
easy virtue weighing a buck's light guinea; and a good 
likeness is preserved in the portrait. Notwithstanding the 
great variety of admirers she has had of almost all nations, 
and every complexion, her amorous passions are not absorbed; 
as a certain tall, broad-backed Irish gentleman can testify, 
who figures away in public upon her bounty. It is true, he is 
compelled to do hard duty, as nobody who knows Mrs F--gs--n 
can dispute, that (to use her own phrase) "When she gets in 
her arms the man she likes, elle s'abandonne tout a-fait."<51>

Maria Br----n has just now engaged in the Seminary. As there 
is something curious in her story, the reader will not, 
probably, be displeased to meet with it here. This lady was 
the daughter of a builder near Marylebone, and was reputed to 
be a fortune of ten thousand pounds. Maria was a tall, genteel 
girl, and had received a tolerable education, which was not 
thrown away upon her. No sooner had she attained that age 
which inspires every female with thoughts of the male sex, 
than she appeared in all public places. With a heart prone to 
love and amorous dalliance, she found herself much embarrassed 
to parry the many attacks that were made upon her from the 
gay, the giddy, the artful and the witty: add to this, that 
she had made acquaintance with one of those dangerous females, 
who, by still preserving the appearance of chastity, are 
admitted into decent company, though strongly suspected by the 
prying eye of curiosity. A party was made to Windsor, in which 
was a certain man of rank, whom she imagined was paying his 
address in an honourable way; but he having discovered, 
through her female friend, that old Br----n would not part 
with a farthing till his death, had veered about, and planted 
his battery against her virtue instead of her heart. In this 
party she was betrayed by her confidential acquaintance, who 
rallied her upon her fears of being left alone with the man 
who she was soon to call her husband. Betrayed into this 
opinion, she listened to his fond tale, and yielded his 
solicitations, imagining her condescension but a prelude to 
their nuptials. But alas! A short time after convinced her of 
the mistake. With what agitation of mind, what mortification, 
what remorse, did she, in print, read his marriage with 
another! Oh reader, if thou art a female, I leave thee to 
thine own sensations.

Some time elapsed before she could surmount her affliction; 
but finding there was no likelihood of any fruits of this 
amour being visible, she consoled herself with having detected 
the perfidy of her pretended female friend.

Mr W----ms, a gentleman, in easy circumstances, sometime after 
paid his addresses to her, and would with sincerity have given 
her his hand, if her father would have advanced a sum equal to 
what his fortune entitled him to; but at the very critical 
period when this negotiation had been brought nearly an issue, 
Mr Br----n relenting from his former rigour, he became a 
bankrupt, and all her imaginary fortune proved a bubble. Mr W-
---ms had gone such lengths in soliciting her hand, that 
though prudence would not permit him to prosecute his suit in 
an honourable way, he could not so sufficiently surmount his 
passion for Maria, as to avoid yielding to the tempting bait 
that now presented itself, of making proposals of a less 
delicate kind, which he judged would be accepted. Upon the 
first hint of this kind, she resented it with great warmth, 
and upbraided him in the strongest terms with his perfidy. He 
was prepared for these attacks, and therefore they did not 
dismay him, or divert him for his purpose. Necessity at length 
compelled Maria to yield at discretion, and a short time 
pronounced her pregnant, and she at a due period gave the 
world a son.

Mr W----ms's fondness, from this, did not in the least abate; 
but, on the contrary, was much increased. After she recovered, 
she appeared in public with as much �clat as ever; for having 
laid-in privately, the secret was pretty well preserved. Sir 
Charles B----y joined her one evening at Ranelagh, soon after 
he discovered his own lady's infidelities; and thinking Mrs 
Br----wn, we will now call her, a very agreeable, as well as 
beautiful woman, began to find himself greatly interested in 
her behalf, and judged she would afford him infinite solace 
for the loss of his perfidious wife. Her pride was stimulated 
by such a conquest, and she thought a just revenge was due to 
W----ms, for having taken advantage of her distress. In a 
word, she yielded to Sir Charles, who for some time testified 
his generosity, as well as his fondness. W----ms detected her 
infidelity, and deserted her; Sir Charles's attachment was not 
of much longer date. Thus situation, a short time reduced her 
to the necessity of making some other provision for her 
support. Mrs B----ks met with her at this critical period, and 
easily prevailed upon Maria to become a lodger in her house. 
Such was the state of this nunnery, when we last visited it: 
what revolutions it has since undergone, we may relate in some 
future chapter.


Chapter XX. 
The Catastrophe, or, the Force of Love, exemplified in a 
Christian Preacher, and a Jewish Inamorato. A wild goose chase 
through Europe, in pursuit of a more contemptible animal -- a 
professed jilt. A short dialogue upon long and little tails, 
etc., etc.

Love mounts, and rolls about my stormy mind. 
Like clouds driven by a tempestuous wind. 
[Dryden, Aureng-Zebe, Act IV.]

So says the Bard; yet we are instructed by a great author, 
that vanity is the predominant passion in both sexes; however, 
from the following true, but melancholy relation, love will 
seem to have the ascendency over all the other passions.

The intelligent reader is ere now in possession of most of the 
circumstances of the dreadful catastrophe that terminated the 
life of the unfortunate Miss Reay, and the moral career of the 
wretched Mr Hackman;<52> but there are some particulars which 
may be novel, and we shall relate them, as they tend to 
introduce a set of characters that are equally celebrated and 
extraordinary.

Mr Hackman had, doubtless, a very violent passion for Miss 
Reay; and thinking himself slighted and contemned, he 
committed the horrid deed for which he justly suffered; but 
whether he considered Mr M----a as his rival or not, does not 
yet seem testified. He thought, most certainly, that Miss Reay 
treated him with coolness and indifference, if she had not 
given the preference to another admirer; but the reader may 
not be informed of what gave rise to this jealousy, suspicion 
and resentment. Lord S---- had banished him from his house, 
where heretofore he had been a frequent visitor, in 
consequence of some discoveries made through the ministry of a 
certain Italian female, who, like Janus, appeared with a 
double face.

Signora G---- had herself entertained a penchant for Mr 
Hackman, and, from the frequent presents she received from 
him, was flattered into belief that their inclinations were 
mutual; but when she found all the indirect overtures she had 
made to him were unobserved or slighted, and when a treaty of 
marriage was actually on foot between Mr Hackman and Miss 
Reay, her rage and resentment broke forth, and, in an 
ebullition of choler and revenge, she revealed all the secrets 
she had been entrusted with to Lord S----. The consequence of 
this discovery was, a severe remonstrance to Miss Reay upon 
her conduct, and a perspective, and strongly-coloured 
description of what she might expect from a matrimonial 
alliance with Mr Hackman. The picture was so alarming and 
shocking, that she resolved, if possible, to surmount all the 
fond feelings she had entertained for that unfortunate man. He 
had not heard from or seen her for several days, and on the 
morning of the shocking catastrophe he wrote a letter replete 
with the most tender effusions of love and affection to Miss 
Reay, addressing it to her through the mediation of Signora G-
---, and accompanying it with a hamper of curious Madeira, 
which he had received from a friend just returned from 
Jamaica.

Signorina G---- was particularly fond of Madeira wine, and did 
not return the hamper, either opened or unopened; but she 
returned the letter, after perusing it, resealed, by the 
messenger who brought it. This circumstance, which Mr Hackman 
attributed to Miss Reay's direction or instruction, irritated 
him to a pitch of frenzy, which caused the shocking event at 
Covent Garden.

We shall now quit this melancholy relation, and endeavour to 
make our readers some amends for entering into so affecting a 
transaction, by introducing them more immediately to Signora 
G----, Mrs P----pe, and Signora F----i, through whose agency 
Miss Reay was first introduced to Lord S----.

Signora G---- has been an Opera and Oratorio singer for more 
than thirty years. She was a tall genteel woman, with fine 
black eyes, jetty<53> locks, regular white teeth, and a 
complexion varied selon la mode du jour,<54> by the assistance 
of Mess. Warren and Bailey, and their predecessors. She had 
been a woman of intrigue from the age of puberty, and has had 
as numerous a succession of lovers as any salacious female in 
Europe, Lady H---- and the Cz----a not excepted.

Among the train of her admirers, many of whom she has done the 
honour to ruin, was the unfortunate, in more senses than one, 
little Jew Mend----z. This extraordinary petit personage about 
thirty years ago figured a way in high life; and considering 
he was scarce three feet high, was a paragon of foppery: he 
would, had his powers of dress continued till this day, been 
pronounced the greatest little macaroni in Europe. He was 
moreover the professed inamorato of every fine woman 
pronounced a toast upon the Ton. Amongst the number of these, 
in particular, were the present Mrs Donaldson, then Miss 
Faulkner, who at that time sung at Marylebone Gardens; and 
Signora Galli, then esteemed a capital singer at the Opera.

Mend----z was at this period a merchant of opulence, and 
esteemed to be worth near a plumb;<55> but his attachment to 
G---- made him neglect his business, and she led him one of 
the most whimsical dances that can be suggested, almost all 
over Europe. He had previously declared his passion to her in 
London, and made her some handsome presents (and we find 
experimentally this lady has a peculiar concupiscence for 
presents, as well as riding masters, let them come either Jew 
or gentile,) which induced her to believe she could turn the 
little Levite most religiously to the advantage of a female 
Christian, who devoutly went to Mass -- to ogle for conquests.

She began her tour by France -- remained at Paris a few days. 
M----z was after her in the twinkling of an eye; but she no 
sooner heard of his being upon the road (and she had her 
emissaries properly planted), than she quitted the capital. 
She repaired to Lyon -- he was there within four-and-twenty 
hours after her. Presto was the word, and she was gone. He 
pursued her to Venice, through part of Germany, to be brief, 
came up with her at the Hague. Happy to find he had at length 
overtaken her, he took the speediest means to be introduced to 
her.

He obtained an interview, when the sequel was completely 
whimsical. We shall throw it into the form of a dialogue, as 
we think it will convey the spirit and letter of both their 
meanings more forcible.

Enter Mr M----z, making his three regular obeisances, 
according to the Galilinean System.

Signora G. Heavens! Mr Men----z, what could have brought you 
here?

Mr M. Oh! Madam, ask me not that question, it is the summit of 
cruelty.

Signora G. For G--d's sake, how could you guess I was here?

Mr M. Guess you was here, Madam! Why I knew it to a certainty. 
I even know, minutely, every where you have been for these 
last three months -- every since you quitted England.

Signora G. Why you really astonish me! How is it possible you 
could have gained this intelligence? If you had been a 
minister of State, and planted spies upon me from stage to 
stage, I should be inclined to doubt your veracity.

Mr M. I have then to assure you, that I have been in pursuit 
of you, from post to post, from the time you quitted London to 
this very hour.

Signora G. You astonish me! And pray, Mr Men----z, let me ask 
you one more question: What could induce you thus to pursue me 
all over this world?

Mr M. Why, Madam, I would pursue you not only through the 
universe, but if it were possible you could ascend into any 
other planet, I would supplicate the Gods, as they only wish I 
had then left, to aid me in a flight to Venus; for there you 
must certainly congenially take up your abode.

Signora G. You are truly romantic; but I should beg you would 
be a little explicit -- what is it you really mean?

Mr M. By heavens, Madam, everything that is completely fond, 
and truly amorous!

Signora G. Completely fond, and truly amorous! More 
astonishing than all the rest! In the name of common sense, 
what would you really be at?

Mr M. What a question! Fold you, my angel, in my arms, and 
breathe out the last sighs of a doting lover upon that 
angelic, that delectable bosom.

Signora G. Ha! Ha! Ha! Now you really make me laugh -- it is 
impossible to resist! But you certainly must be out of your 
senses?

Mr M. Out of my senses, Madam! If I am, you have driven me out 
of them.

Signora G. I am sorry if that should be the case; but I think 
the best thing I can do for you, is to write home to your 
friends, and advise them to send some of Dr. Monro's people 
for you with a strait waistcoat.

Mr M. Oh Madam, if you knew the pangs I this instant feel, you 
would treat me with some compassion, at least. [Falling on his 
knees, and seizing her hand, which he almost devoured with 
kisses]

Signora G. Good heavens! You really terrify me! Canine madness 
I protest! I was fearful you would have bit my little finger 
off.

Mr M. Oh no, Madam, I would not hurt the smallest particle 
belonging to you; but love, all powerful love, will prevail.

Signora G. Love! All powerful love! My stars! Why, Mr Mend----
z, only look in the glass, and consult for one moment, if that 
pretty, little, dear, sweet person, not so high as a walking 
stick, with those piercing eyes, and those enchanting rabbit's 
teeth, can possibly inspire the tender passion!

[M--z much nettled at this expostulation]

Mr M. Why, Madam, let me tell you in a vulgar, but true 
proverb -- Little dogs have long tails.

Signora G. Long tails -- oh ridiculous! Long tails! Ha!Ha!Ha! 
Why, Mr Mend----z, if you were all tail, you would not be half 
long enough for me.



Chapter XXI. 
Sequel of the historiette of Signora G-- and Mr M----z. 
Memoirs of Mrs P----pe. Description of her person. Bill of 
sale from her husband to Justice H----. Her uncommon 
extravagance exemplified in a remarkable anecdote. Her 
introduction to Lord S----, and the nature of the amusements 
of a certain female coterie.

In love the victors from the vanquish'd fly! 
They fly who wound, and they pursue that die. 
[Edmund Waller, To a Friend]

We began the last chapter with a poetical quotation, and we 
thought it inspired our genius so much with rapturous flights, 
that we were induced to attempt the same experiment again.

We left poor M----z at the Hague in a most deplorable plight, 
supplicating a tyrannical beauty to vouchsafe granting one 
smile for all his toil and trouble; but when we add, that the 
most powerful of all advocates -- a bank note of the greatest 
value (one thousand pounds) was most respectfully presented to 
her, the reader will certainly be induced to believe, that the 
miniature lover was relieved from his distress of mind, and 
made completely happy. No such thing: she pocketed the 
affront, it if could be called such, and told Mr M----z, half 
in jest and half in earnest, that it was out of pure regard 
for him that she would not indulge him; as she was convinced 
that one single night's gratification would dissolve his 
little mass into mere jelly, and that there would be nothing 
left but the mere Caput Mortuum<56> of his extravagant passion 
and imaginary concupiscence.

But we can say with the Fabulist, with regard to the boys and 
the frogs -- this might be sport to her, but it was death to 
him.

We shall conclude this farcical historiette with only adding, 
that Signora G---- circumcised once more the little Jew in a 
most un-Christian-like manner, not by robbing him of his 
prepuce, or even handling any of the appurtenances, but by 
literally slaying him alive, and leaving him no covering to 
his bones.

Having dismissed Signora G----, we shall pay our compliments 
to Mrs P--pe, though perhaps, in point of seniority, Signora 
G----lli might claim the precedency.

This lady married an officer upon half-pay, who in respect to 
beauty might have disputed the pass even with Heidegger. She 
was, perhaps, one of the handsomest women in England: her 
features were remarkably regular, and bore such a happy 
symmetry, as would have induced Sir Joshua Reynolds twenty 
years ago, to have requested her as a model for a Venus de 
Medicis. To this add, her complexion was entirely her own; she 
had no recourse to fictitious auxiliaries to increase the 
luxuriant tint of her cheek, the pouting captivating lip, 
which concealed two rows of teeth that outvied ivory in 
whiteness. Her shape was delicate, her gait graceful, and she 
moved a correct representative of the Paphian Queen.

Continence, however, was not among the number of her virtues, 
and though she was remarkably fond of dogs, she had no claim 
to a kindred with Diana. Indeed, the treatment she met with 
from her husband, added to this unengaging person, might plead 
a plausible apology for her infidelity to the connubial bed. 
But when we add to this, that he entered into a regular 
bargain of sale for his wife, no imputation seems to lie at 
her door for the frailties of which she has been accused.

Justice H----d made a purchase of her from her husband for 
three hundred pounds, and she was transferred to him in a 
legal or illegal manner (we will not pretend to say), at the 
Shakespeare Tavern. Notwithstanding the ill treatment she had 
received from Mr P----pe, she was very unwilling to quit him 
upon these terms, and she weepingly said, "Can you part with 
me so easily?"

To which he replied, in the words of Lord Lace, in the farce 
of The Lottery, "Part with you so easily! I would part will 
all your sex for half the sum."

Thus separated, she nevertheless continued for almost a twelve 
month, a calendar year, constant to Justice H----d. In the 
course of this time, it must be allowed, that she did not 
think three hundred pounds a sufficient price for her charms, 
for more than six times that sum were expended upon her during 
her connection with Mr H----d. Indeed voluptuousness and 
extravagance seemed to be her motto; and amongst other 
testimonies in evidence of this opinion, an anecdote is 
related, and we believe with truth, that walking one afternoon 
in a garden the latter end of April or beginning of May, she 
spied one single cherry upon a tree, and of which she become 
so enraptured that she told the Justice, she should die if she 
had it not, intimating at the same time she believed she was 
pregnant. Mr H----d, whose fondness for her was incredible, no 
sooner received the imitation, than he called the Gardener, 
and inquired what he would take for that that cherry: the 
Gardener at first refused any terms; but at length (being 
informed that the lady was with child, and in a longing 
condition) he consented to let Mrs P----pe have the half-ripe 
single cherry for the moderate price of one guinea.

After she quitted Mr H----d, for reasons that she judged 
prudential -- for really he could not afford to present her 
every instant with cherries ripe or unripe at the rate of a 
guinea each -- she had a variety of lovers, amongst whom was 
Lord S----h, to whom we hear she was introduced by Mrs C----
ge, who some time since kept a hostel in Suffolk Street; and 
whom we find had not only courage sufficient to engage 
occasionally with a First Lord of the Admiralty, but tour a 
tour with all the officers of the Coldstream, and even the 
whole diplomatic body.

Mrs P----pe and Mrs C----ge, with Signora G----i, composed a 
coterie, where Miss Reay occasionally paid her visits, and 
where a certain Naval Commissioner used frequently to assist 
at private crashes, though he usually made them pretty public, 
by beating the kettle drums at the rate of at least three 
knots an hour.



Chapter XXII. 
Sketch of the Memoirs of Signora Fr----i. Her acquaintance 
with Lord S----. Her affection for Captain B----r. The fatal 
effects of her generosity. Is at length immured for debt. 
Finds Signor Tend----ci in the same predicament. Historiette 
of a whimsical Author. Her beneficence to him. Imprisoned 
jealousy. Preparations for a duel, and a risible event.

We should pay an ill compliment to Signora Fr----si, if we 
neglected her in this group. She was about twenty years since 
reckoned a fine black woman, much inclined to the embon 
point,<37> and was by the judges of salacious beauty 
pronounced a fine crummy<57> piece. She sung at the Opera, the 
Oratorios, and in private concerts, and was esteemed a first-
rate performer. She had an advantage over most Italian 
singers; she pronounced the English with greater purity than 
any foreign singer we have heard. Indeed a vicious 
pronunciation, though ever so musical, cannot with propriety 
be pronounced harmonious. This remark was justly made by a 
gentleman at the late entertainment under the title of Carmen 
Seculare, where the vocal performers were for the most part 
foreigners, and tortured the English language without mercy.

Signora F----si's musical talent tended forcibly to recommend 
her to Lord S----h, who is a professed amateur, as well as 
performer. F----i never laid any extraordinary claim to 
chastity, and the douceurs received from his Lordship were, 
besides his good sense and politeness, some additional 
advocates in his behalf; so we find that a few months after 
their acquaintance, a fine chopping boy came into the world, 
to prove that his Lordship and F----si had amused themselves 
with more than semi-quavers, and this his Lordship's pipe was 
a least in one sense as good as hers, and that it could trill 
two notes even beyond G. It certainly was lucky for his 
Lordship that his powers were so extensive, or else the Duet 
would have been very different, and not had the least effect. 
In plain English, F----i was so extremely plump, that it 
required a lover of uncommon parts to afford her any 
gratification.

This son was provided for in the Navy; but we believe he is 
not now living, as we do not find his name in the list of 
Naval Officers.

Through Fr----i yielded to the entreaties of Lord S--h, he was 
too much immersed in business, to visit her so often as she 
was disposed to perform the Paphian Rites: she accordingly 
admitted the embraces of Captain B----r, who was a fine 
gentleman, and quite to the Signora's gusto. As he had no 
other means of support except his half-pay for himself and a 
numerous family, Fr----i frequently transferred the 
compliments his Lordship made her to the Captain, and even her 
own privy purse has often been laid under contributions in 
times of emergency; for the Latitats,<58> knowing his 
connection, never spared him, when his tailor or butcher found 
it difficult to obtain the payment of their bills. From this 
and similar instances of uncommon generosity, Fr----i was 
constantly in distress, though she got considerable sums as a 
performer in various senses. She at length made an 
acquaintance with a certain bookseller not far from Ludgate 
Hill, who administered to her wants pretty profusely; but 
still her distress continued, and she at length found herself 
immured in the King's Bench. But even here she passed her time 
very agreeably, as Tendu--i was then in the same predicament, 
and they were frequently visited by the whole Opera Band, and 
had little concerts in their own respective apartments.

In this situation, she made an acquaintance with an 
unfortunate author, who, after playing, hide-and-seek for two 
years, was, according to the phraseology of bum-bailiffs, at 
length nabbed. For several months, he had invariably inverted 
the course of time, by literally turning night into day. He 
usually rose about six o'clock in the evening, repaired to the 
coffee-house, where he had his breakfast under the 
denomination of afternoon tea. Having perused the papers, he 
made an excursion till about twelve at night, when he repaired 
to Jupp's, and had some chops or a steak, which served him for 
dinner, alias supper: here he remained as long as the house 
was open, and drank two or three pints of beer. If the scene 
closed before his usual time of going to bed, he visited the 
Brown Bear, or some other night house, in order the complete 
the remainder of the evening. It was remarkable, that for near 
a twelve-month a Bailiff was constantly in possession of a 
writ against him, and never could catch him, notwithstanding 
they were so nearly neighbours, as to live in adjacent rooms 
upon the same floor: but the Bard having changed his name and 
from the distress pretty well disguised himself, it was 
difficult to recognise him when described in his former 
splendour; insomuch that they often met upon the stairs 
together, and Mr S----r and Mr Sm----th paid each other 
compliments, in passing, of civility bordering upon 
friendship. Mr S----r's indigence was so great, that his whole 
stock of linen consisted but of one shirt, or rather a ragged 
apology for a shirt, which reduced him to the necessity of 
being his own washerwoman. At length, however, he wrote a 
production that he disposed of for a considerable sum, and his 
good fortune may be said to have been his ruin. For now being 
properly rigged, and appearing in his usual splendour, Mr Sm--
--th having intimation of his haunts, soon traced him to the 
Bedford Coffee-House; and here he met with a salute not quite 
so civil as he used to meet with upon the stairs at his old 
lodging, though by his appearance he seemed entitled to polite 
behaviour far more than before. The interview was whimsical, 
when Sm----th made the discovery that his old fellow-lodger 
was the person now in his custody: and S--r was not a little 
astonished, that after having been so long in his power, 
without the least trouble, or pursuit he should now, when, as 
it were, quite emancipated from his clutches, fall a prey to 
him.

F----i's generosity prevailed upon this occasion, and she 
could not refrain giving S----r a general invitation to her 
table, which was, indeed, an incredible relief to him, as he 
had no other support but his groats<59> to live upon for some 
months.

Tendu--i, who thought he was Lord Paramount of the Gallic 
demesnes within the walls of the King's Bench, one afternoon 
intruded into the apartments of Signora F----i; and, 
notwithstanding the fork was stuck up, according to prison 
law, to denote the conjugal duty, with or without license, was 
going forward, he broke into the bedroom, and surprised S----r 
in the arms of his benefactress and Dulcinea. Such an insult 
S----r immediately resented, and called Tend----ci a rascal. 
This expressed nettled the demi-eunuch more than any other 
phrase S----r could have uttered; and he appealed to Fr----i, 
if he was a rascal; to which she jocularly replied -- "No, no, 
you sing like an angel both a-bed and up." This response, did 
not, however, satisfy him, and he insisted upon satisfaction. 
S----r agreed to give it him, and a pair of loaded pistols 
were produced by Ten----ci. Fr----i, thinking matters were now 
becoming too serious, and being very unwilling to lose either 
of her lovers, as they had both their agr�ments <60> in their 
way, she called to her aid all her rhetoric to dissuade them 
from the rash deed they were going to perpetrate; but all in 
vain: they were both resolutely bent on revenge. Accordingly, 
Tendu--i, who was of the Romish persuasion, retired to his 
apartments to say a few Ave Marias, in order to grease his 
boots for the journey he was likely to take; and Mr S----r, 
who was a man of considerable property, notwithstanding he was 
in durance vile, and waiting for an Act of Insolvency to set 
him free, retired to make his will, in favour of a natural 
child, then in the Foundling Hospital. Let it be remarked, 
however, that his bequests consisted of some very valuable 
manuscripts, which he had written during his confinement.

Upon the champions retiring, and leaving his pistols upon Fra-
---i's table, her ready imagination soon pointed out to her, 
that the only means to prevent the effusion of blood, would be 
to extract the charges of the two pistols, which she did, 
before the return of the combatants; she, however, left the 
priming, as no harm could from thence ensue.

Upon T----ci and S----r's return, they eagerly seized the 
pistols, and went out to decide the affair, F----i 
accompanying them to see fair play. They both snapped, but 
neither pistol went off; upon which she burst into a loud 
laugh, saying, "I see you are both in the same situation, 
notwithstanding all your boasting -- mere flashes in the pan."



Chapter XXIII. 
Reflections upon utility and advantage of public stews. Some 
account of foreign Prostitutes. The policy of conniving at 
female prostitution. An historical sketch of the treatment, 
honour and homage of the courtesans of Athens, with some 
remarks upon the same.

Having thus far pursued our plan, with a few illustrative 
digressions by way of episode; the reader may, perhaps, be 
inquisitive to know, especially, if he should chance to be a 
Methodist, whether we are the advocates for vice or virtue? 
Indeed the question is curious, if not pertinent, and worthy 
of being adverted to. The present state of gallantry and 
intrigue being now exhibited, let us for a moment consider 
what advantages and evils may result from it. In most polished 
countries, the police judiciously wink at peccadillos of this 
kind. In the reign of Elizabeth, we had licensed stews, in 
various parts of the metropolis and suburbs. In France, which 
is universally allowed to be one of the most refined kingdoms 
of the world, the Serails (or Seraglios, as we have already 
mentioned them) are not only countenanced, but even protected. 
In the capital cities of Holland, particular districts are 
allotted for the residence of courtesans, out of which 
stations they must not appear. At Venice they are tolerated, 
on condition of wearing stockings of two different colours. In 
fine, female prostitution has been considered by all wise 
legislators as a necessary evil, in order to preclude a 
greater, which may be easily suggested; and the reason is 
obvious. Men, in various situations of life, are so 
circumstanced, that it would be very imprudent to enter into 
the marriage state. Family alliances may have destined them 
for a particular match, not yet ripe for being entered upon: 
indigence may point out to them the various difficulties that 
will naturally arise from a connubial alliance. No female 
object may, as yet, have sufficiently attracted their 
attention, to create a permanent or solid passion, sufficient 
to erect so important indissoluble a structure as that of 
marriage: in fine, from a variety of causes, circumstances and 
contingencies, it may be very ineligible for man men to enter 
into the state of wedlock; and yet they may be animated with, 
and actuated by, the most violent amorous passions. Nay, even 
in the state of matrimony itself, it often happens, that a man 
who holds his wife in the highest estimation, may be debarred 
by felicity of hymeneal raptures, from sickness, absence, and 
a variety of other temporary causes, may with facility be 
imagined. If, in any of those situations, a man could not find 
a temporary relief in the arms of prostitution, the peace of 
society would be far more disturbed than it is: the brutal 
ravisher would stalk at large, and might plead, as in the case 
of hunger, that the violence of his passion would break down 
even stone walls: no man's wife, sister, or daughter would be 
in a state of security: the rape of the Sabines would be daily 
rehearsed; and anarchy and confusion ensue. In this point of 
view then, at least, female prostitution should be winked at, 
if not protected; and though it may be pronounced a moral 
evil, it certainly is a political good.

Let us for a moment take a retrospect of the opinion of that 
sagacious people the Athenians, upon this subject. The 
courtesans figure here with great �clat; and it may gratify 
the curiosity of the reader to enquire, by what means this 
order of women, who at once debased their own sex, and in a 
great measure disgusted ours, in a country where the women in 
general were distinguished by their rigid morals, obtained 
esteem, and often the highest pinnacle of celebrity. Various 
reasons may, upon enquiry, be assigned. First, courtesans were 
to a great degree blended with religious ceremonies. The 
Goddess of Beauty, who had altars consecrated to her shrine, 
was considered as their patroness, and whom the Athenians 
worshipped. They invoked Venus in times of the greatest peril. 
The uncommon fame of Miltiades and Themistocles was in a great 
measure owing to the Laises singing hymns to the Goddess after 
their battles, and thereby consecrating their victories. The 
courtesans were also connected with religion, through the 
cultivation of the arts. They offered themselves for models to 
copy Venuses, who were afterwards adored in their temples. 
Phryne served as a model to Praxiteles for the Venus which 
gained him so much renown; and during the feasts of Neptune at 
Eleusis, Apelles having seen this same courtesan run along the 
banks of the river, without any other covering than her 
flowing tresses, was so struck with her beauty, that from her 
he took his idea of Venus rising from the flood.

Thus were they of infinite utility to painters and sculptors, 
to whom they furnished ideas of the most transcendent beauty, 
and tended greatly to embellish their works. They were, 
moreover, great musicians, as well vocal as instrumental. The 
art of music, which was of the highest estimation in Greece, 
communicated additional charms to their personal and mental 
qualifications.

The enthusiasm of the Athenians for beauty was so great, that 
their vivid imaginations inebriated them even to idolatry in 
their temples, which were decorated with the masterly 
productions of the artist. It was the chief object of 
contemplation in their games and exercises: premiums were 
allotted it, in their public festivals; and it was even the 
ultimate end of their matrimonial rites. But it should be 
observed, that with regard to the immaculate part of the sex, 
solitary beauty was necessarily obscured, and concealed from 
the general eye; whilst the charms of courtesans assailed 
every spectator, and compelled general homage.

The intercourse of society can alone develop the captivating 
charms of the mind: all other females were excluded from this 
privilege. The courtesans living publicly in Athens, 
incessantly and involuntarily heard philosophical 
disquisitions, political debates, and poetical flights; and as 
it were imperceptibly caught a taste for learning. It 
necessarily followed, that their mental faculties were 
improved, and of course their conversation became more 
brilliant. Hence it was, that their houses became academies of 
classical pastime. Poets resorted hither in search of the 
Muses, as well as the Graces; and satire frequently attended 
with truly attic sarcasm, to give a gusto to literary repast. 
Even professed philosophers did not think it beneath their 
rigid dignity to attend. Socrates and Pericles often met at 
the house of Aspasia; somewhat similar to St. Evremond's 
frequently visiting the celebrated Ninon De L'Enclos. That 
delicacy of expression, that refinement of taste, which can 
only be caught from the fair sex, was here seized with 
avidity. In return, the reputation of a demirep received a 
borrowed lustre from such distinguished guests.

Greece was governed by men of elocution, professed orators, 
and rhetoricians; and courtesans having it in their power to 
gain an ascendancy over the greatest logicians, consequently 
had considerable influence in the government of the state. 
Demosthenes, the terror even of tyrants, was compelled to 
submit to the impulse of their charms, to the tyranny of 
beauty; and it was said of him, with equal truth and 
poignancy, "That the study of years was annihilated in an 
hour's conversation with a fine woman."

Phryne had a golden statue erected to her memory, at Delphos, 
between the mausoleums of two Kings; and the death of many 
courtesans was succeeded by magnificent monuments, to 
commemorate their remembrance; whilst many heroes, who died in 
defence of their country, were instantly forgot, and not a 
stone erected to tell where they lay.

In fine, the laws and institutions, in authorising female 
solitude, stamped marriage with the idea of an inestimable 
treasure. But in Athens -- fancy, a taste for the fine arts, 
an insatiable thirst for pleasure of every kind, seemed to 
revolt against the laws of themselves; and courtesans were 
called in as it were as auxiliaries to the manners and 
dispositions of the times. Vice, banished from domestic life, 
affected the happiness of families; but the vice under a 
parental roof was every pronounced criminal. By a strange and 
unaccountable whimsicalness, the male sex stood confessedly 
corrupted, whilst domestic manners were exemplarily rigid. 
Courtesans were estimated according to their attractions, and 
what the French have happily stiled agr�mens; whilst other 
women laid no other claim to merit, than what they were 
entitled to by their virtue. From these various circumstances, 
we may account for the honours which courtesans so frequently 
received in Greece; otherwise it would have been difficult to 
conceive how six or seven authors would have consecrated their 
pens to celebrate them; how three of the most celebrated 
painters had devoted their pencils solely to portray them; how 
several Grecian poets had invoked their muses to honour them: 
in a word, it would be very difficult, otherwise, to assign a 
cause, why the greatest men should, with the keenest avidity, 
aim at being introduced into their company; that Aspasia 
should be the sole herald of peace and or war; or that Phyrne 
should have a statue of gold erected to her memory. The 
uninformed traveller approaching the walls of Athens, 
observing at a distance this monument, fancies it is the tomb 
of Miltiades or of Pericles, or some hero equally renowned; 
but upon his nearer approach, he is informed it is the 
mausoleum of an Athenian courtesan, whose memory is thus 
pompously blazoned. Of all the renowned warriors that fought 
for their country in Asia, there is not one whose glorious 
deeds are commemorated with a monument, or whose ashes have 
ever been thought worthy of future panegyric. Such, however, 
were the honours and homage paid by that enthusiastic, 
voluptuous, and sensual people to the shrine of beauty!

This sketch of the veneration in which courtesans have been 
held by a nation of esteemed the wisest and most learned of 
all Antiquity, will, we hope, afford a sufficient apology for 
our having taken up the pen as biographers of the present race 
of Tha�ses, whose pictures, however, we shall endeavour to 
delineate with the crayons of truth; and whilst we allow them 
every possible merit they can justify claim, we shall not hide 
their faults, their blemishes, their vices or their crimes. In 
the preceding Volume we have displayed them all; in this we 
shall be equally impartial: then let the rigid cynic, or the 
still more rigid puritan, determine, whether this production 
may not be of more service than detriment to the rising 
generation; and whether the scenes we have here exhibited are 
not, upon the whole, greater incentives to virtue than to 
vice.



Chapter XXIV. 
Charlotte's fruitful projects for raising fresh female 
recruits for her nunnery. Her success. Her invitation to a 
high luscious banquet, in which she personates the Queen 
Oberea. Her improvement upon the rites of Venus, as performed 
at Otaheite. A very descriptive and salacious scene, founded 
on the most orthodox philosophy.

We are going to pay a final visit to Charlotte Hayes, before 
she quits King's Place; and as she was resolved, ere she 
retired from business, to make some capital strokes, she first 
began to recruit her nunnery with fresh pieces, in two 
different ways. The first was, by attending Register Offices; 
the second, by advertisement. We shall give a specimen of both 
these operations.

Charlotte dressed herself in a plain, simple manner, 
resembling the wife of a decent tradesman, and repaired to the 
different Register Offices about town, inquiring for a young, 
healthful-looking woman, about twenty, whose chief employment 
was to attend upon a lady who resided in her first floor. 
Sometimes she thought proper to make her lodger bed-ridden; at 
other times, a little out of her mind; however, the wages were 
very handsome, and above the common rate. By these means she 
would have frequently a score in a day call upon her. In order 
to carry this scheme into execution, she took a variety of 
lodgings in different parts of the town, and sometimes small 
houses ready furnished; as the character of her nunnery in the 
neighbourhood, if enquired after, would have given the alarm, 
and prevented her accomplishing the design. When any decent 
girl with a good face applied, she always hired her for the 
lady in the first floor, who was very ill, and could not see 
her. It was requisite that the servant should lie by her, as 
her infirmities were so great, that it was necessary to have 
an attendant near her all night.

These preliminaries being settled, as the maidservants 
generally go to their places in the evening, the unsuspicious 
girl was shown into a dark room; the lady's eyes being so bad 
that she could not bear a light. At ten o'clock the house all 
retired to rest; but it was expedient, previous to this step, 
to have some supper. The girl with, perhaps, a very keen 
appetite, was allowed to sup with the landlady (Charlotte), 
when a good substantial dish was brought forth, good strong 
ale, and, as it was the first night, and to show her 
hospitality, would indulge her with a glass of wine. Nancy's 
spirits being thus elevated, she retires to bed to her 
supposed superannuated mistress -- when, lo! The poor innocent 
girl finds herself, in her first sleep, in the arms of Lord C-
---n, Lord B----ke, or Colonel L----e. In vain she laments the 
fraud that has been played upon her; her outcries bring no one 
to her relief, and probably she yields to her fate, finding it 
inevitable; and solaces herself in the morning with a few 
guineas, and the perspective view of having a new gown, a pair 
of silver buckles, and a black silk cloak. Being once broke 
in, there is no great difficulty in persuading her to remove 
her quarters, and repair to the nunnery in King's Place, in 
order to make room for another victim, who is to be sacrificed 
in the like manner.

When a sufficient supply from these resources was not 
produced, advertisements in the daily papers often had the 
desired effect, and brought in numbers of pretty candidates 
(though unknowingly) for prostitution. Most of these 
advertisements were of a serious nature, and carried with them 
all the appearance of truth, sincerity, and a good place, for 
any young woman inclined to go to service. But sometimes 
Charlotte would flourish in the jocular style, at least some 
of her friends for her; and even these ludicrous publications 
have inveigled the innocent and unguarded. One in particular 
appeared some time ago, which was very laughable, and was 
ascribed to George S----n.

"WANTED, A young woman, under twenty, who has had the 
smallpox, and has not been long in town, as a Maid 
Servant of all work, in a genteel family. She must turn 
her hand to everything, as it proposed putting her under 
a man cook of skill and eminence. She must get up small 
things, and even large ones occasionally, understand 
clear-starching without clapping, and know something of 
pasty, at least to make standing crust; and also 
preserving fruit. Good wages and proper encouragement 
will be given, if she proves handy, and can easily 
conceive, according to the instructions given to her."

Ludicrous as this advertisement may appear, it had so much 
effect, as to produce at least half-a-dozen young women, who 
came in consequence to be hired, and soon were made to turn 
their hands to everything.

By these schemes Charlotte had now initiated a dozen fine 
wenches, all wholesome and blooming, into the arcanum of the 
nunnery; and she had now begun to train them for a new species 
of amusement for her noble and honourable guests. They had 
already gone through their exercises for near a fortnight, 
twice every day, when she dispatched a circular card to all 
her best customers.

"Mrs Hayes, presents her most respectful compliments to 
Lord ----, and takes the liberty to acquaint him, that 
tomorrow evening, precisely at seven, a dozen beautiful 
nymphs, unsullied and untainted, and who breathe health 
and nature, will perform the celebrated rites of Venus, 
as practised at Otaheite, under the instruction and 
tuition of Queen Oberea; in which character Mrs Hayes 
will appear upon this occasion."

That the reader may form a competent idea of their exercises, 
we shall give the following quotation from Cook's Voyage, 
written by the celebrated Doctor Hawkesworth.
"Such were our Matins," speaking of some religious 
ceremonies performed by the Indians in the morning. "Our 
Indians thought fit to perform Vespers of a very 
different kind. A young man, six feet high, performed the 
rites of Venus with a little girl about eleven or twelve 
years of age, before several of our people, and a great 
number of the natives, without the least sense of its 
being indecent or improper, but, as appeared, in perfect 
conformity to the custom of the place. Among the 
spectators were several women of superior rank, 
particularly Oberea, who may properly be said to have 
assisted at the ceremony; for they gave instructions to 
the girl how to perform her part, which, young as she 
was, she did not seem much to stand in need of."

The reader will certainly not be displeased with Dr. 
Hawkesworth's comment upon the performance of these rites, as 
they are more than curious, truly philosophical. He says,

"This incident is not mentioned as an object of idle 
curiosity, but as it deserves consideration in 
determining, which has long been debated in philosophy, 
whether the shame attending certain actions; which are 
allowed on all sides to be in themselves innocent, is 
implanted in nature, or superinduced by custom? It if has 
its origin in custom, it will, perhaps, be found 
difficult to trace that custom, however general, to its 
source,: if in instinct it will be equally difficult to 
discover for what cause it is subdued, or over ruled 
among these people, in whose manners the least trace is 
to be found." 
Hawkesworth's Voyages, Vol.II. P.128.

Mrs Hayes had certainly consulted these pages with common 
attention, and she concluded, that shame upon similar 
occasions "was only superinduced by custom;" and being so much 
a natural Philosopher as to have surmounted all prejudices, 
she resolved not only to teach her nuns all the rites of Venus 
as practised at Otaheite, but to improve upon them, with the 
invention, fancy, and caprice of Aretino<61>; having taught 
them every one of his postures, in their former rehearsals, 
and in which they were already pretty expert.

Upon this salacious Olympic, she had no less than three-and-
twenty visitors, conflicting chiefly of the first nobility, 
some baronets, and but five commoners.

No sooner had the clock struck seven, than the Festino began. 
She had engaged a dozen of the most athletic, and best 
proportioned young men that could be procured; some of the 
royal academic figures, and the rest qualified for the sport. 
A large carpet being laid, and all the apparatus for the 
various attitudes into which the votaries of Venus were to 
appear, according to the Aretino<61> system, being prepared -- 
after the males had presented each of their mistresses with a 
nail of at least twelve inches in length, in imitation of the 
presents received by the ladies of Otaheite upon these 
occasions, giving the preference to a long nail before any 
other compliment -- they entered upon their devotions, and 
went through all the various evolutions, according to the word 
of command of Santa Charlotta, with the greatest dexterity, 
keeping the most regular time, to the no small gratification 
of the lascivious spectators, some of whom could scarce 
refrain still the end of the spectacle, before they were 
impetuous to perform a part in this Cyprian game, which lasted 
nearly two hours, and met with the highest applause from all 
present; Mrs Hayes's directions being so judicious, that 
scarce a manoeuvre was performed but with the greatest 
exactitude and address.

The rites being finished, a collection was made for the 
votaries of Venus, and a handsome purse subscribed upon the 
occasion. The male devotees being now dismissed, the females 
remained, and most of them repeated the part they had so 
skilfully performed, with several of the spectators. Before 
they retired to rest, the Champagne briefly circulated, and 
catches and glees added to the merriment of the evening.

About four in the morning every Tha�s had been selected, and 
was retired to rest; and soon after Charlotte threw herself 
into the arms of the Count, to practise, in part at least, 
what she was so great a mistress of in theory.

Here we shall drop the festoon curtains for the present, and 
leave them all till about twelve at noon, to meet and 
breakfast; as the fatigues of the evening must have imposed 
the necessary tax of sleep till at least that time.



Chapter XXV. 
Our last audience and farewell with Charlotte Hayes. History 
of a certain celebrated Tha�s. Outline of the history of the 
three sisters (not the Parc�). Amours of Nelly Elliot. Her 
acquaintance with Mr D----n. Forms an acquaintance with a 
Gamester upon the Ton, the vicissitudes of his fortune; and 
the melancholy catastrophe of this historiette.

We left Santa Charlotta in the arms of the Count, after her 
uncommon carousel, in which the rites of Venus were so 
peculiarly celebrated. As we did not choose to interrupt her 
that night during her repose, we deferred till this moment 
taking a final leave of her; which we are compelled to do, as 
she at this period took a final leave of the world, in her 
public capacity of Lady Abbess, duenna, procuress, and even 
Santa Charlotta. She had, by the stratagems we have pointed 
out for inveigling innocent girls, her fertile imagination of 
hiring them to the best advantage, and her eccentric genius of 
exhibiting uncommon feats of love, by this time realised at 
least twenty thousand pounds: she therefore resolved no longer 
to disturb herself with the toils of business, or the bustle 
of nocturnal revels.

Having thus dispatched Charlotte Hayes, we shall now pay a 
visit to a lady in Newman Street, not far from the Middlesex 
Hospital; and as we are sure of meeting with a genteel and 
polite reception, the reader, let him be of what rank or 
dignity he may, need not be ashamed of accompanying us.

The lady in question is Miss Nelly Elliot, otherwise Mrs 
Hamilton (an adopted name, for reasons we shall here after 
assign). Miss Nelly is the daughter of an Officer of rank in 
the Army. She, with two other elder sisters, were brought up 
in a very genteel manner, and received an education suitable 
to their rank. In their juvenile days their residence was at 
Chelsea; and her two sisters shone at the assembly there at 
capital toasts. They were fine showy girls, tall and graceful; 
and as they dressed to the height of fashion, they had many 
danglers and admirers; but when the grand question came to be 
agitated about fortune, there was a constant demur. "The 
Elliots are clever wenches -- but there is no money," says 
one. "The Devil they have not!" observes another; "then what 
pretensions have they to husbands? They must veer about, and 
look out for a settlement: men are not to be caught now-a-days 
with panting bubbies, and a gauze handkerchief half spread 
over them. You know, Jack, we can have as fine a piece as any 
upon the town for a guinea; and variety is my motto." "Faith, 
you are right, Will; the Elliots must knock under as there are 
no spankers in the case. I think I'll propose taking one of 
them into keeping." "And egad Jack, I'll try the other." Thus 
was destiny of the handsome sisters settled and determined.

Nelly, the heroine of this story, was all the while out of the 
mess; she had never yet shown her face at the assembly, or 
scarcely at church. The reason was neither more nor less than 
this. The eldest sister being purse-bearer, in the absence of 
her father, who was abroad, applied all the money she possibly 
could to the decorating of her own dear person; but as it was 
necessary to have a companion, her next sister was permitted 
to accompany her in public; but in a dress far inferior to her 
own; wearing, for the greater part, little more than her cast-
off clothes. What then was to become of poor Nelly? Her 
wardrobe must be none of the choicest, as it consisted of the 
third and last edition of her eldest sister's cast-off 
apparel. Thus mortified and despised, she had been for some 
time meditating an elopement, and only waited for a favourable 
opportunity to decamp in a decent manner; but her sisters 
became now so extremely peevish and intolerably tyrannical 
towards her, occasioned partly by their natural ill-temper, 
and partly from the ill success of the artillery of their 
charms, which they had now played off in public for near two 
years without producing any other effect than an offer of 
being taken into keeping, that she resolved to defer no longer 
making her escape. Accordingly, one evening, when her sisters 
were gone to Ranelagh, she dressed herself in one of her 
eldest sister's best sacks and petticoats, and, in short, 
equipped herself from top to toe in her apparel, and set off a 
la sourdine. <33> She repaired to the house of a maidservant 
who had formerly lived with them, and was now married to a 
reputable tradesman. This person had often commiserated 
Nelly's pitiable situation, and wished it was in her power to 
afford her relief. She accordingly presented Nelly a welcome 
asylum, who remained with her some weeks. There was another 
lodger in the house, who passed for a modest woman; but there 
was reason to suspect that she was supported by a gentleman 
who often visited her, and passed for a relation.

With this lady, Nelly went one evening to Marylebone Gardens, 
where they were presently joined by her nominal relation and 
another gentleman. The latter paid great regard to Nelly; said 
many civil things; and made some direct overtures of an 
amorous kind. Nelly was not in the least displeased with these 
compliments, and upon her return home, was very inquisitive to 
know who this gentleman was; when she learnt that he was a man 
of fortune, and reckoned very generous to the ladies. The 
information greatly pleased her, and dispersed a melancholy 
that had for some days preyed upon her, occasioned by the 
disagreeable prospect before her, and some hints thrown out by 
her hostess, that it was time to think of looking out for 
another lodging.

The very next day both gentlemen paid her acquaintance a 
visit, and Nelly was requested to be of the party. Nothing 
could have given her more pleasure, especially as it was 
proposed to make a trip that evening, which was remarkably 
fine, to Vauxhall. In the course of a t�te-�-t�te which 
Nelly's admirer had with her on one of the solitary walks, he 
told her, "He flattered himself he had not been guilty of any 
impertinence, in taking a lodging for her that very day in an 
airy part of town; and begged she would repair thither the 
very next day and take possession." By this unexpected stroke 
Nelly was taken by surprise; and without hesitation gave her 
assent to his request. This once done, she had, as it were, 
ratified all the preliminaries of his most sanguine wishes.

The night passed with great merriment and hilarity; the 
Champagne circulated; and Nelly's spirits were so elevated, as 
to be ripe for any frolic whatever. This pleasant scene 
continued till past three in the morning, when, as it was 
agreed on all hands that the ladies could gain no admission to 
their lodgings, and it being a most delightful morning, it was 
pronounced a sin to sleep. A trip to Windsor was resolved 
upon; and by daybreak they were disposed of in two post-
chaises. Nelly necessarily fell to Mr D----n's lot, as his 
partner; and he failed not to improve the opportunity of 
cultivating as intimate an acquaintance as with her as 
possible. In a word, everything had taken place but 
consummation; and a convenient retreat seemed all that was 
wanting for the completion of Mr D----n's happiness. Judge, 
reader, if it was long before this was obtained.

They had no sooner alighted at Windsor, and ordered breakfast, 
than Mr D----n, who was well acquainted with the house, 
conducted his inamorata to a pleasant summer house at the end 
of the garden, that appeared consecrated to love and bliss.

Here we shall leave them for some time, to pay their devotions 
(which were fervent on both sides) to the Cyprian Goddess. 
Breakfast being announced, they returned; when Nelly's blushes 
too plainly indicated the flurry of her spirits, the agitation 
of her heart, and the influence of modesty. However, as no 
suggestions were thrown out to disconcert her, the breakfast 
passed over, with little other conversation than trite 
observations on the fineness of the weather, and their future 
destination for dinner.

Upon their return to town, Mr D----n conducted Nelly to her 
new apartments; made her a handsome present to purchase what 
she had occasion for; and settled an allowance of five guineas 
a week for her maintenance.

In this situation Nelly remained for near three months, during 
which time she not only was equipped with a good stock of 
genteel clothes, but some jewels and trinkets, and was so good 
an economist as to save near fifty guineas. Notwithstanding 
the cruel treatment she had received at the hands of her 
eldest sister, she thought it but just to make her some return 
for the sack and other things she had purloined from her, and 
accordingly sent her a fine piece of silk, some lace, and 
other valuable things, to supply her loss.

Cloyed with repeated gratifications, Mr D----n, at the end of 
this period, took a French leave of her, after giving her a 
bank note, not knowing she had made any provision for herself 
out of her weekly allowance. Mortified to the utmost degree at 
this desertion, she soon found some consolation in thinking 
she was placed above want; that she was not pregnant; and her 
flattering glass told her, there were plenty of conquests in 
store for her.

In this opinion she resorted all public places, and 
endeavoured to secure another paramour, who would support her 
as elegantly, at least, as Mr D----n had done. In the course 
of this pursuit she met with a Mr S----n, who passed for a man 
of fortune; and so he certainly was, in one sense of the word, 
for he relied entirely on the blind Goddess for his support. 
He figured away at the rate of more than a thousand a year; 
but this was to be extracted from two cubical bones, vulgarly 
called dice. These bones were sometimes very obdurate. As to 
turn a deaf ear to all his entreaties, his vows, his oaths; 
and that critical expression, "Seven is the main," has often 
sent him home penniless. However, when he had a favourable run 
of luck, no man was more generous; and Nelly found herself at 
one time in possession of seven hundred pounds, a valuable 
sideboard of plates, and some jewels of considerable value. 
But alas! This Elysium was soon changed -- the scene shifted -
- a dark and dreary view presented itself -- rocks and 
inaccessible mountains formed the depicted road for Nelly now 
to travel. Without a metaphor, in one week all the cash, all 
the jewels, all the plates, were transferred at the hazard 
table, and S----n was not master of a shilling. Poor Nell's 
furniture soon took the same route; her clothes followed; and 
to complete the catastrophe S----n was a short time after in 
the King's Bench Prison at his tailor's suit.

Notwithstanding S----n's misfortunes, Nelly had still a 
penchant for him, as he had many valuable qualities; and had 
he been of real fortune, he would probably have shone an 
ornament to society. She did not desert him in his distress; 
and though she was under such pungent distress, as to be 
compelled to go into company for her support, she shared with 
him the spoils of her charms, and maintained him, if not in a 
luxuriant, at least in a decent manner, for some months, in 
the Bench. At length, alas! Her variegated amours testified a 
disorder, which had arrived at such a pitch of virulence as to 
compel her to have recourse to the hauts rem�des.<62>




Chapter XXVI. 
Nelly Elliot's most melancholy situation. Writes to her sister 
for relief. That lady's answer: being the most extraordinary 
epistle of its kind, perhaps, every penned. Is relieved by an 
old acquaintance. Renews her brilliant appearance in the gay 
world. Makes acquaintance with a very worthy gentleman, who 
pays her due respect. His misfortunes involve her into 
difficulties. Her future career, and present plan.

We left poor Nelly Elliot, in our last chapter, in a most 
deplorable condition -- without friends, without money, 
without health, destitute of all comfort, all the solace of 
life; and the only man she esteemed, immured in durance vile. 
What a complicated picture of calamity! And yet Nelly was a 
professed woman of pleasure; but it is not extraordinary, as 
this is the lot of nine-tenths of the women of pleasure all 
over Europe.

Let us, however, pay her a friendly visit, for the sake of old 
acquaintance. Nelly had, in this lamentable state, written a 
very moving letter to Mr D----n, depicting her most melancholy 
case; and probably, if he had been in town, he might have 
afforded her some temporary relief; but he was at his seat in 
Derbyshire, at a great distance from the capital. Her wants 
and distress were now so alarming, that the nurse who attended 
her through mere charity, and who had pledged everything she 
had been possessed of, except the clothes upon her back, to 
relieve our unfortunate heroine, was under the most violent 
apprehensions that she would fall a sacrifice to the want of 
mere necessaries. In this cruel dilemma, the good Samaritan 
persuaded her to write to her sister for some assistance. She 
accordingly did, as well as she was able, in her present 
emaciated state. This letter produced nothing but the 
following curious answer.

"Astonished as I am at your insolence, to address me in a 
letter, in your present infamous situation, with all the 
just calamities of Heaven, which you yourself have 
brought upon your head -- I nevertheless think it my 
duty, as once your sister -- mortifying reflection! To 
give you some advice that may save your soul, by 
repentance, from everlasting destruction. As to your 
mortal part, the sooner it pays the inevitable debt of 
nature, the better for yourself -- the better for the 
world. Such execrable beings crawling upon the face of 
the earth, are noxious to the sight, are obnoxious to 
society, and baneful to mankind. You have now still 
leisure to reflect on your unhappy state-and consider 
yourself as the sole architect of you misery. What could 
induce you to follow such a course of life? Had you the 
example of any of your relations for such conduct? No, 
thank Heaven! We are all virtuous and immaculate. You 
alone have tarnished the chastity of our family 
reputation. In you the crime, the vicious crime, is less 
excusable, than in many unfortunate females who have been 
blinded by love, and seduced by artful men: but you have 
no such apology in your favour. Without any particular 
object to tempt or allure you -- without either the plea 
of the tender passion, or seduction, you wantonly -- most 
wantonly sacrificed your virgin purity to lust  -- 
abominable lust. By such a procedure, you have placed 
yourself beneath the brute creation. They have not reason 
for their guide: instinct alone directs them. Think then, 
wretch, how thou art fallen! You have destroyed all ties 
of kindred, and broken down every fence of friendship. To 
your own pungent feelings, if you are not lost to every 
sense of shame, I now consign you; or else I shall rave: 
my rage is kindled; therefore trouble me no more with 
your nauseous fulsome -- I had almost said, contaminating 
epistles; for you will never hear more from her who was 
once your sister."

If this letter required any comment, the additional distress 
it threw poor Nelly into, could alone depict it; but it would 
be a task far above the powers of the pen of the writer of 
this chapter, who was an eye-witness of the violent emotion of 
her mind on this occasion, to attempt delineating it. 

After having betrayed myself into this acknowledgment, I must 
for the present speak in the singular number. I immediately 
relieved her most alarming necessities, and procured her such 
future assistance, as not only removed every apprehension of 
her falling a sacrifice to want, or being debarred from such 
medicinal advice as her case required.

To avoid eulogium, we shall now resume our wonted plurality.

No sooner than Nelly recovered her health, than she reappeared 
in the gay world with her usual elegance and vivacity; and she 
soon after formed an alliance with a gentleman then well known 
in polite life, and remarkable for the darkness of his 
complexion. But let it be suggested that he was a Soubise: No 
-- he was a Creole, with very regular features; his person 
remarkably well proportioned, tall and athletic. This was the 
Mr H----n, whose name she has ever since adopted. No sooner 
had this connection taken place, than she was invited home to 
his house in Salisbury Street, in the Strand, where she 
presided and did the honours of the table in so polite a 
manner, as to distinguish the gentlewoman.

Thus provided for in an elegant line of life, Nelly evinced 
that no woman deserved more the attention and assiduities of a 
man of taste and refinement (which certainly Mr H----n was) 
than herself. He had a very handsome fortune, and lived up to 
it, after having made Nelly a settlement of fifty pounds a 
year. He was guilty of no extravagance that would have 
affected his estate; nor was she guilty of any unnecessary 
expense beyond the rules of prudence; but unfortunately he was 
addicted to play, and he fell into the hands of a set of 
sharpers, who style themselves gentlemen, but who, in fact, 
are far greater pick-pockets than the unhappy convicts who are 
sentenced to ballast-heaving for taking unlawfully a 
handkerchief, or even a watch. These nefarious villains, under 
the mask of friendship, and the assumed title of men of rank 
and fortune, decoy the unwary in their wiles; and by a variety 
of stratagems, and deep-laid artifices, plunder and ruin every 
one that falls into their clutches. This was the fatal 
situation of Mr H----n, who in the course of a few months was 
compelled to mortgage this estate, discontinue housekeeping, 
and go abroad to live a retired and recluse life, whilst his 
fortune was at nurse. In consequence of this disaster, poor 
Nelly was once more thrown upon the wide world, and compelled 
to begin her game over again, when she thought, according to 
her own manner of expressing it, "she was home to a hole."

For some time Nelly still retained her importance; and she was 
unwilling to submit to return, what is called, "into company" 
But that all powerful word Necessity soon compelled her; and 
we find her upon Harris's* real list, a short time after, in 
Rathbone Place.

*Note: An annual imposition is yearly obtruded upon the 
public, as Harris's List<63> of Grisettes;<63> but it is 
constantly more erroneous in the contents than the title 
page; for no such man as Harris (as he is called) a pimp, 
now, or probably ever did exist.

Nelly was not, however, in this degraded station for any 
length of time. She found friends to assist her, particularly 
a very worthy young gentleman in the upholstery branch, who 
furnished, in a very genteel manner, the house she now lives 
in.

Having conducted her to the present agreeable situation she 
resides in, the reader will expect that some account should be 
given of the manner in which she supports herself. Mrs 
Hamilton's house may properly be styled a house of intrigue, 
rather than a nunnery. Some of the finest come-at-able women 
in the purlieus of this metropolis, occasionally frequent it. 
She is far from being of a mercenary disposition, like the 
other Lady Abbesses: she would rather give a genteel treat to 
a joyous, convivial party, than receive one from a full, 
phlegmatic set, who promote spleen in proportion as they 
expend their money. Hence it is, that some of the most choice 
spirits, and men of learning, wit, and humour, frequent her 
house; not so much for the sake of gratifying any lascivious 
passion, as for the pleasure of good company, and passing a 
few hours in agreeable society. Here it was that Mrs 
Mitchell's ridiculous motto was first criticised. A certain 
gentleman of Nelly's particular acquaintance being asked his 
opinion of the inscription, said, it was truly worthy of an 
Old Bawd, who had been imposed upon by some male pandar, 
desirous of passing for a scholar, and had approved himself a 
mere pimp in learning, and only qualified to prostitute a 
Horace, as he did the nominal vestals of her Seminary. My 
revered Bard would have been shocked to have seen IN MEDIO 
TUTISSIMUS, without IBIS being subjoined.

From this specimen of Mrs Hamilton's friends, acquaintance and 
visitors, the reader will be enabled to form some idea of the 
complexion of the frequenters of her house in general. But in 
saying this, we do not pretend to asset, that this is the 
region of platonic love: no woman is a greater sensualist in 
the amorous passion than Nelly herself. It is true, that she 
has a favourite man, or rather she is the favourite of a very 
good-natured man, who has some connection with the theatres; 
but we will not pretend to say she is as chaste as Penelope, 
and unravels in the night the work of the day, in his absence. 
No; Nelly is too sincere to lay claim to any kindred with 
Diana; all she aims at is to keep up appearances, and support 
the dignity of the gentlewoman.

In our next chapter, our readers will be introduced to some of 
her female visitors, and thereby be enabled to form a judgment 
of the entire plan of her house, which, of the kind, may be 
pronounced one of the most eligible in that quarter of the 
town.



Chapter XXVII. 
History of Mrs Br--dl--y. Her marriage. Her coming upon the 
stage. Her connections with Lords M----h and B----e. Makes an 
alliance with the Duke of D----t: the reason of it not being 
permanent. Frames an acquaintance with the Macaroni 
Bricklayer. History of the lovely Charlotte S----rs. Treachery 
of her guardians, and the effects of her condescension.

The first upon Nelly's list of femmes moiti� entretenues,<64> 
who frequented her sprightly rendezvous, was Mrs Br--dl--y. 
This lady is tall and genteel, remarkably fair, with fine blue 
eyes, and flaxen locks. Before her late fit of illness, she 
was pronounced uncommonly handsome, and in proportion as she 
recovers her health, she renovates her charms. In her youth 
she made a foolish match, without consulting her heart or 
judgement: matrimony had so many charms in her eyes, that she 
forgot to make a selection in choice of a husband; and Mr 
Tweedledum and Tweedledee Tweedledeed her into the connubial 
knot. But though music has charms to soothe the savage breast, 
it had not power sufficient to enrapture a female, almost 
angelic. He hum-strummed to no sort of purpose, and she 
thought his notes were jarring and out of tune: he had not, 
with the poet, found out

---- the key which passions move 
To ravished sense, and play a world in love. 
[Alexander Chalmers, The Complaint of Rosamond.]

This idle girlish match Mrs B----y soon discovered, was no way 
consonant to her mode of thinking; her ideas were refined, her 
notions elegant, and her disposition directly opposite to 
vulgarism. On the contrary, Mr Tweedledum was never happy but 
in a pot-house, associating with low actors, and still lower 
mechanics: how then could it be expected, that they should 
live long together upon an amicable footing? The truth is, she 
had taken so complete a disgust to her caro sposo <65>, that 
she only waited for a favourable opportunity to throw off the 
trammels of wedlock. It was prudent, however, previous to such 
a step, to lay some plan for her future support. She had a 
taste for acting, and sung very prettily; these she imagined 
would be recommendations for her, to obtain a salary at least 
sufficient for her maintenance: she accordingly applied to the 
late Mr Foote; who, whether he was prejudiced in her favour, 
from the agreeableness of her person, or her theatrical 
abilities, this much is certain, that he engaged her at a 
decent salary, and she made her first appearance in the 
character of Lucy in the Beggar's Opera. Whether intimidated 
at facing, for the first time, a brilliant and numerous 
audiences, or dreading the censure of professed critics, she 
did not acquit herself so well as might have been wished: she, 
nevertheless, sung the airs with taste, and met with 
considerable applause. If this exhibition did not establish 
her character as a first rate dramatic performer, it excited 
the attention of every male beholder, to know who she was; and 
in a few days she had many proposals made her of an amorous 
kind. Lord M----h and B----ke were rivals upon this occasion; 
and if the voice of fame may be credited, she was not unkind 
to either of them. Be this as it may, these amours were but of 
a transient date. She soon succeeded Nancy Par--ons in the 
arms of the Duke of D----t; and could she have bowled this 
Grace out at cricket, as easily as she had done Nancy out of 
the ruelle, she probably might have kept in still, and 
attained the last notch of her ambition: but it was her 
misfortune never to have wielded a bat, and his Grace thought 
it a disgrace to have any connection, male or female, with any 
one that was not a professed cricketer. This, in some measure, 
accounts for his late intrigue with Lady D----y, who, it 
seems, can handle a bat, and knock the balls about, with 
almost any peer in England.

Foote, towards the close of the season, made love to her 
himself; but fearful that she would bring forth a boy with a 
wooden leg, she declined his addresses; the consequence was, 
being struck off the list of his performers, and she never 
appeared upon the stage.

A variety of lovers now presented themselves, and in the 
course of these pursuits she made acquaintance with Mrs 
Hamilton. Here it was she first saw the Macaroni Bricklayer, 
as he is styled in the print shops. The frankness of his 
behaviour, added to the openness of his countenance, his 
athletic and manly form, and his generosity, all united to 
prejudice her strongly in his favour; and she readily listened 
to the proposals of a man, for whom she entertained so great a 
partiality. In a word, a few days only elapsed before she 
consented to live with him, and promised never to admit the 
addresses of any other, as long as he behaved to her in the 
manner she had the greatest reason to expect. Since that 
period this connection has substituted, and there are grounds 
to believe, that her fidelity is equal to his affection for 
her.

We shall for the present leave the Macaroni Bricklayer and Mrs 
Br--d--y to enjoy themselves without interruption in each 
other's arms, as we think them as eligible a t�te-�-t�te as 
any within the bills of mortality; for though he may mount the 
ladder in the morning to inspect the covering of the attic 
story, he never yet interrupted a poet in the midst of 
flogging Pegasus for a happy thought and a dinner; nor did he 
ever give orders for the untiling the roof of a protection 
vender in the diplomatic line, because he was seven years in 
arrears with his Landlord, and could not be ejected from the 
premises; No, such deeds are left for other Bricklayers than 
our friend and favourite the Macaroni Trowellist, though Darly 
has endeavoured to make him ridiculous in every print shop 
window, as well as in his own, in this metropolis. No -- his 
generous mind soars above such mean attempts, and he would 
rather cure a smoky chimney, two cubits about the roof, than 
interrupt genius, or distress embassy.

The lovely Charlotte S----rs may next be introduced with 
propriety, at Nelly's. If her good sense kept pace with her 
beauty, she would be a paragon of excellence; but nature seems 
to bestow her gifts in some degree, to bring all mankind upon 
a par. In our sex, generally speaking, Herculean vigour is 
seldom accompanied with wisdom of a Solomon, or the philosophy 
of Socrates. Xantippe certainly had some latent charms; or 
else providence was d----n'd cruel to her, to form her such a 
scold, and not in some degree counterbalance this almost 
intolerable defect. Perhaps Socrates neglected family duty. He 
certainly visited the most celebrated Tha�ses of Athens, and 
it is enough to make any woman scold, to see a husband go 
astray, and neglect her charms, real or imaginary. But why 
this digression? I have not read Tristram Shandy for these 
seven years and more; he was once the most fashionable author 
that ever wrote; but, like most other fashions, the reading of 
Shandy is as much obsolete, as reading the Bible by the 
Coterie, or any of the nunneries within the purlieus of St. 
James's Marylebone, or Piccadilly. I therefore cannot possibly 
have caught (lately, at least, and the cure must have been 
eradicated ere now) the episodic contagion: for which reason I 
again embrace the lovely Charlotte S----rs, and shall now 
stick to her, till I, and perhaps the reader, may be cloyed of 
her.

Miss Charlotte S----rs was the daughter of a country 
gentleman, who died whilst she was still in her infancy. Her 
mother had paid that natural forfeit some years before. A 
guardian was appointed for her, who, under the disguise of 
religion, and a puritanic life, had so ingratiated himself 
with Mr S----rs, that he thought Rawl--ns but a few removes 
from a Saint: and a young Saint was what he almost adored; for 
R----ns, at this time, was but just come of age. He had, 
notwithstanding, already squandered away the greatest part of 
his fortune, which had been very considerable; but as these 
extravagancies were committed in the capital, and he had not 
mortgaged his estate, though he had borrowed, when a minor, 
considerable sums upon the most usurious terms, in granting 
annuities, his distresses were unknown in Mr S----rs's 
neighbourhood. But no sooner had he become guardian to Miss S-
---rs, than he paid off these annuities with her fortune; and 
by keeping her in a constant state of ignorance with regard to 
the precise state of her affairs, as she advanced to maturity, 
he judged it expedient to play a double game. Miss S----rs 
having the implicit faith in all that R----s said, when he 
told her, "It was now time to reveal to her the dying words of 
Mr S----rs; and that with his last accents he energetically 
said, be not only a father, but a husband to my daughter, for 
no man can serve her so well as yourself," she readily 
believed the assertion, and having no predilection for any 
other man, innocently, or rather foolishly consented to give 
him her hand. Having so far gained his point in this nefarious 
business, he thought there would be no difficulty in speedily 
accomplishing it. He accordingly took her in an unguarded 
moment, and throwing himself at her feet, declared, "His 
passion was so great for her, that he could no longer live 
without her; that he would marry her that instant. But, my 
dear Charlotte, what would the censorious world say? They 
would say, that I had taken advantage of your youth and 
inexperience, to make myself master of your beautiful person 
and your fortune. Think what I feel in such a dilemma! 
Consider me, therefore, as your guardian, your sincere friend, 
and your most loving husband, for such I am, and then refuse 
me, if you can, the rights I demand." Saying this, he almost 
devoured her with kisses. Thus taken by surprise, she had not 
the power to resist, and yielded to his brutal lust, without 
knowing that she was guilty of any crime.

They lived together about two years upon his clandestine 
footing. At the end of that period, he was carried off by a 
putrid fever. His brother stepped in, he dying intestate, and 
took possession of fragments of R----n's fortune; as to hers, 
that had been appropriated long before.

Thus thrown upon the world friendless and penniless, what road 
could an innocent, ignorant girl pursue? Beautiful and young, 
she soon fell a prey to Mrs Pendergast, who made a 
considerable property of her, before she was taken into 
keeping by Lord C----sf----t. In this situation she now moved, 
when she paid her visits to Nelly Elliot. But, notwithstanding 
this lady is a very agreeable and entertaining companion, the 
reader will probably think we have made our visit to her too 
long; we shall therefore here take our leave of her for the 
present.



Chapter XXVIII. 
Sketch of the juvenile adventures of Mrs N----n. Plans in 
conjunction with Mr N----n, a nunnery in Wardour Street. 
Progress of her undertaking. Various efforts to improve her 
plan. Schemes of seduction. A coup de maitresse in an original 
line. Plans the ruin of two beautiful young ladies. A 
descriptive scene, and the event. Consequences of this 
procedure.

The Editor presents his most respectful compliments to Mrs N--
--n, and entreats her pardon for having neglected to take 
proper notice of her in the first Edition: he will, however, 
endeavour to make her some amends, by paying her due attention 
in this place.

Mrs Nelson is a lady who in the early part of life was 
considered as a toast of some eminence, and at length yielded 
to the influence of her passions in the arms of Captain W----
n. He was for some time constant to her; but another charmer 
coming in his way, he deserted this lady, and left her to roam 
at large. She soon became a come-at-able piece at Haddock's, 
and the rest of the Bagnios about the Garden. When she found 
her charms were upon the decline, and the her constitution was 
somewhat impaired by irregularities and too frequent visits, 
she listened to Mr N----n, who hinted to her, it would be 
prudent to retire from public life, fell out of Harris's list, 
adopt his name, and commence Lady Abbess. He added, he had 
some credit with an upholsterer; and from the knowledge and 
experience she had obtained in the regular course of her 
profession, united to his skill and judgment, drawn from real 
life, and a variety of vocations he had pursued, he judged 
that the scheme would not only be practicable, but prove very 
successful.

Mrs N----n admired his plan, and readily engaged in it: 
accordingly a genteel house was taken in Wardour Street, Soho, 
the corner of Holland Street, and in a short time fitted up 
and furnished in a very elegant manner. It was necessary 
previously to lay in a stock of nuns, which were soon procured 
from various quarters; and we accordingly soon found Nancy Br-
---n, Maria S----s, Lucy F----sher, and Charlotte M--rtin, 
almost instantly engaged. These were all very agreeable girls, 
through some of them had been upon the town for a considerable 
time; but it was expedient to be provided with religieuses for 
immediate use, as Mrs Nelson proposed lying in wait for more 
delicate game, whenever opportunities occurred, resolving 
assiduously to seize everyone that offered.

Her Secretary and nominal husband was now employed to write 
circular letters to such noblemen and men of fortune as were 
known to frequent Mrs Goadby's, etc. In a few days she had 
innumerable visitors. Lord M----ii, Lord D----ne, Lord B----
ke, the Duke of D----t, Count H----g, Lord F----th, Lord H----
n, and an estimable catalogue of rich commoners, paid their 
compliments to her; but they generally complained that her 
goods were rather stale, and she was frequently obliged to 
send out for other ladies in order to please her customers: by 
this means her profits were diminished, and the credit and 
reputation of her house rather called into question. She 
accordingly exerted her genius, and it was pretty fertile in 
the arts of seduction, to obtain some genuine vestals, for 
whom she might demand her own price. Mrs Nelson now became a 
constant visitor at the Register Office and Statute Hall, and 
attended the inns whenever the wagons and stage coaches were 
expected to arrive; where, by her artful insinuations, and 
pretences of getting the rustic wenches places and the like, 
she soon obtained as pretty an assortment of fresh goods as 
could be found in London.

Mrs Nelson's triumph now began over all her rivals, and Mrs 
Goadby, in particular, became very jealous of her; and in 
order to put her nunnery upon a footing with Mrs Nelson's she 
made the tour of England one summer in the stages, and was 
very successful in catering for her guests, upon the meeting 
of Parliament ensuing in winter.

The intelligence Mrs N----n received upon this head, so far 
from making her despond, excited a stronger emulation in her 
to outvie Mrs Goadby. She accordingly once more set her 
invention to work; and having a little smattering of French, 
and being a tolerable tambour and needle worker in her youth, 
upon seeing an advertisement for a boarding-school teacher, 
made application, and obtained the place. As it was not her 
design to remain here any time, she did not attempt conveying 
much instruction to the young ladies with respect to the 
improvement of their morals, or their education; but, on the 
contrary, she endeavoured to vitiate their minds, by 
occasional hints of the blissful enjoyments in caresses of a 
fine young fellow, and the folly and prejudice of thinking it 
any crime to give way to their sensual passions. To this end 
she put into their hands every book that she judged would 
awaken their lascivious ideas: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, 
The Adventures of Mr F---- in Petticoats, and several other 
productions of this kind were secretly communicated to them, 
and they read them with avidity. When she judged she had 
sufficiently wrought upon their passions, and found the 
amorous flame to burn with anguish and insuperable desire; one 
day, under pretence of taking an airing, she paid a visit with 
two of the finest girls in the school, between sixteen and 
seventeen, at her own house in Wardour Street. These young 
lady's names were Miss W----ms and Miss J----nes, both of very 
good families.

Mrs N---- had previously planted Lord B---- and Mr G----, to 
be ready for receiving these amicable visitors. They no sooner 
alighted, than a cold collation was prepared, with fruit and 
sweetmeats in abundance. She informed the young ladies that it 
was a relation's house, where should could make free, and 
entreated them to observe the ceremony. The young ladies 
accordingly enjoyed the repast with much satisfaction, and 
were induced to drink a glass or two of wine, which put them 
in uncommon spirits. Mrs N---- now thought it was time to 
introduce the gentlemen; and though they were already in the 
house, a rap at the door announced their arrival. On entering 
the room, they apologised for their intrusion, and the young 
ladies were at first much alarmed; but the politeness of the 
gentlemen soon surmounted their alarms, and an agreeable 
conversation ensued upon a variety of topics.

It now began to grow late, and the young ladies became 
somewhat uneasy how they should get home, having to go beyond 
Kensington; but music was immediately introduced, and a dance 
proposed; which so intoxicated the poor girls, who were 
passionately fond of dancing, that they now forgot all time 
but the time they were to keep in a Cotillion. In a word, they 
continued dancing till midnight, and the negus, which was 
remarkably strong, was very quickly circulated, under pretence 
of it being a warm night, of course it failed not to operate, 
together with the pastime; and the uncommon assiduity of their 
partners made them forget danger, and almost court 
destruction.

About two in the morning they retried to rest together; and 
whilst they were undressing, they could not help comparing 
notes concerning the elegance of the persons, and the 
gentility of the behaviour of their partners. Miss W----ms 
vowed she wished she had Lord B---- all night in her arms; and 
Miss J----nes declared she believed she should dissolve in 
bliss, if Mr G---- were in bed with her. The lovers were in 
hearing, and broke in upon them, saying, that it was 
impossible to refuse such passionate invitations, and they 
must be more than mortal if they could listen to such ecstatic 
declarations, and not offer their services.

The young ladies were now both upon the point of getting into 
bed, having nothing but their shifts on; when Mr G-- seizing 
Miss J----nes in his arms, carried her to a bed in an adjacent 
room, and left Lord B---- master of the field with Miss W----
ms. They had gone too far to recede, and their fate became now 
inevitable.

We shall for the present drop the curtain, and suppose the 
lovers and the beauteous nymphs as happy as their situations 
would permit; that unbounded bliss prevailed till morning --
"But then tomorrow! 
Aye! There's the rub"

How to return to school -- how to apologise for their absence! 
Fain would they have prevailed with their gverness to have 
reconducted them to their mistress and framed some plausible 
apology for their playing the truant. With tears and 
entreaties they implored their arbitration; but Mrs N----n's 
game was now up at K----n, she had the cards entirely in her 
own hand, and had already played a sans prendre, by which she 
gained two hundred guineas, and hoped with such Matadors 
constantly at her command to make some thousands. But in a 
short time the relations of the young ladies discovered where 
they were, and obtaining warrants from a neighbouring Justice, 
released them, and commenced an action against Mr N----n.



Chapter XXIX. 
Sequel of the account of Mrs N----n's nunnery. Her abdication 
in Wardour Street. Pursuits of Mr N----n. Mrs N----n enters 
upon another nunnery in Bolton Street. Description of her nuns 
and visitors. Outline of the characters. A very whimsical, 
female, hypocritical character portrayed. Some idea of Mrs N--
--n's male visitors, and how perfectly agreeably they might be 
accommodated, according to their various dispositions.

The rigorous steps taken by the relations of Miss W----ms, in 
order to bring N----n to justice, induced him to decamp; and 
the noise this affair made in the neighbourhood, induced many 
of the neighbours to propose indicting the house for a 
disorderly one; and probably if Mrs N---- had remained much 
longer upon the spot, she might have mounted the rostrum, not 
to preach, but to pray they the populace would not give her a 
regale of rotten eggs. Accordingly, a very short time after, 
they both quitted the house and sometime since we find him in 
Gerrard Street, keeping what was called a Royal Larder, in 
fact a common gaming house; where the black legs of all ranks 
resorted, from the embroidered coat down to the shirtless 
sharper, with his coat cuffs pinned tight to prevent the 
discovery. In this situation many of them have been taken by 
the officer of justice, and conveyed to Tothill-fields 
Bridewell.

After some months had elapsed, when she thought the 
prosecution was dropped, Mrs N---- entered upon another 
nunnery, in Bolton Street, Piccadilly. Here she resolved to 
play a surer game than in Wardour Street: there she had gone 
too far, risked too much, and had nearly lost all. At the same 
time, she resolved to keep up the dignity of her house; but 
then she judged it prudent not to soar above professed 
demireps, or filles-de-joye upon the Haut Ton.

We now find among the number of her visitors, in the latter 
class, Mrs Marsh--l, Mrs Sm--th, Mrs B--ker, Miss F--sher, and 
Miss H--met.

The first of these ladies was the daughter of a parson, who 
gave her a genteel education, and endeavoured to fortify her 
mind with religion and morality; but upon his death, finding 
herself in great distress, and being a very agreeable girl, 
necessity and importunity prevailed, she listened to the 
felicitations of Colonel W----n, and resigned her virtue, not 
her heart, to his entreaties. The Colonel was succeeded by a 
man whom she sincerely loved; but she, too late, found he was 
pre-engaged in marriage, and after a few weeks amorous 
dalliance he also left her. She was now compelled to roam at 
large to raise the necessary supplies, and occasionally visits 
Mrs W--ston's, Mrs Nel--n's, and rest of the nunneries.

Mrs Sm--th is a fine genteel woman, thought not remarkably 
beautiful. She is very ignorant, and was decoyed by a 
strolling Player, whose name she adopted. To avoid starving 
with him in a barn, or being sent to the house of correction 
as a vagrant (for she too is a spouter though
Her learning only mounts to read a song, 
And half the words pronouncing wrong 
[Jonathan Swift, The Furniture of a Woman's Mind]
she entered the list of Grizettes; and being introduced to Mrs 
N----n as a new face, which she really was in that line of 
life, has picked up a considerable deal of cash, and now 
figures away with �clat at Ranelagh, Carlisle House, and the 
Pantheon.

Mrs B--ker is a lady that has till lately been well known upon 
the stage; but though she often appeared there 
characteristically as a Goddess, we do not think, when she has 
quitted the board, she has any just claim to that title. The 
infidelities of her husband also upon the stage, she pleased 
as a small excuse for the lex talionis,<66> which she had for 
some time enforced, though not so publicly as she has done 
within these two years with Count H----g. The Count's finances 
being some time since much embarrassed, and he having refused 
to satisfy her pecuniary demands, she now occasionally visits 
the nunneries for a temporary admirer, and to procure the 
needful. She also flutters at the masquerades, and other 
public places; and when the explanation of her mouth is not 
seen, she may pass for a good crummy piece.

Miss F----sher has taken upon herself that name, as she 
fancies she greatly resembles the great Kitty Fisher, who 
flourished some years since as the most admired La�s upon the 
Ton. That there is some resemblance between them cannot be 
denied; but, in truth, we cannot compliment the present Miss 
F----sher with possessing either the personal or mental 
accomplishments of Kitty; nevertheless she is an agreeable 
girl, and has many admirers amongst persons of the first rank.

Miss H--met lays claim to a near relationship with Mrs Les--
ham; but we believe the consanguinity is imaginary. It is 
certain, that there is some faint similitude of features 
between them, and she imitates that lady as nearly as she 
possibly can, particularly in her acting, Miss H--met being a 
great spouter; and she gives out, that she shall be engaged 
next year at one of the theatres.

We cannot close the female group at Mrs N----n's, without 
giving a sketch of a lady, who unites fasting and 
fallaciousness, religion and vice, in as high a hypocritic 
degree as we ever met with. Mrs P---- either is, or pretends 
to be, the wife of an itinerant preacher, some time since 
immured in the King's Bench. She is so extremely devout, that 
she considers it as a deadly sin to put the least morsel of 
flesh into her mouth: but we will not say that she abhors it 
so completely, as never to take a relish of it in another way, 
and as abundantly and voluptuously as possible. By this rigid 
penitence, she has obtained the appellation of The Vegetable 
System. Her devotion is equal to her penance. If she were to 
go to bed at five o'clock with the most athletic lover that 
can be described -- and she has no kind of objection to vigour 
in a bed fellow -- as soon as she hears the bell for seven 
o'clock prayers, she jumps out of bed, huddles on her clothes, 
and flies to church or chapel to pay her devotions. When these 
are performed, she returns to her inamorato, undresses, and 
comes to bed to complete the rites of Venus which she had 
before begun. This, indeed, may be a compendious way of wiping 
off as she goes; which, added to her strict abstinence from 
flesh in one sense, or her vegetable system, must certainly 
place her in the true and certain high road to Heaven, where 
there cannot be one turnpike or barrier in her way to impede 
the progress of her celestial journey.

With such beautiful and religious assistants, Mrs N----n finds 
means to gratify the taste and disposition of every kind of 
customer. Is he a philosopher; a casuist, or a metaphysician, 
Mrs M--rshall can dip into the occult sciences with the most 
subtle logician of the schools;- she could even hold a 
conversation, or a disputation, with Gradus himself in Who's 
the Dupe. The mere sensualist will find ample gratification in 
Mrs Sm----th, as the only study she ever pursued in her life 
was that of an agreeable courtesan; and there is not a whim or 
caprice that can be suggested by the most luxuriant 
imagination of salacious extravagance, that she cannot amply 
gratify. Mrs B--ker can chant most enchantingly, and make you 
believe her almost a goddess of, as she was heretofore on, the 
stage. If pomp and affection should have any charms in the eye 
of a love, Miss F----sher can assume all coquettish airs of a 
first rate woman of quality. Should an inamorato be inclined 
to hear Desdemona, and many other capital characters tortured 
almost to death, Miss H----met smothers her heroine with as 
much grace as Othello himself. Does the fanatic puritan appear 
moved with the spirit of the flesh, Mrs P---- will fast and 
pray with him as long as he pleases -- except in bed.

No wonder then that Mrs N----n's male visitors consist of all 
ranks and denominations, from the spirited Duke who kicks up a 
riot at the masquerade (when seconded by a dozen) to show his 
valour, down to the meek Methodist field preacher in 
Moorfields, who fleeces his flock by giving them plenty of 
damnation in the other world, that he may enjoy the sweets and 
felicities of this mundane sphere in the arms of his Tha�s.

Having, we think, paid due homage at present to Mrs N----n, we 
judge it time to renew our visits to our old friends in King's 
Place.



Chapter XXX. 
Present state of the King's Place nunnery. Some original 
characters introduced. History of Black Harriot; her first 
connections in Jamaica; her arrival in England; her eligible 
deportment towards her master. Emerges into public life; her 
success. Commences Lady Abbess. The causes of her misfortunes, 
and her present distressed situation. Sketches and anecdotes 
of the lovely Emily, the bright eyed Ph----y, and the pretty 
Coleb----ke: in which are pointed out at first faux-pas, and 
some broad hints towards guessing at their seducers.

We shall now return to the great mart of amour, pleasure, and 
bliss, the celebrated sanctum sanctorum<67> or King's Place. 
During our late excursions to Mayfair and Newman Street there 
has been a very considerable revolution in the state of 
affairs of these seminaries; Charlotte Hayes retired from 
business; Mrs Mitchell ruined her riding master, and Irish 
jontleman of quite independent fortune; and Black Harriot 
robbed and plundered by her servants, and obliged to take 
refuge in King's Bench: but as we met this lady upon the 
threshold, transferring what property she had to Mrs Dubery, 
we shall presently taker notice of her as a very extraordinary 
character, and as a proper companion to the Prince de Soubise.
Present and Exact State of the nunneries in King's Place, 
latitudinally described from the Best Authorities.
Mrs ADAMS. 
Mrs DUBERY. 
Mrs PENDERGAST. 
Mrs WINDSOR. 
Mrs MATTHEWS.

This constellation of nunneries which happens to include every 
house in King's Place, some might think sufficient to supply 
the whole polite world with nuns, and amorous refreshment; but 
we know from experience, that neither Monmouth Street, though 
so long, can produce clothes sufficient for the ten thousandth 
part of the inhabitants of this metropolis, or Whitechapel 
butcher's meat but for a very small part of the inmates of the 
civic walls.

Before we proceed to enumerate the fair beauties of these 
nunneries, we shall give a little sketch of Black Harriot, 
whilst she still remains upon this voluptuous spot. She was 
purchased amongst other slaves when every young upon the Coast 
of Guinea, and carried to Jamaica: here she was, as usual, put 
up to public sale, and purchased by a capital Planter of 
Kingston. As she approached nearer to maturity, she discovered 
a lively genius, and a penetration far superior to the common 
run of Europeans, whose minds had been cultivated by learning. 
Her master now took particular notice of her, and removed her 
so far from her late menial capacity, as to make her a 
superintendent of other female negroes. He gave Harriot a 
master to teach her write, read, and so much arithmetic as 
enabled her to keep the domestic accounts. He soon 
distinguished her still farther from the rest of his slaves; 
he being a widower, used frequently to admit her to his bed: 
this honour was accompanied by presents, which soon testified 
she was a great favourite. In this station she remained for 
near three years, during which time she bore him two children. 
His business now calling him to England, Harriot accompanied 
him; and notwithstanding the beauties of this island often 
attracted his attention, and he frequently gave loose to his 
natural appetites with his own country women, still she 
remained unrivalled as a constant flame. Nor was it, in some 
respect, extraordinary; for though her complexion might not be 
so engaging as that of the fair daughters of Albion, she had 
many attractions that are not often met with in the female 
world who yield to prostitution. She was faithful to his bed, 
careful of his domestic concerns, exact in her accounts, and 
would not suffer any of the other servants to impose upon 
their master; and in this respect she saved him some hundreds 
a year. Her person (to follow her) was very alluring; she was 
tall, well made, and genteel; and since her arrival in 
England, she had given her mind to reading, and at her 
master's recommendation, had perused several useful and 
entertaining books, calculated for women; whereby she had 
considerably improved her understanding, and had attained a 
degree of politeness, scarce to be paralleled in an African 
female.

Such was her situation for many months; but unfortunately her 
master, or friend, which you please, had never had the 
smallpox; and having caught it, this malady proved fatal to 
him, and he paid the great and final mortal tribute upon the 
occasion. She had made some small provision for herself, with 
regard to clothes, and some trifling trinkets; but she had 
acted in so upright and generous a manner towards her departed 
master, that she had not amassed five pounds in money, though 
she might easily, and without detection, have been the 
mistress of hundreds.

The scene was soon changed, and from being the superintendent 
of a noble table, she found herself reduced to a scanty 
pittance; and even that pittance could not last long, if she 
did not find some means of speedily recruiting her almost 
exhausted finances.

We cannot suppose that Harriot had any of those nice, 
conscientious, scruples, which constitute which is usually 
called chastity, and by some, virtue. The daughters of Europe, 
as well as those of Africa, scarce know their meaning, in 
their natural state; and nature always directed Harriot, 
notwithstanding she had read some pious, and many moral books. 
In a word, she found it necessary to make the most of her 
jetty charms, and accordingly applied to Lovejoy to be 
properly introduced into company. She was quite a new face, in 
every sense of the word, upon the town, and a perfect 
phenomenon of her kind. He dispatched immediately a messenger 
to Lord S----, who instantly quitted the arms of Miss R----y 
for this black beauty. The novelty so struck him, with her 
unexpected improved talents, that he visited her several 
successive evenings and never failed giving her at least a 
twenty pound bank note.

She now rolled in money; and he finding that she had 
attractions sufficient to draw the commendations and applause 
of so great a connoisseur in female merit as his Lordship, 
resolved to vend her charms as dear as possible; and she found 
that the caprice of mankind was so great, that novelty could 
command almost any price.

In the course of a few months she could class in the list of 
her admirers, at least a score of peers and fifty commoners, 
who never presented her with anything less than soft paper, 
commonly called a bank note. She had ere this realised near a 
thousand pounds; besides having well stocked herself with 
clothes, plate, and furniture. One of her friends now advised 
her to seize a favourable opportunity that presented itself, 
and succeed the late Mrs Johnson in King's Place. She listened 
to this advice, and disbursed almost all her little fortune to 
enter properly upon the premises.

For some time she had uncommon success; but taking a fancy to 
a certain officer of the Guards who had no more than his pay 
to subsist upon, she declined accepting the addresses of any 
other admirer; and being at the same time obliged to dilate 
frequently her purse strings in behalf of this son of Mars, 
she soon found a great defalcation in the state of her 
receipts. Add to this, some of her nuns eloped considerably in 
her debt; and being last season at Brightelmstone<68> with a 
party of her nuns, the servants she left in charge in the 
house, not only ran her deeply in debt at the shops in the 
neighbourhood, but purloined many things of value, which she 
could not recover. She was unwilling to make a legal example 
of them, though they closed the scene of her ruin, and finally 
conveyed her (though indirectly) to the King's Bench, where 
she now remains.

Having thus dispatched our black beauty, let us now look to 
our fair ones; and to begin with Mrs Adams, at the northern 
extremity of the constellation of nunneries, we there shall 
find the lovely Emily, the bright-eyed Ph----y, and the pretty 
Coleb----ke.

This Emily is not Emily C--l--th--st, whom we have before 
described, but Emily R--berts, descended from a very different 
family. Her father was a very eminent cutler, alias knife-
grinder, and few wheelbarrow-artists had more custom than him. 
Nevertheless, he could not give his Emily any capital fortune, 
and she was obliged to go to service. She was hired in a 
creditable tradesman's family, and lived there some time in an 
immaculate state; but being debauched by her master's son, the 
fruits of this correspondence soon became visible, and she was 
compelled to quit her place. After she had given to the world 
a pledge of her indiscretion, she did not find in herself much 
inclination to return to a state of servitude; and the panel 
of chastity being once demolished, she was easily persuaded to 
think her charms would entitle her to a life of ease, luxury, 
dissipation, to which she was naturally prone. It must be 
acknowledged, that Emily, in the phrase of King's Place, was a 
very good piece: it is true, she had a small scar on one side, 
under her chin; but when she wore a French nightcap, it was 
not visible, and she was uncommonly agreeable. Her brother 
still labours in the humble station of an itinerant cutler, as 
successor to his father; but if Emily has not raised him as to 
dignity, she has improved the emoluments of his trade, by 
having made interest for him at all nunneries of King's Place, 
and obtained their custom, which is not inconsiderable; and 
here he almost daily labours in his vocation.

Miss Ph----y is celebrated for the remarkable brightness and 
vivacity of her eyes; and is, in other respects, a genteel, 
agreeable girl. She was an apprentice to a milliner in Bond 
Street, and was seduced by Lord P----, who soon deserted her, 
and left her to make the most of her charms at this general 
market of beauty.

Miss Coleb----ke is remarkably pretty, and celebrated for her 
vivacity and repartee. Mr R---- the player had the honour of 
being the first upon the list of her paramours. She was 
inveigled by an advertisement for agreeable figure for the 
stage. When she had an appointment with him, in consequence of 
this advertisement, he promised to teach her the scenic art, 
and introduce her to the Acting Manager, and said he did not 
doubt but she would prove a great ornament to the stage, and 
obtain a handsome salary. He gave her a few dramatic lessons; 
but in one of the tender scenes, he played his part so well, 
that she was compelled to acknowledge his theatrical powers, 
and she yielded to the directions, and realised the Poet's 
most amorous descriptions.



Chapter XXXI. 
An account of nunnery under the direction of Mrs Dubery. An 
outline of this lady's character. Description of her visitors. 
The diplomatic body introduced. A curious guest in the person 
of E----l P----y. A whimsical platonic dialogue. Character of 
this nobleman: his incongruities and absurdities. A little 
touch on the passions at Lady P----y's, &c.

Having paid our obeisance to Mrs Adams, we, in approaching the 
equinoctial, sail due south, and in touching at the next port, 
necessarily put into Dubery Bay, where we may be well 
victualled, and lay in a proper store of wine and other 
liquors, to enable us to proceed on our voyage through King's 
Place Straits.

Mrs Dubery is a woman of the world; and though she never read 
Lord Chesterfield's letters, can pare her nails, or carve a 
fowl with as much address and dexterity as his Lordship could 
himself. Indeed no woman does the honours of the table with 
more propriety or elegance than herself. She received a board 
school education; and though her morals might there be a 
little vitiated by bad examples, and bijoux indiscrets,<69> 
her manners were polished to a degree that would have made her 
appear a woman of the Ton, even in the drawing room. Vulgarity 
she utterly abhors, and would as soon subscribe to a bond and 
judgment, (though she is amazingly fond of her furniture and 
fixtures) as yield to the impulse of an awkward indelicate 
word. She has got a smattering of French, and speaks a few 
words of Italian, by which means she can accommodate foreign 
noblemen as well as English senators. The foreign ministers, 
for this reason, often visit her nunnery, and are accommodated 
to their most desirable satisfaction. Count de B----, Monsieur 
de M---- P----, Baron de N----, Monsieur de D----, Count de M-
---, and Count H----, all agree, that the accommodations here 
are worthy of the diplomatic body. In a word, the whole 
northern department occasionally visit her; and Mrs Dubery is 
not without hopes, and warm hopes, that the southern 
department will follow their example.

But let it not be imagined, that Mrs Dubery's customers 
consisted entirely of the members of the diplomatic body. Far 
was this from the case, as we have already hinted; and we have 
now in our possession an anecdote, that will illustrate this 
assertion, we hope, in a pleasing manner. No sooner had E----l 
P----y returned from America, and paid his respects in a 
proper manner at St. James's and Northumberland House, than 
for a while inattentive to his Bill of Divorce, he repaired to 
Mrs Dubery's, and was introduced to Lucy W--lliams, as a girl 
of beauty, taste and sentiment; when a dialogue nearly to the 
following effect took place.

Lucy. My Lord, I flatter myself greatly upon this visit, so 
early after your arrival from America; I hope the fatigues of 
the campaign have been no way prejudicial to your health.

E----l P----y. Not in the least; emulous of distinguishing 
myself for the good and glory of my country, perils were in 
this respect a pleasure; and every difficulty I surmounted, 
gave me a fresh vigour, and instead of impairing, improved my 
health.

Lucy. My Lordship speaks in the true language of a hero, and 
you return at once the champion of your country, and the 
admired favourite of the fair sex; for, as the poet says, 
"None but the brave deserve the fair."

E.P. I find Mrs Dubery has not deceived me; and that you are 
the sensible girl she described you. I have the vanity to 
believe, that I can discriminate the well-bred woman of taste 
and judgment, though not in the most brilliant situation, from 
the mere grizette, who breathes nothing but mere prostitution 
and contamination. Vanity apart, I do consider myself as a man 
of discernment and sentiment and though sometimes, flushed 
with libations in public companies by toasting the friends of 
my country, I am betrayed into some irregularities, and led 
into the embraces of incontinent females, it is the amiable 
woman, the sentimental companion that I aim at, in associating 
with the fair.

Lucy. I find your Lordship is a man of refined taste and 
elegant ideas, and rises far superior to the gross objects of 
mere sensation -- a gratification which the brute creation 
enjoy in a far superior degree to the rational world, who look 
upon themselves as perfect beings, and lords of the universe.

E.P. Why, I am amazed at the justness and appositeness of your 
reflections! You possess the essence of the logic of the 
schools, without their lumber; you would do honour to a 
Professorship! I could remain with you for an age; but 
unluckily I have a particular engagement about important 
business with Lord George G----, which obliges me to take my 
leave so abruptly.

In saying this, he put a bank note of twenty pounds into her 
hand, and proposed to renew his visit the first opportunity.

No sooner had his Lordship retired, than Mrs Dubery entered, 
when Lucy could contain no longer, but burst into a fit of 
laughter, at the same time displaying the bank note. After 
having recovered herself from this fit of laughter, she could 
not refrain from saying -- "This E----l P--y is a more 
ridiculous being, if possible than Lord H----n: he visits our 
Seminary, in order to have sentimental dialogue with a nun of 
our sentimental Order, and compliments her with twenty pounds, 
to have the pleasure and puritanical gratification of hearing 
a moral lecture against sensuality."

Mrs Dubery immediately replied in the following manner: "You 
surprise me greatly! A girl like you, who have been upon the 
town, and are acquainted with anecdotes and characters beyond 
most women in your sphere, that you should be acquainted with 
P----y's story and infirmities, surprises one wonderfully! The 
fact is, that when his Lordship was at college, he imitated 
may of his fellow collegians, and by masturbation so emaciated 
himself, as to render him unqualified for the duties of 
matrimony. He nevertheless, for the ties of the interest and 
family alliance, wedded a most beautiful young lady, fraught 
with all the luxuriant taste of Eastern concupiscence; for it 
is said, that she descended lineally from a Sublime Monarch. 
The world, it is true, is censorious; but I will say no more 
upon that subject; Lady W---- M----was certainly perfectly 
initiated into all the mysteries of the Seraglio. To the 
point. Lady P----y was greatly disappointed. The nuptial 
night, and every night taught her, that all her conjugal hopes 
and wishes would be frustrated. On his part, mortified to the 
highest pitch at his impotent attempts, he flew, for temporary 
relief to his pungent reflections, to wine, and every species 
of debauchery; and in his inebriate frenzy is deluded into an 
imaginary opinion, that he is capable of receiving that 
gratification in the arms of prostitution, which the 
delectable Lady P----y cannot afford him. But the delusion 
soon ceases; for though flattered by his La�s that his powers 
of virility are uncommon, (as truly they are) he is conscious, 
upon the slightest sober reflection, that he is imposed upon. 
On the other hand, when the intoxicating cup has not operated, 
perfectly conscious of his inability of commanding in the 
field of Venus, however well qualified he may be to wield the 
truncheon in that of Mars, he ascribes his impotence to 
virtue, and assumes the character of another Scipio. But he 
only makes a virtue of necessity; and to avoid exposing his 
incapacity, in attempting a carnal connection; he becomes the 
panegyrist of sentimental society with the fair sex. Perhaps, 
in this respect, were he to visit all the nunneries in the 
town, he could not have found a girl more capable of pleasing 
than yourself; and therefore, if you play your cards properly, 
you may make your fortune by him alone. Preserve your 
constitution, and remain (sans faire attention a c'est ce q'ui 
s'est pass� <70>) immaculate. But I cannot close this 
miniature, without touching upon a feature or two which has 
escaped me. Her Ladyship being thus a maiden wife, with the 
salacious bloody of the M----es in her veins, could not resist 
the importunities of Captain F--k--ner of the Guards. A fine 
athletic young man, just two and twenty, renowned for his 
Cyprian achievements, was an object that could not be 
withstood. He came, he courted, he conquered. This amour was 
no secret; the world at large proclaimed it, every coffee 
house re-echoed with it, and it soon reached Lord P--y's ears. 
Mortified to the quick, and without sufficient proof to 
establish the proof of Crim. Con. he resolved to go abroad, 
and gain such military laurels as would cover his cornuted 
brow. He accordingly went to America, and there gained honour 
and reputation as a general. The death of his mother afforded 
him a sufficient apology for his return to England; 
especially, as he was thereby elevated to a seat in the Upper 
House, becoming a peer in his own right. He was now soon 
possessed of sufficient vouchers to bring an action for Crim. 
Con. against Mr B----d, with whom his lady at present 
cohabited; gained a verdict in his favour, and is now upon the 
point of being divorced by the Act of Parliament. But here I 
must end, as a chair has stopped at the door; and (opening the 
window shutters) I see it is his Excellency Monsieur de M---- 
P----n." We shall also stop here for a while, and give the 
reader a respite in point of reading, that he may relish the 
succeeding chapter, which will be pretty highly seasoned, with 
the greater gusto.



Chapter XXXII. 
A trip to St. Petersburg, by way of prologue to the amorous 
performances of Monsieur de M---- P----. A description of the 
most proper ambassadors and ministers to be sent to that 
Court, exemplified in the persons of Mr Guy D----us, and Sir 
Ha--b--y W----ms. An imperial passe-partout. The salacious 
exercises of two nymphs in training are interrupted by a 
certain nobleman, who engages in performing the rites in a 
masculine manner. Sketch of the artifices of an itinerant 
jeweller. Prudence of a celebrated Tha�s. Her judicious 
conduct and success.

In the frigid clime of Russia, it would by some be thought, 
that Venus there could never have fixed her reign; that it is 
incredible she should have quitted her delightful island of 
Cyprus, and Paphos, its consecrated capital, to visit this 
dreary region: but facts are stubborn things -- we find her at 
St. Petersburg, with all her blandishments, in the person of 
the C----a. To quit the figure, in plain English, this 
imperial lady is well known to be one of the greatest votaries 
on earth to the Cyprian Goddess. The officers of her household 
are all selected from the finest men in her kingdom; and if 
report can be credited, she has a passe-partout<71>, by which 
she can gain admittance to her dormant lovers, and seize them 
in her arms, whilst they testify their dreaming thoughts by 
the erected standard of fancied bliss; when she soon realises 
their amorous reveries, and brings them back to their waking 
senses. The politicians of Europe are so well apprized of this 
lady's uncontrollable passions for amorous delight, that there 
is not a Court who is in friendship with her, but what 
consults more the comeliness and athletic appearance of the 
ambassador and ministers they appoint for Petersburg, than 
their political abilities. To negotiate there with success, an 
envoy must have studied Aretino<61> more than Machiavelli. Did the 
pride and insolence of the Grand Signor permit him to send 
ambassadors to foreign courts, and had he appointed a Bashaw 
with Three Tails to Russia, most probably there never would 
have been a rupture between him and the C----a. The 
misunderstanding between the E----ss and France, previous to 
the last war, was entirely owing to the French ambassador at 
Petersburg being an emaciated macaroni; and we may attribute 
the good understanding that has so long subsisted between us 
and Russia, to the powers and abilities of Mr Guy D----k----us 
and Sir Hanbury W----ms; and we hope, for the honour and 
advantage of this country, that Sir James H---- will not fall 
short, in giving her imperial M---y similar and equally 
convincing proofs, how much he has the gratification of the 
Cz----a's most fervent wishes deeply at heart. As a testimony 
of Her Majesty's sensibility of this gentleman's merit and 
abilities, we shall only quote her feeling expressions on 
conferring the honour of Knighthood upon him.

When she invested him with the Order of the Bath, the ceremony 
concluded as follows: "Then taking from a table a gold-hilted 
sword richly ornamented with diamonds, the Empress touched his 
left shoulder three times with it, pronouncing these words, 
"Soyez bon et honourable chevalier, au nom de Dieu." (Be a 
good an honourable Knight, in God's name). And on his rising 
up and kissing her Imperial Majesty's hand, the Empress added, 
"Et pour vous prouver combien je suis contente, de vous, je 
vous fais present, de l'ep�e avec laquelle je vous ai fait 
Chevalier" (and to convince you how well contented I am with 
you, I make you a present of the sword with which I knighted 
you.)"

The following anecdote of M. De M---- P----, which may be 
depended upon, will easily account for this gentleman's being 
so great a favourite of the E----ss, as to be appointed her M-
---r at this court.

At the conclusion of the last chapter, we had set down 
Monsieur de M-- P--'s chair at Mrs Dubery's, where we left the 
chairmen and the reader to breathe a little after their 
fatigue. We now think it time to attend this gentleman into 
the parlour, where he is introduced by the lady to Laura C----
ns and Sophia L----ce, two young tits just broke in by the 
judicious Mrs Dubery. This gentlemen's powers had been very 
well established in the purlieus of St. James's; and Lady H---
-n had dignified him with the title of Son Excellence a 
Quatorze.<72> Upon the present occasion he supported the same 
character; for having retired to bed with Laura and Sophy, 
they found, in the course of an hour and a half, that they 
were uncommonly fatigued, having each undergone seven 
different attacks, without his Excellency being in the least 
out of breath; and he retired with the greatest sangfroid, 
still capable of half a dozen fresh onsets, if the opportunity 
should present itself.

After he was dressed, he gave each of his nymphs five guineas, 
telling them, that they were totally ignorant of their 
profession, and that he should, before the end of the week, 
give them another lesson. The fact was, that in the course of 
these amorous evolutions he had called into play most of 
Aretino's<61> postures, and, to speak in a maritime phrase now so 
much in vogue, they had never been used to any other than 
plain sailing.

Accordingly, the following day they stripped quite naked in 
the Salon d'Amour, and went through every evolution of 
Aretino<61>, having this great attitudinarian's work before them: 
- they had already completed the first rehearsal, and were now 
in the basket-fly, when Lord Del----aine entered, and was so 
smitten with their charms, that he desired the representation 
should be more characteristic and natural, and requested to 
perform the man's part; and considering this was his first 
essay, and that his Lordship had been up all night at the 
hazard table, where he had lost his last guinea, a 
circumstance sufficient to dispirit any man, he went through 
the different evolutions and exercises with uncommon 
dexterity. Mrs Dubery knew that his Lordship was a perfect man 
of honour with regard to gaming debts, and his amorous 
engagements; and therefore, at his request, gave the pupils of 
nature a couple of guineas each, for the pleasure, amusement 
and gratification he had received.

His Lordship soon after departed to go home to dress, and 
recruit his finances, by the help of an usurious son of Levi. 
No sooner had his Lordship taken his leave, than another son 
of Levi appeared. This was no other than the itinerant 
jeweller, Mr L--z--rus, who waited upon the ladies to receive 
their orders; or, in other words, to dispose of as much of his 
cargo as he could persuade them to purchase. By this traffic, 
Mr L----s has amassed a very pretty fortune, and still 
continues raising annually a very considerable sum, by the 
profits (not small) of vending baubles and trinkets to the 
ignorant girls at the different nunneries about town, and to 
women in keeping, who, by profiting of the opportunity of his 
appearing whilst their keepers are present, fall in love 
sometimes with half his casket; when their generous friends 
seldom refuse the importunities of the fair advocates for 
these alluring ornaments. At other times, knowing their 
connections, he will give them credit to almost any amount, as 
far as he thinks them able to pay; but upon the smallest 
failure of promise, Mr Latitat makes his appearance, and soon 
reminds them there is a legal method of recovering the debt. 
This peregrinating Jeweller is said to be one of the best 
customers to the practitioners of the law, of any trader 
within the Bill of Mortality: he keeps one attorney in 
constant practice, who lives genteelly, and keeps his girl and 
his phaeton with the emoluments arising from Mr L--z--s's 
custom. He easily persuaded Laura to lay out all her gains of 
the two last days -- the present of his Excellence a Quatorze, 
and that of Lord Del----ne, in a pair of paste-buckles, and a 
pair of earrings of the same manufacture; but having occasion 
for cash a short time after, she could raise no more upon them 
at her uncle's than half a guinea. Sophy was more prudent, and 
as she had some expectations of being taken into keeping, and 
passing for a married woman, she purchased nothing, but a 
plain gold ring, which, however, she paid pretty handsomely 
for.

Lucy, who had more discretion than either of these young tits, 
gave them, after the Jew's departure, a pretty severe lecture 
upon their folly and extravagance; and told them, as 
afterwards appeared, that they had paid more than double the 
value of what they had purchased. As to her part, so far from 
squandering her money in that ridiculous manner, she had 
realised a pretty considerable sum, with which she proposed 
soon to take a house, and commence Lady Abbess herself. To 
this end, as the money she had saved was scarcely sufficient 
to accomplish her design, she resolved to make a certain 
friend of Earl P----y; and it was also requisite, for fear of 
jealousy or revenge for quitting the house of Mrs Dubery, and 
setting up in opposition to her, to settle their accounts 
previously in an amicable way; which she speedily did, and 
having obtained a genteel release in writing, thereby became 
entirely out of her clutches.

Upon Earl P----y's next visit, she took uncommon pains to 
ingratiate herself in his favour; and as he was rather 
elevated with liquor, and, as usual in that situation, 
salaciously inclined, she called to her aid such meretricious 
arts, as gave him, even in his debilitated state, such 
raptures as he never before had been acquainted with. He swore 
she was the only woman that knew perfectly how to please; and 
that he should never think of any other female, if she would 
promise to be constant to him. Nothing could be more happily 
opportune to her most sanguine wishes: Lucy told him, she had 
it in contemplation for some time, to quit the way of life she 
was then in, and confine herself entirely to the embraces of 
one man; and that his Lordship was the perfect object of her 
wishes and her ambition: that she proposed taking a genteel 
house, and furnishing it in a proper manner; but that 
unfortunately she was deficient in cash.  "If," (she added) 
"she could so far trespass upon his Lordship's generosity, as 
to request the loan of a small sum for a few months, she 
doubted not but she should be able, at the expiration of that 
time, to repay him with interest, if he required it." His 
Lordship stopped her before she proceeded any father, and 
calling for pen and ink, gave her a draft upon his banker for 
five hundred pounds.

This capital stroke being struck, Lucy's thoughts solely 
engaged in seeking for a house in a proper situation, and 
furnishing it in a frugal, but elegant manner. She hit upon 
one in the environs of Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, and 
attended most of the general auctions, to purchase, if 
possible, such furniture as she wanted at a cheaper rate than 
at the shops.

Lucy's design was soon discovered by Mrs Dubery, not only by 
her frequent absence from home, but by her refusing to go into 
the company of any gentleman except Earl P----y, who 
frequently called upon her to chat away half an hour, and 
enquire concerning her welfare, and the progress of her new 
plan of operations. Mrs Dubery was greatly mortified to think 
she had been the direct cause of alienating so good a customer 
(which certainly would be the case) as Earl P----y, and 
probably many more. However, she prudently checked her 
resentment, and pretended great friendship towards Lucy; 
saying, as her plan was now no secret, she begged that a 
perfect cordiality might subsist between them; and that by 
playing into one another's hands, they might secure the 
greatest part, if not the whole genteel and valuable trade 
themselves. Lucy was glad to find that Mrs Dubery put matters 
upon this amicable footing, and she readily acquiesced in what 
this lady proposed. We shall soon have an opportunity of 
visiting Lucy in her new habitation; in the mean while we 
think the following genuine historiette will not be 
disagreeable to our readers.



Chapter XXXIII. 
Historiette, or, Memoirs of Lord Del----ne; being the outline 
of his amours, marriage, and pursuits, for the last twenty 
years. His gallantries, revels, and juvenile dissipations. His 
connections with the celebrated Miss Hermitage. A whimsical 
intrigue, and its more whimsical consequences, in the persons 
of Mr and Mrs Chateaurar--y. His acquaintance with Miss H--
lland. His distresses. Marries Mrs Knight, to repair his 
fortune. His behaviour to her. A curious billet. Miss Holl-
and's elopement. Recovers her. His wife's retreat to a 
Convent; and his Lordship's present indigence and pursuits.

So very conspicuous a character as Lord Del--ne, who has 
figured upon the horizon of gaiety and dissipation for upwards 
of twenty years, must certainly afford a variety of 
situations, pleasant, interesting, whimsical, capricious and 
risible. We therefore thought, introducing him to our readers 
in propria persona,<73> would afford them some variety, and 
produce an agreeable digression in these Memoirs. After this 
short preface, we shall describe his person, character, and 
disposition.

Lord D--l--ne is descended from a noble and illustrious family 
in Scotland, and was next heir to a Ducal Coronet; which 
induced many ladies of the first rank and fortune to look at 
him with a partial and wishful eye, as a mate for life. His 
person was, besides, genteel and handsome, which his taste for 
dress set off to the greatest advantage. But he was resolved, 
as long as he could conveniently, to enjoy his freedom, and at 
a very juvenile period of life, roamed at large amongst all 
the come-at-able beauties and demireps within the Bills of 
Mortality. These, added to the expenses constantly attendant 
upon intrigue, a strong propensity to extravagance, and an 
insurmountable itch for play, soon distressed him, and he 
found his fortune out at the elbows almost as soon as he had 
got possession of it. The first remarkable Tha�s we find upon 
the list of his inamoratas was the celebrated Miss Hermitage, 
with whom he kept up a correspondence for several months; but 
her luxuriant disposition and extravagance compelled him to 
break off this connection; and she found a successor in the 
person of the Tripoline ambassador , who had established his 
character for his amorous abilities as well as his generosity, 
and with whom she lived during the remainder of his residence 
at this court, in a brilliant and superb manner.

The next conspicuous connection of Lord Del----ne was Mrs 
Chateu----y, who had not long celebrated her nuptials with a 
French linguist; but her Caro Sposo, ere the honeymoon had 
elapsed, treated her with such indifference, frequently 
leaving her without the common necessaries of life, that she 
resolved to dispose of her charms to the best bidder, and live 
with ease and comfort. She had scarce come to this pious 
resolution, before a duenna of some skill in negotiations of 
this kind introduced her to Lord Del----ne, and he took her 
home to his house in Conduit Street. The little language 
master was very well pleased to get rid of his wife, as he 
might probably get a handsome sum by a prosecution for crim. 
con. But his Lordship receiving intimations of his design, 
made overture to Mr Ch----y, to compromise the matter; and a 
negotiation was set on foot, which soon terminated in an 
agreement on the part of the husband to give up all 
pretensions to his wife, and drop the prosecution, on 
condition of receiving the sum of two hundred pounds. These 
preliminaries being settled, his Lordship met him at a tavern 
near Soho to pay him the money, which he accordingly did. They 
dined together; and after drinking a bottle, his Lordship 
proposed a party at piquet. The linguist plumed himself much 
upon his skill at this game, and very readily accepted the 
challenge. But the blind Goddess did not vouchsafe to befriend 
him; and though a cuckold, he had such ill-luck, as to dispose 
of his wife, and lose every guinea of her purchase money in a 
few hours. Upon his Lordship's return to his Dulcinea, after a 
hearty laugh, he told her, that he had settled matters with 
her husband in every sense of the word; and pulling out the 
cash, flung it into her lap, saying, "There is the value of 
you! But see if you cannot make a better use of it than your 
foolish husband."

Notwithstanding this purchase made in form, he did not long 
remain in possession of the premises; and the cause of his 
Lordship's quitting the tenement, or rather ejecting the 
tenant, was truly laughable,  though strictly true. Mrs Ch----
y and the duenna, who then lived together, were entertaining a 
gentleman who dined with them (in expectation of meeting his 
Lordship concerning some business), with the follies, foibles, 
and caprices of his Lordship. Mrs Ch----y went so far as to 
reveal the mysteries of the interior Cyprian Temple, and 
communicate some anecdotes of his having recourse to 
Cantharides as well as birch; and in order to corroborate her 
assertions, as the gentleman seemed to give little credit to 
them, but looked upon them as the mere effusions of joviality, 
she added, "Why, Sir, you may think his Lordship is a stout 
man, to view his well-shaped leg; but here, Sir" (going to a 
drawer, and producing a stocking with a false quilted calf), 
"it is to this device he owes the symmetry and athletic 
appearance of his leg." The gentleman was astonished at what 
he had seen, and could not refrain from joining in the laugh: 
however, he never revealed the secret with which he has thus 
entrusted to his Lordship; but D----ne's Valet having a 
particular pique against the duenna, and willing to rout the 
party, in order to retain his Lordship's confidence, and 
fleece him, as heretofore, entirely himself, no sooner opened 
him the door, upon his return home in the evening, than, 
following him into the parlour, he revealed to him all that 
had passed in his absence, with some aggravating 
circumstances; which so enraged his Lordship, that, to avoid 
the arms of Mrs Chateau--y, who was then in bed, he repaired 
to a bagnio, and sent for the first girl the waiter 
recommended, leaving a letter, or rescript, intimating that he 
could dispense with Mrs Chateau----y's, as well as the duenna, 
Mrs Dus--ins's absence. In consequence of this warning, they 
found it expedient to retire the next morning before 
breakfast, as the valet had received positive orders never to 
let them eat or drink again in the house.

Scarce had Mrs Chateau--y and Mrs Duss--ns decamped, before he 
brought home Miss Holl--nd. That famous or infamous antiquated 
Beldame Lady Gunst----n was, we are well informed, the 
negotiator upon this occasion. This young lady was the 
daughter of a peruke-maker, near Red Lion Square, Holborn. She 
was remarkably handsome and genteel, and not above nineteen. 
She was originally seduced by Lady Gunst--n, who now assured 
her that Lord Del----ne had protested to her in the most 
solemn manner, he proposed marrying her; but that he could 
take no such step till the demise of a near relation, whom he 
was in some measure dependent upon, and therefore very 
cautious not to displease him; but that she would certainly 
not only be a peeress, but also a Duchess, in all probability, 
if she did not, by rejecting his present proposal, run counter 
to her own interest. The idea of a Ducal Coronet was 
irresistible; and she yielded to the insinuations of Lady G---
-n and his Lordship's importunities.

Miss H--d had not long engaged in this alliance, before his 
Lordship's affairs became in a very distracted state, and he 
had no other probable resource but marriage. His rank and 
expectations had long since enabled him to marry a woman of 
fortune; but the word Marriage had always terrified him, and 
he had hitherto preferred freedom to affluence. But now 
distress and penury stared him in the face; his credit was 
entirely exhausted, and all his resources were dried up: in a 
word, necessity prevailed upon him to pursue this rash step; 
and he soon found means to ingratiate himself with Mrs Kn---
ght, a widow lady of very considerable fortune. Ambition was 
her motive, want and misery his excitements. Their hands were 
joined, but their hearts remained disunited; and what is 
positively fact, he never bedded with her but one night; and 
having in the morning gained possession of all that she could 
dispose of, about noon he took a French leave, and never 
afterwards visited her. He wrote her a laconic billet nearly 
in the following terms.

"My Lady, 
You must be conscious that nature has been so unkind to 
you, as to have denied you the powers of propagating your 
species. Therefore Madam, it were in vain for me to 
tantalise myself and your Ladyship, to obtain what 
neither you can grant, nor obtain. My best wishes, 
however, attend you; and in gratitude for the kindness I 
have received at your hands, shall every consider myself 
as 
Your much obliged 
Friend and husband, 
DEL--NE."

The reader will probably be dubious, whether this charge was 
well grounded, or whether the defect he complains of might not 
be on his side. All we can venture to decide upon this 
occasion is, that Mrs Kn----ght never bore her first husband 
any children, though it is well known he had been the father 
of several by other women. We shall leave this matter to the 
reader's own judgment and determination, to proceed to the 
sequel of the Historiette, which has rather swelled upon our 
hands, and which we shall therefore wish to curtail as much as 
possible.

Upon Lord Del----ne's marriage being proclaimed in the papers, 
Miss Holl--d, who was not made acquainted with the design, 
took the alarm; and irritated to the highest degree that all 
her hopes had now vanished of being Lady Del----ne, before his 
return on the day after his nuptials, she had quitted his 
house, and taken with her all her clothes, in a coach, leaving 
behind her this short card.

"PERFIDIOUS MAN! I leave you to the remorse of your own 
conscience, for the injuries you have done me: and as to 
that vile wretch Lady G----n, if there be justice on 
Earth or in Heaven, the wrath of that divine power who 
superintends the deeds of this nether ball, must be 
hurled upon her. 
Adieu forever, 
The most injured of her sex."

Upon the receipt of this billet, he was almost distracted. He 
posted to every part of the town in search of his dear Holl---
-nd; but all his pursuits were ineffectual that day. On the 
morrow, his servant recognising the Coachman who had taken her 
up, on his stand, traced her to an obscure lodging near the 
Minories, where an aunt of her lived, and kept a green shop. 
His Lordship soon hastened thither, and failed not to use all 
the rhetoric he was master of to persuade her to return to 
Conduit Street. He pleaded his distress; he showed her the 
letter he had wrote to his wife; and assured her of his 
inviolable constancy and fidelity to the only female he 
esteemed on Earth, who was Miss Holl----nd. This logic, with 
the still more persuasive eloquence of a thousand pound bank 
note, had its influence, and she returned home with him.

Now his Lordship was at the highest pinnacle of mundane 
felicity -- in possession of the charmer of his soul -- 
rolling in money -- bidding defiance to his creditors, after 
exorcising two bailiff's followers, who were in possession of 
his demesnes. He revelled at large in luxury and dissipation, 
those two idols of his incessant devotion.

As to Lady Del----ne, having by her generosity to her husband 
reduced herself to a very scanty pittance, she found it 
expedient to retire to a Convent in Flanders, where she some 
time since ended her days; which, probably, were shortened by 
reflecting upon her folly, and the mortification of having 
sacrificed everything that was dear to her, for the empty 
whistling of a title.

His Lordship failed not to testify his taste for gaiety, and 
every kind of fashionable extravagance, whereby he soon got 
rid of all Mrs Kn----ght's fortune; and has been for a 
considerable time reduced to the necessity of his wits, or 
rather the folly of others, for a maintenance. We shall 
terminate this chapter with a sentence from La Fontaine, but 
to whom applicable we will not pretend to say:
"On commence par �tre Dupe, et l'on finit par �tre 
Fripon."<74>



Chapter XXXIV. 
A visit to the celebrated Mrs W--rs. Description of her rout. 
Account of her company. Some unexpected visitors. Colonel B---
-den's anecdotes upon the occasion. The rival daughter. The 
amorous mother. The conflict, or critical scene, in which a 
celebrated singer is a principal actor. The favourable 
prospect of succeeding in his address. A satirical picture of 
the metempsychosis, in the transmigration of the souls of Lady 
H----, Lady P----, and Mrs J----, by Lord P----.

Before we pay a visit in form to Mrs Prendergast, who is, 
according to succession, our next neighbour in King's Place, 
we cannot refuse an invitation we have received to wait upon 
the celebrated Mrs W----rs, a lady entirely upon the Haut 
Ton,<20> who keeps a house of rendezvous for demireps and 
Beaux Garcons<75> of the superior class, and who is also a 
professed match-maker, and has by these honourable and 
industrious pursuits rolled a genteel equipage, and supported 
a household, consisting of servants of almost every 
denomination.

Here we found beaux and belles, wits and wags, musicians and 
singers. The group at our first entrance consisted of Lord P--
--y, Colonel B----den, Mr A--ns--d, and Mr C--b--d. The ladies 
were Lady H----n, Lady P----y, the Marchioness of C----n, Lady 
Gr----r, and Mrs J---s. Several other visitors, male and 
female, soon after appeared. In such respectable company, we 
flattered ourselves with the most exalted entertainment, as 
wit and beauty here triumphantly reigned. But as usual in 
mixed companies, where play is almost the predominant passion, 
two card tables were filled, and Spadille and Basto were the 
passe-paroles<76>. However, occasionally, a little slander 
would diffuse itself. "Pray," said Lady H---- to Lady P----y, 
in half a whisper that was heard by all the room, "have you 
heard anything of the affair of Lady J---- and Mr W----n?" 
"Who is this W----n?" said the Marchioness; "I cannot learn. 
There was an officer, seemingly of a marching regiment, who 
used to go backwards and forwards, when his Lordship was out 
of town -- I'll be whipped if it is not him" -- "The Red Aces, 
if you please, Lady H---n?" -- "Oh my Lady," replied H---n, "I 
am certain I had Ponto."<77> "That can't be," replied the 
Marchioness; "here it is in my hand." After this altercation, 
which had like to have become pretty warm, subsided, Lady L---
-r inquired what sort of a man this officer was. To this the 
Marchioness replied, "She had never seen his face, but that, 
by his back and legs, he was a stout, athletic person." "Oh!" 
resumed Lady L----r, "I never mind a man's face, provided he 
has got a nose on it: and the longer the better; it is a 
pretty sure index, if he is stout and well made."

The conversation had thus far when Miss H----x announced. 
Several of the company were astonished, to see so much 
apparent innocence seated in the countenance of any young 
lady, scarce nineteen, entitled to a very ample fortune, in 
such a female coterie; but this surprise was carried still 
farther upon the introduction of Mr L----ni the Singer, 
accompanied by another musician.

Colonel Bow--en now took us aside, and acquainted us, but not 
without a tolerable, or rather intolerable share of stuttering 
and stammering, "That L----i, being introduced to Mrs D----n, 
the young lady's mother, on account of the finesse of his 
trills, this lady, who was very fond of music, particularly 
where it was sustained in a manly manner, was so ravished at 
this son of Levi's singing, that in despite of any little loss 
he might have sustained by circumcision, she was urged to make 
such overtures as he could not possibly misunderstand; and 
that she had the vanity to think her personal charms and the 
fortune she possessed, which was so ample, (not forgetting the 
pension upon the Irish establishment) were sufficient to 
captivate a vagrant, who had no other hope or expectation than 
a quaver for his support, and which might fail him, as it had 
done many other singers of superior eminence (meaning herself 
amongst that number), notwithstanding she was now verging upon 
fifty; but as she thought this was a profound secret to 
everyone but her confidante, she had judiciously put herself 
down at forty, where she had stuck for upwards of nine years."

The Colonel having got through this sentence with some 
difficulty, he paused a little, and then proceeded. "Now, if 
we may credit report, there has already been a little 
blendation of Christian and Jewish flesh; for it is whispered, 
that upon her confidante's reproving her indiscreet conduct, 
she grew nettled, and could not refrain uttering in a very 
loud tone of voice, that was overheard by the servants -- 
"Why, you old fool, don't you know I am above scandal? 
Besides, what risk do I run? Ain't I, though I don't choose to 
let the world know it, past child bearing? I was resolved to 
look before I leaped! I did not choose to buy a pig in a poke! 
I was resolved to know my man, before I engaged for life!" 
Having said this, she bounced out of the room, and repairing 
unexpectedly to her daughter's dressing apartment, discovered 
her reading a letter; which exciting her jealousy, and 
thinking she recollected the hand, she was induced abruptly to 
snatch it out of her daughter's hand; and upon perusing it, 
found it, as she judged, written by L----i, and containing the 
most tender and passionate declarations, with some oblique 
hints that her mother's passions for him, which was too 
visible for any one not to observe, was quite fulsome and 
disgusting to him.

"Enraged at this discovery, she tore the letter to pieces, 
upbraided her daughter in the most violent manner, and was 
upon the point of ordering her chair, to call upon the 
insolent faithless chanter (not enchanter upon this occasion); 
but before she had huddled on her clothes, the unfortunate 
inamorato knocked at the door. He was, as usual, ushered in; 
when he had a scene to go through, that, notwithstanding his 
uncommon modesty, put him to the blush, and greatly 
disconcerted him. No sooner did the storm begin, than he was 
for making a precipitate retreat; but this was prevented by 
the door being locked upon him. The charge was now brought 
home to him, and he was compelled to collect a sufficient 
share of decent assurance to deny being the writer of the 
letter, which luckily for him was destroyed. His bold 
affirmations, or rather her vanity, induced her to give some 
credit to what he asserted; and she being now somewhat 
appeased, after having hummed her one way, he now hummed her 
another in humming a favourite air, in which he vowed and 
protested, by all the Gods and Goddesses, the sincerity of his 
passion for her. The scene now changed; and if, from their 
silence, and the cracking of the sofa, anything could be 
surmised as to their present situation, the passion of rage 
was soon converted into that love.

"Though L----i's ready and positive assurances had delivered 
him from his unexpected and violent embarrassment, he was 
fearful of risking again such a situation; and has therefore, 
from that hour, never passed the threshold of Mrs D----n's 
door. His absence soon convinced her, that she had been 
deceived and deluded by his mellifluous tongue. She could not 
now refrain coming to an open rupture with her daughter, who, 
unable to bear the resentment and jealousy of her mother, 
quitted the house, and has taken refuge under the auspices of 
our respectable hostess. His arrival at this juncture plainly 
indicates that matters are going on swimmingly, through the 
mediation of Mrs W--t--rs; and I doubt not but a short time 
will convince the world, that they are united in wedlock, 
notwithstanding all the endeavours of her mother, and her 
application to chancery, to prevent it."

Mr L----i was now requested to sing a song, which he readily 
complied with, and was accompanied by his friend upon the 
German flute; after which they both received general applause.

Lord P----f----t having selected our little circle from the 
rest of the company, could not refrain giving vent to his 
sarcastic vein. Said his Lordship, "I am a disciple of 
Pythagoras, and firmly believe in a metempsychosis. Whilst L--
--i was singing, I was ruminating what would be the most 
probably transmigration of the souls of the ladies present. I 
could not help thinking, that Lady H----'s would take up her 
abode in a goat of the most vicious kind; Lady P----y's would 
perhaps animate a wagtail: the Marchioness of C----n's might 
wriggle her tail in the figure of a proud b----h: Lady Gr----
's would certainly occupy the small, but salacious body of a 
frog, as this animal is said to be the longest in the act of 
coition of any living creature: Poor H----x, whom I heartily 
pity, her soul would certainly take refuge in an innocent 
lamb, doomed a victim: and as to Mrs J----, I think nothing 
would suit her but a viper, a toad, or a rattlesnake." His 
Lordship having gone thus far in giving a scope to his 
imagination, upon the transmigration of the ladies' souls, he 
was interrupted by a favourite air from Mr L--i, to which 
every one paid the most earnest attention, and for which he 
again received the repeated plaudits of the company.



Chapter XXXV. 
An outline of the character of Mrs Br--dshaw. A description of 
her visitors of both sexes. An audience with some of the 
diplomatic body of the Southern Department. Some female puns, 
rather unexpected. Lord Champetre introduced. Sketch of Lady 
Champetre, with some account of her amours, and their 
consequences.

Now we are upon our emigrating tour from King's Place, we will 
pay a friendly visit to an old acquaintance in Queen Anne's 
Street. It should seem that we were somewhat remiss in our 
first edition, in having overlooked a rendezvous of such 
eminence as that of Mrs Br-dshaw; but to acknowledge the fact, 
we were, at the time of these Volumes first going to press, 
unacquainted with the subsequent anecdotes, at least in part.

We will not pretend to trace, with a biographic exactitude, 
the genealogy of Miss Fanny Herbert; we shall, therefore, pick 
her up, as we first found her, in Bow Street. Soon after this 
period she commenced business for herself, and kept a very 
reputable brothel, the corner of the play house passage, in 
the same street.
"Here long she flourished 
-- sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye!" 
[Thomas Otway, The Orphan, Act IV Sc. 1]

She was a fine showy woman; tall and elegant, of a fair 
complexion, with good eyes, remarkably regular white teeth, 
and we believe had as little recourse to the cosmetic art as 
any nymph of the garden. Her house was elegantly furnished; a 
good side-board of plate caught the visitor's eye, and her 
nymphs in general were tolerable good pieces. A rich cit was 
her most frequent companion, and probably chief support; but 
though she was not lavish of her favours, she was not 
invincible to the persuasive rhetoric of a fine young fellow 
of two and twenty, with broad shoulders, and well timbered. 
Captain H----, Mr B----, Mr W----, and several more who came 
up to her standard, were occasionally admitted to her 
embraces; but it must be acknowledged, that she was far from 
being mercenary; and these gentlemen, who were all beaux 
gar�ons de profession, so far from increasing her revenues, 
rather diminished them, as they were for the most part upon 
the sinking fund establishment.

At length she met with a gentleman of considerable fortune who 
was infatuated with her charms, and so desirous of having her 
solely to himself, (which he thought could no other way be 
compassed than by marriage) that he absolutely offered her his 
hand in an honourable way; and to convince her he was 
perfectly serious in this proposal, he took a genteel house in 
Queen Anne's Street (where she now resides), furnished it for 
her in an elegant manner, and fixed the day of their intended 
nuptials; but being suddenly taken ill, he was advised by his 
Physicians to repair to Bath for the recovery of his health; 
and here he paid the great debt of nature before the 
celebration of their nuptials. Having assumed his name upon 
her first appearance in Queen Anne's Street, she has ever 
since retained it.

Finding herself in this unexpected dilemma, she for some time 
knew not what course to steer, and not having entirely quitted 
her house in Bow Street, still continued it on, in the old 
train of variegated prostitution; but having soon after got 
into a more polite track, she discontinued her house in Covent 
Garden, and retired totally to Queen Anne's Street.

Her house now became one of the most polished receptacles for 
elegant intrigue, as no woman can, when she pleases, comport 
herself with more propriety than Fanny; she has also a pretty 
fluency of small talk, and occasionally throws in a pleasant 
equivoque:<78> in this respect she may be pronounced the 
second edition of Lucy Cooper. Indeed Fanny imitates her too 
much, and sometimes unsuccessfully; but upon the whole, she is 
a vivacious, agreeable companion, and, though in the wane of 
life, still a desirable piece.

At her house occasionally may be met with the agreeable Miss 
M----n, the frolicsome Mrs W----n, and the lively Miss. T----
h. These ladies alternately frequent King's Place and the 
other nunneries, but are never so much at home to their mind 
as in Queen Anne's Street.

The first of these ladies is much admired by the Chevalier 
P[int]o, the Portuguese M----r. Mrs W----n, either out of 
jealousy or whim, calls him M----n's Pintle.<79> The Chevalier 
overheard this one evening, as he was getting out of his 
chair, and was not a little nettled at the pun, till Fanny 
assured him it was the highest compliment that could be paid a 
gentleman who was greatly favoured by the God of the 
Gardens.<80> This pleased his fancy so much, that his choler 
instantly subsided, and he made no other reply, than -- "Si 
c'etoit comme cela -- a la bonheur."<81>

The Chevalier being thus reconciled to Mrs W----n's jeu de 
mot,<82> soon after introduced M. Piz[zi]ni, the Venetian 
resident, who took a fancy to this lady; and now Miss M----n 
had her revenge of Mrs W----n and called her lover W--n's 
Pizzle. Nor was Miss T----h without a limb of the diplomatic 
body; and though his name would not admit of a pun in the 
ludicrous style, it would admit of a very good substantial 
play, with the assistance of an r; for indeed M. D'Ag[er]o, 
the Genoese minister, might with more propriety than either of 
the others, on account of his uncommon generosity, be styled 
Monsieur Argeno, or rather Argentum.<83>

We might introduce the whole Corps Diplomatique of the 
southern department, save the Spanish ambassador, at Fanny's; 
but having given audience to these three gentlemen, we shall 
for the present take our leave of absence of them, and 
introduce Lord Champetre.

We imagine there will be little occasion to portray the 
character of Lord Champetre, or to assign a reason for him 
being thus entitled. Upon his marriage a short time since with 
a lady of uncommon beauty, whom he almost idolised, he was 
prevailed upon by her to give a new species of entertainment 
at the celebration of their nuptials. It consisted of a rural 
Festino,<84> where art combined with nature to make it one of 
the most agreeable entertainments every exhibited in this 
country. The first nobility, and almost every person of any 
rank was invited to partake of the diversion, and it surpassed 
even their most sanguine expectations. The late Mr Garrick was 
so forcibly struck with the enchanting scene, that he borrowed 
the hint for the stage.

Lady Champetre for some time imitated all her amiable mother's 
virtues; but we are sorry to add, that she has since very 
materially deviated from so worthy an example. The noble 
cricketer, it seems, was some time since suspected of too 
close an intimacy with this lady; and her brother returned 
from his travels unexpectedly to enquire into the foundation 
of reports so dishonourable to his sister and to her family. 
But the noble cricketer positively denying he had in the least 
fulfilled the reputation of the lady, or given any just cause 
for the injurious reports spread to her disadvantage, the D---
- of H---- appeared satisfied. He however resolved carefully 
to watch his sister's motions; and her indiscretion soon 
became so glaring, that the polite circles of St. James's 
pronounced the noble cricketer the happy man; and at the same 
time talked as freely of Lord C----e, Mr T----d, and Captain 
S----n.

A jaunt she made last summer to Brightelmstone, developed 
whatever remained of a mystery in her intrigues, and Lord 
Champetre at length had his eyes opened; and having had ocular 
demonstration of her infidelities, he said to have written her 
the following billet:

"Madam, 
Upon the receipt of this, you are desired to quit my 
house, and take what belongs to you, as your infamous 
conduct, of which I have had unquestionable conviction, 
is too glaring and notorious for me to connive at."

This card she found upon her toilet, on her return from a 
carousel with one of her inamoratos. She judged it would be in 
vain to remonstrate with her cornuted caro sposo, but thought 
she could secure a friend with her mother, who was tenderly 
fond of her: but in this opinion she was mistaken, as she had 
been previously made acquainted with her daughter's 
infidelities, and had too much reason to believe they were 
founded in truth. In a word, the reception she met with at the 
D----s of A----le's, notwithstanding she had prepared a 
specious apology for her conduct, pointed out to her there was 
no other resource left her but to hide her shame in some 
foreign country. She accordingly soon after set out for France 
or Flanders, where we believe she now resides. We cannot 
pretend to determine what will prove the sequel of this 
affair. Some assert that the noble cricketer is so enamoured 
with Lady Champetre, that he has promised to give her his hand 
in an honourable way, as soon as she is legally disunited from 
her present husband. We must, however, leave this matter at 
present suspense, and wait upon his Lordship at Mrs 
Bradshaw's, where we have rather impolitely left him for so 
long, after having regularly introduced him.



Chapter XXXVI. 
Strong suspicions of a connection between Lord Champetre and 
Mrs Br----dsh-w. His first meeting with Mrs Armst--d: his 
proposals to her, which are accepted. His Lordship is supposed 
still to have a penchant for Fanny. Some account of Mrs Br--
dsh--w's other visitors, with some description of their 
persons. A whimsical, but genuine anecdote, &c., &c., &c.

It was at Mrs Br--dsh--w's that Lord Champetre first saw Mrs 
Armst--d. It is the general opinion that Lord Champetre had a 
tendre for Fanny, and that he occasionally consecrated at the 
shrine of Venus in her arms. Thus much is certain, he used 
frequently to visit at Mrs Br--dsh--w's, when there was no 
other ostensible object of attraction; and that she had been 
seen in his carriage in the environs of the town, and upon the 
different roads leading to Richmond, Putney, and Hampstead. 
But Mrs Armst--d being a visitor at Mrs Bradshaw's, he 
directed his salacious artillery, and planted it point blank, 
at this lady, who soon yielded, upon a carte blanche being 
offered her by way of capitulation. She had all the honours of 
amorous war allowed her, and yielded tambour battant, meche 
allum�e.<85> We beg, however, that the reader may not put a 
false construction upon this last expression, and think that 
there was the least reason to suspect a firebrand on either 
side.

Many are of opinion, that his Lordship still continues to 
entertain a penchant for Fanny, though she is now at least 
fifty, and that he divides his affections between her and Mrs 
Armst--d. Be this as it may, the ladies associate with the 
most perfect cordiality, and there does not appear to be one 
scruple of jealousy between them.

As we have given an outline of Fanny's pursuits to her present 
situation, it will probably be expected that we should pay the 
same attention to Mrs Armst--d.

We are informed that Mrs Armst--d claims no higher ancestry 
than being the descendent of a cordwainer,<86> who commenced 
an itinerant Methodist Preacher; that being deserted by her 
parents, and having no kind of support, she judged it prudent 
to set her charms up to sale; and that excellent negotiatress 
Mrs Goadby having undertaken to vend them at a good market, 
she gave a bill of sale of them to a Jew merchant. At this 
period, it seems, she was not above nineteen, elegant in her 
person, and beautiful in the contour of her physiognomy, and 
the symmetry of her features. It is averred that Lord L----n 
was the next admirer to whom she was introduced afterwards; 
but that his Lordship's finances not being at that time in so 
flourishing a state as he could have wishes, she found but 
little pecuniary advantages from his acquaintance, and judged 
it prudent to bestow her company upon the Duke of A----. This 
correspondence continued some months, till he discovered her 
infidelity to him; and a short time after we find her in the 
embraces of the noble cricketer. Singular as this may appear, 
considering her future connections with Lady Champetre, it has 
been pretty well authenticated; and it may be said upon this 
occasion, that the Duke and his Lordship only changed partners 
in the same cotillion.

Soon after Lord Champetre framed this correspondence with Mrs 
Armst--d, he took a neat villa for her near Hampstead; and 
this lady and Fanny passed the greater part of the last summer 
at this rural retreat, making occasional excursions in his 
Lordship's carriage to the watering places and races.

This connection is now so well established, and his Lordship 
preserving not the least secrecy upon the occasion, there is 
reason to believe it will be of long duration, and that he by 
turns finds all his anxious passions gratified in the arms of 
Fanny He----be----t and Mrs Armst--d. Besides the visits of 
Lord Champetre, Fanny was frequently favoured with the company 
of Colonel B----, Sir Thomas L----, Lord B----, and may 
members of Arthur's and Bootle's. The ladies who usually 
frequented her were Charlotte Sp----r, who derived this name 
from her connection with Lord Sp----r H----n, Miss G----lle, 
Miss Mas----n, Mrs T----r, and Mrs L----ne.

The first of these ladies has for some years been upon the 
list of first rate courtesans, though she is still in her 
prime, and is a very elegant figure. She is very choice in her 
admission of lovers; and though she has had a great variety, 
she always prefers her old acquaintance to new faces. Lord B--
--is very fond of Charlotte, though he has known her upwards 
of six years. His Lordship is not now the gay beau garcon of 
two and twenty, as was Ned H----, when he made a conquest of a 
certain Duchess at Tunbridge; and he finds there is more 
trouble in coming at tit-bits, than in coming to action with a 
lady of experience, who is free of access and open to every 
onset, though perhaps not so vigorous as a juvenile attack.

As Lord B----'s adventure at Tunbridge was both lucky and 
whimsical, we think the reader will not be displeased to meet 
with it here. At that time the rooms were kept by Mr Toy, who, 
on account of hesitation in his voice, and beginning all his 
sentences with Tit-Tit, let the first word be whatever it 
might, was nicknamed Tit-Tit. The Duchess of M---- was that 
season at the Wells, when walking in the gardens, she spied 
through a bush a most extraordinary sensitive plant, which her 
grace soon discovered to be Tit-Tit's. It so struck her with 
the length and size, that she resolved to be mistress of it, 
and even went so far as to offer Toy her hand; but 
unfortunately he was engaged, and could not accept of the 
honour proposed to be conferred upon him. However, surmising 
the cause of her Graces' fondness, he having perceived her at 
the instant that she had viewed the sensitive plant, and 
willing to do his friend Ned a service, he informed her Grace, 
that this gentleman was in possession of a still finer plant 
than himself, and still more sensitive. This intimation 
tickled Grace's fancy, and in a short time we find Ned in the 
full possession of her fortune.

Miss G----le, the next upon the catalogue of female visitors, 
is a tall genteel girl, about nineteen; she has a remarkably 
sweet expressive countenance, which is a just index of her 
natural good temper. She is the daughter of a clergyman, who 
dying when she was young, left no provision for her support, 
except the subscription for the benefit of the sons and 
daughter of the clergy; and she was from this fund placed an 
apprentice to a mantua-maker. She served part of her time; but 
an attorney's clerk paying his address to her, as she imagined 
upon honourable terms, she was induced to make a trip to 
Scotland with him; but upon the road he having the rhetoric to 
persuade her to antedate the ceremony, after two nights 
gratification he took a French leave, and she was obliged to 
get back as well as she could, greatly mortified at the 
disappointment. Necessity now pointed out the road to gain a 
livelihood; and having given up her pretensions to chastity, 
and being introduced to Mrs Nelson, she was easily persuaded 
to follow her dictates, and commence a boarder at her house.

Miss Mas----n is descended from a family who lived far beyond 
their income, imaging there was no occasion to make any 
provision for her, as she had in the eyes of her parents 
sufficient charms to entitle her to a husband of rank and 
fortune; but alas! Men of this period think beauty is always 
to be purchased when attended with poverty, and this lady was 
a corroborating instance of the truth of this observation.

Mrs Tur--r is daughter of a capital linen-draper, who upon his 
demise left her a very genteel fortune, upon which she for 
some time lived in affluence; but unfortunately meeting with 
Mr T----r (who was a professed fortune hunter, and had already 
deceived many credulous women in the same situation as he did 
this lady), and he offering his hand in marriage, after a 
short courtship she yielded the solicitations. But scarce had 
the honeymoon elapsed, ere he decamped, having gained 
possession of her bonds and effects; and she learnt too late 
that he had, previous to her marriage, at least half a dozen 
wives then living. In frenzy and despair, she now resolved to 
make reprisals upon the whole male sex, and raise 
contributions upon every one she met with. Nor has she been 
unsuccessful in this respect having in the course of about 
eighteen months, by labouring in her present vocation, 
realised near 1500l.

Mrs L----ne is a very pretty little woman, with black eyes and 
jetty locks. She is about five and twenty, and has for some 
time resided in New Compton Street, at No. 10. We acknowledge, 
we are not much acquainted with her history, but believe she 
served her time to Milliner near Leicester Fields. She is far 
from being mercenary, and is a chatty, agreeable female.

Such are the principal visitants of Mr Bradshaw, of whom we 
shall now take leave, after so long a visit.



Chapter XXXVII. 
A visit to Miss Pendergast's. An account of a capricious 
amour, in which Lord Fumble was the capital actor. Unexpected 
consequences, very alarming to his Lordship. The judicious 
steps taken to prevent farther disagreeable effects. Their 
success. A feu de joye, rejoicings and illuminations, upon a 
very extraordinary occasion.


Mrs Pendergast's house is in the centre of King's Place, and 
has hitherto kept up its dignity under the regulations of the 
judicious Lady Abbess. Some of the finest nymphs under the 
denomination of filles de joye have figured in this seminary, 
and entertained some of the first nobility; but an unlucky 
affair that happened a few months since in this nunnery, had 
nearly destroyed all its reputation. The story is as follows: 
Old Lord Fumble, of the stable yard, used constantly to visit 
this house three times a week, since the demise of the late 
Mrs Johnson of St. James's Place, who knew a tittle how to 
tickle his Lordship's fancy; but her loss was almost 
irreparable, and it was for some time before Lord Fumble could 
find an Abbess who could hit his fancies and caprices like 
Mother Johnson. However, Mrs Pendergast being recommended to 
his Lordship by Sir Roger Allpop, he accompanied the Baronet 
one every to this receptacle of prostituted beauty; but 
notwithstanding Mrs Pendergast herself was willing to leave no 
stone unturned to please his Lordship; the elegant Mrs D--e--
ld was introduced; the pretty Nancy Amb----se succeeded her, 
and was followed by the sparkling Amelia Coz----ns; his 
Lordship said, they were not his taste. A messenger was 
accordingly instantly dispatched to Mrs Butler, in the 
Sanctuary, Westminster, who usually had some country young 
tits in training for Mrs Pendergast's immediate service. In a 
short time two of them arrived, decked out by Mrs Butler. Lord 
Fumble greatly approved of them, and having ordered them to 
undress, began his manual operations, which were succeeded by 
theirs. In fine, at the length of about an hour, his Lordship 
fancied he had been highly gratified, and recompensed them for 
their trouble with three guineas each. These ladies went by 
the names of Country Bet and Black Susan; but had, as it 
afterwards appeared, a diversity of names. They expected a 
much larger present, considering the accounts they have 
received of Lord Fumble's generosity; and they thought they 
had earned their present with great labour and much 
difficulty, to bring his Lordship to the zest of his amorous 
passion.

Upon their return to the Sanctuary, Mother Butler demanded 
what she called poundage; in other words, five shillings in 
every pound. Foolish Black Susan readily complied; but Country 
Bet knew the value of fifteen shillings too well, and 
peremptorily refused. But unfortunately having, during the 
contest, stripped herself of finery, and prepared to reassume 
her usual garb, Mother Butler laid an embargo on her clothes. 
This so enraged Country Bet, that she repaired the same night 
to the Rotation Office in Litchfield Street, and obtained a 
warrant for Mrs Butler. This curious examination has been 
given in the public papers by a person who was present, and we 
cannot better illustrate the adventure, than by quoting 
verbatim his relation.
"Monday the 10th of November 1778, at the Rotation Office 
Litchfield Street. 
Elizabeth Clumpet, alias Cummings, otherwise Country Bet, 
appeared before the Magistrates, and charged a Mrs 
Butler, who keeps a house of ill fame in the Sanctuary, 
Westminster, with keeping a gown, handkerchief, &c. which 
she had left at her house, instead of a dress Butler had 
furnished her with, to go in company with another woman 
of the lowest order, to meet the Earl of H----, at the 
house of Mrs Pendergast, who keeps a seraglio in King's 
Place; which clothes Butler would not deliver until the 
girl had paid her the usual poundage out of her wages of 
iniquity. Spencer Smith, a sergeant in the First Regiment 
of Grenadiers, appeared in behalf of Mrs Butler; said she 
was his wife, and that he was her second husband, but she 
went by the name of Butler, and endeavoured to overthrow 
the evidence against her. However, Country Bet being 
interrogated from the Bench, declared the Sergeant's wife 
frequently furnished the seraglio in King's Place with 
ladies which she picked up, dressed as maids, and sent 
them as above; that the Earl of H---- attended there on 
Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, each of which 
days he was there last week; and that this procuress 
instructed her and her companion (his Lordship having two 
females with him at a time) how to behave, and dressed 
them up like maids of fashion. She likewise added, the 
noble Earl (in whose company there were half an hour) 
gave them six guineas; that Smith was as bad as his wife 
in this iniquitous business; and that he himself, after 
they were properly equipped, fetched for a coach for them 
to wait on his Lordship. It being proved to the 
satisfaction of the Magistrates, that Butler, alias 
Smith, keeps an infamous house, Country Bet was bound 
over to prosecute at the next Westminster sessions."

No sooner had this adventure appeared in the public 
newspapers, than Lord H----, alias Fumble, flew upon the wings 
of passion, (that is to say, as fast as he could hobble along) 
to Mrs Pendergast. His Lordship stuttered, swore, stammered 
and stamped with his cane, till he was quite out of breath, 
before he could get a word from the immaculate hostess: at 
length, being quite out of breath, he threw himself upon a 
sofa, and then was compelled to listen to Mrs Pendergast's 
defence.

"Indeed, my good, my noble Lord, you surprise me beyond 
anything I have ever heard in my life. The little Brimstone, 
to refuse paying poundage, and then go to the Rotation Office; 
and expose my house, and, what is more, your Lordship's whims 
and caprices, which every nobleman has a right to indulge 
himself in, especially when he pays for them, aye, and 
handsomely too. She shall never enter my door again, as long 
as she breathes; I'll teach her to reveal secrets, and that 
upon oath too, before a parcel of foolish Justices, who think, 
like mechanics, that no man -- no, not even a peer of the 
realm, has a right to enjoy any other woman than his wife; and 
that in the old John Trotway, as Adam and Eve did in paradise. 
But----."

"But," resumed Lord Fumble, "hold your damned clatter! What is 
to be done? If we do not stop this wench's mouth, I shall be 
hauled over the coals again in a court of Justice, and become 
the butt and ridicule of all the world! Why, I shall not be 
able to show my face at Court, or even to my own Servants."

"Leave it to me, my Lord! I'll go this instant, find out the 
foolish, impudent b----h, and stop her mouth so effectually, 
that she will not proceed any farther in this business."

"Aye, but there is another step necessary to be taken to 
prevent this d----n'd affair being propagated as little as 
possible."

"What is that, my Lord?"

"Why, you must send emissaries to all parts of the town, to 
buy up every paper that can be got at, which contains any 
account of this Litchfield Street business; and others must be 
dispatched to all the coffee houses, where they take in these 
papers, and they must pocket them and bring them off, let the 
risk be what it will."

"Your Lordship's commands," said Mrs Pendergast "shall be 
punctually and instantly obeyed;" and in less than half an 
hour, she had dispatched half a dozen messengers upon this 
business. In a few hours they returned with may quires of 
stolen and purchased newspapers. Mrs Pendergast, on her part, 
set off immediately for the Sanctuary, and in a short time 
discovered Country Bet's retreat. She accordingly repaired 
thither, and after a short conference, Bet agreed to drop the 
prosecution for five guineas. After she had put her mark on 
this agreement, Mrs Pendergast returned home, and dispatched a 
messenger to acquaint his Lordship with the glad tidings. He 
was then in a melancholy mood, ruminating in his closet upon 
the ridiculous figure he had that day made; and which had 
induced him to keep from Court, as well as the chocolate 
house. But no sooner did he receive this dispatch, than he 
ordered his chair to King's Place, to have a conference with 
Mrs Pendergast upon the occasion. He was greatly pleased to 
see Mrs Butler indemnified from the prosecution, and was still 
more rejoiced to see a large bundle of newspapers, (collected 
partly by the stratagem) in which his folly, if not his infamy 
was enrolled; and in the fullness of his heart, ordered a 
bonfire immediately to be made of them in the court, and a 
butt of porter to be given to the populace. Many people 
thought that some important good news had arrived; that we had 
either completely defeated Washington or taken D'Orvillier's 
whole fleet. Had it been the night of terminating Admiral 
Keppel's Trial, it would probably have had as rapid an effect, 
as Parker the printer illuminating his house upon the arrival 
of the messenger with the account of the Admiral's honourable 
acquittal. As it was, it turned out to some advantage to the 
tallow-chandlers, as many houses were illuminated in 
consequence of his signal, particularly the nunneries in 
King's Place.



Chapter XXXVIII. 
The measures taken by Mrs Pendergast for recovering the 
reputation of her Seminary. Her uncommon success; a 
subscription being set on foot for a new species of 
entertainment, in which are blended the sports of Venus, and 
the rites of Bacchus, and Lord Fumble subscribes nobly in 
consequence of his late good luck. Some account of the Bal 
d'Amour. A description of the ladies, and their characters. A 
whimsical recontre between Lords G---- and L----, and Ladies 
G---- and L----. A mortifying situation to Lord Pyebald, etc., 
etc., etc.

Notwithstanding the feu de joye and illuminations we mentioned 
in the last chapter, Mrs Pendergast was very far from being 
reconciled to the misfortune that had given rise to it. She 
plainly foresaw, that it would be very prejudicial to her 
house, as noblemen and gentlemen would be fearful of coming 
thither, lest they should be exposed in a similar manner to 
Lord Fumble. She judged it advisable to write a circular 
letter to all her customers, to assure them, that such an 
accident should for the future be carefully prevented; that 
the girl who had given rise to this casualty was banished for 
ever from her house; and that Mrs Butler, on account of her 
imprudence, in letting matters get to such a crisis, should 
never be employed again as deputy procuress to her Seminary: 
she at the same time intimated, that on the Wednesday evening 
following, there would be a diversion quite out of the common 
routine, under the title of Bal d'Amour,*<87> where some of 
the finest women in Europe would make their appearance, masked 
indeed, but in other respects in puris naturalibus.<31> The 
hint was, doubtless, taken from Charlotte Hayes's Rites of 
Venus, as performed at Otaheite; but Mrs Pendergast's 
inventive genius soon pointed out to her many improvements 
that had a very happy effect.

*Note - Many of our readers have imagined that the hint of the 
Bal d'Amour was taken from a famous Coterie in former ages, 
instituted at Rome, and consecrated to the Bona Dea; but it 
should be remembered, that all male visitors were there 
publicly excluded.  It is true, that Claudius and some few 
other peculiar favourites were admitted; but a general 
invitation, similar to this, never took place.

Having taken this previous step, she now dispatched messengers 
to every fine woman or pretty girl that she could depend upon, 
and who would listen to the summons, within the Bills of 
Mortality; and many of them accepted the invitation. Among 
these were Lady Ad----ms, from Litchfield Street; a fine black 
woman: Miss St----ton, from Red Lion Street, Holborn, who was 
genteel, handsome and engaging: Miss M----lls, from New 
Street; a fine girl with a very harmonious voice: Miss G--
ldsmith, from Castle Court; elegant in person, and extremely 
good natured: Miss M--t--chell, from Crown Court, Bow Street; 
she is short but genteel, with a happy arrangement of regular 
features: Miss L--mbert, from St. Martin's Street, a middle-
sized fair girl, with enchanting blue eyes, and uncommonly 
elegant in her dress and appearance: Miss Oliv--r, from Frith 
Street, Soho; she unites innocence, sweetness and simplicity: 
Miss L--dg--r, from Mayfair; uncommonly sumptuous in her 
dress, and magnificent in her manner: Miss W--k--nson, from 
Prince's Court, George Street, in keeping by the Swedish Amb--
r; she is plain, but has a certain je ne sais quoi that is 
altogether irresistible.

Having secured these ladies upon their parole of honour, she 
now waited in person upon all her friends and customers, 
either at their own houses, or, if they were in a connubial 
state, at the chocolate house; and everyone who agreed to 
attend the Bal d'Amour subscribed at least five guineas. Some 
gave her a bank note, others a rouleau,<88> and Lord Fumble in 
particular, gave her fifty guineas. By these means she had now 
in her possession about seven hundred guineas, whereby she was 
enabled to make preparations suitable to the occasion. She 
provided a good band of music, who were so disposed, as to 
afford their harmonious assistance, without being admitted 
spectators to the festive scene: an elegant cold collation was 
also prepared with wines of all kinds in abundance.

The evening of this gala, Pall Mall was thronged with chairs 
and carriages; and everyone seemed emulous who should first 
enter the Paphian Temple. Besides the Tha�se's we have already 
mentioned and described, Lady G----r and Lady L----r came in 
disguise; and, in justice to these ladies, it must be 
acknowledged, that they preserved more decency than the rest 
of the female votaries of Venus; as they appeared like our 
great-grandmother Eve, and covered their countenances with 
large fig leaves. No sooner had they made their appearance 
thus habited, than there was such a hue and cry for fig 
leaves, that it was necessary to send for a cargo from Covent 
Garden Market. The Bird of Paradise was also present, with a 
curious Cyprian Fly-Cap, as she called it, so furbelowed and 
tamboured, as to afford a very pleasing effect, the figures 
and devices being truly emblematical of the occasion; and she 
could perform every natural office, without discomposing it -- 
this fly-cap being judiciously perforated in the centre: and 
it was particularly useful in preventing chafing, either by 
friction, or the loss of a single hair in dancing; a 
circumstance that displeased Baron N----n, as it was his 
peculiar and whimsical concupiscence to roll a candle up and 
down the saloon, during the pause of every dance, to determine 
to whom belonged every particular hair that had fallen from 
the seat of bliss, by the motion and exercise of dance.

After they had danced about a couple of hours, the cold 
collation was announced, and each gentleman conducted his 
partner to the festive board; where having amply regaled 
themselves and drunk about half a dozen toasts to the honour 
of the Cyprian Goddess and all her rites -- the scene changed, 
and presented a camera obscura, with a proper number of sofas, 
to realise those rites which had been celebrated only in 
theory.

The fervency of the devotion, upon this occasion, could 
scarcely be paralleled; and it is somewhat extraordinary, that 
Lord G----r and Lord L----r enjoyed their own wives without 
knowing it; and, strange to tell pronounced their imaginary 
Laises most excellent pieces. It was thought, upon the 
discovery, which was made the ensuing morning, that this would 
have been the means of promoting a reconciliation between the 
parties. Indeed, a rumour was circulated throughout the town 
that all misunderstanding had ceased between Lord G----r and 
his lady; and that they actually cohabited again together. As 
to Lord L----r and his Lady, this expectation was rendered 
abortive, by his Lady having (innocently, we will suppose) in 
this amorous conflict, once conferred upon his Lordship a 
certain Neapolitan complaint; a favour which she had received 
a few days before from a foreign minister, most esteemed 
amongst the ladies for his uncommon parts and amorous 
abilities.

Upon the whole, this unparalleled entertainment gave such 
general satisfaction, that at the request of all present it 
was to be repeated that day fortnight; and it was expected it 
would be far more numerous than upon the first occasion. Every 
lady of easy virtue was complimented with three guineas, 
besides her chair hire. Some of the ladies refused any 
pecuniary gratification; and by that means distinguished 
themselves from the grizettes, who were compelled to yield to 
necessity. Lady G----r, Lady L----r, and the Bird of Paradise, 
in particular, rejected receiving the money offered them; but 
politely desired Mrs Pendergast to give it to the servants. 
Lady Ad----ms said she should pocket the affront; which 
created a certain niche, which had been sufficiently dilated 
by the Duke of Q----y to have held a hundred guineas instead 
of three; but the company were disappointed in this respect, 
for she only slipped the money into her glove. The Duke of A--
--r very generously presented Miss Ol--ver with a twenty pound 
bank note, saying, he believed that the Marchioness of C----n 
had either studied under Miss Ol--ver, or this lady under the 
Marchioness for their movements were so very similar, and 
their pantings and heavings so much alike, that he fancied 
himself all the while in the arms of his dear Marchioness; in 
search of whom he came thither; but that Miss Ol----ver had so 
well supplied in her place, as to render the disappointment 
quite supportable.

Count H--g made a respectable figure, but did not come to 
action saying to Miss St----ton, in French, "Que de baiser 
trop fut tres pernicieux a la sant�."<89> It was not a little 
mortifying for Lord Pyebald to be seated next to the Count, as 
the contrast of their parts was very striking; and Lady L----r 
asked his Lordship, "If he was always so well equipped for 
amorous sports?" This cutting question made the sensitive 
plant shrink almost to nothing, and his Lordship was obliged 
to retire, the laugh was so intolerable against him.

This well-concerted plan of Mrs Pendergast not only restored 
the dignity of her house, but by this Bal d'Amour, and the 
repetition of it, she put near a thousand pounds in her 
pocket, and was pronounced to the proper successor of Mrs 
Corn--lys, as the empress of taste and luxury.

We shall now leave Mrs Pendergast to enjoy the fruits of her 
genius, and the renovation of her custom, in despite of Mrs 
Butler and Country Bet, the Litchfield Street Magistrates, or 
Lord Fumble's disgrace and pay our next visit to Mrs Windsor, 
in due succession of order and etiquette.



Chapter XXXIX. 
A visit to Mrs Windsor. Some account of the reputations of the 
house. An error that has prevailed, with regard to the 
identity of Mrs Windsor's person, and its pernicious effects. 
Description of the nuns of this Seminary, in the persons of 
Miss Betsy K--ng, Miss Newsh--m, Miss Mered--th, and Mrs Will-
-ms; with some curious anecdotes of this lady, and a certain 
amorous squire of Hackney. The artifices of his pimp 
delineated. The cause of her marriage, and its consequences.

A similitude between this lady and another female who lives 
not a hundred miles from Wardour Street, Soho, has induced 
many of her well-meaning friends to shun the house, as reports 
have been pretty currently spread, that the latter of these 
women is addicted to such practices as shock human nature, and 
which make us shudder at the very suggestion; and we would 
recommend to this lady to change her name, at least the brazen 
inscription upon her door, that all imputations of this 
enormous kind may be taken off from her friends and visitors.

We find at Mrs Windsor's some very good pieces, who have had 
many admirers. Amongst these are Betsy K----g, a fine 
sparkling girl about nineteen, who may be said to be as 
attractive a Tha�s as any within the purlieus of King's Place. 
Her person can only be paralleled by her behaviour, which is 
completely amiable; and if you can for a moment forget that 
she is compelled to prostitute her sweet person for hire, you 
might almost imagine her an angel. She was seduced, when at 
boarding school, by Black Harriet, who was then in her 
prosperity; but it must be acknowledged that she did not use 
such artifices as Santa Charlotta did with respect to Miss M--
--e, from B---- L----, or Mrs N--ls--n with regard to Miss W--
--ms and Miss J----nes. It is true, that she was the 
negotiator of the treaty between her and Lord B----e; but 
Betsy met her almost half-way, and declared she was tired to 
remain in possession of half a maidenhead; for that by the 
practices of her school fellows, she had acquired such 
knowledge in the art of masturbation, as to gratify her 
passions almost to excess; but that, instead of making her 
neglect the thoughts of real bliss, it only induced her to 
pant the more eagerly for the real enjoyment of a fine fellow; 
and Lord B----e being represented to her in this light, and as 
armed at all points to make a woman completely happy, she 
readily yielded to his embraces upon the first interview. Her 
elopement from school created an alarm, and when her uncle, 
who was her nearest relation living, found she was debauched, 
and a resident of King's Place, he, to speak in vulgar phrase, 
washed his hand of her. Thus situated, Lord B----e's passion 
having soon subsided, she found herself under the necessity of 
prostituting her charms, and admitting a variety of lovers.

Miss N--w--m is another favourite La�s in Mrs Windsor's 
Seminary. This young lady is tall and genteel, with fine 
expressive eyes, and most beautiful tresses, that require no 
art to set them off to advantage. A merchant at Lothbury 
frequently visits her, and allows her a very handsome income, 
by which she might support herself in a very genteel manner; 
but the ambition of splendour, and an insatiable lust for 
dress and fashionable amusements, hurry her into company that 
she despises, and sometimes loathes; but as money is an all-
powerful argument with New----m, she cannot resist the powers 
of its temptation, whenever it comes her way. Whether it is 
Soubise, or Little Isaac, from St. Mary Axe, the spankers<90> 
will prevail; and she says, she cannot discover more sin in 
yielding to a Blackmoor or a Jew, than to a Christian, or even 
a Methodist.

Mrs Windsor lately sustained a very considerable loss, in the 
person of Miss Mere--th, a Welsh young lady, who attracted Sir 
W--tk--ns W--w--, Lord B----y, and most of the Welsh noblemen 
and gentlemen, when in town, she being constructed entirely to 
the taste of ancient Britons; and it is pretty generally 
known, that the females of that country are modelled 
differently from the English ladies, and the seat of bliss is 
place some inches higher in front, and far more distant from a 
neighbouring conveyance, than our women. A certain Baronet, 
who lives in the North of England, having fixed his eye upon 
Miss Me----dith, immediately conceived an idea, that she was 
framed exactly to his purpose. The Baronet's estate was a 
little out at the elbows, and in order to repair it, he was in 
pursuit of a place. A certain great man in power was to pay 
him a visit in a few days, in the country.

He knew the minister's weak side -- he could not resist the 
temptation of women -- he had described a Welsh girl who had 
afforded him the greatest raptures of any of her sex; and, 
according to his description, she very closely resembled Miss 
Mere----th. The Baronet accordingly entered into a treaty with 
this lady, and speedily came to a conclusion. He agreed to 
take her into keeping, constitute her his housekeeper, and in 
case he should die before her, leave her a handsome annuity. 
The bait was tempting, and she could not resist its influence. 
A life of variegated prostitution had given her a surfeit of 
modern nunneries, and the proposal made her was entirely 
agreeably to her mind. Accordingly she set off with the 
Baronet in his post-chaise for Yorkshire, and arrived at his 
mansion two days after. Everything corresponded with his 
description, and all the agremens were perfectly consonant to 
his promises.

Three days after the great man arrived, and he was quite 
smitten with the charms of Miss Mere----th. The Baronet threw 
off the mask, and told her he made her fortune. The minister 
immediately gave her a sinecure, as housekeeper to one of the 
Public Offices, which brought in near three hundred a year. 
She was astonished at the Baronet's turning pimp upon the 
occasion; but looking over the papers, in a few days after, 
found his name tacked to a post of considerable value and 
importance. The mystery was revealed, and she was very well 
satisfied with this unexpected change, which was far more 
advantageous than anything she could expect from the Baronet; 
as his affairs, she discovered, were in a critical; situation, 
and that this manoeuvre became necessary to replace him upon 
his legs.

Mrs C. W----ms, however, still remained with Mrs Windsor; and 
she was an object deserving of attention. She had not been 
long in town, and might be considered as a new piece. She had 
been a servant maid to the celebrated Mr T----, of Hackney, so 
famous for his variegated amours, and uncommon feats of 
gallantry, by the assistance of his unwieldy Pandar, who is 
said to possess the art of persuasion, and corrupting female 
innocence, beyond any Lady Abbess in England. He met Miss W---
-ms one day in Smithfield, and perceiving her to be a fine, 
fresh, blooming country girl, thought she would suit his 
master to a nicety. He accordingly accosted her; and finding 
she was come to London in search of a place, told her he could 
recommend her to one of the best places in all the world; and 
if she would step into the next inn, he would give her the 
direction. The innocent girl seeing a well-looking elderly 
man, in a laced waistcoat, a fine flaxen periwig, and 
everything about him corresponding her notion of a gentleman, 
did not hesitate going and partaking of a pint of wine. Ere 
the decanter was emptied, he find out that she was that very 
day come to town, and was not yet provided with a lodging. 
This discovery was highly opportune, and he told her that as 
this was the case, the best thing she could do, was to get her 
box from the adjacent inn, and that he would take her down to 
Hackney in his chaise, which was then ready in the yard, and 
in which he was going to return in a few minutes. The girl was 
greatly rejoiced in being so speedily and so well provided 
for, as the prospect seemed to testify; and accordingly 
accepted of F----'s offer got into the chaise with him and was 
whirled down to Hackney in a trice.

Upon his arrival at the squire's house, he was absent; but 
knowing the inn he frequented, F---- immediately sent for him; 
and in the interim ordered out the cold victuals, by way of 
refreshment, as well for himself as his fellow traveller. Upon 
T----'s arrival, he was highly delighted with his new guest, 
hired her immediately and gave her more wages than she asked.

His trusty duenna soon persuaded her to yield to his amorous 
embraces, saying he would certainly marry her; and used so 
many persuasions, and well timed presents, as quite 
intoxicated the innocent girl, who really fancied she should 
soon be Mrs T---- in reality. Some moths elapsed after this, 
and she proved pregnant. T----n now being tired of her, hit 
upon a device to get rid of her, which was to marry her to his 
groom, and set them up in a little public house in the 
Borough. Will----ms, he husband, turned out an idle, drunken 
fellow, and in a short time found his way to the King's Bench 
Prison. An execution coming into the house, compelled her to 
quit it, and once more seek her fortune at large. Once of Mrs 
Windsor's runners having given her intimation of Mrs Williams' 
situation, she soon introduced herself to her. The consequence 
was upon an invitation to King's Place, Mrs W--ms was speedily 
initiated into all the srcana of this seminary, where she 
still continues, and is one of Mrs Windsor's best assistants.



Chapter XL. 
A descriptive account of Mrs R--ds--n's house of genteel 
intrigue. Outline of the characters of Mrs R--ds--n's 
principal visitors. An unexpected visit from a certain 
valorous Duke. A very curious scale of female continence and 
incontinence, approved, as it is said, ere now, by a certain 
great and learned society. The arrival of Sir W---- B----  and 
Lord S----; and the danger of the luminous appearance of a 
certain nautical Commander.

We think it is incumbent on us to introduce our reader at Mrs 
R--ds--n's near Bolton Street, Piccadilly. This lady professes 
the Bon Ton<20> in its greatest refinement; so we find she 
admits no female visitors who frequent the nunneries, or are 
to be obtained at a minute's warning by a message from a 
gentleman porter at the Bedford Arms, or a runner from 
Maltby's. Her female friends consist of either women in high 
keeping, or married ladies, who come in disguise to amuse 
themselves with a Beau Garcon, and water the horns, that they 
may continue growing and thriving, and which they had before 
planted upon their dear, sweet (impotent) husband's brows. We 
accordingly, at one time, find her house frequented by Mrs T--
--, whose intimate acquaint with the late F--th--r of the C---
-ty, was pretty well known. This lady, though rather past the 
prime of life, is still actuated by amorous passion; and since 
the demise of her friends Sir R---- L----, she has yielded to 
the impulse of her inclinations, and resolves to make the most 
the remainder of the span of life in amorous dalliance. Lord 
P----y met her here once, when rather inebriate; and being 
informed that Mrs T---- was a very fine woman, and in her 
prime; thinking himself rather imposed upon in the latter part 
of his assertion, rudely said to Mrs T----s, "Pray, Madam, 
will you be so kind as to inform me, as to what time of life a 
woman's amorous passions subside?" "Indeed, my Lord," she 
said, "you should ask that question of a woman far older than 
myself; but this I can say, it frequently happens that a man's 
amorous abilities fail him before he is out of his teens."

Mrs M----sh, a lady whom Lord Pyebald has maintained for many 
years, frequently visits Mrs R--ds--n's to taste of those joys 
which his Lordship has, for a considerable time, forgot to put 
her in mind of; and she thinks a rouleau, though her whole 
monthly allowance, not too much for an evening's gratification 
with Ensign Pat----n.

Miss Ken----dy is another lady who frequents the rendezvous. 
This inamorata is so well known for her amours, and the 
interest she took in saving her brothers from an untimely end, 
that it were needless to dwell upon her character: suffice to 
say, that she does not come here to dispose of her rouleaus, 
but in order to gain some, if possible. But as her charms are 
rather upon the wane she thinks it prudent not to refuse five 
guineas when offered to her. This lady has been so long 
accustomed to a freedom of speech bordering upon the 
indelicate, that she sometimes offends the chaste ears of even 
Mrs R--ds--n. The truth is, nothing tickles this lady's fancy 
more than a good bouncing double, or even single entendre. As 
a proof of this assertion, we shall give a short anecdote 
concerning her. Being sometime since in the gallery at the Old 
Bailey, when a trial for a rape was coming on; the Judge 
suggesting it would produce some very luscious scenes, gave 
the ladies intimation, that it would be proper for them to 
retire, as he was afraid the indelicacy that would assail 
their ears might put them to the blush; when Kitty arose, and 
said aloud; "Well, my Lord, I don't mind, I'll take my 
chance."

Miss H----d, whom we have already had occasion to celebrate as 
Lord Del----'s Dulcinea, and for whose portrait we refer the 
reader to the historiette in which may be found that 
connection, frequently appears here. The truth is, since that 
nobleman's distress, she has been compelled to keep a sharp 
look out for a genteel maintenance; and she endeavours to 
realise some small provision for her future days, as she is 
conscious that her charms are upon the decline; and that an 
antiquated toast, instead of being able to fix a price upon 
her attractions, must, if she is willing to give a loose to 
her amorous desires, in turn pay for gratification.

These and several other ladies of the same disposition and 
rank visit here; and Mrs R--ds--n usually takes care to cater 
for the parties, as she judges will be satisfactory to them 
both; though sometimes she has been guilty of an error of 
judgment (like the unfortunate Byng). But though she might 
receive a volley of oaths from the male side, and a 
blunderbuss of scolding and abuse from the ladies, she has 
always escaped with her life; though not without frequent and 
severe mortifications for her errors.

The D---- of A---- came here one evening with his party, and 
having gained admission, thought the ladies were to be 
compelled to capitulate upon their terms; but they found their 
mistake, and all retired but one, who judged he could prevail 
in their absence with a Miss L----n, who passed for a prude, 
and was thought by many never to have yielded to any man, 
notwithstanding she frequented Ms. R--ds--n's. He began at 
first to rally her pretended modesty, and said, he would 
convince her, there as not any such thing as real chastity 
amongst the female world. He said, he had intimately studied 
the sex for many years, all their artifices, devices, 
stratagems, affections, hypocrisy and dissimulation. He added, 
that in order to reason with precision upon the subject, he 
had much labour and assiduity formed a scale of female amorous 
passions, and pretended continence, which he proposed laying 
before the Royal Society, and for which he did not doubt he 
should meet their thanks and approbation. Saying this, he 
pulled out a paper, which was entitled,

A SCALE OF FEMALE INCONTINENCE AND CONTINCENCE
We will suppose the highest degree to be THIRTY-ONE, when the 
game is certainly up -- to a hole, and the calculation will be 
found thus.
1
Furor Uterinus<91>
31.
2 
in 
100
2
One digit below the 
Furor
30.
4
in
100
3
To be completely 
gratified
29.
6
in 
40
4
Extravagant passions
28.
10
in
50
5
Insurmountable desires
27.
12
in
60
6
Enchanting pantings
26.
6
in
20
7
Inordinate titillations
25.
8
in
30
8
Occasional frenzies
24.
9
in
17
9
Incessant lingerings
23.
5
in
18
10
Violent affections
22.
3
in
12
11
Uncontrollable appetites
21.
6
in
25
12
Salacious itchings
20.
1
in
3
13
Inordinate desires
19.
3
in
4
14
Voluptuous sensations
18.
1
in
1
15
Untoward, vicious 
caprices
17.
4
in
x
16
Captivating ideas
16.
4
in
5
17
Nocturnal involuntary 
emissions
15.
2 
in 
30
18
Disappointed lasses, 
troubled with the green 
sickness 
14.
1
in
200
19
Self pollution at 
boarding schools
13.
12
in
13
20
Perspective fruition 
12. 
12
all

21
On the brink of 
consummation
11.
14
in
15
22
Fatal tardiness 
10.
1
in
11
23
Captivating hopes
9.
1
in
2
24
Ripe for enjoyment
8.
All above 
14


25
Youthful proneness 
7.
Every 
female at 
any age


26
Antedated joys
6.
4
in
5
27
Flattering hopes, and 
fluttering expectations 
5.
3
in
9
28
Temporary lasciviousness 
4.
3
in
4
29
Judicious prudery
3.
3
in
20
30
Controllable chastity
2.
4
in
1,000
31
Cold, frigid 
insensibility
1.
1
in
100,000
	The reader will perceive we have taken this scale up and 
down, backwards and forwards, having an eye to Aretino<61> in 
every particular.

"You see, Madam," said Calculator, "how much the odds are 
against you at starting; and I suppose by this time, instead 
of one hundred thousand, it is more than a million to one 
against you." In a word, Calculator played his part so well as 
an orator, a lover, and a calculator, that ere now he had 
approved himself so just a candidate to her favour, and to the 
highest digit of bliss, that she fell gently into his arms, 
and acknowledged there was no supporting the character of a 
prude after there were so much odds against her.

This Scale of Incontinence has carried us a little 
figuratively out of the line we prescribe to ourselves; but as 
the eloped Clara and the beauteous Mrs W----n are announced, 
we shall drop the calculative curtain, and suppose that 
Calculator has by this time convinced Miss L----n he is as 
good a judge of the practical, as the theoretical salacious 
part of the fair sex; and shall retire to make room for Sir 
William B----, and Lord S----, now under affliction for the 
loss of his dearest enchantress, and the perplexity of the 
affairs of Greenwich Hospital, and more so for the still 
greater perplexed state of the nation. The D---- of A---- is, 
moreover, expected every hour to return; and for fear of a 
tourbillion,<92> as it is not impossible Sir Hugh might light 
up a candle or two here upon his honourable acquittal, we 
shall quit the premises � la sourdine. <33>



Chapter XLI.  
A portrait of Mrs Matthews's nunnery. Some description of 
several celebrated Tha�ses. Lord L----n is introduced: an 
outline of his Lordship's character. His amours. Acquaintance 
with the famous, or infamous, Mrs R--dd, through Mrs A----r. 
An uncommon conflict, arising from a fit of jealousy: its 
consequences. Sketch of the conduct of Counsellor Bailey.

We will now suppose ourselves ushered in at Mrs Matthews's, 
and introduced to this sagacious lady, who is deeply read in 
all the mysteries of her profession. She was sitting with a 
young tit in the parlour, and giving her instructions how to 
behave to a rich Jew Merchant, for whom she was provided that 
evening. Miss Sm----th (for that was the name she went by) was 
about sixteen, was very pretty, and rather appeared the hoyden 
than the accomplished young lady. She was dressed in a white 
frock, and pink sash; and had very mark of youth and 
innocence. She seemed a good deal terrified on finding she was 
to be sacrificed to a Jew; and was in a flood of tears at our 
entrance. To cheer up her spirits, Mrs Matthews had recourse 
to the ratafia bottle, and compelled her to drink a large 
glass. The bottle circulated, and general conversation ensued; 
when Miss V--nce--t and Miss Ar----ld were introduced. The 
first of these ladies had a very good face, was remarkably 
plump, and appeared to be pregnant, as she afterwards 
acknowledged. The latter was almost the reverse: she was very 
delicate, seemed to be in a decline.

We had not been long in this situation before Lord L---- was 
announced. His Lordship had just come from the House of Peers, 
where he had made a flowery speech in defence of 
administration, and was so elated at the applause he had met 
with from the First Commissioner of a certain board, that he 
could not refrain from giving us the substance of the 
harangue, with the approbation he had met with from Lord S--. 
"By God, L----, you have outdone your usual outdoings! A 
Demosthenes, a Cicero! Why, you knocked them down as flat as a 
flounder; they had not a word to say in reply: R----d was 
mute, and R----m was struck dumb. Go on, my boy, and you may 
depend upon all possible encouragement." This, his Lordship 
told us, was the eulogium he had received, which made us call 
to mind the following lines in The Diaboliad,<93> but to whom 
applied we do not recollect:
Then in succession came a peer of words, 
Well known, and honour'd in the House of Lords, 
Whose eloquence all parallel defies; 
So Sandwich says, and Sandwich never lies. 
No doubt, the partial Earl delights to see, 
In this young Lord, his own epitome.

Lord L----'s well-known celebrity for intrigue and dissipation 
had greatly hurt his fortune; the trees had been lost, and the 
dirty acres mortgaged, yet his propensity for women and play 
still prevailed; and he could not see a handsome female, that 
was attainable by address or money, without sacrificing every 
prudential consideration to his passion. Neither could he hear 
a dice box rattle in a chocolate house, without being 
stimulated at their enchanting echo; and though he might that 
morning have borrowed a hundred at cent. per cent. to remove 
an execution in his house, yet, forgetting his distresses and 
necessities, the harmony of "Seven is the main" was 
irresistible; and this bewitching found, like a Siren's voice, 
bewildered him to part with every guinea. Can it then be 
astonishing, that his Lordship should be incessantly tormented 
for money, especially when it is considered, that the 
extravagant Mrs A----r is upon the list of his mistresses; and 
that the famous or infamous Mrs R----dd is her constant 
confidante and companion? What resource is then left for him? 
He must roar in the Senate against ministerial malversion, to 
be bought off with a place or pension. That he has oratorical 
talents cannot be disputed. Nature had been very bountiful to 
him in bestowing him with such mental talents, as could not 
fail shining, with the education he received: His voice was 
harmonious, his person tall and genteel, and his action 
graceful: add to these qualifications, he had a tenacious 
memory, and was possessed of that happy effrontery which 
secures a man from the shafts of raillery, or the confusion of 
an abrupt or unexpected replication. With these rudiments of 
eloquence, it will not be doubted, that he made a masterly 
figure in most debates of importance. In a word, he was too 
formidable an adversary for administration not to listen to. 
They knew his distress: Cerberus must have a sop to prevent 
his barking, at least on that side of the question. A bargain 
was struck, and how easy the transition! He immediately 
perceived his error! A set of men, who aimed at the 
destruction of their country, and aimed the poignard of 
nefarious malversion at her very vitals, instantly appeared to 
him sensible, upright, judicious, immaculate ministers. We are 
all liable to error; but we are not all so capable of 
discovering our mistakes with such a ready eye, and 
acknowledging our faults.*

*Note: Lord L----n's late defection is accounted for, by being 
refused the successorship of Lord Suffolk, as secretary of 
State for the Northern department. 

This sketch will sufficiently convey an idea of the noble peer 
here introduced. Mrs A----r having gained intelligence from a 
trusty chairman, whom she employed as a myrmidon to watch the 
actions of Lord L----, that he had repaired to Matthews's, 
after having waited dinner for him near three hours; upon the 
wings of jealousy flew to King's Place, accompanied by Mrs R--
--dd, and Counsellor Bailey, her former advocate and present 
great admirer. Having gained admittance, a most violent scene 
ensued. Mrs A----r instantly fell foul of Mrs Matthews, and a 
warm action ensued, not without high heads flying about, and 
bald heads being displayed. Every one now interfered to part 
the combatants; but in this attempt, the Counsellor, who was, 
as usual, very much intoxicated, was undesignedly knocked 
down, and received a bloody nose from Mrs A----r. At length 
peace was restored, except in words, which were still 
vociferated by this last lady, in all the Billingsgate that 
her fancy could supply.

Lord L---- thought it was his turn to speak, and, in a flowery 
oration, (thinking he was still in a certain assembly, where 
Mrs A----r's language is often introduced) framed an apology 
to the Lady of the house for the confusion his visit had 
occasioned, and assured her that reparation should be made for 
any damage Mrs Matthews's head or clothes might have 
sustained. After this, the Counsellor's face being washed, the 
blood being wiped away, the belligerent party returned 
peaceably in the coach which had brought them, but not without 
having taken his Lordship in tow.

Having introduced Counsellor Bailey, the reader may not be 
displeased with the sketch of so extraordinary a character. 
This gentleman was a native of Ireland, and came over here 
about fifteen years ago, to enter as a student in the Middle 
Temple, and after the proper time was admitted at the Bar. It 
cannot be said he made any capital figure here, but was 
chiefly employed at Hick's Hall and the Old Bailey. He had a 
small patrimony, upon which he lived for some time in a 
genteel manner; but falling into company with sharpers, they 
soon stripped him of all his little fortune. This irreparable 
loss hurried him into a series of debaucheries, which hurt his 
constitution, and brought him to so debilitated a state, as to 
be incapable, at times, of crossing the street. An instance of 
this happened some time since, when he fell down, and was run 
over by the wheel of a coach, which endangered his life, and 
it was some months before he recovered from the bruises he 
received.

When the celebrated trial of Mrs R----dd came on at the Old 
Bailey, he was employed as her Counsel; and though he was of 
no kind of service to her, the fees he demanded were very 
considerable; and as she at that time was much reduced, and 
could not afford to pay him in specie, he agreed to settle the 
account by her transferring her person to him. They 
accordingly lived together for some time; but being of a 
jealous disposition, and fancying she gave the preference of a 
rival, he, he in an act of desperation, cut his throat, though 
not in a manner to render the wound mortal. This affair 
created a rupture between them, and having no longer the run 
of her table, or Lord L----'s kitchen, his distresses became 
very great; all his wearing apparel, except a thread-bare 
coat, was soon disposed of; and, to close his miserable end, 
he was obliged to take refuge in a workhouse, where he 
terminated his mortal career a short time since. Let this 
serve a lesson to the gay and extravagant bucks, bloods and 
macaronies of the age, who squander their fortunes in brothels 
with wh----es and gamblers! Let them have the unfortunate 
Counsellor Bailey before their eyes every time they are going 
to commit an act of extravagancy, and remember there are more 
workhouses than that of St. Martin's in the Fields.



Chapter XLII. 
Sketch of Kitty Fr--d--r--ck's life. Her false ambition 
displayed. Kitty consents to an interview with the Duke of ---
- at Mrs Matthews's. A half-length of a graceless Grace, from 
a celebrated poem. Another half-length, by way of drapery, in 
prose, to complete the portrait, and give it in full. A 
curious genuine dialogue between a gambling nobleman and his 
tailor.

The celebrated Kitty Fr--d--r--ck is a lady so well known, as 
being classed among the Tha�ses of the Haut Ton,<20> that to 
mention her name is almost sufficient to depict her at full 
length to our readers; but lest some of them should not be so 
well acquainted with her as might be imagined, we shall give a 
little sketch of her likeness, which may be seen in almost all 
the print shops. Kitty was the daughter of an industrious 
tradesman, and being an only child, was, as usual, her 
mother's pet. This darling was considered as a most beautiful 
girl; it is true, she had many attractions, and might be 
pronounced tolerably pretty. Her doting parents thinking she 
was entitled to make her fortune, and ride in her coach, on 
this presumption gave her an education suited to that rank, 
which they fancied she would move in. To a boarding school of 
eminence she was accordingly sent, and there taught music, 
French, and dancing. Her natural vanity being much inflated by 
the example and opinions of her school fellows, who talked of 
nothing but peers and coronets, she began to think she was as 
much entitled to this rank as any of them; and accordingly, 
upon her return from school, she refused some offers that were 
made her of marriage, judging they were unworthy of being 
accepted, though, in fact, they were beyond what in her 
station of life she could reasonably expect. One of her 
suitors was a factor<94>of some opulence; and another a young 
gentleman who had great expectations of being admitted a 
partner in a capital banking house.

Kitty now frequented Ranelagh and the Pantheon, and soon 
attracted the attention of many noblemen, who found it no 
difficult matter to be introduced to her; and the civil things 
they said, consummate vanity made her construe into a 
declaration of a real and honourable passion. Lord P----at 
length prevailed, and she gave up her honour to a peer, rather 
than submit to be the wife of an eminent citizen. Amazing 
infatuation! And the more so, when we consider that his 
Lordship was married, and could not possibly offer her his 
hand in a conjugal way. But there is a strange ambition 
implanted in the sex, and many of them carry the frenzy so 
far, as to think it more eligible to be the who----e of a 
Lord, than the wife of a commoner.

After a few weeks his Lordship left her, and Kitty now began 
to ruminate upon her folly, but it was too late to recede; for 
even her parents, who had been originally instrumental in 
putting ridiculous notions into her head of pomp and grandeur, 
upon this first faux pas, forsook her. In this situation, she 
was compelled to put her charms to sale to the best bidder, 
and a variety of inamoratos succeeded. Her heart was still 
perfectly disengaged; the first sacrifice she had made to 
vanity and false ambition -- the succeeding arose entirely 
from necessity. However, at length, she met with an amiable 
young gentleman name Mr F----k; his person was very agreeable 
and genteel, his sentiments noble and generous, and his ideas 
seemed to bespeak him descended of a royal race. It is said, 
that he was grandson of the late Theodore King of Corsica; and 
that he was not without hopes of one day succeeding to his 
grandfather's throne. This consideration, though very 
chimerical, might perhaps have had some influence upon Kitty's 
heart and possibly stimulated her ambition to soar at regal 
dignity, especially as he suffered her to go by his name, and 
many conjectured they were really married. Be this as it may, 
it is certain Mr F----k was the only man who had made any 
impression upon her affections, and there continued for a 
considerable time a very tender and affectionate 
correspondence; till at length, he having received a 
commission in the Army, was ordered with his Regiment to 
America, where soon after, in an engagement with the American 
Army, after acquitting himself with great courage and 
intrepidity, he fell upon the field of battle, greatly 
lamented by all his friends and acquaintance; but by none more 
than Kitty, who, upon hearing the melancholy news, put on 
widow's weeds; but her external sorrow was far surpassed by 
her inward feelings.

This lady had many offers made her of connections and 
settlements; her admirers having hitherto considered Mr F----k 
as an insuperable obstacle to the sole possession either of 
her affections or her person, and therefore had refrained from 
making these overtures till this period.

Amongst the number of her adulators was a certain Duke, who 
had it not before in his power to make her a settlement, his 
finances being, till his late succession, in a very 
embarrassed state; but now having come to an ample fortune, as 
well as a Ducal title, he applied to Mrs Matthews to invite 
Miss F----k to an interview at her house; and as the proposal 
entirely suited her disposition, coming from a man of his 
Grace's rank, and who had so conspicuously distinguished 
himself in the Republic of Gallantry, she readily obeyed the 
mandate.

That the reader may form a just idea of the person, qualities, 
and disposition of this nobleman, we think the following 
quotation from a poem published some time since, may be here 
properly introduced.

With easy measur'd steps, lo! -- appears, 
And strives to hide the waste of wrinkling years. 
Time had long wash'd the bloom from off his face, 
But the enliv'ning rouge supplies the place. 
Through the large circle of near half an age, 
This Lord has strutted on the public stage; 
The foppish Price of Fops, the Macaroni Sage. 
But, charm'd with trifles, pleas'd with every toy, 
Still he is young -- if folly makes the boy. 
The verdant ribbon graced his silken vest. 
The star's pale silver glitter'd on his breast; 
While, to a nearer ken, his wrinkles show  
The furrowed emblems of the battered beau. 
At famed Newmarket he was taught to cheat, 
To league with grooms, and frame th'unerring Bett; 
Here learn'd the jockey's art -- and, what is worse,  
Practised the jockey's arts upon the course. 
[William Combe, Additions to the Diaboliad (1777)]

Such is the picture drawn of his graceless Grace by the author 
of the Diaboliad; and we think the following scene in 
Piccadilly, which, we are assured, is genuine, will give his 
Lordship's portrait at full length.

Lord Piccadilly, (as he was then called) yawning. What a 
damned run of luck last night! The devil surely got into the 
bones, for they would not operate. If I could have cogged that 
last cast, I should have brought myself home, and been five 
hundred in pocket; but Sir Harry has a hawk's eye, and 'tis 
impossible almost to do it with him undetected!

Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord, Mr Buckram is below.

Lord P. Why, there let him remain -- if you can't turn him 
out. How often, you rascal, have I told you, that I never was 
at home, but when he brought a new suit of clothes?

Ser. Why, my Lord, that is exactly the case, or, your Lordship 
may depend upon it, I should not have admitted him over the 
threshold.

Lord P. O! Si c'est comme cela a la bonheur.<81> Show him up -
- I was so enveloped in the thoughts of last night's d----n'd 
ill run, that I entirely forgot I had ordered this suit.

Re-enter Servant, with Mr Buckram, who exhibits a new suit au 
dernier gout.<95>

Buck. I have the honour to wait upon your Lordship, with, I 
think, one of the most elegant suits that an English nobleman 
ever wore, all French, I assure your Lordship, trimmings and 
all.

Lord P. Very right, Buckram -- or do you think I would have 
wore it else.
[Puts it on, and admires himself in a French plate glass that 
reaches from the ceiling to the ground, and in the vis-a-vis 
panel there is another of the same manufacture and 
dimensions.]

Lord P. I think it will do; yes, I think with a little 
alteration it may do.

Buck. To a charm, my Lord.

Lord P. This cuff, I think, let me look again, is not assez 
badinant.<96>

Buck. Oh! Positively my Lord, never was a finer cut. It was 
done by my Foreman, who is a Parisian, and was esteemed at 
Versailles as a very great operator.

Lord P. Are you sure of that? Well then, it may be passable; 
it will do. You need not wait, Buckram. I shall send you next 
week, as soon as I have fixed upon another pattern.

Buck. I beg your Lordship ten thousand pardons, and hope your 
Lordship will not be offended at my presenting my bill.

Lord P. Oh no! -- (looks at the bill). I see the total is 
seventeen hundred and some odd pounds. I suppose it is right 
cast up -- I know you are pretty exact.

Buck. Yes, my Lord, you will see it is very right, if your 
Lordship compares it will the bill I had to honour to present 
your Lordship last year.

Lord P. I never keep such things by me, much less in my head -
- so I shall give myself no farther trouble about it.

Buck. I am sorry, my Lord, to be obliged to remind your 
Lordship, that at this time of year we tradesmen are in great 
want of money.

Lord P. And, egad, we noblemen are in as great want of it, all 
the year round.

Buck. Yes, my Lord, but our drapers and mercers --

Lord P. What, do they play deep? If they do, you may introduce 
them. You shall go with me, and I shall be able to bring you 
home.

Buck. Oh! No, my Lord, they never play for a farthing -- it is 
all in the way of trade.

Lord P. Then it is not a debt of honour you are troubled 
about? Bagatelle donc, foutaise<97>

Buck. If your Lordship could not let me have the whole, I 
should be much obliged to your Lordship for part.

Lord P. Buckram! No, no! Take the whole, (returns him the 
bill) and never let me see it again -- I hate doing things by 
halves.

Buck. But I hope your Lordship will have some compassion. You 
know your Lordship promised me last year; but I can't say, 
with humble submission, that your Lordship was so good as your 
word. You know, my Lord, a peer's honour be sacred, as it goes 
as far as another man's oath.

Lord P. Why, you blockhead, if I could not pay you when it was 
so much less -- how the devil do you think I can pay you now, 
when it is much more? But, to be serious -- I've had a damn'd 
ill run of luck lately; and even last night, after I was 
obliged to pay a capital debt of honour, I was stripped of 
every remaining farthing; and I could now as soon raise the 
dead as five pounds, unless Papillot can furnish me with come 
cash, for my credit is exhausted at Arthur's, and Bob would as 
soon trust Buckhorse as me with a single Rouleau. But I can 
afford you some hopes: I've three horses to start on Tuesday 
at Newmarket -- a dead hollow thing -- a regular plant -- I 
must clear a thousand at least. There, you see, is an 
excellent chance for you! Many a man has gone into the Acre, 
and ordered a chariot upon the strength of worse. But more 
immediate comfort for you, besides this, I have a little 
private hazard here tonight, with a Welsh Baronet, as rich as 
a Nabob, and as flat as a flounder. I certainly shall have him 
at the best -- and by G--d, and upon my honour (which is much 
more) you shall fairly go with the caster.

Buckram finding it impossible to squeeze a guinea out of his 
Lordship at this crisis, judged it prudent to retire; and 
eventually very judiciously, for the Welsh Baronet having bled 
freely that night, Lord Piccadilly sent Buckram two hundred 
the next day.



Chapter XLIII. 
The terms on which Kitty accepts his Grace's proposal. A 
comparative view, in the morning, between the amorous powers 
of the young King of Corsica (Elect) and the Duke of ----. A 
transition from a splendid house, elegantly furnished for 
Kitty, and the lamentable situation of Miss N--ls--n. A 
whimsical distress, which is prefaced by a genuine anecdote of 
Captain Toper. The lucky sequel.

The reader has, for some time, diverted from the result of the 
interview at Mrs Matthews's, between the Duke of ---- and 
Kitty F----k. After some few compliments on both sides, his 
Grace said to her, "My dear Kitty, it is now in my power to 
make a decent provision for you, and it was for that reason 
that I desired Mrs Matthews to invite you to this t�te-�-t�te. 
I will now be very explicit, and tell you my proposals: I will 
settle a hundred a year upon you for life; furnish you a 
genteel house; allow you ten guineas a week for maintenance; 
and keep you a carriage." She nodded acquiescence and he 
presented her, as a pledge of his honour, a bill of a hundred 
pounds. Supper was now ordered, and after a sumptuous repast 
they retired to rest, where we shall leave them for a few 
hours, to give a full loose to their amorous appetites, after 
having laid in a stock of abilities, in the most salacious 
viands, and the most generous wines.

Rising in the morning, Kitty happened to meet with the Poem of 
the Torpedo<98> upon the toilette, left there the day before 
by some curious, researching nun; and when she came to the 
following lines, burst out into such a loud laugh, that his 
Grace, who was not yet risen, cried out, "What the Devil, 
Kate, is come to you?" -- "Nothing at all, my Lord; but this 
passage is enough to tickle any woman's fancy, who has been a 
bed all night with a half-worn-out Debauchee! Not that I mean 
your Grace -- but only hear:

"What though to give F--tzp--tr--ck fire, 
May no celestial art require, 
For he can catch like tinder: 
Have I not rais'd a doubful flame 
In M----ch's wither'd, hapless frame, 
Though burnt before to cinder?"

"Well," said his Grace, "and where the Devil is the joke? I 
can't find it out." "No, my Lord," replied she, "and what is 
worse -- I could not find it in." "A truce with your jokes 
Kitty; my reputation for gallantry has been too long 
established to be now called in question." "Too long indeed," 
rejoined Kitty, "in every sense: it is so long established, 
that it is now become as flimsy as boiled tripe."

His Grace turned on the other side, and snored out a reply, as 
he did not much admire the disquisition; whilst Kitty, after 
reading out the Poem, began to consider the comparative 
difference between the young King Elect, and the old peer 
erect; and after a few minutes reverie, pronounced to herself 
French: "Ce n'est pas la longueur ni la largeur des choses qui 
fait leur merit: Priape surann�e ne vaut pas Hercule a vingt 
ans."

That the mere English reader may understand us, I mean Kitty, 
we shall give a literal translation. "It is not the length or 
circumference of things that constitutes merit: Priapus 
superannuated, is not equal to Hercules at twenty."

However, notwithstanding this opinion, which, if the reader 
should happen to be a female, and of any experience in the 
Cytherean rites, she will certainly assent to; the terms 
offered by his Grace were such as, she thought, prudence 
dictated for her to accept. Accordingly, at breakfast she 
changed her tone, and instead of laughing with the author of 
the Torpedo, she now pretended to laugh at him; saying it was 
stupid, insipid, balderdash performance; a mere catchpenny; 
penned by some devil of a garretter to get a dinner. His Grace 
was pleased with the determination, for he had read the poem 
before, and was greatly mortified to see himself so justly 
portrayed; and upon Kitty's saying, she thought his Grace was 
a nobleman of the greatest parts of any one in England, and in 
which she was no false voucher, he threw another bank note of 
a hundred pounds into her lap, saying, he hoped she would not, 
like Fanny Murray, pretend she could not make a breakfast of 
it.*

*Note: The anecdote which has generally prevailed upon the 
subject, is as follows: When Fanny lived with Sir Richard 
Atkins, she one morning, at breakfast, was very urgent for 
money to pay a leweller; and upon Sir Richard's producing a 
bank-note, and declaring that was all he had in the world, she 
put it between two slices of bread and butter, and after 
eating it ( bread and butter fashion), said it was not 
sufficient to make a breakfast. 

His Grace, upon his return home, ordered his trusty valet and 
Mercury to look out for a genteel house, about sixty pounds a 
year, in the New Buildings; and he having fixed upon one 
suitable to the design, his Grace gave orders to the 
upholsterer to furnish the house in a proper manner.

Having now fixed Kitty in her new house, after taking a house-
warming with her, we shall leave her to reflect upon her good 
fortune, and gratify her vanity and ambition, in being the 
Duchess of ----, Elect.

Let not, however, the reader imagine, that every female who 
devoted her charms a sacrifice to promiscuous prostitution, as 
fortunate as Kitty Fred----k. To evince this assertion, we 
shall present our readers with a scene in real life. The 
reader has, in the preceding volume, been introduced to Miss 
N----lson, and made acquainted with her religious disaster, in 
pursuit of Lady Cr----ven's Tea pot: we shall now pay this 
Lady another visit, in order to enquire how far her pious 
endeavours have been crowned with success, after having 
received those religious and necessary instructions from her 
friend and paramour the Jesuit.

Miss N----lson had been several times at the S----n Chapel, 
and had played off all th artillery of her ogles upon his 
Excellency; and she more than once flattered herself with a 
favourable effect; but she had never yet had an opportunity of 
engaging in an interview with him. Tonight there was a 
masquerade at the Pantheon, and she was informed, from good 
authority, that the ambassador  would be present. Accordingly 
she resolved to go, let what would happen. Drunk Captain Toper 
had called upon her that forenoon, and at the sight of him, 
she had the most sanguine expectations of being presented with 
a ticket; but alas! The Captain was quite broke down -- he had 
not a guinea in the world; and he was cursing his ill natured 
stars for being thus destitute of cash, at a time when a 
masquerade was going forward -- an amusement that he could no 
more refrain from (if the Mopuses, as he called them, were 
aboard) than he could refrain from the Burgundy and Champagne, 
when once he had got in. Th Captain had got drunk upon the 
strength of the disappointment, and in going home to his 
lodgings, in Rathbone Place, bred such a riot as convened a 
numerous mob before his own door; and it was necessary to send 
for peace officers, to prevent the outrages of the populace, 
who had taken it into their heads that Vice Admiral P--ll--ser 
had taken refuge there.

Such being Miss Nels----n's disappointment, there was but one 
resource left, which was to dispatch her maid to the 
pawnbroker's with her best sack and petticoat, her black silk 
jacket and coat, and even her last Devonshire brown; but all 
these together produced no more than a sufficient sum to 
purchase a ticket. What was to be done? A thought was as rapid 
as the distress was great. The watch at the bedhead, a fixture 
that went with the apartment, immediately struck her, and 
directly it was conveyed to my uncle's by her maid. Indeed, 
though a nominal fixture, had it been wound up, and put at the 
threshold of the street door, it had been the road so often, 
that it would have found the way of itself, without a 
conductor or regulator. But unfortunately, even this, which 
was considered as a derniere resource, would not do -- it 
produced but fifteen shillings, and half a guinea more was at 
least requisite. Another expedient was absolutely necessary. 
Poor N----lson's whole wardrobe consisted at present of three 
smocks, and what was upon her back. They were presently 
bundled up, and transmitted to her relation's; and she was 
now, literally, reduced to her last shift.

This, the reader will say, was a bold stroke for a lover; but 
the die was cast, and she could not now recede. To the 
masquerade she repaired in a shepardess's dress, which greatly 
became her. The ambassador  was struck with the elegance and 
beauty of her figure, singled her out, and walked a minuet 
with her, taking Ne----lson for a woman of fashion, as she did 
not associate with any of the nunnery grizettes, whom she 
studiously avoided. The consequence was, he waited upon her 
home, remained till morning, and made her a present by far 
more than sufficient to bring home her effects, and pay what 
arrears of rent she owed. Upon this retiring, he promised to 
renew his visits in a few days, so well pleased was he with 
the reception he had met with.



Chapter XLIV. 
A trip to Berkeley Street. Amours of Lord G----r. Attachment 
of the M--ly--ts (father and son), as referred to in The 
Diaboliad. Lord G----r's improvement upon Gale's elastic beds. 
The great skill of Mrs W--st--n's riding masters. Description 
and characters of Mrs W--st--n's female visitors. The three 
Graces introduced, in the persons of Miss C--rter, Miss St--
nley, and Miss Armstr--ng, with some striking anecdotes of 
their lives.

We think it may not be amiss now to take a trip to Berkeley 
Street, Piccadilly, as we there shall find a celebrated Lady 
Abbess, under the name of Mrs W--st--n. This lady is sister to 
the head groom and chief pimp of Lord Gro--ner. Her brother 
first put her upon this plan, and at the same time ensured her 
his Lordship's custom, protection, and recommendation; and in 
this respect he has fully completed his promise; for though 
his Lordship may sometimes wander in the purlieus of King's 
Place, or the environs of Marylebone, his chief attraction is 
in Berkley Street. Here he constantly meets Miss Hayw--d twice 
a week, and sometimes oftener.

No duenna upon the Ton<20> understands business better than 
Mrs W--st--n. She has nuns of every size and complexion at her 
nod, though only two live in the house -- Louisa Sm----th and 
Carolina J----nes. The former of these is alternatively visit 
by the M--ly--ts, father and son; and as she considers it all 
in the family way, she would think it, according to Mr Wilkes, 
entirely orthodox, if a third person of the same breed were 
introduced. Old M--ly--t, who now verges upon sixty, is still 
a rake at heart; and after having debauched more women than, 
perhaps, any man in the course of this century, being quite 
tired of S----e, and satiated with M----x, thinks Louisa an 
excellent piece, though rivalled by his own son, natural 
indeed, who is supported, through the agency of Miss Sm----th, 
by his father's bounty.

This lady no sooner heard that Charlotte Hayes had retired 
from business, than she immediately applied to her, and 
purchased all the elastic beds, invented by that great 
creative genius Count O'K----ly, and constructed by that 
celebrated mechanic and upholsterer Mr Gale. Not satisfied, 
however, with being in possession of these elastic beds, which 
gave the finest movements in the most ecstatic moments, 
without trouble or the least fatigue to either Agent or 
Patient, she requested Lord Gro--ner (who has also a fine 
mechanical genius, and has already made a great improvement 
upon Mrs Phillips's Machines, by securing them in such a 
manner that they can never break in action) to throw out some 
hints for the improvement of these elastic beds; and he 
immediately conceived an additional spring, to the amazing 
gratification and sensation of the actor and actress, as Clara 
Hayw----d can well testify. To this additional spring we may, 
in a great measure, ascribe the uncommon vogue that Mrs W--st-
-n's house is now in, being frequented by peers and peeresses, 
wanton wives, and more wanton widows; she having at the same 
time, in constant pay, some of the most capital riding masters 
in the three kingdoms, always ready to mount at a minute's 
warning, who can either walk, trot, or gallop, as is most 
agreeable to their female pupils.

Hither also resort many Tha�ses upon the Ton,<20> whose 
necessities compel them to accept of pecuniary rewards; among 
these are Miss S--br--k, from Newman Street. This lady is the 
daughter of a broker, who resided in Round Court near the 
Strand. She is a fine fair girl, with a dark expressive eye 
and good brown hair: she is about the middle size, very 
genteel, and recommends still more the elegance of her person 
by the magnificence of her dress. She is in nominal keeping by 
Captain B----y; but it is scarce possible that the Captain's 
pay (and as to fortune we never could learn that he possessed 
any) can support himself and Miss S--br----k in the sumptuous 
manner she appears. The enigma is better solved by her 
frequent visits to Mrs W--st--n, where Lord I----m and some 
other noblemen often toast her. Miss D--s--n of Sadler's Wells 
sometimes makes her exhibition here; but this is only when she 
is sent for as a good crummy piece who sings a good song, as 
the expense of a coach hire from Cold Bath Fields must to a 
certainty be defrayed, before she can think of making this 
excursion; more especially as her last benefit was on a wet 
night, and of course she had but a thin house.

Colonel F--tz--y, as master of the revels here, presides upon 
this occasion, and Miss D--w--n affords him such gratification 
as surpasses even Twelfth Night. Moss R--yn--ds, another lady 
from Newman Street, frequently makes her appearance at Mrs W--
st--n's. She is tall and genteel, her features very delicate, 
her hair inclined to classic-tinge. We may also reckon Miss C-
-r--ter, Miss St----nle and Miss A--m--st--g among the 
visitors of this seminary. These ladies are so well known upon 
the Haut Ton,<20> and their persons are so perfectly described 
at the print shops, that we think it needless to dwell upon 
their charms; or delineate their portraits.

The first of these ladies was some time since in keeping by 
Sir William D----; but detecting her in the amorous embraces 
of his valet-de-chambre, he literally kicked her out of doors. 
She, however, soon got acquainted with Lord B----, and it was 
his Lordship who put her upon so elegant a footing, as to make 
the painters and designers take particular notice of her, and 
exhibit her pretty face in public. She has a sneaking fondness 
for Captain L----; but as the lust for money is greatest lust 
that actuates all her conduct, and as the Captain is rather 
seedy, she occasionally plies at Mrs W--st----n's, who never 
fails putting five guineas into her pocket before departure.

Miss St----nley is a young lady whose pretensions in life were 
far superior to the line she now moves in. Her father was a 
very eminent packer in the city, and she was spoken of as a 
fortune of ten thousand pounds. After she had received a very 
polite boarding school education, she was pronounced one of 
the most accomplished young ladies in all Farringdon Ward. She 
received the addresses of several young gentlemen, many of 
opulence; but her heart was fixed upon a man of rank, allied 
to a noble family, and who was upon the point of going abroad 
in a public character. His intentions were honourable, and the 
day of their nuptials was fixed upon; when, at this very 
critical juncture, the failure of a capital house in the city, 
occasioned by the presented unfortunate war in America, 
involved Mr St----nly in the like calamity. No sooner did his 
name appear in the Gazette, than Miss St----nly's intended 
bridegroom discontinued his visits, and she heard no more of 
him, till she read in the papers of his arrival and reception 
at a certain foreign court. Thus were all her hopes of 
felicity blasted; desperation was the only prospect before 
her, and in an act of this nature, she sacrificed herself to 
M----z the Jew, through the mediation of Charlotte Hayes, for 
a mere trinket.

Miss Armstr--ng, the last of this trio, whom we may with 
propriety style the Graces, is a young lady of uncommon 
talent; for besides the charms of her person, which are far 
superior to what fall to the lot of most females, she 
possesses an uncommon share of understanding, that has been 
greatly improved by reading; which, aided by a very tenacious 
memory, affords her many opportunities of shining upon most 
subjects. She has a great share of vivacity, and may justly 
lay claim to a readiness of fancy, a quickness of imagination, 
a facility of delivery, as would do credit to may who are 
ranked upon the list of the Beaux Esprits of the age. George 
S--lw--n calls her his Sappho, and she has by times been 
christened by the names of all the nine Muses. She possesses 
so much sense, as to be conscious that her present line of 
life is truly contemptible, and she only waits for an 
opportunity of throwing off the shackles of prostitution. She 
has some thoughts of going upon the stage, and was actually 
under the tuition of Mr Garrick at the time of his demise, who 
gave her the most flattering hopes of success in her dramatic 
career. His loss, which all the admirers of Melpomene and 
Thalia must woefully lament, was a very sensible one to Miss 
Armst--ng; as in him she lost her patron, her tutor, and her 
friend. When we use the last word, we do not mean to apply it 
in an amorous sense, but according to its literal meaning. 
Necessity at present compels her visit Mrs W--st--n, and her 
company is here eagerly sought for, not so much on account of 
the sensual pleasures she can bestow, as for her conversation, 
and the lively turn that arises in company from her wonted 
hilarity and uncommon pleasantry. She often receives a 
handsome compliment, without having granted the smallest 
favour, except it be that of highly entertaining the guests. 
But let it not be imagined that she is deficient in personal 
attractions; this is far from being the case; and if the 
reader should entertain the smallest doubt of this 
observation, he is referred to the print shop in May's 
Buildings, where he will find a very striking likeness of Miss 
Armstr--ng.



Chapter XLV. 
The medley chapter, or rhapsody; in which may be found a 
variety of whimsical facts, flashes, and fancies, suited to 
most tastes and dispositions; unexpected transitions from the 
jocular to the serious, and from the grave to the lively; with 
some thoughts on adultery; the custom of the Turks upon this 
occasion; and an expedient proposed to prevent it here.

Whilst Lady V----e is taking a microscopic view of his 
Lordship's sensitive plant, and with the assistance of this 
visual magnifier can scarcely perceive a protuberance of one 
digit; whilst the salacious Messalina of the stable yard is 
provoking titillation by the interior use of the elastic 
Chinese balls, and forces the General to take Cantharides to 
keep time to her throbs; whilst Lady L----r is learning the 
Man�ge a la St. George<99> with her groom, to recover her 
skill in horsewomanship, after her late temporary retreat from 
the gay world; whilst Lady Gro----r is preparing the new-
invented Cyprian Fly-Caps, first introduced by the Birds of 
Paradise at Mrs Pendergast's Bal d'Amour; whilst Lady P----cy 
is planning a new intrigue with Le Cocq du Village of Hampton, 
who has completely established his character with virgins, 
wives and widows; the globe still revolves upon its own axis; 
about the equinoxes the days and nights are nearly of the same 
duration; Senators squabble for the loaves and fishes; the 
outs attack the ins for malversion in office; and the latter, 
when they are hard run, have recourse to the previous 
question, and so terminate the debate by a well secured 
majority.

Such was the precise state of affairs upon our entrance on 
this 37th chapter of Nocturnal Revels; a book that we doubt not 
will be read in every quarter of the globe, by persons of all 
religions, persuasions, parties and genders, the epicene not 
excluded; and translated into all the dead and living 
languages that ever were thought of, penned or invented, that 
of the Island of Formosa not excepted, though it never existed 
but in the brain of Psalmanazar. But me thinks I hear the 
snarling Critic say -- "The vanity of scribblers is 
insuperable! Of what utility can such a production as this be 
to the world? What moral can be derived from a performance, 
whose sole design is the exhibition of scenes of 
lasciviousness and complicated debauchery?" To this we 
modestly answer, it may be the means, by such bold, natural 
and genuine portraits, of deterring the innocent and ignorant 
part of our sex from pursuing a libertine and vicious plan of 
life, when they see it enveloped in so many fatal 
embarrassments and dangerous situations: to the other sex it 
may point out, through a just and faithful medium, the 
portraits of their imperial lords and masters, the 
philosophers, moralists, and reformers of the age; it will 
unmask and bring forth to view the latent hypocrite, the 
abandoned married libertine, and the infamous preacher, the 
contemptible Lord, and the superstitious scoundrel. Let the 
world view these miscreants in open day, in the full blaze of 
the sun, and if some happy consequences may not be derived, 
even in a moral sense, from such an exposition, it will be the 
reader's fault, and not ours. We shall not in this place enter 
any farther into an apology for the publication of this work, 
as we have already touched upon it in more places than one; 
but shall leave the snarling critic to chew the cud of his own 
splenetic cavils, and for a moment take a view of the 
misconduct and indiscretions of the youthful part of the fair 
sex who are esteemed chaste and virtuous, and who, 
nevertheless, are guilty of many enormities, that certainly in 
a moral sense at least, bring them upon a level, if not 
beneath common prostitution.

How whimsical a transition will the reader say, from a motley 
kind of moral apology to the Bijoux Indiscrets. -- Indiscreet 
Toys indeed! which, nevertheless, are vended at most of the 
capital toy shops in the purlieus St. James's. To these 
baubles may we ascribe, in a great measure, the fatal effects 
of a female boarding school education, and which produce as 
many dangerous consequences among the female world, as 
masturbation in boarding school for the male sex. Various 
instances of their use might be produced amongst the juvenile 
part of the fair sex in high life; and to this cause may be 
ascribed the want of an heir to come of the first successions 
in England. We are told by several authors of well known 
veracity, of the fatal effects of these practices, and that in 
some instances, the violent exercise of self-pollution has so 
distorted their bodies, as to render their sex doubtful, and 
ever after debar them from the embraces of the male sex.

Nevertheless the reader might be inclined to doubt the 
authority of these writers, and fancy that the Bijoux 
Indiscrets were only imaginary toys, and that the female sex, 
so far from giving way to such unnatural practices, revelled 
at large in the arms of every fine fellow they met; as a 
certain nobleman has latterly, upon the introduction of an Act 
of Parliament to "prevent adultery" declared, that more 
divorces have taken place during this reign (notwithstanding 
the exemplary virtue and attachment of a certain royal and 
illustrious pair), than the annals of history can produce 
since the establishment of empire in these kingdoms. But a 
moment's consideration must convince him, that the 
asseverations of the authors alluded to do not thereby fall to 
the ground. We are well apprized, that when once the real and 
natural sensitive plant has had its due influence, and been 
enjoyed in its full bloom and perfection, that these 
factitious emblems of bliss will not prevail. But his Lordship 
could only advert to the adult and married part of the sex, 
who, being in every sense Femmes Couvertes,<100> would 
certainly prefer being properly covered, in a manly way, to 
the toyish rigs and wriggles of boarding school sports and 
girlish pastimes.

According to his Lordship's Bill, the parties divorced cannot 
marry again to each other, or to any one, till the expiration 
of a twelvemonth. This puts us in mind of the laws and customs 
amongst the Turks with respect to marriages and divorces. 

"The opulent have often three or four wives, and perhaps 
concubines; but if they choose to abide by the more 
laudable part of the law, and keep only wives, it is 
equally convenient; for they may change and change as 
often as the number will admit -- after divorce, they may 
retake the same woman a second, but not a third time, 
unless she has been married to another husband. No man 
can marry a divorced woman sooner than four months and a 
half after a total separation from the former husband. 
The man may oblige the divorced woman to keep a child 
till it is two years old."

Having said thus much concerning divorces, the reader may not 
be displeased to be acquainted with the nature and ceremonial 
of marriage amongst the Turks, from the same author.

"The Turks are conveniently circumstanced in regard to 
the matrimonial tie. The Grand Seignor is entirely exempt 
from it; he claims the privilege Mahomet reserved for 
himself; and to avoid a formal contract of affinity, or, 
in the Turkish phrase, not to mix blood with any family 
in his empire, he has no wife, but only concubines. The 
first who brings him a son is called the Sultana Haseki: 
she is crowned with flowers, takes on her the 
prerogatives of a wife, and governs the Harem."

"Other Turks are allowed four wives. They may marry, as 
it is called, Kabbin; that is, they appear before the 
tribunal of justice, declare the woman to be their wife, 
and enter into an obligation, that whenever they shall 
think proper to dismiss her, they will maintain the 
children, and give her a certain stipulated sum, which 
they proportion either to their circumstances, or to the 
time they judge it be may convenient for them to cohabit 
with her. It is no stain to a woman's character that she 
is thus put away; nor much impediment to her finding 
another husband."

We find also that the girls, in order that they may not be 
deceived by a fumbling husband, have a custom somewhat like 
bundling, in Wales and New England; for though they do not bed 
with their intended husbands, they insist upon taking a view 
of their proposed mate in puris naturalibus, from a convenient 
concealment, without being put to the blush at such an 
exhibition. If they approve of this candidate for matrimony, 
they readily consent to give him their hands; but if he should 
not answer their expectations, and his virility should seem 
doubtful, they are allowed to reject him, without assigning 
any reason. Such a custom introduced into England would be of 
great benefit to the ladies, and might be a means of 
preventing divorces; as the ladies of rank and fashion could 
make this inspection with impunity, and without having their 
modesty called into question. Many a V----ne and P----y could 
then have no just reason to complain, or be able to apologise, 
on account of their husbands defects, for their infidelities 
to the marriage bed.



Chapter XLVI. 
An introduction at Madame Le P----'s. A little Coup de 
Charlatanerie in intrigue, which had nearly proved fatal to 
this lady. An uncommon imposture, and a ridiculous discovery. 
Th means taken by Madame Le P---- to restore the dignity and 
reputation of her house. Some account of the amourettes, 
hoydens and graces. Impositions of lottery office keepers, 
Jews and refiners.

We had like to have forgot waiting upon our old friend and 
acquaintance Madame Le P----, in South Molton Street; but 
though last not least in love. This lady has the honour of 
entertaining the first nobility in England, as well as the 
foreign ministers, in as elegant a style as any Lady Abbess in 
the purlieus of St. James's. An unlucky discovery that was 
lately made by Count H----g, had brought this seminary into 
some little disrepute. She had wrote to the Count, and 
informed him, that she was that evening to be visited by a 
young lady, who had just eloped from her relations, who were 
of a noble family; but that being crossed in love, and her 
admirer having wedded another young lady of her acquaintance, 
she was resolved that night to sacrifice herself to the 
Paphian Goddess, as that was her appointed nuptial night, and 
her rival was married that day. The Count, who is always very 
gallant upon these occasions, and never lets an opportunity 
slip of being introduced to a fine woman, especially if she is 
upon the footing of a modest lady, attended the summons at the 
hour appointed, and was introduced to Miss Lar----che: this 
was the temporary name, at least, she bore. Miss L----e had 
received a very genteel education, and had in her real vestal 
days kept some of the best company: accordingly, she was very 
capable of receiving the Count in a manner suitable to his 
most sanguine expectations. Being acquainted with many of the 
first families in England, she could speak with much propriety 
upon their alliances and connections; which, added to her 
being a pretty good mistress of French, and having also a 
tolerably harmonious voice, which was improved by her having 
learnt music, the Count was easily persuaded that Miss Lar----
che was precisely such a person as Madame Le P---- had 
represented. In this presumption he enjoyed her company with 
great satisfaction; and having prepared himself by 
meretricious arts, was inclined to believe he was as vigorous 
as ever, and had actually possessed a pure vestal. Upon his 
retiring, he made a very handsome present, and promised to 
renew his visit in a few days.

However, in the interim, falling in company with Monsieur M---
- P----n the R---- minister, he was boasting of this lucky 
adventure, and saying, that he was very well pleased to find 
that his athletic power had not subsided, for that he had 
actually got a pucelage<101> the very night before. Monsieur 
M---- P----n, said, he was not, at all surprised at the 
Count's abilities; but upon a description of the young lady in 
question, it so exactly tallied with the resemblance of one he 
had himself enjoyed a few nights before in King's Place, under 
the name of Rey----lds, that he offered to wager the Count 
twenty guineas, that if he sent for her to the Bedford Arms 
under the latter name, she would make her appearance there in 
consequence of his card.

The wager was laid, and Miss R--yn--lds sent for that very 
night to the Bedford Arms. The Count was placed in an adjacent 
room, and through a peep hole made on purpose, could view the 
lady. In less than an hour the Porter returned with Miss R----
ds in a chair. The Count was planted as agreed upon, the lady 
introduced, and he was soon convinced that she was the 
identical female who had been introduced to him, as the eloped 
Miss Lar----che, at Madame Le P----'s.

This discovery greatly enraged the Count, not so much at being 
imposed upon by Madame Le P----, as, in consequence of having 
vaunted his good fortune in intrigue, he was obliged to stand 
the raillery of the whole diplomatic body the next time they 
dined together, which was a few days after, when he was 
complimented on all hands for his great good fortunes with the 
ladies, and for his uncommon athletic powers of getting 
maidenheads with the facility and vigour of a young fellow of 
twenty.

This unlucky discover was for a time very pernicious to Mme. 
Le P---- and her seminary, as she thereby lost, for a while, 
the custom of all foreign ministers; and this story being 
circulated, many of her other male visitors often suspected 
her veracity upon similar occasions.

However, Mme. Le P---- having found it expedient to recruit 
her nunnery from the best and most original resources, she 
soon recovered most of her customers; as, to speak in vulgar 
phraseology, hers was now one of the best flesh markets in 
town.

In less than a month she had selected two very pretty 
Parisians, just arrived from France, and who were quite new 
faces in London. They were sisters, and went by the mane of 
Mesdemoiselles Amourette: indeed they were very well entitled 
to this name; for Lord C--le, upon being first introduced to 
them to take his choice, said to them, "Ma foy, mes dames, 
vous etes jolies comme les amours m�mes! Il n'y a pas mien de 
choisir, il faut vous prendre tour a tour."<102> Besides her 
lovely Parisians, she had a very comely cargo of English 
hoydens, fresh as the morn, and arrived in the last York 
wagon. Bett Will--s, Lucy Clevl--d, Jenny Pr--t, Nancy P--
rsons, (not the celebrated Nancy P--rsons) were all fine, 
wholesome wenches, who had indeed been deluded into this kind 
of servitude, instead of that of all-work, for which they made 
this journey to London. Besides these inmates, she was 
frequently visited by the three Graces, whom we have already 
introduced in the characters of Miss Carter, Miss Armstr--g, 
and Miss Stanley.

Thus did Madame Le P---- not only restore the reputation of 
her house, but recalled the most valuable of the Corps 
Diplomatique, who were vastly enraptured with the vivacity, as 
well as beauty of the Amourettes, and could occasionally, for 
the sake of variety, revel with the hoydens, and sometimes the 
Graces. Thus, by blending together Parisian frivolity with 
country rusticity and courtly grace, they united almost every 
distinct point of beauty into one focus, and might be said to 
have as complete and variegated a seraglio as the Grand 
Seignor himself.

We cannot refrain mentioning here two whimsical, and in some 
degree mortifying adventures, that happened to the Amourettes 
soon after their arrival here. Thinking it a certainty of 
making their fortunes in the Metropolis of England, which was 
the emporium of wealth, as well as vice and folly, they judged 
it expedient to pursue every avenue to the Temple of the Blind 
Goddess that presented itself to their view; and accordingly 
the Lottery seemed to them a certain routine to twenty 
thousand pounds, by a mere coup de main. This being the time 
of drawing, they failed not every night insuring to the utmost 
extent of their pockets, and the first week drained them of 
upwards of forty pounds. The second week wore a more 
auspicious aspect: but the event proved otherwise. The first 
day they had apparently a run of good luck, and when they had 
insured upwards of ten pounds, and where in expectation of 
receiving more than two hundred -- that very night the lottery 
office, where they had deposited their money, shut up, and the 
office-keeper decamped a la sourdine. <33> The next day they 
were equally unfortunate, as an office-keeper refused to pay, 
under pretence that there was some fraud in the insurance of a 
particular number, it having been done for considerable sums 
at all the Lottery Offices in town. Thus imposed upon, they 
found themselves, at the end of the drawing, near two hundred 
pounds out of pocket, though, if they had been paid according 
to their just demands, they would have cleared, at least, 
fifteen hundred pounds.

Another incident they met with was also very mortifying, 
though not so essentially interesting. Two Jew brokers used 
often to visit them, and they constantly made their 
compliments in light gold; but they had received their cue 
from Madame Le P----, never to think of weighing money, that 
they might not affront her customers: they made no 
remonstrances therefore to their benefactors, but constantly 
disposed of the light gold at a refiner's, to a considerable 
loss, as will appear by the sequel. In the course of one week 
they were obliged to sell thirty light guineas, at the loss of 
two shillings upon each guinea: and so much do some of the 
gentlemen refiners refine upon honesty, that every one of the 
guineas the Amourettes received in exchange, were lighter than 
those disposed of; and before they could get a passable guinea 
for either of their original ones, they were four shillings 
and sixpence out of pocket. This was paying poundage with a 
vengeance; and when, in jocularity, they informed their 
Levitic friends of the event, one of them replied; "G--d's 
nounds, me would have tooked every one them backs, at only 
tree schillings discount."


Chapter XLVII. 
The present situation and pursuits of the principal Dramatis 
Personae brought upon the stage of the Nocturnal Revels; and 
being the last chapter, concludes with the moral, which must 
appear obvious to every reader.

Having given a variety of pictures of Keepers, petticoat 
pensioners, old virgins, wives, and widows, troubled with the 
furor uterinus, young lechers debilitated, and impotent old 
dotards flattered into a belief of their vigour and amorous 
abilities; the portraits of the most celebrated Tha�ses and 
demireps upon the Ton,<20> in a variety of whimsical, 
lascivious and meretricious devices; we now approach the 
period of taking leave of these worthy characters, after 
having taken a review of their present situation and future 
pursuits.

Mrs Goadby's nunnery is still in great esteem in Marlborough 
Street, and she proposes laying in a fresh stock of clean 
goods, warranted proof, for the races and watering places, 
during the ensuing summer.

Mrs Adams and Mrs Dubery, Mrs Pendergast, Mrs Windsor and Mrs 
Matthews, still preserve the dignity of their houses, and the 
immaculate reputation of King's Place.

Mrs Nels--n is semper eadem;<103> but not, according to the 
Irish translation; worse and worse; for that would be 
impossible!

Nelly Ell--t is grown so very fat and unwieldy, that she is 
obliged to study Aretino<61> in all his postures, to render 
herself acceptable to little S----t, who is so small, that he 
can scarce penetrate her porte cochere,<104> even with the 
assistance of Gale's elastic bedheads, now so greatly in 
vogue. However, Nelly having lately made a select set of 
acquaintance with some of the first-rate kept women, she 
carries on a very pretty flourishing trade, in supplying the 
deficiencies of their fumbling keepers, who support them 
entirely for the honour of being thought men of gallantry.

Mrs W--tson still possesses the good opinion of her noble and 
polite customers, and particularly the favour and protection 
of Lord Gro--r.

Mrs Bradsh--w continues to entertain her noble friends 
according to the most polished etiquette, assisted by Miss 
Ken--dy, Mrs Armst--d, and several other ladies of equal 
eminence, upon the list of demireps of the Haut Ton.<20>

Miss N--lson has got the tea pot into her wake, after having 
failed in obeying her first signal, this frigate having put 
into the wrong port through mistake.

Lady Lig--r, after an elopement of about a dozen weeks, judged 
it prudential (her purse being entirely exhausted) to seek 
another remedy, besides that which had been salutary for the 
recovery of her health, for the repletion of her pocket -- to 
return to her old friend L----ke in Yorkshire.

The Bird of Paradise still continues to keep up her 
connections with her generous Keeper Tu--n--r, who overlooks 
the peccadilloes of her conduct, and has even forgiven her 
appearance at Mrs Pendergast's Bal d'Amour.

The lovely Emily was upon the point of being taken into 
keeping, by a gentleman who had just been appointed to a 
considerable employment under administration, and the 
emoluments of whose office could very well enable him to 
support her in luxury and grandeur.

Kitty Fred--k we have already fixed with a salary of a hundred 
a year, and board wages of ten guineas a week, in the New 
Buildings.

The Graces, C--rt--r, Arm--st--ng and Stanl--y, flourish away, 
as usual, with taste and elegance; resolving not to tie 
themselves to any one man, but to rove at large, where 
pleasure or profit leads the way.

Lady Ad--ms having seen much service, is somewhat weather-
beaten, having been in many a storm, tossed about upon rocks 
and shoals, and this winter narrowly escaping foundering upon 
a lee-shore in Tavistock Row, Covent Garden. The last time 
George S--lw----n saw her, he swore from these circumstances, 
that Lady Ad----ms was to all intents and purposes a misnomer; 
and that he should hereafter call her Old Mother Eve.

Lady G----r is very bountiful of her favours. T--rn--r would 
be her favourite man, did not avarice compel her to fly to the 
arms of Sir G---- T---- P----, and others, whose purse strings 
are more easily dilated. This assertion is supported by the 
Author of the Torpedo;

"Sated at length with Ch--lm--nd--l--y's charms, 
Gr--ven-r takes T--rn--r to her arms, 
That avaricious prig: 
Such is the vigorous damsel's zeal, 
She tries each species of the eel, 
From Conger down to Grig.*"
*Grig -- A small species of eel, by which appellation Sir 
G---- T---- P----was distinguished in his youth; not from 
his vivacity, but from its similitude to the abbreviation 
of his own name."

Clara Hayw----d figures off and on the stage, in various parts 
and attitudes, and generally meets with applause, particularly 
in her under parts.

Mrs Brad--y sticks en morpion,<105> as if cemented, to her 
long trowel and the Macaroni Bricklayer.

Lucy Will----ms has got a very pretty running trade, and often 
entertains Earl P--y with a sentimental dialogue, for which he 
pays very handsomely; and sometimes, in the full vigour of 
youth, he makes an impotent attempt upon her latent charms.

Emily C--lh--st is still in the purlieus of King's Place, 
occasionally at one or other nunnery, as business requires.

The lucky and critical escapes of Miss P----r and Miss M----e 
have warned these young ladies to be upon their guard against 
the artful seductions of their own sex, as well as the 
treachery of ours. The first of these young ladies is upon the 
point of being married to a gentleman of considerable rank and 
fortune: the latter receives the addresses of a young 
nobleman, who, it is believed, will, as soon as he comes of 
age, offer her his hand in an honourable way.

The stable yard Messalina we left two chapters ago in a 
salacious situation, in which she has remained every since; 
and the General, it is said, is much indisposed, from the 
effects of the provocatives which he took to enable him to 
gratify the full extent of her desires.

The other ladies who we have introduced in this historical 
drama remain in status quo, with very little variation, except 
in their faces, which in a morning, before the application of 
the cosmetic art, are so far from inviting to amorous 
dalliance, rather create disgust; but about noon, by the 
assistance of Bailey and Warren, those great and eminent 
manufacturers of female charms, became as enchanting as ever.

As to our male Dramatis Person�, they still pursue nearly the 
same career as they have done for some years: Lord Fumble 
repaired regularly, as long as he could crawl, four times a 
week to Mrs Pendergast's, to indulge his whims and caprices 
with a brace of new faces. But he is, to that Lady's great 
affliction -- now no more! Lord Pyebald is every upon the hunt 
after a tid-bit, which he cannot enjoy; and in this pursuit he 
prances about the New Buildings, in his shabby great coat, and 
still more shabby hat, but with a sword, to denote the 
gentleman. Count H----g still has a strong hankering after 
women of family and breeding; but takes care not to be so 
grossly imposed upon as he was by Madame Le P----. The other 
members of the diplomatic body pursue their old career of 
visiting the nunneries, after they have made up their 
dispatches. Unfortunately for poor W--lk--nson, the Swedish 
ambassador  made a disagreeable discovery the other evening at 
Mrs Dubery's, she being introduced as a nun, in the ordinary 
routine, when he judged she was waiting for him at home, 
chaste as Penelope. The consequence was, he immediately broke 
off his connection with her, and she is now obliged to ply in 
King's Place, from absolute necessity; whereas, before this 
accident, she only made her appearance there through mere 
wantonness, as Mrs Woffington said she went to Bath.

Monsieur M----n P----n, the Russian minister, is now in treaty 
with an opera dancer, who has cut a caper into his heart, and 
made him forget all the nuns of King's Place. Signora Z--lli 
modestly demands only twenty guineas a week, with a carriage, 
and new liveries for her servants. Whether the minister will 
comply with her request is a matter of doubt; in the mean 
while she flaunts away with her Cicisbeo,<106> and thinks she 
has made a certain conquest of this member of the diplomatic 
body. It is, however, said, that he has changed the direction 
of his amorous battery, and planted his salacious artillery 
against the pretty idiot, Mrs Badd-ly; but there are some 
reasons to think, that her covered way must either be taken by 
storm, or blown up; as we are well assured, the port itself is 
so undermined, and the combustibles so violent, as to admit no 
assailant, whilst Firebrand Tony, Chief Engineer, has the 
inspection of the works.

Having thus disposed of the most material of our Dramatis 
Personae, we shall take leave of the reader, and conclude this 
volume with a translation of our motto, for the information of 
the mere English reader.

"I look upon it as my master piece,that I have found out 
how a young fellow may know the disposition and behaviour 
of Harlots; and by early knowing, come to detest them."

FINIS.



Characters of the present most celebrated courtesans (1780)
https://play.google.com/books/reader?id=Oco5AAAAcAAJ&hl=en&pg=
GBS.PP1 



Title Page

CHARACTERS

OF THE PRESENT

MOST CELEBRATED

COURTEZANS.

INTERSPERSED 
WITH A VARIETY OF 
SECRET ANECDOTES
Never before published.

======================= 
Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi, 
Et quorum pars magna fui. VIRG.* 
========================
LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR M. JAMES, Pater-noster Row.
MDCCLXXX.


* "I myself saw these things in all their horror, and I bore 
great part in them." Virgil, �neid, Bk. II v. 5-6.



Dedication. 
To Mrs M-H-N.

Madam, 
	The author of the following pages, has long wished for an 
opportunity to prove by some public testimony how infinitely 
he respects your character, and in what high estimation he has 
always held your manifold perfections, and numerous 
accomplishments.

During an acquaintance of several years, he has had the 
happiness to be much in your company, and almost continually 
within observation, through the whole of which period he has, 
with all the malice of a friend, been watchfully attentive to 
your conduct, and he can with no less truth than pleasure 
aver, that he has found it uniformly consistent with the most 
perfect female delicacy, and frequently abounding with 
disinterested spirit. He has found it free from mystery and 
equivocal duplicity, and your conversation untainted by that 
abominable grossi�ret�<107> which makes every beauty 
detestable, and which is too invariably the propensity of 
those those who have been, like you, unfortunate, but who have 
not such complicated treachery and ill treatment to urge in 
extenuation of their folly.

It is with inexpressible satisfaction he hears that your 
situation is not only conveniently easy, but even luxuriously 
happy for the present; and that the munificence of your 
protector, gives every reasonable cause to hope it will soon 
be made permanently independent.

It is an opinion which obtains among the most eminent 
essayists on life and manners, "that there is less merit in 
meeting adversity with fortitude, than in wearing prosperity 
with moderation." The perfect composure and unexulting 
affability, with which you have born your late good fortune: 
is the most incontrovertible proof how well you deserve its 
continuance.

Your present correspondent has not the honour to be acquainted 
with the bountiful patron of your fortunes, the enviable 
possessor of your person and affections; but that he is 
eminently endowed with both discernment and generosity is 
easily visible; as the former is so clearly manifested by his 
choice of you, and the latter by the style of your general 
appearance.



Preface.

The erudite and philosophical Mr Harris, is the only writer I 
have ever encountered on this no less interesting than 
extensive subject. His annual productions have long met the 
public approbation and patronage, and his impartiality as long 
been the admiration of his numberless readers.

The accuracy of his orthography, the flowing elegance of his 
periods, the aptitude of his remarks, and the astonishing 
variety of his descriptions, must place him as far beyond the 
power of malice, as of imitation, and transmit his name and 
writings with unrivalled honour to posterity.

It has been well said by the ingenious Mandeville, that, "envy 
cannot exist, but where there is either a real, or an 
imaginary equality, and that a man may as easily be above as 
below the reach of this corroding passion." Of the truth of 
this observation, the inimitable catalographer abovementioned 
is a certain proof; for however greatly we may admire, however 
warmly applaud his performances, we feel our admiration 
untainted by envy, and our applause is but the debt we pay for 
the entertainment and instruction we have received.

Slander, malevolent abuse, and detraction, are the infallible 
consequences of envy; but they are never uttered by the vulgar 
against superlative excellence. Who has slandered Homer? Who 
has maligned Milton? Who does not love the divine Virgil? And 
who that ever read the heroic, the sublime, the elegant 
Harris, but with a lively recollection of the universal 
beauties of this matchless triumvirate. If it should be 
objected to me, that I have chosen unapt and improper objects 
of comparison for my favourite author, in as much as they are 
poets of the most exalted reputation; I reply, that so is 
Harris. What is the first great efficient quality in poets? 
Fiction. Did not those I have mentioned abound and delight in 
it? Why, so does he as gloriously as they. And for the 
trifling deficiencies of rhyme and measure, they are surely 
considerations as much below the cavil of a liberal critic, as 
they were thought by him unnecessary to the composition of his 
poem; for so we may claim a right to call a work where the 
characters are, to an individual imaginary, and the whole of 
which is totally founded on fiction. Besides, the happy 
introduction of certain well-timed couplets through the course 
of his writings very sufficiently demonstrates the ability of 
the author for metrical composition; and must, I apprehend, 
obviate all objections on that ground.

The following pages must depend on diametrically opposite 
principles for their success; the simplicity of its prose, and 
the unadorned authenticity of its anecdotes. And as the 
flowery and diffusive language of Harris is well adapted to 
the embellishment of fiction, so does a plain and familiar 
style best suit the abilities of this author, and become the 
incontrovertible veracity of this narration.



Mrs A--ST--D.

Is the Daughter of a reputable tradesman at Greenwich; but 
having a soul not formed for the dull participation of 
Bourgeois Society, she was not long proof against the 
insinuating address, and well-concerted attacks of the 
agreeable Capt. M* * * * *, a choice which reflects infinite 
credit on her taste, and seems to have been a happy 
prognostication of her future improvement. She derives from 
Nature that animated countenance, which we often find more 
interesting, and which appears to be almost incompatible with 
a more strict regularity of features; and conscious that she 
does not require, she disdains to borrow assistance from Art. 
Her person is rather inclining to tall, in the most perfect 
symmetry, finely turned, and, like the plumage in the 
peacock's neck, seems to discover a new assemblage of beauties 
by every change of attitude.

We would say that she had made Lord Chesterfield her model for 
grace and easy elegance; but the eye of every tolerable 
connoisseur must quickly give the lie to the derogatory 
suspicion, and assert her indisputable claim to originality. 
We are at a loss whether to attribute the dissolution of the 
connection between this accomplished pair to a partial or a 
mutual inconstancy; or whether the irresistible figure and 
well-established superiority of the elegant F--z--k 
obliterated every former prepossession;---but we feel her 
pretensions to taste, and her early inclinations to the most 
exquisite refinements of the highest fashion, still more 
strongly confirmed by her second than by her first attachment. 
What rusticity is so stubborn, what vulgarity so 
insurmountable as the conversation and example of this modern 
Orlando must not overcome? but where there was so great a 
natural propensity to La mani�re fa�onner,<108> the rapidity 
of the charming infection must be wonderful.--She quickly 
caught it. Her late intimacy had the same effect on her mind, 
as the tepid bath has on the corporeal system--it relaxed and 
prepared its pores for the reception of this fascinating 
inoculation. To speak without a metaphor; from every interview 
with this belle Homme, she seemed to acquire new graces and a 
brighter polish.

Lords B----k, G. C-----h, and D----y, have each paid their 
devotions at this attractive shrine, and have each experienced 
the indulgence of the lovely priestess.

At the joint desire and expense of Lord B----k, and Mr F----k, 
she was provided with the best masters, and the facility with 
which she acquired her contrarieties of accomplishments has 
fully proved the judgment of her friends, and the ability of 
her instructors. She seems to have a strong similitude of 
character and situation to the incomparable Ninon in many 
flattering particulars: like her, she is the distinguished 
favourite of all the beaux esprits<109>: her house is their 
most agreeable rendezvous; and her petite soupes,<110> like 
Ninon's, are the delight of the witty and the fashionable, and 
the envy and detestation of the prudish and the vulgar.

One of Ninon's most admirable traits, was her happy knack of 
uniting the pleasures of sentimental attachment, and the 
transports of sense--and no consideration could induce her to 
a gratification of the latter sort, but when it was to be had 
conjunctively with the former. She was a complete epicure in 
ecstasy, and would have it without adulteration. From this 
extreme delicacy of palate, she established it as an 
invariable rule (which she most religiously adhered to), 
immediately to discontinue all amorous intimacy with him, for 
whom she felt any diminution of passion.

In this instance, we fear the resemblance will not hold; but 
perhaps in this instance, a disparity of circumstances has 
hitherto made a deviation unavoidable. Those of Ninon were 
always independent, and of this independence her exact economy 
insured her the continuance; for though her domestic 
arrangements were not only convenient, but elegant, she kept 
within the bounds of her private fortune; her coach, her 
servants, her house were chosen and furnished in the most 
perfect taste, but at an expense that neither exceeded nor 
embarrassed her income, the affluent estate of which she 
inherited from a liberal and indulgent father. So that through 
her whole routine of amorous intercourses she never had her 
pleasures interrupted or abated by the smallest attention to 
interest, or prospect of advantage; and hence was she enabled 
to revel in that unboundedly voluptuous happiness, from the 
enjoyment of which the generality of the sex are unfortunately 
precluded, and which we are apprehensive has not always been 
within the reach of Mrs A--st--d.

Her fortunes and independence are now at least equal to those 
of the adorable De l'Enclos; may the similitude of her amours 
be for the future more perfect: may she resemble Ninon as much 
in her wonderful longevity and unabating superiority, as she 
does in the multiplicity of her accomplishments and influence 
over the hearts of all her acquaintance.



Mrs B----DD----Y.

Is the daughter of the late Mr S--w, one of his Majefty's 
state trumpeters.

Her Father perceiving that she had a strong natural turn for 
music, apprenticed her, at a very early age, to Mr Michael 
Arne, to whose instructions she has since done such infinite 
public credit.

When she was but in her 15th year, Mr B--dd--y availed himself 
of her extreme youth, and an understanding which has ever been 
remarkably shallow, to prostitute her mind and person by a 
marriage, as heterogeneous as unnatural as that of Caliban and 
Miranda could be; or as angelic beauty and diabolical 
ugliness.

The utmost stretch of human imagination is inadequate to 
conceive anything more delicately lovely than the tout 
ensemble of this adorable girl; her figure--her features--her 
complexion--the unsullied purity and whiteness of her skin--
the inexpressible softness and feminality of her air--her 
voice and manner--formed all together an object on which the 
delighted eye was never satisfied with gazing. Such were the 
heavenly beauties of the charming Miss S--w; the wretched 
vestiges of which are scarcely to be traced in the present 
emaciated remains of Mrs B--dd--y. Judge, Reader, of the more 
than savage barbarity, the almost infernal cruelty of that 
monster, from whose merciless inhumanity such tenderness and 
beauty were no preservatives; scarcely did a day elapse 
without her lovely face or tender frame receiving some wound, 
mark, or contusion from the hand of the tyrant on whom she had 
bestowed herself. She bore this cursed severity for some time 
with the most submissive resignation; but he having one 
evening laid it on with a most unusual weight, and concluded 
with a promise of repetition in the morning; urged by her 
terrors and her yet aching sides, she secretly eloped, and 
concealed herself for a few days in a retirement where she was 
discovered; and from whence she was removed by the notorious 
Jew policy-broker, J-sh-- M--nd--z. With him she remained but 
a very short time. She had, previous to her elopement, been 
received on the stage with uncommon admiration; and that 
attractive softness and enchanting delicacy she had so 
conspicuously displayed there, soon furnished her with a large 
levee of admirers.

The first affair in which she says her heart was in any 
violent degree interested, was with the celebrated Charles 
Holland, at that time of Drury Lane Theatre. They lived a 
considerable time in the most uninterrupted and boundless 
happiness. By this intimacy, she considerably improved her 
theatrical talents, and acted a variety of characters with the 
greatest applause; but the part in which she seemed to shine 
with more than common brilliancy, was Fanny in the Clandestine 
Marriage; for the interesting tenderness, and pathetic 
softness that were so inimitably blended in her performance of 
it, received a glow, an animated effect, and a thousand 
natural beauties, from the reality of that tenderness which 
she felt for Mr Holland, who acted the part of Lovell, and 
with whom she availed herself of every opportunity of 
rehearsing in the dressing rooms.

Mrs B--dd--y's chief stage excellencies are, an easy and 
unembarrassed action, a fine style of Grecian face, of most 
astonishing power to express the passions of love and grief, 
and that both in singing and acting, the blends her tone, 
naturally of a most enchanting softness, in such a manner as 
no other English performer has ever been known to do. This 
charming perfection which chiefly characterizes the Italians, 
is falsely attributed to their language, but is really owing 
to the utterance of the voice.

Mrs B--dd--y was now to experience the severest trial love can 
undergo; first attachments are generally thought to be most 
violent, and now she was doomed to have the object of hers 
snatched away almost in an instant. Mr Holland was seized with 
a bad kind of the small-pox, which carried him off in a short 
time. She was for some days in a state of wild delirium, and 
continued a long time inconsolable; but tears, nor groans, nor 
sighs could now restore him; and she found that grief and 
solitude began to impair her beauties, and to "steal the rose 
from her cheek."

She therefore came once more into the world, and was received 
with that burst of joy and pleasure, with which men are much 
more violently affected by the recovery of a blessing, than on 
the first possession of it.

From this return to a partial public, may be dated the 
commencement of that �clat, with which she has for a 
continuance of fourteen years, figured as the Tha�s of London, 
and the idol of the amorous world. In that period she 
squandered more money than would have satisfied the most 
avaricious soul of the greediest minister, which she extracted 
with the most unabating covetousness from all ranks of men, of 
all nations and every hue; from princes, players, peers, pimps 
and parsons, and drained of its ready cash, the whole corps 
diplomatique; for the extreme liberality of her mind never 
permitted her to consider as an objecttion, either the age, 
profession, country, condition, or complexion of a gallant.

Among her innumerable lovers the famous Mr S--yr-- seemed to 
be most attached, by him therefore she submitted to be once 
more weaned from this life of general indulgence.

In consequence of this intimacy, she had a child, who is now 
alive. After Mr S--yr-- she became the mistress of Lord C--l--
r--n, and lived his uncontrolled favourite for some time; 
happy had it been for his Lordship indeed, that he had never 
seen her, for so strangely infatuated was he by this siren's 
charms, that he indulged her in every extravagance and 
gratification, even to madness, and almost to the total 
destrucstion of his whole estate.

From Lord C--l--r--n, she fell again into an unsettled state 
of varying prostitution. Mr B----n of Drury Lane, Mr L--h--m 
of ditto, a Mr T--thr--ngt--n, a gentleman of considerable 
landed property in Ireland, have each been the short-lived 
paramours of her insatiate concupiscence.

She is now in the third year of a connection with Mr W--bst--r 
of Drury Lane; a powerful example of the vast influence of 
beauty, even in its ruins, over the passions of men; nor is 
the a less astonishing instance of its effect on the public at 
large, for, with no other advantage than this, and a good 
style of singing, she has arisen to great theatrical eminence; 
which, wonderful to say, she still preserves, though she is 
scarcely half a degree removed from an idiot. Her eye-sight is 
decayed, her memory extinct, and her whole frame relaxed to a 
degree of almost infantine imbecility, by a dreadful and 
excessive indulgence in love, liquor, lust, and laudanum.



Mrs H--TT--N.

Is the daughter of a Mr A--br--se, a Portuguese Jew, and 
sister to the present actress of that name.

We remember her to have been what the world called handsome, 
and this opinion could not fail to gain some popularity from 
the assiduous endeavours of herself and her family, as no one 
saw any reason to be at the trouble of contradicting it.

She inherited from her father, and confirmed by a strict 
attention to the duties of the Synagogue, an unbounded 
inclination to the acquisition of money, and to a provision 
for the main chance; and she almost in her infancy discovered 
a surprising readiness at converting all those qualifications 
which she derived from Nature, or could attain by art, to the 
most extensive advantage that was possible to be made of them.

Her eyes were taught to languish, roll, and sparkle, and her 
teeth to improve their natural whiteness by every brush and 
tincture that even Patence could devise. Her bosom was 
instructed, long before its full formation, to heave and pant 
by rule and measure. It was the very thermometer of riches and 
precedence. On the approach of a private gentleman of small 
fortune, scarcely it seemed to be animated by the smallest 
vital principle; an esquire, and a better estate, gave it a 
gentle, even, unagitated motion; the increase of its size, and 
the frequency of its sinkings were easily perceptible when a 
baronet addressed her--but when she had attracted the notice 
of a lord, the reiteration of its throbs and tumultuous 
swellings were really astonishing.

This high opinion of herself was not confined only to her 
personal accomplishments; she was as fully persuaded that she 
possessed still more rare and valuable intellectual merits, 
and seemed convinced that a first essay was only necessary to 
give her consequence and importance  on the stage; on making 
this therefore she very soon determined; but the event 
unhappily proved she had somewhat overrated her qualifications 
for the profession, as her reception both from the managers at 
rehearsals, and from the public on her appearance, was not of 
that warm and genial kind which seemed likely to nourish and 
maturate them very suddenly. She was fortunately of a temper 
not easily depressed by trifling opposition; and her natural 
vanity leading her to mistake the silence of her audience for 
attention, and their lenity for approbation, she continued to 
study, and, candour must allow, to improve; though the 
improvement was but diminutive, and its progress extremely 
slow.

In about the second year of her performance, she made a 
conquest and a husband of a Mr K----fe, a gentleman of some 
fashion as an engraver: and from this momentous circumstance, 
which generally closes the memoirs of the ladies, did her life 
begin to promise a variety of adventure.

Soon after her marriage, her mother, sister, and she went over 
to Ireland by the invitation of the managers there, and both 
she and her sister were very tolerably received by a Dublin 
audience. For some time after her arrival, and indeed till she 
had acquired at least a mediocrity of fame on the theatre, she 
was not known by her husband's name; but as soon as she 
thought herself sufficiently established, she sent for him, 
and he joyfully accepted an invitation by which he was to 
avail himself of the profits of her profession and the 
privileges of a husband. She had soon cause to regret her 
inconsiderate kindness, for after he had fully satisfied 
himself with possession, he began to display a disposition of 
rather an untender cast; and would frequently carry the advice 
of St. Paul on the subject of chastisement to a somewhat 
unconscionable severity. When a woman is young, tolerably 
handsome, and in a public situation, she cannot long want as 
many protectors as she pleases. This is, in some degree, the 
case everywhere, but very particularly so in Ireland. The 
gallantry of M--j--r B--rch was at that time pretty well 
established; he offered his services, and they were not 
refused. Her sister, about the same time, held in her chains 
the lieutenant-colonel of the same regiment; they agreed to 
make a party quarrel of it, and took a house, in which they 
might have lived comfortably enough, but for some disagreeable 
animosities which originated from rather a whimsical piece of 
etiquette. Miss E. A--br--se, the younger sister, was inclined 
to think that she derived a superior consequence, and a 
precedence at table, &c. from the higher rank of the colonel 
her lover. Mrs K----fe contended for the pre-eminence of 
birthright. The lovers felt an uncomfortable awkwardness at 
this diurnal squabble, which was generally maintained with 
much obstinacy and bitterness, and might in the end have been 
attended with a separation at least, if not more serious 
consequences, when one of the gallants thought of sending for 
Mrs A--br--se, and placing her in the seat of contention. This 
happy expedient effectually quieted the fair disputants, and 
established harmony and peace in their little community.

Mrs K----fe did not, on the formation of this connexion, quit 
her stage engagements or emoluments; for she well knew, that 
the preservation of even the appearance of independence is the 
surest hold of human affections; and that so long as she could 
make it appear, that she had a competency of her own, the 
attachment of her friend, and his liberality of course would 
certainly be secure. She continued this intimacy (in a 
tranquillity for which she seems much more calculated than for 
rapture) about five years, and then with her family returned 
to England; where she again appeared on the stage under the 
name of Egerton. In one of those characters of Congreve, where 
the high-coloured descriptions of certain situations are 
sufficient to inflame the most phlegmatic constitutions, she 
captivated the heart of her present inamorato Mr H--tt--n; he 
did not find her very difficult of access, nor long deaf to 
his solicitations. She quitted the stage, and a public who did 
not feel her merit as (she thought) it deserved, for the arms 
of a generous and passionate lover; and if we may judge of 
happiness by appearance, neither of them regrets the 
commencement, nor is inclined to break off the continuation of 
their correspondence, (for she immediately took the name of 
her friend). She is now we suppose not younger than 43 or 44; 
her person is somewhat larger than it was fifteen years ago; 
but in other respects she is less altered, and as the phrase 
runs, "wears better" than is to be imagined. Her eyes, teeth, 
and hair are remarkably fine; her conversation is both 
entertaining and well bred, and her language easy and fluent. 
She must be allowed upon the whole to be an object rather of 
desire as a mistress; and in a very superior style as an 
agreeable companion.



Mrs F--RR--R.

Is the daughter of Mr G----y, formerly of Bishopsgate Street, 
but late of York-Buildings; a gentleman of unexceptionable 
private character, and of some eminence in, his profession as 
a surgeon.

As this lady has not manifested, even in her more perfect 
maturity; any of that secrecy and caution which are the soul 
of intrigue, we cannot suspect that she possessed those 
qualities in her earlier youth; and as no circumstances of 
that sort have transpired� we take it for granted, that she 
was not concerned in any illicit amour, previous to her 
marriage, and that the brought an untainted person, at least, 
to the Hymeneal bed.

In the year 1767, the lively, the. volatile J. F--rr--r, 
became acquainted and enamoured with her. She was then in all 
the bloom of eighteen, and had a face as beautiful as can be 
imagined; her figure could never be called a fine one, but it 
certainly well deserved the epithet pretty; it was at that 
time utterly unencumbered with all that enormous mountain of 
fat, which it has since so unhappily collected; she had 
besides, that air of artless simplicity and apparent 
innocence, by which the wise and the grave are not 
unfrequently deceived, and which never fail to rivet the 
chains of the gay and inconsiderate. Mr F--rr--r was too much 
a man of this latter turn, to hesitate long making a serious 
proposal, which was no sooner made, than accepted, and very 
soon after concluded. He has always been above the meanness of 
pecuniary considerations, and his marriage is a sufficient 
proof how cheaply he held all advantages of that sort, when 
put in competition with love and beauty.

They lived about three years in that round of gaiety and 
dissipation, to which he has ever been inclined, and which 
acquired from its novelty a double relish for her.

About the year 1770, she commenced an acquaintance, and soon 
after a criminal intimacy with Mr R--h--n of the G--rds, which 
continued some months undiscovered. There are many 
circumstances concur to make the conduct of this gentleman 
extremely indefensible; for with the most hypocritical deceit, 
he wormed himself into the confidence and good opinion of Mr 
F--rr--r, for whom he pretended the most zealous friendship 
and disinterested regard, at the very time he was plotting a 
connection with his wife; and even after he had carried his 
point, he so artfully imposed on his unsuspecting benevolence, 
that he absolutely persuaded him to lend him money to purchase 
his L--n--cy. Mr F--rr--r did not long remain in ignorance of 
his wife's infidelity and his friend's turpitude.

The unbounded generosity of F--rr--r would have never allowed 
him to think of hinting at the debt of R--h--n, so long as he 
thought he had acted honourably by him; but no sooner was he 
convinced of his complicated perfidy and baseness, than he 
sued him for the money; and the narrow and contracted date of 
his finances precluding all possibility of payment, he was 
arrested and confined for twenty months in the Fleet prison.
During Mr R--h--n's confinement, which we cannot help 
declaring we think was a punishment very inferior to his 
deserts, Mrs F--rr--r continued to frequent all public places, 
and endeavoured to compensate the loss of her cicisbeo by a 
double portion of revelry and dissipation. At the funeral of 
the Princess D. of Wales, she met for the first time Mr C--fts 
of B--g--ns; a contiguity of situation gave him opportunity to 
be useful and attentive, he did not miss them, and had the 
address, before their separation, to persuade her to give him 
another meeting. This acquaintance, like the former, was soon 
wrought up to the most intimate familiarity; for her beauty 
could not fail to excite a lover's desires, and her natural 
constitution strongly inclined her to gratify them.

Her imprudence in a short time opened the way to suspicion, 
and determined Mr F--rr--r to remove her from the scene of her 
infamy, and from the presence of her lover. He set out with 
the fair debauchee for the Continent, fully determined to 
place her in a convent for the remainder of her life. On the 
road, she played off the whole artillery of sighs and tears; 
talked of contrition and repentance, vowed total amendment and 
thorough reformation; and before they reached Paris, had 
effectually weaned him from his purpose of the convent. Mr F--
rr--r was at that time high sheriff for County of S--l--p, and 
was obliged to attend in England, on the business of his 
office; he however made a most liberal provision for her, no 
less than 400l. per annum, on condition that she should remain 
abroad. She readily seemed to acquiesce, and set out for Rouen 
in Normandy, on a plan of retirement and reformation. Before 
she had been there two months, she wrote word of her situation 
to Mr C--fts, and invited him over, he obeyed the amorous 
summons, and after a very few days stay at Rouen, they set out 
together for England, and never parted till they came to 
Shooter's Hill. On Mrs F--rr--r's arrival in London, she 
immediately went to her husband's house in Queen Anne Street, 
but was very properly refused admittance.

Her behaviour from this time has been an almost regular climax 
in infamy and every species of vice. She found that her first 
paramour R--h--n was still in prison, and with all the 
impatience of a Statira flew to seek him. She renewed her 
criminal connection, and visited him openly, in the shameless 
defiance of all the laws of common decency: nor did she, on 
this revival of her intimacy with R--h--n, give up the 
acquaintance of C--fts, but continued to occupy them both, 
till the departure of the latter for the East Indies.

After this period, the number of her faux pas increased with 
such surprising rapidity, such quick succession, that it would 
be the business of volumes to mention a quarter of them. F--l-
-n, H--r--v--y, H----ll, W--ls--n, F--tzg--r--ld, and a 
hundred others, assisted by their contributions in the 
maintenance of her mother, sister, and herself; and by their 
constitutions to the gratification of that more than 
Messalinian furor, which seemed to have taken so violent a 
hold of her. To the inexpressible violence of this 
ungovernable passion, she must infallibly have fallen a 
wretched martyr, if it had not happily been counteracted in a 
great degree by another, indeed the only one which could have 
made any stand against it, namely, a continual and incessant 
craving desire for money. A propensity to avarice, and a wish 
to acquire gold by whatever means, whether of prostitution of 
her person, or the more shameful and inexcusable meanness of 
whining and entreaties, with all the servile cant of the most 
miserable mendicant. And as in the moments of enjoyment, a 
liberal and generous soul feels its happiness exalted to 
almost superhuman rapture, by a sincere and passionate 
preference for the participating object; so are her joys then 
wound up to perfect ecstacy, when the mere sensual vigour of 
her paramour is sure to be exceeded by the magnitude of the 
subsequent reward. Extreme avarice is hardly to be found but 
in those who have many other enormous vices, it steels the 
heart against every possible virtuous impression, and deadens 
it to every generous sensation: Mrs F--rr--r has most of those 
vices that are the probable consequences of this one, and some 
that have been supposed incompatible with it. She is expensive 
in dress, and extravagant in the indulgence of her palate; 
violently addicted, to wine and strong liquors, which she 
drinks often to excess, and not infrequently to intoxication.

On her husband's refusing her admittance into his house, tshe 
seemed to acquiesce and submit to the justice of his 
resentment; but this affected humility was but the cloak of a 
Machiavellian scheme which was concerted between herself, 
mother, and sister. And this so far succeeded that they 
absolutely got into the house, and took an almost forcible 
possession of it in his absence; from which they were, but 
with the greatest difficulty, ejected, though not till after 
they had stood a pretty severe siege, and been allowed some 
terms of capitulation.

An effectual separation has ever since taken place, though no 
steps have been attempted on his side towards a regular 
divorce. From this time she set out on her career of 
prostitution, with the perseverance of a post-horse, and on 
pretty nearly the same terms. Those two appetites we have 
before mentioned were ever craving, ever devouring all that 
offered; and only seemed to grow more voracious by feeding. 
After about a year's public reception of every man who could 
administer to those desires, and whom she could allure into 
expense and attention by giving her connection the air of 
intrigue, finding her acquaintance began to abate both in 
number and in generality, she set out again for the Continent, 
and entered herself a lodger at a convent at Ardes, about 
twelve miles from Calais. The multiplicity of her offences, 
and the matchless infamy of her whole conduct, had not been 
sufficient to induce the generous F--rr--r to withold the very 
liberal allowance he had formerly agreed to give her; and on 
this she might have lived a life of not only ease, but 
elegance, if her desires had not been so licentiously 
unbounded. But so far from keeping within its easy limits, we 
find her, after two years residence, obliged to abscond, and 
leave her sister behind, as a pledge for the debts she had 
contracted.
Since her last return to England, nothing can be imagined more 
uniformly depraved and abandoned than every part of her 
character. The lowest connections, the most lascivious 
practices, the most drunken excesses, have levelled her to an 
equality, if not sunk her to an inferiority, with the unhappy 
peripatetics of the Strand. Her mother, sister, and herself 
are now lodged in Chapel Street, Grosvenor Place, at the sole 
expense, and totally dependent on the bounty of miniature C--
sw--y, of Berkley Street; but no obligation however great, no 
relief however important, can affect with the smallest touch 
of gratitude, a heart so long and so shamefully hackneyed in 
the ways of vicious prostitution, and scandalous debauchery. 
For though she owes to him a person which he has preserved 
from starving, if it still has the power to communicate any 
pleasures, he has less of them than any other man who is mad 
or dupe enough to solicit their enjoyment.



Miss G----Y.

Is the sister of Mrs F--rr--r, and has been almost continually 
with her since her 15th year, the time of her quitting school, 
in the year 1771.

Her person is short and inelegant, her face utterly 
uninteresting, and without the smallest pretensions to beauty. 
She has besides a drawling manner and an awkward gait, which, 
added to a slattern style of dress, make her an object of, at 
most, indifference, and must for ever shut the doors against 
all approaches of either a tender or a libidinous nature. If 
we were inclined to moralize on the ill effects of bad example 
and debauched society, this unfortunate young lady affords us 
but too ample a field; for without charms to attract, address 
to engage, or accomplishments to win one lover, nay, even 
without any violent impulses of constitutional passion, such 
is the consequence of being being accustomed to look on vice 
familiarly, that she has almost, in despite of nature, fallen 
into a state of prostitution nearly as bad, though not quite 
so general, as her wretched sister; to whose numerous 
debaucheries she was so early a witness, and in the management 
of whole intrigues she was, almost in her infancy, employed.

In the year 1775, she attended Mrs F--rr--r to Ardes, in the 
double capacity of confidante of her amours, and foil to her 
person; and was of so much service in both characters, that 
Mrs F--rr--r (after a residence of about two years in that 
town, spent in every species of obscene extravagance and 
unbounded prodigality) as a reward for her services, having 
privately packed up her every moveable, and secretly decamped 
for England, left her the only ostensible security for all her 
debts, to the merciless rapacity of importunate creditors, and 
all the horrors of a tedious, if not perpetual imprisonment.

Miss G----y had for some time previous to this, carried on an 
amorous correspondence with a young Bourgeois, and had lately 
discarded him for an officer in the Duc de Lauzan's regiment, 
and continued her intimacy with him for a year after her 
sister's affectionate departure. Though we cannot imagine her 
to have been the object of this young warrior's love, still 
she was in some sort necessary to his amusement; and he could 
not see her distress and embarrassments, without a desire to 
relieve them: what could he do? he had never seen, much less 
could command so serious a sum as 200l.: he however, either by 
accident or design, mentioned her situation to his colonel, 
and he instantly, with that splendid munificence and 
generosity which has ever emblazoned his character, not only 
satisfied every demand, but insisted on her acceptance of a 
supply sufficient for all her necessities whilt she should 
wait to hear from her sister, or should prefer returning to 
England. Perhaps the only instance of her prudence, she has 
ever given, was in determining immediately on the latter; for 
after a year had elapsed, during which Mrs F--rr--r had 
neither remitted her one farthing, nor even written her a 
line, the probability of her assisting her was surely but a 
very slender one.

She very soon availed herself of the Duke's bounty, and set 
out for England with somewhat less infamy than her sister had 
done; whom she however immediately rejoined on her arrival. 
Since her return she has had but two amorous connections that 
we know of, the first at Exeter, with a Mr W--tl--y, and one 
since in town, which we hear hear still continues, with the 
Rev. Mr G--rd--n--r. She is now resident in the house with her 
mother and sister, in Chapel Street Grosvenor Place; where her 
acquisitions in the way of her unhappy profession, make but a 
pitiful addition to the income the family receive from their 
friend Mr C--fw--y.



Mrs M--H--N.

Is the daughter of ---- T--lf--n, Esq. and the Right 
Honourable Lady K--r--y, whom he married after the death of 
Lord K--r--y.

That Mrs M--h--n comes within that description of character 
which we feel ourselves privileged to investigate, is a 
circumstance that we never reflect on but with a degree of 
melancholy and sorrow; and a misfortune, which if we could 
admit the belief of predestination, we should record as one of 
its strongest instances.

Nature has distinguished Mrs M--h--n by many partial 
advantages. Her person, though it be on a very small scale, is 
in the most exact proportion; even the most envious part of 
her own sex, allow her face to be lovely; and her 
understanding is most valued by that part of the other sex, 
who are best qualified to judge. In the decoration of the 
first, her elegant taste and fancy are too generally admired 
to be flattered by the trifling addition of our approbation. 
The second is so infinitely independent of all art, that, 
except on the mere score of fashion, she never thinks of 
calling in its assistance; and on the last, it is very evident 
that much early attention as well as subsequent cultivation 
have been bestowed.

Eyes of all tints, formation, and expressions have been so 
long and frequently bepraised and berhymed by lovers and 
sonneteers, that the subject is exhausted of its novelty: We 
therefore request our readers to accept, instead of poetical 
creation, plain description, instead of fiction, truth. Mrs M-
-h--n's eyes are of a dark hazel colour, unparalleled 
brilliancy, sweetness and animation: the sparkling fire of the 
jetty black, and the melting softness of the languishing blue, 
are, by uniting, mutually corrected into almost magical 
perfection:--the pupil is remarkably round and full, and the 
ground or white, of most astonishing clearness; if these 
qualities constitute beauty, hers are surely beautiful: if any 
doubt that they are so, let them gaze and be convinced.

Mrs M--h--n has ever had a heart naturally susceptible of the 
tenderest impressions, fatal susceptibility! much abused 
tenderness!

By the time she had attained her 14th year (the very crisis of 
impression and flexibility), an Irish adventurer, one M--h--n, 
was recommended to Lady K--r--y as a person qualified to teach 
her daughter to sing, and play on the guitar. The utmost 
exertion of this ignorant thrummer's penetration barely 
enabled him to discover this extreme pliancy of disposition in 
his pupil we before hinted at, which every other creature must 
have perceived at first sight; and his matchless impudence 
soon determined him to try, whether he could not convert it to 
his own advantage; whilst his extreme cunning, and 
indefatigable perseverance were wonderfully calculated to 
ensure his success.

It requires but a very slender stock of abilities (or it must 
have remained in the dark for him) to find out that money is 
useful to those who are poor, or to discover that he was 
himself in that unpleasant predicament. Now, though some weak, 
silly, mortals would have hesitated at acquiring this useful 
commodity by fraud, dissimulation, perfidy, and chicane, yet 
had he a soul happily superior to such unsubstantial scruples.

Mr T--ls--n had been some time dead, and the young lady's 
fortune was known to be about five thousand pounds, which, 
though it was greatly inferior to either her birth, beauty, or 
education, was nevertheless a sum as infinitely above his most 
sanguine hopes to soar to, as his abilities to acquire, but as 
he did by stealth.

The machinations and stratagems which he employed, the slow, 
but sure, gradations by which he advanced, and at last 
succeeded, would be prolixity to relate; suffice it to say, he 
accomplished his scheme of elopement, and established by a 
marriage with a giddy unthinking girl of 15, a claim to her 
fortune when she should be of age to receive it.

It is scarcely necessary to observe, that this precipitate 
step immediately roused her mother's most violent resentments, 
and shut her out from the notice of her relations and the 
society of their acquaintance. But there were still much worse 
consequences attendant on it, she was subjected to the 
conversation and company of his low and vulgar associates, 
sunk to the name, and, in their opinion, to the level of his 
family.

After four years cohabitation with this undeserving and 
ungrateful reprobate, the brutality of his treatment, and 
shameless open infidelities grew too shocking to be borne; and 
the accordingly, in a fit of desperation, accepted the 
addresses and protection of Capt. T--rn--r, a gentleman of a 
handsome fortune, good education, and a mind capable of 
feeling the value of such a mistress, and treating her with 
that respect and attention she deserved. We will not pretend 
to say she has had no other connection of a tender nature; but 
if the most unprovoked ill usage, the most unmerited barbarity 
can justify or extenuate her indiscretions, these she may with 
truth offer in excuse.

Her intimacy with Capt. T--rn--r, continued till an unhappy 
derangement of his affairs, made it necessary for him to leave 
England. His absence was much longer than he himself at first 
apprehended it would be, and as he could not easily make her 
situation even comfortably convenient; she has, with a degree 
of prudence highly commendable, accepted the generous and 
liberal offers of friendship made her by a gentleman, whose 
name we cannot with any certainty learn.

From that natural goodness of heart she so eminently 
possesses, as well as from the happiness she must feel at a 
restoration to domestic independence and comfort, from which 
she was so early stolen, we hope, nay, indeed we, are 
persuaded, that no temptation can ever induce her to commence 
a new connection, or to renew any former one, so as to give 
occasion even for envy to call her gratitude in question, or 
risk the friendship and protection of her present patron.

�

KIT FR--D--K.

If we may allow ourselves to give credit to her own account, 
is indebted for her birth, and her last fourteen years 
maintenance, to the active endeavours of an honest and 
painstaking mechanic, who, after a laborious and diligent 
attention to the two important duties of his station, a 
regular performance of the conjugal ceremonies, and a daily 
inspection of his day--book and ledger, had the satisfaction, 
after a lapse of more than three lustra, to discover, that he 
had considerably increased his family, and irrecoverably 
ruined his circumstances.

The person of Kit Fr--d--k is tall and naturally graceful. Her 
manner noble, commanding, and unconstrained. She is neither so 
encumbered with flesh as to be thought clumsy, nor so 
unfurnished with it as to deserve the epithet thin; but is 
happily blessed with that critically exact medium, which the 
voluptuary Horace so continually recommends; and that 
perfection of rotundity which the chisel of a Phidias, or the 
pencil of a Titian would be almost incompetent to express.

An openness of disposition, and an honesty of heart are 
visibly manifested in her countenance, and generosity and 
disinterestedness in every part of her conduct. To dwell upon 
the numberless beauties of her face and figure (however it 
might indulge us, or please our readers), is surely 
unnecessary; they are far above the reach of our praise. And 
though she is yet but in her meridian lustre, she has moved in 
too exalted a sphere, and shone forth with too bright a glory  
not to have been, even from her first setting out, the object 
of universal admiration. 

By one of those forrtunate accidents, which, but for their 
frequency, we should be apt to call miracles, she was thrown 
in the way of the ever-memorable C. Hayes; her discerning eye 
readily discovered, through all the disadvantages of the 
uncombed mane, and shagged tail of this wincing filly, the 
points of a racer. Charlotte had been too long a dealer to let 
a staring coat or bad condition conceal blood, bone, or shape 
from her. She bought her for a song; led her home, and clapped 
her into a single-stall stable immediately soon threw her into 
a course of physic; had her well rubbed down; dressed her 
fetlocks, plaited her mane, trimmed her ears, buckled her on a 
suit of body-clothes; put her on a running martingale, and 
made her carry her tail Newmarket fashion; in short she had 
her on the turf in less than six weeks as fine as a ribbon. 
Kit soon paid for her keep and training; for as she was a 
bottomed thing, and mistress of any weight, she won all the 
give and takes she started for, besides many bye-matches, and 
soon became a favourite. Charlotte's head groom was a knowing 
hand, and a fellow she could depend upon, he was perfectly 
skilled in the whole art of hedging; and by being in the 
secret, and going snacks with his mistress, they soon 
contrived to make a handsome sum of their filly.

After Charlotte parted with her, she passed through a vast 
variety of hands, and was, it is said, much hacked, even for 
very small plates.  At last his Grace of Q----y paid a large 
sum for her when she was in low condition, violently 
surfeited, and beaten in the feet; and being a pretty good 
farrier, he soon brought her round with good keep and gentle 
exercise.

She continued about four years in the Duke's stud, and was by 
him ridden many private matches: his Grace is reported to have 
been a good horseman, but his arms are not so strong, and his 
knees being somewhat weak, he has not so stiff and steady a 
seat as formerly; however, he says he depends on Kit's deep 
rate and honest bottom to bring him through; and as he never 
matches her for more than single heats, she is obliged to make 
the play from the post; she generally keeps him in a good 
place, though he is apt to ride with a slack rein.

Kit is not now the Duke's property, nor stands at his stables, 
she belongs to a Capt. R--b--d, who rides her hack on the road 
between town and quarters, he keeps her in tolerable 
condition, and she looks as if he put good meat in her belly. 
However his Grace likes her manner of galloping, and sometimes 
takes the liberty to ride her her sweats. Sir J----n L----e is 
reported to have lately bribed her stable boy to let him have 
her for a private heat; but whether he was determined to have 
a stolen trial between her and his own brown filly, or that 
she ran away with him off the course, certain it is, that 
neither of them were heard of for three days, and the poor boy 
had nearly lost his place. The fourth evening after her having 
been missed, she was found pawing at the stable door, without 
having a hair turned, not at all abused, nor did she seem to 
have been much or hard riddcn. The following advertisement was 
to have appeared in the Morning Post next day, but was 
prevented by her return.

Stolen or strayed, a dark bay mare, aged ----, full 
fifteen hands high; shows some blood, and has a great a 
great deal of bone; well shouldered, broad chested, and 
remarkably deep in the girthing, full quartered, and 
round behind; carries both ends well, but particularly 
her tail, which is uncommonly thick and bushy. Whoever 
will bring her without blemish, surfeit, or eye-sore, to 
Mrs W----n's repository, Berkeley Street, Piccadilly, 
shall be handsomely rewarded and all expenses paid.



BET C----XE.

Gives so many inconsistent and contradictory accounts of her 
birth and parentage that it is difficult to form any probable 
conjecture either of what origin she is, or wishes to he 
thought. One day she confidentially tells you "that (but let 
it go no further) she is the daughter of poor but honest and 
industrious parents, who imprudently gave her too good an 
edication for their circumstances." But how any circumstances 
can be too low for her education is not easy to conceive. That 
they did indeed endeavour to instruct her in the rudiments of 
reading and writing, we do partly believe, as she is much 
addicted to making attempts at both, but these are so very 
feeble that her charge against her parents appears to be both 
ill-grounded and malicious. Sometimes when Champagne has 
exalted her notions, and inspired her with a passion for 
hereditary fame, the asserts that the derives an honourable, 
though illegitimate, existence from Lord ---- S--nd--s; and in 
her merry moments of greater elevation, frequently quotes this 
brilliant observation of her sister companions, "That Bet 
looks so much like a gentlewoman, she certainly must have good 
blood in her veins."

We could enumerate twenty other accounts which the gives of 
herself; but let these two, so whimsically contradictory, 
serve as a sufficient proof, how strangely tenacious she must 
be of her veracity.

It is not unnatural to suppose, that her very early years were 
spent in the most profound obscurity; for after the most 
diligent search, and strictest inquiry, we find it impossible 
to trace her farther back than about the year 1764, when she 
was discovered by Capt. F----x, pitifully lodged in a little 
back room, on a ground floor, in Windmill Street. Her 
miserable situation was such a one as too many of her sex are 
continually obnoxious to. She was then not more than in her 
16th year; had but just recovered from a dangerous lying-in; 
left by the man who had lately cohabited with her in the most 
abject poverty and confirmed disease. The old beldam, from 
whom she hired her little room, for ever clamorous for money, 
and for ever terrifying her with denunciations of vengeance 
and ejection, if it was not produced; the wretched unfortunate 
was compelled to ramble in search of an adventitious supply 
from a painful and promiscuous prostitution.

In this horrid course of life she lived some time; but no 
constitution could have long supported it In this lamentable 
situation was she found by Capt. F----x, who, by way of 
promising her some assistance, mentioned her unhappy case to 
Lord L----, at that time Mr L----.

Capt. F----x spoke so highly of her extreme youth, and 
uncommon beauty, that his Lordship was determined to see her. 
Urged by that unaccountable caprice which, has ever marked his 
character he instantly removed her to his own house, where he 
kept her a fortnight; but little advantaged by the change, the 
object of his cruelty and sport all day, and of his lascivious 
impotency by night. Capt. F----x, whose fortunes were not by 
any means affluent, and who had some expectations from the 
friendship of his Lordship, was withheld by these 
considerations, from offering any very effectual remonstrance; 
but he frequently ventured at oblique hints, and sometimes 
even entreaties, that he would desist from his inhumanity, and 
do something to relieve this unhappy girl.

Nothing could be farther from his intentions than to serve or 
assist any one whose agonies afforded him such constant 
entertainment; he was therefore utterly unmoved by the tears 
of the unfortunate victim, and laughed at the admonitions of 
the unpersuasive Captain. At length, tired out with such a 
dull repetition of unvarying cruelties, and in hopes of 
changing the scene, he took her one evening to Charlotte 
Hayes's, under whose care and tuition he left her, having 
first privately extorted a promise on oath from the terrified 
girl, that she should, on all future occasions, give him a 
preference to every other connection, however agreeable or 
advantageous it might be. To this promise, however, she did 
not long pay any rigid attention; the logic of her chaperone, 
assisted by her own inclinations, quickly quieted all her 
scruples on that head.

Charlotte's first care was to employ some of the most eminent 
of the faculty, and endeavour to re-establish the health of 
her lodger, whose beauty was even then wonderful, and from the 
improvement of which she already anticipated infinite 
emolument.

Her confinement was neither tedious nor severe, and it was 
attended with more good consequences than were at first 
apprehended; it afforded opportunity for much other extreme 
vulgarity, rust, and awkwardness to wear off; and by a 
conversation with Charlotte, her language was weeded of many 
of her provincial accents and most offensive barbarisms.
By the time  she had her doctor's certificate of perfect 
convalesence, she appeared to have undergone an almost new 
creation. No age or clime has perhaps ever produced a more 
perfect model of voluptuous beauty than Mrs Hayes presented to 
her chosen friends, in the person of this delicious girl, when 
health and exercise had given glow and animation to the most 
bewitching face and figure in the world. The charming Betsy 
Green, for so she was called at that time, was the toast of 
every club, and the object of universal adoration. Ambassadors 
from all nations produced their credentials before her, and 
after the proper ceremonials were complied with, were in turn 
admitted; nay, even princes have graced her levee, and been 
tributary to her charms.

After three years indulgence in every pleasure and amusement 
that London could afford, whilst she was yet in the zenith of 
her glory, and in the broadest blaze of beauty, she quitted 
the public situation of general attainability, and yielded to 
the solicitations of the enamoured Col. C----xe, to share his 
bed, and preside at his table.

The extravagance however unbounded, the profligacy however 
vile, of a woman while she continues at a public seraglio, are 
circumstances of approbation, compared with her infamous 
ingratitude, who makes such returns to the preference and 
bounty of the generous friend who has lifted her from hackney 
prostitution, to share his fortunes, his society, and all the 
enviable advantages of private consequence and domestic 
elegance.

No man ever indulged a mistress so fondly as Col. C----xe did; 
no woman ever abused indulgence so grossly. If he had occasion 
to be absent from town ever so short a time, no sooner was his 
back turned, than she assembled all her most abandoned 
companions of either sex, converted his house into a temple of 
debauchery, where from midnight to noon day, the orgies of 
Bacchus and the rites of Priapus were celebrated with a more 
than frantic alternation. The choicest wines and viands were 
continually squandered by this licentious voluptuary, on the 
base associates of her shameful profligacy, the most sumptuous 
apartments and magnificent furniture, were repeatedly 
contaminated by their drunken revelry and gluttonous excesses.

Her beauty had enslaved a man naturally easy and generous, he 
bore her continuance in this course of prodigality for near 
four years, but could submit it no longer.

She received dismission without any other reluctance, but such 
as she felt for the deprivation of the means to continue her 
debaucheries. Her mind was ever unsusceptible of either 
affection, gratitude, or any other of the gentler passions; 
her infamous ill-treatment of her friend and benefactor, 
therefore, never gave her a moment's uneasiness: and she 
continues to this day to speak of it as a matter of infinite 
triumph.

She did not return to C. Hayes after her discharge from the 
Colonel, but took lodgings in Curzon Street, May-Fair, where 
she did not confine herself to any number or rank of visitors; 
in the latter of which particulars she was much better off 
than she could have expected; she was even so fortunate as to 
effect two other detached connexions, the one with the well-
known fashionable F---- L--n--; and after him with L---- G----
y, now E---- of A--f--d. After those, she fell back into those 
occasional embarrassments and penury, which are the general 
consequences of indiscriminate intimacies.

About twelve months had elapsed in which she had not been 
patronized by any particular friend, when she was, by a 
preconcerted plan of two of her female friends, Sal H--df--n, 
and Mother B----ks, introduced to her present keeper, the 
Honourable H. N--v--ll, then under age, and a student of 
Oxford.

The various schemes that were practised on Mr N--v--ll, to 
attach him to this long-hacked, and almost worn out Xantippe, 
are equally numerous and wonderful; but what may not cunning 
and falsehood perform, by the management of two prostitutes, 
and an experienced harridan, opposed to youth, inexperience, 
and College levity. Bet was not yet below the regard of 
passion, and of that Mr N--v--ll had enough, he solicited one 
favour, and was granted as many as he could take; in every 
rencounter she pretended an increase of love, and by 
perseverance in dissimulation, affected a kind of conquest. 
She pleaded affection and distress, and was heard by 
generosity and benevolence, through the medium of an 
inclination naturally amorous; he repeated his cohabitation, 
and at last determined on a monopoly of the object. It is now 
five years since he has protected and maintained her; at first 
with a boyish prodigality; latterly, with a more commendable 
prudence.

If any one action of hers had ever come to our knowledge, that 
was not tinged with infamy, vice, and meanness, we would 
gladly communicate it, though it were but for its singularity: 
if she ever should reform, we would celebrate and publish that 
reformation. But we must confess we despair: there are certain 
marks of such deep perdition, such irretrievable 
contamination, that nothing but a long seclusion, and a 
neglected old age can ever erase. While she has a tongue, she 
will abuse, calumniate, lie, and beyond all credibility 
blaspheme. While she has her present heart, she will ever be 
deceitful, mean and hypocritical: for punch the would quit the 
company and conversation of a Carlisle; and for a hop the 
would gladly go to the Devil.
The figure of Bet C----xe is even now a fine one, tall, finely 
formed, and, if it had not been so severely abused, would be 
still voluptuous; but however her shape and height may strike 
the eye at a little distance, a nearer approach will not fail 
to undeceive it; and will but too plainly discover the 
irreparable ravages of early prostitution, and continued 
irregularities, and though she affects a tenacious regard for 
public approbation, and has sometimes an appearance of decent 
placidity; let but a waiter at Ranelagh delay providing her 
tea, or a link-boy her coach; and to the stage of Moorfields 
she will add the language of Billingsgate, and not improbably 
the discipline of Hockley.



Mrs B--NW--LL.

Is a lady of Wapping "birth, parentage and education;" a truth 
which, if it needed illustration, is sufficiently evinced by 
the general tenor of her "life, character, and behaviour."

The first grand object of all parents' attention should 
certainly be to set their children forward into the world with 
what the vulgar call "their best foot foremost:" for on their 
first introduction will most probably depend their future 
success or failure in life. That a child is under any 
obligation to its parents for the mere adventitious 
circumstance of its existence, would be both ignorance to 
imagine, and folly to assert. The claim of gratitude and 
filial duty is therefore only to be established by the 
subsequent care, attention, and kindness we receive; and in 
proportion to the generosity of a parent in these particulars, 
should the obligation, be considered, and the gratitude of the 
child excited. On this principle, what length of life, what 
assiduity of endeavour, what exertion of her every human 
faculty (and she possesses some in great perfection) can ever 
liquidate the debt Mrs B--nw--ll owes to the liberality of her 
parents; when she considers the line and situation in which 
their tenderness has placed her, the vast and innumerable 
advantages which daily accrue from the wisdom of their 
introduction to, and the powerful patronage of, the wonderful 
Mrs Weston.

That cold, uninteresting sang-froid with which we so 
frequently see pretended patrons undertake the advancement of 
their dependants makes no part of the character of Mrs Weston. 
She received Mrs B--nw--ll with that warmth of affection, that 
impassioned zeal which takes from dependence all its 
apprehensions, and gives animation and confidence to 
friendship. She entered with a noble alacrity into all the 
interests of her lovely friend; examined with a scrutinizing 
eye her most secret concerns; gave her the most judicious 
instructions concerning their future management, and 
infallible rules for converting them to the best advantage. 
She made her acquainted with all her best and most particular 
friends; had the happiness of establishing her on an easy and 
familiar footing with many persons of considerable fashion and 
interest; and easily persuaded her confidently to trust her 
most private affairs in their hands; for so implicit was her 
reliance on this amiable patroness, that she ever most 
minutely adhered to the very letter of her advice.

The good effects of this prudent conduct were soon evinced by 
her having a lucrative sinecure place conferred on her, by the 
old and debilitated, but no less amorous and indulgent, Lord 
L--D----n. Though the nature of this engagement seemed to 
require a residence at the chambers allotted for the 
attendant, yet did her attachment to Mrs Weston set aside all 
such trivial objections; and though Berkeley Street was no 
longer her nominal home, still were its doors ever most 
hospitably open, and her visits so long and so frequent, that 
the hotel which his Lordship had provided for her seemed 
rather a circumstance of show, than either use or convenience.

In one of those visits she first became acquainted with Lord 
M--l--w--th, whose person and accomplishments, though they be 
but little likely to attract the regards of the fair; yet 
certainly must appear to infinite advantage when compared with 
those of the antiquated peer, we have before mentioned; though 
nothing brilliant or particularly insinuating mark his 
character, yet he had youth and good humour on his side; and 
as she had some passion, and no violent rage for the 
refinements of good breeding, the preference does not 
absolutely seem a matter of any very great astonishment. The 
consequence of this reciprocal partiality need not to be told; 
the parties continually met and indulged in every sensual 
pleasure: Lord M. grew enamoured; Mrs B--nw--ll was pleased: 
they never parted but with regret, and never met but with 
delight. His Lordship proposed, and the Lady agreed, that she 
should quit her sexagenary admirer, and give him a less 
doubtful claim. They anticipated the transports of 
uninterrupted enjoyment, and had almost settled a plan of 
happiness which they were but too soon doomed to relinquish as 
impracticable. Some busy sycophant conveyed intelligence of 
their scheme to the still passionately fond and faithful Lord 
L--D----n, who, however time may have impaired his personal 
prowess, possesses a soul in which the most punctilious 
gallantry, and exemplary fortitude still continue to shine 
with the purest unsullied lustre. To have his mistress, the 
object of his adoration, the decoration of his character, the 
conquest of his declining age, snatched from him in this 
public manner, was such an alarm to his pride, such a 
derogation from his consequence, as he could not patiently 
endure. He therefore buckled on his faithful sword, ordered 
his carriage to drive to Berkeley Street, and was so fortunate 
as to find the objects of his love and resentment. He quickly 
introduced the subject of his errand, and in the course of a 
t�te-�-t�te with his rival peer, offered such weighty 
remonstrances, and effectual arguments, that his Lordship of 
M---- resigned his pretensions, and the victorious L---- 
returned in triumph with the lady in his chariot.

The recovery of his mistress was certainly glorious. But 
richly as he deserved the prize, he could not long preserve 
it; in a short time she eloped, and returned to Lord M----, 
put herself entirely on his love and generosity for 
protection. He received her with transport, and took her home 
to his house, from whence Lord L---- did not think her worth 
the trouble of bringing: they had now no more alarms of 
interruption, and their intimacy continued with tolerable 
comfort for about two years; during which time his Lordship, 
who has a strong musical turn, took infinite pains both by his 
own instructions, and employing good masters, to give her some 
taste for the science, and endeavour to make her in some sort 
a performer; but so unhappily incapacitated did he find her, 
that her proficiency, after two years labour, had got no 
farther than the accomplishing Foote's minuet, with one 
finger, on the harpsichord. His Lordship was certainly 
extremely attentive, and anxious to instruct and improve Mrs 
B----, but he had an invincible opponent in nature, from whom 
she inherited but a very slender portion of docility. But 
though she had no great turn for the polite arts, she improved 
to admiration in worldly wisdom by her conversation with Mrs 
Weston, from whom she learned many prudent and serviceable 
maxims; such as, that beauty is but skin deep; make hay while 
the sun shines; a bird in the hand, &c.

The enjoyment of the present moment, and the idea of catching 
pleasure on the wing, were held as weak and silly notions, 
only to be found in giggling, romantic, lovesick, foolish 
girls. A settlement was now become the grand object of all her 
hopes, and every stratagem, every manoeuvre that was likely to 
forward or accomplish this effect, was not only held 
allowable, but highly meritorious. His Lordship however, 
though he reckoned not so many years by near two score as her 
former inamorato, was certainly not quite so young; he was 
utterly proof against all her arguments, sighs, tears, and 
upbraidings, and when she even threatened to leave him to 
despair or death, he still remained perfectly insensible and 
absolutely saw her execute this cruel purpose with the most 
mortifying and steady tranquillity. The ever hospitable 
mansion of her faithful Weston now once more received her. In 
this retirement she continued some days in moping melancholy, 
inaccessible to all male visitors, and leading the miserable 
life of a wretched recluse. Her tender and affectionate 
hostess could not, unmoved, behold the agonies of her friend, 
she spoke comfort to her affliction, and warmly participated 
in her sorrows. By her consolatory advice, and kind attentions 
the violence of the fair mourner's grief in a few days began 
to subside; and she was prevailed on to submit to an interview 
with her inexorable ingrate, which terminated in her 
acceptance of a house and equipage together, with a proper 
quantity of the needful, to appear in the world on a totally 
independent footing. His Lordship now commenced an intimacy on 
a new plan; he visited the lady at her own house in Edward 
Street, without any pretensions to authority, or any right to 
preclude such visitors of either sex as she chose to receive; 
but still remained obstinately deaf to all solicitations on 
the article of settlement.

After having lived about two months in a round of dissipation 
and independence, she made a conquest of the late Hon. T. St--
nl--y, whose proposals the accepted immediately on their being 
made. He forthwith entered on possession, in which he 
continued till his embarkation for the West Indies: though 
during its whole continuance, L---- M---- had almost daily 
opportunities to meet, and be happy with the lady. When Mr S. 
failed, L---- M---- once more became the ostensible 
proprietor, and the fair Mrs B--nw--ll was again reinstated in 
her consequence and residence at Grafton Street, where she 
remained for about six months; and at length, after a thousand 
quarrels and reconcilements, flew off, and put herself again 
under the patronage and roof of Mrs Weston, where she still 
continues with every probability of being a permanent lodger.

Nature has undoubtedly been liberally profuse of her most 
admirable external gifts to Mrs B--nw--ll, which we are sorry 
to find are but the beautiful covering of a most horrible and 
deformed mind. The most dreadful propensity to shocking 
imprecations, the most insurmountable habit of abuse and 
scurrility too clearly prove the infallibility of the old 
proverb, "what's bred in the bone," &c. to leave a doubt 
remaining, that the owes her existence and her morals to 
Wapping.



Mrs M--CK--Y.

Is wife to Mr M--ck--y, of the C--y, and the sister of the 
celebrated Mr S--tt--n, whose trial for the deposing of L---- 
P--g--t has of late made so much noise.

As in a former part of our work, we have expressed our sorrow 
and regret, at finding the lovely and accomplished Mrs M--h--
n, among the the number of those we thought ourselves at 
liberty to animadvert upon; so on this occasion do we feel 
ourselves no less affected with wonder and astonishment, 
whenever we consider that the sallow skin, the withered chops, 
the wrinkled forehead, and the flabby neck of this antiquated 
beldam have not been insurmountable obstacles to her providing 
herself with paramours so as to entitle her to a place in our 
illustrious catalogue; but

---- quid non mortalia pectora cogis 
Auri sacra fames?<111>

Figure to yourself; good Reader, a skinny, awkward matron, 
with all the preposterous affectation of girlish coquetry, the 
hoary reverence of whose tresses, and the furrowed ruts of 
whose front would seem to afford a melancholy memento of 
approaching dissolution; did she not, with an attention which 
would do honour to a better cause, and an expense at which an 
hospital might he liberally endowed, so belard and conceal the 
former with grease and powder, that its colour nor scarcity 
can possibly be discovered; and so becram the latter with 
white lead and putty, that the sad idea of decayed humanity 
never can occur, for the ill-made cement gives the face the 
appearance but of a plastered wall; repaired indeed at a cost 
which it could only have deserved from its astonishing 
similitude to the libidinous Conculix in Voltaire's inimitable 
Pucelle D'Orleans.

Her bigotry, however, to the cause of Priapus, has wonderfully 
surmounted all these impediments; and enabled her to 
accomplish a connection, with the late L---- P--g--t; the 
person to whose friendship her husband owed his first 
advancements. His Lordship, it is true, had some small excuse 
to offer in extenuation of his crime (which some have thought 
amounted almost to bestiality), namely, that it was 
perpetrated among the hottentots, where the difference between 
Mrs M--ck--y and the natives, was considerably less than a 
European is apt to imagine.

Whilst she was in this country, she gave evident signs of a 
far advanced pregnancy; and her extreme anxiety for her health 
determined her to wait till she should lay in: but whether it 
was that the climate had operated on the constitution of the 
embryo, or that the sable hue of the attendant slaves had 
taken an unhappy hold of her imagination; or, what is not much 
less probable, that she had descended to a criminal intimacy 
with one of the black inhabitants, certain it is that the 
young hottentot's complexion was of the true negro tint, and 
seemed to disclaim all pretensions to a European father. It 
was however carefully provided with everything, and baptized 
by the expressive but uncommon name of Ink-bottle.

On this amiable creature's return to England, her husband 
nevertheless made a most ample and generous provision for her; 
so little was he inclined to resent the prodigality with which 
she squandered those favours, which some would say should have 
been reserved for him alone.

Mr M--ck--y's affairs requiring his presence a second time, in 
the E--st I----s; he did not think it absolutely necessary to 
encumber himself with his lady: he accordingly left her behind 
him with a fixed income of 1500l. per annum, and a very large 
credit on his banker. This noble allowance soon brought to her 
net a Capt. F---- (now Sir---- F----) on whom she had for some 
time gloated with the eyes of lust; with him the indulged in 
all the delicate excesses of brothels, taverns, and bagnios, 
and revelled in all the joys his person could afford, so long 
as she had money to pay his price for them. But finding that 
he grew quite unreasonable in his demands, and that she could 
have the prime parts of human flesh of very superior grain and 
flavour, at a much cheaper rate, the refused to come into his 
terms; and as he would make no abatement, she deprived him of 
her custom.

She soon after became desperately enamoured of the broad 
shoulders and sinewy limbs of Mr P---- of D---- L---- theatre; 
to whom she immediately dispatched a most passionate billet of 
invitation to her house; his obedience to which, and to the 
consequent duties, he found rewarded at his departure with 
tender squeeze, and a bank note of 50l. This latter 
circumstance pleased, but did not much surprise him: P---- was 
much too handsome a fellow not to know the value of his 
person; and as he conceived that women should pay in 
proportion to their means, their desires, and deformity, he 
readily determined on having a most exorbitant premium for his 
labours. This connection lasted without any material 
disagreement as long as the allowance of 15001. But on the 
reduction of that to 500 (which by the way she still has) the 
attention of Mr P. began visibly to abate, and those 
civilities which he had so lately paid with a charming 
frequency, were now scarce ever offered. This mortifying 
coolness, she could not but feel with the most poignant 
distress, and she quickly determined to resent it. Availing 
herself, therefore, of Mr P.'s married situation, and a 
conviction that he would not openly plead his personal 
services, she arrested him for a sum which she pretended to 
have lent him, but which was literally given as a reward. To 
this capture, however, he submitted, but would not to a 
renovation of the intimacy. Mrs M--ck--y, therefore, finding 
she was never the nearer to her purpose, consented to a 
compromise, and agreed to take the value of this iniquitous 
debt in orders for the theatre.

This manoeuvre of the arrest she had before practised on Capt. 
F----; but he not being under any such unlucky predicament as 
Mr P---- had very properly stood trial with the lady, whom he 
non-suited, on the principle of having given at least the 
value of the debt in personal exertions, to which he could 
only have been induced by either a stipulated or implied 
reward.

Buffon, and most other naturalists, divide all animals into 
three distinct orders, the carnivorous, the graminivorous, and 
the granivorous; and their mode of determination is from the 
structure of the teeth. Among which of these classes they 
would place Mrs M--ck--y, we are utterly at a loss to imagine, 
as the is the only animal we have ever either seen or heard 
of, whose upper and lower rows of teeth were placed 
rectangularly; the former of which is in a position directly 
horizontal, and the latter as perfectly perpendicular: they 
are besides of a most enormous magnitude, and a whimsical 
diversity of tint, no two of the many with which her extensive 
mouth is fortified, having the smallest similitude in that 
particular.



Lady GR--S--N--R.

Is the daughter of ---- V--rn--n Esq; of Ch--sh--re, sister to 
Miss V--rn--n, the present Maid of Honour; and married Lord G-
--- 19th July, 1764. The affair with his R----l H----ss the D-
-ke of C---- is so recent, and of course, so fresh in the 
memory of everybody, that it would be needless to recapitulate 
the particulars here. The conclusions however that may be 
drawn from thence are rather of an unfavourable nature to the 
Right Honourable Lady in question.

Few of our readers, we suspect, are unacquainted with the 
person and address of the R----l lover, or can be ignorant 
that they are but ill calculated to make any very violent 
impression on the heart of any female who is blessed with a 
scruple of discernment. The intellectual accomplishments of 
his Highness are very sufficiently proved in that witty 
collection of epistles which afforded such infinite 
entertainment to the gentlemen of the long robe on the trial. 
The encouragement, therefore, which she gave to his addresses, 
or rather the advances which she first made him, could only 
have their source in pride, folly, and depravity of heart, 
which would lead her to prefer the public loss of character 
and reputation, by an intrigue with a person she could not 
possibly love, merely from the weak, paltry, vanity of being 
spoken of with one of the blood R----l.

Surely if a breach of the matrimonial vow is capable of any 
extenuation, it must be from the impulse of a violent 
affection for the party, and the ill treatment of the consort; 
neither of which excuses the Lady in question can be supposed 
to offer.

The fondness of her husband was visible to every one; and was 
indeed so extremely violent, that it was generally imagined he 
would have submitted to a reunion, even after her criminality 
had been so amply proved upon the trial: this however her 
subsequent conduct and open violation of all decency has 
effectually prevented. His Lordship therefore made every 
effort to obtain a divorce; but in this he was unhappily 
disappointed: the Lady retorted upon him a charge of 
recrimination, with proofs, of which she was so amply 
provided, that his Lordship was obliged to relinquish all 
hopes of accomplishing his freedom; and is now obnoxious to 
the continual mortification of seeing his title and coronet, 
his liveries and emblazonments abused in the aggrandizement of 
a woman, who is denied admission among any of her own sex 
above the line of prostitution; and who, whatever she might 
have been, is now scarcely worth the trouble of acquisition.

The striking features in L----y G----'s character are, a most 
insatiable passion for singularity, and a violent rage for 
play. To the unreasonable indulgence of the former, poor M--t-
-g-- fell an early martyr; and to the latter, the purses of 
many unthinking dupes have furnished very large contributions.

Sir G---- P---- T----r was for three years the ostensible 
friend of this Lady, but has broke off the connection some 
time; she has from him a settlement of 600l. per annum, with 
which she endeavours to console herself for the absence of the 
Baronet. Her present favourite is a Capt. P--t--r, with whom 
she has been down at quarters at Deal, and whose fortune she 
has nobly contrived to dissipate and destroy, notwithstanding 
the affluence of her own independent income.

The person of Lady Gr--s--n--r has been rather a fine one; but 
it is considerably impaired by abuses and debaucheries. Her 
face, which never was very handsome, is now much less so than 
formerly, as a constant application of corrosive paints and 
cosmetics have so contracted and excoriated the skin, that 
unless it be newly enamelled, it is impossible to look at it 
without nausea and disgust.



Mrs B----NE.

Is the daughter of Sir Robert H--sk--th, and married in 1771, 
the Rev. Mr B--ne, of C--rsh--lt--n, in Surrey, at that time 
in about the 22nd year of her age.

Her first affair of gallantry was in the year 1774, with 
Colonel E--g--ton; immediately on the discovery of which, a 
separation from her husband took place. He however allowed her 
a very genteel income, to which she not choosing to be 
confined, he found himself daily subject to innumerable 
demands on her account. On this occasion, he inserted an 
advertisement in the public papers, cautioning all tradesmen, 
&c. against giving her any further credit on his account.

He very soon after went over to Italy where he still lives 
with a native of that country of most surprising beauty, by 
whom he has several children.

Mrs B--ne's intimacies have never been of a duration 
sufficiently long to give us reason to suspect that she is 
capable of either feeling or creating anything like a sincere 
attachment. It is true she has had gallants in number 
sufficient to prove she is not utterly destitute of charms; 
but they have scarcely been enlisted and properly attested, 
before they have almost to a man deserted: and though we 
readily allow she has some merit in raising recruits, it is 
plain from their desertion that her duty is severe, her 
service disagreeable or her climate unhealthy.

The person of Mrs B----ne is rather tall; and might 
undoubtedly have some claims to the praise of elegance, if she 
had paid some small attention to the graces. But there is such 
a listless lounge in her manner, such an awkward, inanimated 
helplessness in her every action, such a simpletonic simper 
accompanies her every word, together with such a contrasted 
alternation of stupid indifference and precipitate impatience, 
that were she in possession of all that perfection of beauty 
which an artist could wish for in an academical model, we 
apprehend the would be but little likely to inspire her 
beholders with either love, affections or any other of the 
warmer sensations.

Mrs B----ne has all the disagreeable circumstances that are 
the probable consequences of a very shallow understanding; and 
a mind inclined to extract importance to itself, from the 
adventitious origin of a titled father, while yet she derives 
no advantage from the boasted descent. She is imperious over 
her servants, contemptuous to her inferiors, overbearing with 
her equals, and insolent to her superiors. And, to the most 
insufferable vanity of her own person and beauty, she adds the 
most unextinguishable hatred for every woman who is handsomer, 
or in possession of more admirers than herself.

This lady might live in some degree of comfort independent of 
her profession, if her avarice could allow her to do so, as 
she is in possession of not less than 300 pounds a year which 
she receives from the joint contributions of her husband and 
her father: with this she however seems by no means satisfied; 
the therefore finds it her advantage to indulge with 
occasional liberties a pretty numerous list of temporary 
lovers, from whose subscriptions she makes no trifling yearly 
addition to her income. But the gallant who has for some time 
contributed most liberally, as well to her expenses in 
general, as to her housekeeping in particular, is the Right 
Honourable Lord C----, whose visits at No. 11, Suffolk Street, 
are both much longer, and more frequent than those of any 
other of her male acquaintance.



Miss AM--R--SE.

Is the younger sister of Mrs H--tt--n, of whom we have made 
former mention; she too received the same style of education, 
and, like her sister, early chose a theatrical profession. But 
though Mrs H--tt--n's qualifications in that line were neither 
very numerous, nor brilliant, she has both in number and 
brilliancy very conspicuously the advantage of the Lady now in 
question.

Miss Am--r--se is of a good height, perfectly free from 
everything like deformity; and her frequent exhibitions in 
breeches, must have convinced most of my readers that her 
figure is what is generally called well-made. Yet still, 
though there are no positive faults, there are no attractive 
beauties. Her legs, it is true, are straight, and the ankle is 
small and free from clumsiness and fat; but yet they want that 
voluptuous roundness, that nameless and undescribable 
something; that power to excite a thousand strange emotions, 
which attack and thrill through the soul at sight of the 
lovely limbs of the angelic Mrs R--b--ns--n. Her face, if it 
ever had any pretensions to beauty, has certainly none at 
present: her nose is preposterously large; and the extreme 
darkness of her complexion joined to a very strongly marked 
set of features must ever militate against everything even 
tending to the expression of either tenderness or feminality.

Miss Am--r--se is said to have been a pupil of Mr Macklin's, a 
performer whose consequence in the theatrical world is well 
known: but whether it be owing to the incapacity of the 
scholar, or the instructor, certain it is, that the cause of 
Thalia is but little obliged, to either in the present 
instance.

Abstracted from her profession, her merits are chiefly of a 
negative kind--She is not vulgar, nor unentertaining in 
conversation. She is not utterly ignorant of the French, 
Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Dutch, and English languages; 
nor utterly unprovided with a brogue. She is not unconnected 
with men of some fashion and consequence; nor unacquainted 
with several women who are both agreeable and handsome. She 
has nothing very objectionable as a platonic companion, and in 
an hour of sauntering listless don't-know-what-to-doishness is 
as likely to amuse as a woman of more refined sense, or 
greater beauty. She is not unfurnished with anecdotes of many 
remarkable characters, nor is she averse to communicate them. 
She has no particular detestation for a little scandal. She is 
not utterly destitute of invention, or the art of retailing 
truth.

Her personal intimacies we are apt to imagine have, of late 
years, been somewhat circumscribed; not that we mean to 
insinuate that the has any insurmountable objection to all 
such encounters; but somehow or other a strange taste seems at 
present to prevail amongst the male part of the creation, 
which manifests itself in an unaccountable preference of 
youth, beauty, and other short-lived tinsel charms, to the 
more lasting and noble endowments of the mind; to the wisdom 
which is only to be found, in an advanced maturity, and to the 
conversation of those who may treat of the subject of actual 
enjoyment without any danger of arousing inordinate desires, 
and whose antiprovocative persons and unagitated passions, are 
a perfect security against all indelicate or fornicative 
consequences.

THE END.



BOOK II 
Individual Memoirs



Sally Salisbury by Charles Walker(1723)
From Nightwalkers: Prostitute Narratives from the Eighteenth 
Century, edited by Laura J. Rosenthal. Broadview Press, 2008
Editor's Note: Sally, in a fit of rage, stabbed one of her 
clients. He survived, and Sally was sentenced to a year's 
imprisonment. She died in Newgate before her sentence was 
finished, but after this memoir was published. See "Sally 
Salisbury" in The Newgate Calendar 
https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng415.htm



Title Page

AUTHENTIC 
MEMOIRS
OF THE  
LIFE 
INTRIGUES and ADVENTURES 
Of the CELEBRATED
SALLY SALISBURY.

WITH
True CHARACTERS of her most 
Considerable GALLANTS.

======================== 
By Capt. CHARLES WALKER. 
========================
Don't wonder Others are not with Her shown, 
She, who no Equal has, must be alone. 
----Ld. ROCHESTER
========================
London: Printed in the Year M.DCC.XX.III 
(Price 2s. 6d.)



Frontispiece: Portrait of Sally Salisbury.
 



The Epistle Dedicatory to Mrs Sally Salisbury

Madam,

Never was poet so much tortured about the choice of a patron, 
as I have been for a proper advocate of the following memoirs. 
For though in the female class of life, I could have fastened 
upon numbers, which bear some resemblance to you, in your 
general behaviour, and actions; and though many of our own 
sex, would have gloried in the patronage of these amorous 
adventures: yet in so vast a collection, I could not find one 
equal to the singularity of your character.

A beau of the first, or second rank, would have made but 
insipid patrons; a coquet would have proved a mischievous one; 
a jilt a negligent one; a kept mistress, a weak one; or a 
common runner of the town, a ridiculous one.

I had once determined to fix the terrible name of some man of 
war in the front of your history, a perfect hero, that should 
like another Quixote defend your reputation, right, or wrong; 
but upon second thoughts, I concluded the task too hazardous 
for any Besus (the general, who assassinated Darius, King of 
Persia) of this age; that he soon would have been obliged to 
carry his arm in a scarf, and your honour left to shift for 
itself; and so I dismissed that project.

Then I was hot upon begging the protection of some powerful 
man in your interest, famed for wit and love, but I foresaw 
what envy it would create to the person, placed, in a manner, 
at the head of your affections by such a dedication: besides, 
I was fearful of giving you a very sensible disgust, in making 
you seem the propriety of one man, when you know yourself 
ordained for the comfort and refreshment of multitudes.

At last, for the avoiding offence, and gaining a strong party, 
I had almost resolved to inscribe the following sheets to all 
your admirers, that is to most of the loving subjects of Great 
Britain. But then I considered what endless quarrels might 
rise amongst so many competitors, about the foolish punctilio 
of who was dearest to you, and who had possessed you oftenest, 
so that I soon went off from these intentions.

From this insufficiency in the men, to protect so great a 
merit, I cast my eyes toward the female world, to find one 
there; but I perceived myself running into equal improprieties 
on that side also.

Had I dedicated them to some leading belle of a modern 
assembl�e, with what indignation would she have beheld her 
name prefixed to the life of such a proclaimed wanton, whilst 
she keeps up an unsuspected gallantry with thousands.

Had I inscribed these memoirs to a prude, what a tacit 
reflection would it have been upon her stolen joys with her 
coachman; and how strangely would such a compliment have 
disordered her stoical face, and precise behaviour.

I had once a pretty penitent in my eye, who has passed through 
many delightful stages of life, whose wit could have justified 
most of the gay excesses of your story; but I hear, she is 
employing all those fine talents in polishing that little 
stock of reputation, which is left her, and so, less capable 
of giving a gloss to yours: so that, you see, I was under an 
invincible necessity of making you the patroness of your own 
fine actions: and to be plain, who is there in all the fair 
circle of female practitioners that has spirit enough to 
defend each article of your conversation? What woman besides 
yourself has the wit to extenuate the most criminal parts, or 
art to add a lustre to the beautiful extravagancies of your 
life.

No, madam, you are the sole person, best able to protect 
yourself. Thus naked and defenceless how lovely do you appear? 
How great in this state of independency?

But though it is not easy to find a proper patron amongst the 
men, yet for your satisfaction I must tell you, the whole 
species is at your devotion, and the seeming disdain of your 
own sex, proceeds not so much from an unwillingness to 
patronize your actions, as an incapacity of copying so bright 
an example.

There is a certain propriety in your character, which is not 
communicable to any woman in your way, and even the nearest 
intimation would become preposterous in another hand. Your 
polite deviations from virtue, and graceful wantonness, are 
what alarm your whole sex, and from despairing to imitate, 
they fall to railing.

Having such superior advantages, think not that I will run any 
mean parallels between you and the modern ladies of your 
profession, or that I will honour them even with a dash.

No, your sphere of elevation is much higher, and you move with 
an elegance peculiar to yourself.

I am half distracted when I hear a dissolute creature, formed 
only for falling backwards, and such insipid dalliancies, as 
matrimony affords, compare those barren pleasures, to the 
piquancy, and heightenings which you give to that supreme joy 
of sense: or a termagant born only for noise and clamour, 
justify herself by those gay rhapsodies, and inspired rants, 
with which you engage your lovers.

As you stand without a rival in Great Britain amongst the 
professors of love's mysteries, so it is difficult to match 
you amongst the ancients. The Grecian ladies of pleasure were 
delicious in their way; they had fine particularities; but 
were not so universally attractive as you are.

Phryne of Beotia was a celebrated toast in her day, she had a 
pouting lip, and a melting eye which gained her more admirers, 
than the fiercer beauties of her time: she was most remarkable 
for the elasticity of her parts, and a certain spring in her 
motion, which endangered the rider: but somewhat mercenary in 
the abatement of her other amiable qualities.

Lamia of Athens, though engaging beyond measure, at first 
sight, yet was high seasoned with the jilt; she had a peculiar 
knack of firing the imagination with an openness of behaviour; 
would show her pretty foot, and well-turned leg, and then drop 
the curtain on a sudden, and retire, to the unspeakable 
torment of her lover; a fault, your enemies could never 
reproach you with, since you are generally so compassionate as 
to go through the whole exercise.

La�s of Corinth was a lady of high mettle, generous and 
entertaining; though her demands ran high, when a wealthy 
magistrate was to make a love-purchase; yet, to her honour be 
it recorded, she never let a younger brother pine to death for 
want of a favour; but what gives some alloy to her character, 
is, that she was much commoner, than ever you permitted 
yourself to be. But,

Tha�s is the girl, which comes up nearest to your standard; 
she had something strong in her diversions, loved to associate 
chiefly with rakes, and affected masculine pleasures: she 
would make a party at a drinking match, and loved a midnight 
revel as her soul. And how often have you quitted the fine 
gentleman, and the colonel to drink half a dozen bottles of 
burgundy with an illustrious debauchee; with an eye perhaps to 
the example of Ariadne, who quitted her lover Theseus, for the 
tumultuous conversation of Bacchus.

Amongst the Roman ladies of your calling, to pass over the 
Celias, the Manilias, the Julias, and thousands more of that 
stamp, famed for little else than strong gustos of pleasure. I 
cannot find even the kept-mistresses of the Roman wits, reach 
up near to your perfection.

The Lycoris of Gallus was an luscious bed-fellow, but then, 
she used by way of provocative, to read the wanton verses of 
her paramour in the day time; without which helps, you, madam, 
are toujours pr�t.<112>)

Corinna the mistress of Ovid, loved a game at romps in her 
clothes, and was so insatiable in her play, that there was no 
holding out the game with her: this mistake you judiciously 
avoid, by permitting your lover to rise with an appetite.

The beloved Lelage of Horace appears to me in no more 
agreeable light, than that of a pretty, laughing, talkative, 
hoyden. And, 

The Lesbia of Catullus was everlastingly slobbering, and 
sucking his lips. But,in all this fine group of obliging 
ladies, none, singly, could ever furnish out that variety of 
delight which is to be met with in your person: in you the 
happy man enjoys the different graces of all climates. In you 
are collected the scattered beauties of your whole sex. In 
short, you are the pineapple of Great Britain, which includes 
the several flavours of all the delicious fruits in the world.

Those hypocrites who pretend to disesteem you upon the account 
of your profession, neither consider the antiquity of it; the 
usefulness of your labours to the public; or the honours 
conferred upon your loving sisterhood by the greatest, and 
wisest law-givers, princes, and states in all ages. For the 
antiquity; from,

Venus parent of gods and men, 
Began the sportive dance.

For the usefulness of it--it will be readily granted. The 
ladies of your universal character are of wondrous service to 
those who cannot comply with the insolence, clamour, 
insatiableness, laziness, extravagance, or virtuous nastiness 
of a wife.

It must be allowed, that such gay volunteers as your ladyship, 
give a young fellow an handsome prospect of the town, lead him 
through all the enchanting mazes, and even surfeit him with 
delight; so that by the time he is come out of your hands, he 
is grown very tame, and prepared for the dull solemnity of 
marriage. It cannot be likewise denied, but that recreations 
of that delicacy are much more excusable, than the smallest 
excesses of any other kind.

That this familiar intercourse keeps mankind in the proper 
channel of nature.

That more distempers are prevented by your kind alliances, 
than gained; and critical fevers of the blood mitigated, if 
not cured, by your seasonable interposition.

From such a kind medicine as you are always capable of 
dispensing; that pious father St. Austin, whom the church with 
so much justice reveres, found great relief in his 
necessities: he had a pair of clever wenches for his share: by 
one he had a love child, whom he called Adeodatus, that is, 
the gift of god: she teased him and followed him, till she 
grew vexatious, and the holy father then threw her off with a 
good deal of gallantry: the other he used to recreate himself 
with, after he had been solemnly contracted to his intended 
spouse who was in her nonage, and kept her till his wife was 
ripe for consummation.

But that ladies of your characteristic are of more important 
service to the church, and the public, then most of the 
liberal arts, is evident from experience.

At Rome every pleasurable female pays a Julio per week to the 
church; a curate, whose income amounts to no more than thirty 
crowns per annum, having an assignment out of the fees of 
three courtesans in the public stews, picks up a comfortable 
subsistence, and to distinguish such pious church-women, as 
your ladyship, Pope Sixtus erected a noble brothel-house, with 
partitions, for the more commodious reception of strangers.

Neither have they been less serviceable to their country then 
to the church, as appears by the great succours they have 
afforded to the Commonwealth of Venice out of their bodily 
industry.

Here I cannot omit the great genius of one, and the extensive 
charity of the other.

Rhodope, at her own expense, and out of the modest fees of her 
private office built one of the stateliest pyramids of Egypt. 
And Flora generously left the Roman people her heirs.

Their duty to parents likewise must not be passed over in 
silence. The Babylonian virgins used to grant favours for the 
support of their aged fathers.

Neither must the industry of the Cyprian girls want a due 
encomium: for they publicly prostituted themselves to every 
stranger, to make a fortune equal to their ambition before 
they settled in matrimony.

But here we must not forget the honours, even the sacred 
honours, conferred on your profession by antiquity. The 
Corinthian dames, being the most elegant mistresses of Greece, 
had it always in charge, from the state, to intercede with 
Venus in any case of importance; and when Xerxes invaded the 
Peloponesus, they had the privilege of compiling a public form 
of prayer for the safety of their country. Solon, the Athenian 
law-giver being sensible of the strength of their party, built 
a temple to Venus out of the amorous perquisites of your 
tribe, which was devoutly copied here, in that worthy 
collection made for a chapel of ease in Russell Court, Covent 
Garden, out of the pious gains of the theatre.

Thus madam you see, you have the whole current of antiquity on 
your side, and assure yourself, the party will be ever as 
victorious in Great Britain, though we are too phlegmatic to 
pay those solemn honours to your confederacy, as the ancients.

But what the laws of our country forbids us to act in public, 
you are satisfied we make more than a recompense for in 
private.

What Catholic has ever offered up more ecstasies at the shrine 
of his tutelar saint, than has been paid to the simple braid 
of your shoe, a discoloured top knot, or perhaps two spans of 
unravelled gartering.

Yet amidst the good offices, you are continually doing to 
mankind, I must entreat you not to indulge the vanity of 
thinking yourself exempt from the invidious whispers of a 
thoughtless multitude: no, there are a set of gossips of both 
sexes, who are endeavouring to fix a blemish on your bright 
character, insinuating that the most blooming part of your 
life was spent amongst the royal japanners; which at present, 
for your comfort is no despicable corporation; whilst others 
equally detracting, fail not to lessen the dignity of your 
education, in that famous College of Sherard Street, under the 
celebrated Mrs N--d--am. But your good sense is always present 
with you, to pity their ignorance, and place such popular 
mistakes to a narrowness of genius: for what seminary is 
there, even at Chelsea or Hackney, which can boast of half 
those improvements, in five years, as that school wherein you 
have been educated, can furnish out in three months? There, 
the young practitioners are led into a promiscuous 
conversation from the day of their admittance. There, is soon 
learned an easy and graceful behaviour, and a presence of 
mind, which never leaves them in an extremity. In that academy 
there can no danger accrue to the fair nymphs, from broken 
vows, and neglected charms: there, the lover has nothing in 
view, but a run of joy without teasing, fears, or cautions; 
and for the satisfaction of all jealous parents, there has not 
been a fortune stole out of this pious nursery since its first 
erection.

Times and customs alter; but had your Lady Abbess been so 
fortunate as to have lived in that elegant period of time, 
when Greece carried away the prize of wit, and prowess, from 
all the world, both she, and you would have been the immediate 
care of the public.

The famous Aspasia, was much of Mrs N--d--am's complexion, and 
virtue, and so tender was Athens of the safety, and commodious 
subsistence of that lady and her virtuous nursery, that 
Pericles the famous general, began the Peloponesian war in 
revenge of the injuries offered to her, and the young ladies 
of pleasure under her care, by the people of Megara.

These honours paid to your profession by antiquity, cannot 
fail of giving you an high opinion of their good sense, and 
likewise an opportunity of bewailing the strange degeneracy of 
the men of the present age, who concern themselves no further 
in your cause, then you are contributing to their pleasures: 
but I presume you will still persevere in this virtuous 
course, in hopes of seeing some amendment in the times.

But now madam to take my leave of you fairly, I think you will 
have this peculiar advantage over the rest of your sex by 
seeing the worst of your actions published in your lifetime, 
that you may amend them in the next impression, or if it be 
not too much trouble, amend yourself: they are most of them 
venial, and I assure you I would sooner embark on your bottom, 
than that of many presumptive hypocrites.

If I have failed in one point of chronology, and detracted so 
much from the vivacity of your spirit, as not to bring you a 
practical familiarity with mankind soon enough for a lady of 
your capacity: believe me madam, I'll endeavour to correct 
that fault, and place you with Quartilla, who scarce 
remembered when she was confirmed by man,
I am, 
Madam, 
Your most obliged admirer, 
Charles Walker. 
March 8th, 1722-3



Foreword

The late accident, which gives birth to the ensuing pages, is 
an unhappy instance of what Mr Addison has so judiciously 
observed, that women talk, and move, and smile with a design 
upon us: that though their thoughts are ever turned upon 
appearing amiable, yet every feature of their faces and every 
part of their dress is filled with snares and allurements. 
There would be no such animals as prudes or coquets in the 
world, were there not such an animal as man. (Vid. SPECTATOR, 
no. 433.)

As therefore we are indebted to ourselves and to ourselves 
only, for that extravagance of power which they on all 
occasions take the liberty to exert over us, we cannot, upon 
the strictest examination, blame the insolent arrogance of the 
haughty woman, when we consider the mean submissions of the 
obsequious yielding man.

The mischievous animal now before us, pleads passion as an 
excuse for, and extenuation of, the action she has committed. 
It is a very common expression, that such a one is very good 
natured, but very passionate. The expression, indeed, is very 
good-natured, to allow passionate people so much quarter; but 
I think a passionate person deserves the least indulgence 
imaginable. It is said, it is soon over, that is, all the 
mischief they can do is quickly dispatched; which I think is 
no great recommendation to favour. It is certain, that quick 
sensibility is inseparable from a ready understanding; but why 
should not that good understanding call to itself all its 
force, on such occasions, to master that sudden inclination to 
anger. Now to show how odious this enormous vice is in both 
sexes, if you would see passion in its purity, without mixture 
of reason, behold it represented in a mad hero, drawn by a mad 
poet. Nat. Lee makes his Alexander say thus:

Away! Begone, and give a whirlwind room, 
Or I will blow you up like dust! Avaunt: 
Madness but meanly represents my toil, 
Eternal discord! 
Fury! Revenge! Disdain and indignation! 
Tear my swol'n breast, make way for fire and tempest, 
My brain is burst; debate and reason quenched; 
The storm is up, and my hot bleeding heart 
Splits with the rack, while passions, like the wind, 
Rse up to heaven, and put out all the stars!

Every passionate fellow in town talks half the day with as 
little consistency and threatens things as much out of his 
power. (Vid. SPECTATOR, no. 438.)

How near an affinity the heroine of these memoirs bears to the 
character above described, I leave to the determination of all 
who know her.

Having been favoured with the correspondence of several 
gentlemen, since I declared my intention of writing her life, 
I think myself obliged in justice to transmit every paper that 
I have received, with the same freedom it has been 
communicated. The first letter sent me, was signed Renato; a 
gentleman, who has within these few days been pleased to make 
himself known to me. He is a person of birth, fortune, and 
singular worth; one of her earliest admirers, and by her 
boundless extravagance only, has for some time been 
incapacitated from making that splendid appearance in the 
world he formerly did, and deserves still to do. His letter 
runs thus, viz.

Sir, 
	Many are the reports which are spread abroad, 
concerning that celebrated piece of contradiction, Sally 
Salisbury. She is said to be the best-humoured creature 
existing, and at the same time the most morose animal 
breathing; she has a great deal of wit, but very little 
judgment; much immediate cunning, less future conduct. 
She is extremely agreeable, though not perfectly 
beautiful. These, and many other seeming paradoxes, which 
the judicious reader may easily reconcile, reign 
alternately in this charming compound of bewitching 
mischief. In advancing but few out of the many 
vicissitudes of fortune, changes of manners, 
acquaintance, places of abode, &c. You, sir, whose genius 
is equal to the nice task you have happily undertaken, 
may collect just notions, and form a better judgment than 
I, with my inferior capacity, dare attempt, and you will 
oblige the public in the most entertaining manner, by 
transmitting her fame to the posterity in its proper 
colours.

You may depend upon the veracity of every fact sent you 
by your humble servant, 
	Renato 
	Jan. 6. 1722/3



Chapter I. 
Of her birth, education, and first setting out in the world

Because I would have the strictest regard to truth and 
impartiality in the following memoirs, I will not pretend 
either to write the annals, or the diary, of Mrs Salisbury's 
life, nor will I be accountable for all her hours, lest by 
that means I should lie under the imputation of having forged 
the greatest part of her adventures, or incur the censure of 
being wholly ignorant of any: for I must freely confess, that 
I have been shrewdly put to it even to fix the time of her 
nativity; nor have I been less puzzled about the place, as 
many laying claim to it (to her immortal fame be it spoken) as 
to that of Homer.

Some of the invidious among her own sex, in the hospitable 
Hundreds of Old Drury, would fain have handed her down to 
posterity for a native of sweet St. Giles's, by confidently 
affirming that she was born in Parker's Lane, in that parish. 
But as rumour is seldom to be credited, I have had recourse to 
more authentic vouchers, find her recorded a Salopian, and 
that the good town of Shrewsbury boasts the honour of her 
birth.

She is the eldest daughter of Richard Priddon, bricklayer, and 
Margaret, his wife, and has three sisters now living, viz. 
Peggy, Molly and Jenny. Fame is very loud in echoing out the 
exploits of three of them, but Jenny having had the misfortune 
of being deprived of her sight, by that formidable enemy of 
beauty, the smallpox, history says little of her: but all who 
know her, say, that she is perfectly good-natured, very 
virtuous, endowed with no small portion of sense, and as 
remarkable for the sweetness of her voice, as her sister Sally 
is for the keenness of her tongue; and I am assured, that 
nothing but Mrs Salisbury's insuperable pride, has even 
prevented her from ravishing the ears of the public upon the 
stage in the opera-house; she having obstinately rejected the 
proposals made to Jenny upon that subject: though in reality, 
to do all of them justice, they have pretty voices, and sing 
in a very agreeable easy manner.

But to return to Mrs Sarah, the more immediate object of our 
present concern, we find that an aunt of hers (who married her 
father's brother, and was lately in an alms-house at 
Shrewsbury) affirms her to have been born about the year 1690, 
or 91.

I will not go about to particularize how far she is indebted 
to her parents for their care of breeding her in her minority, 
but to speak according to my own knowledge, she reads well, 
fluently, and with an admirable grace; she writes tolerably, 
but spells very indifferently. Yet it is certain, that had she 
been blessed with an education proportional to her own natural 
genius, she would have been a most accomplished woman; nay, I 
have actually heard some, make no scruple to say, with an 
exclamation, that, had Sally applied herself to learning, she 
would have been the prodigy of the age. It must be confessed, 
that she can be very entertaining company when she pleases; 
has a surprising vivacity, and redundancy of thought, a ready 
turn of wit, and is very sprightly at repartee; but her 
predominant, darling faculty of inconsiderately using both her 
tongue and hands, makes her conversation far less agreeable 
than it would otherwise be, and indeed hardly supportable. 
This odious quality seems in her to be innate; I have been 
assured by some, who knew her from her shell, that the 
uncontrolled, termagant spirit, which has been since so 
conspicuously displayed, was visibly perceived in the little 
vixen when but in hanging-sleeves, she being even at those 
callow years, haughty and impatient of contradiction.

Forced by the frowns of fortune, her father and mother left 
Shrewsbury, came to London, and brought her with them, she 
being then not above three years old. Her father, to shield 
himself from his clamorous creditors, entered himself in the 
foot-guards, and became an inhabitant of the parish of St. 
Giles's in the Fields, where he followed his trade of a 
bricklayer; and having formerly been pretty conversant among 
the country-attorneys, as an addition to his own business, set 
up likewise for a solicitor.

At about nine years of age, Sally was put apprentice to a 
sempstress in Duke's Place, near Aldgate, to learn plain-work, 
&c. And the females of her acquaintance declare her to be an 
excellent needle-woman. But having the misfortune to lose a 
piece of lace, of a considerable value, she ran away from her 
mistress, and never more returned.

At the very budding of her puberty Sally commenced woman, and 
the first use she made of her needle was at her mother's 
expense; who one day found her sitting under a table very busy 
at work, in altering a petticoat which she had purloined from 
her, and from which she had cut off above a quarter of a yard 
of its length, to make it sizeable for herself. This fact, as 
she has often declared to an intimate friend, was to deck her 
out for a hopping-ball. The petticoat, she says, was a stuff-
satinette, the richest garment her mother had ever been 
mistress of. Dress and dancing were the sole youthful delights 
of our Sally, and she never wanted a gallant, suitable to her 
years, to introduce her into every hop of eminence about the 
town; it being her ambition always to be fine, in order to 
attract the hearts as well as the eyes of her little votaries.

But for this heinous offence, the choleric old don her father, 
highly incensed to see his wife's wardrobe so unmercifully 
abused, led her into the cellar, stripped her, tied her to the 
stairs-foot, and severely disciplined her with a horse-whip, 
and intended to leave her all night in that condition, 
threatening her with a second part to the same tune the next 
day. To avoid which, poor little miss, very vigorously 
employed both tooth and nail, and found means, though with 
much difficulty, to get loose, watched her opportunity, made 
an elopement, and was not heard of for some time.

Her first place of refuge after this escape, was with Mr P--r 
G----b (and Teddy his wife, it seems commonly so called) a 
hatter in the Hay-Market; who hospitably entertained, and gave 
her part of their own bed, till the inconveniency she put them 
to, obliged her to think of some method for her own support, 
without being troublesome to her friends; or, as the saying 
is, to ride a free horse to death.

Now it was, history relates, that she applied herself to the 
coster-mongers in Covent Garden, with whom she traded for the 
delicious fruit of china. From the natural mercurial briskness 
of her temper, a sedentary life had ever been her aversion, 
wherefore she rather chose to follow the fortunes of a wheel-
barrow, than those of a distaff; daily, charming the ears of 
the public with the tunable and melodious cry, of, "Come who 
throws here? Who ventures for an orange?" But to give this 
fact another turn, Mrs Salisbury of late years, whenever 
reproached for her haughty airs, and put in mind of her 
pristine vocation, would always evade it, as she did once, in 
particular, to a person of quality, in my hearing; by her 
insolence and ill language, the young nobleman being justly 
provoked to upbraid her with driving that vehicle, she pertly 
replied, "D----n you for a pimp" (her usual phrase) "I never 
had anything to do with a wheel-barrow, but what you or the 
best of you all might have done; I only played at it, when a 
child, for my diversion."

Though to show her love of variety, even in her employments, 
many living witnesses don't stick to say, that at different 
seasons of the year, she shelled beans and peas, cried 
nosegays and newspapers, peeled walnuts, made matches, turned 
bunter,<113> &c., well-knowing that a wagging hand always gets 
a penny.

It was some time before her father found her out, but after 
long search, and much inquiry, he at length met with her: at 
first sight he loaded her with a million of reproaches for 
stealing and spoiling his wife's holiday petticoat, and at the 
same time charged her with a theft of far greater consequence; 
alleging, that he had been robbed of twenty pounds in specie, 
and that nobody could have it but she. This part of the 
accusation (as she still does) Sally very flatly denied; and 
several, who were no strangers to the family's circumstances 
at that juncture averred that there was very little 
probability of Mr Priddon's having such a sum in his custody.

As I shall have occasion to mention her parents hereafter, 
upon many accounts, I will not, in this place, detain the 
reader with any further domestic quarrels, or any more of our 
Sally's childish pranks; but will proceed to the next stage of 
her life, wherein she began to cut something of a figure and 
wherein I myself had the honour of her acquaintance.



Chapter II. 
How she came to Mother Wisebourn, and how she went from her.

Fortune, the constant fautress of the fair, 
Soon pointed out our Sally's lucky star: 
Muse stop a while (for thou hast cause to mourn) 
and shed a tear o'er pious Wisebourn's urn.

Thou memorable anchor of hope, 
To all blooming virgins, 
Light lie the earth upon thee--

Thou balm of Gilead to all love-sick swains, 
Permit a votary to sing thy praise; 
To shield thy memory from th' opprobrious pen 
Of mercenary impotence, and vile detraction.*

Within thy walls the rich were ever pleased, 
And from thy gate no lazar went unfed! 
South-sea directors might have learnt from thee 
How to pay debts, and wear an honest heart! 
From thee the lawyer might have learnt strict justice, 
Thy hand ne'er grasped a client's fee in vain; 
And when the cash ran low and blood ran high, 
The man in such a plight thy bounty felt! 
Thy darling girls were offered to his view, 
And with the chosen nymph to bed he flew.

*Note: Alluding to an account of her life, wherein the 
scribbler has not inserted one paragraph of truth.

A Learned Italian, (my much honoured friend) now residing 
here, has been pleased to give these lines an easy Latin turn, 
wherein I am certain he has infinitely obliged the public, and 
far exceeded my poor original.

Arridens semper Nymphis Fortuna decoris 
Quam favit Sar�? Quam Miti� sidera C�li? 
Siste gradum Musa O! namque est tibi causa dolendi. 
Atque pios cineres defunct� plange Mari�. 
Anchora tu Cunctis, Statio & bene-fida puellis 
Sit tibi terra Levis; Tu dulcis amantibus ardor 
Auxilium & pr�sens: Votum concede precantis 
Sincerum; Liceat laudes celebrare & inermes 
Reddere, qui famam mordent, & vulnera savi 
Intentant. Opibus semper placuere beatis 
Expans� port�; hinc nullus discessit egenus 
Latranti stomacho. Pelagi queis credita cura 
Austrini justos potuissent solvere nummos 
Discere, si nossent vestigia nota secuti, 
Justitiam & moniti, queis summa scientia legum 
Cum Venus extentas urgeret sanguine venas 
Firmorum Juvenum, nummorum nullus in area 
Et numerus; rebus miseris tu semper in arcts 
Perfugium solum: placidum ascenditque cubile 
Leda fuit qu� nympha decens, volucrique furori 
Indulsit socius, soci�que amplexibus h�sit.


I think myself obliged to beg pardon for this soliloquy, but 
having often been one of the penniless class of mortals above 
described, and shared her generous benevolence, I could not 
forbear offering this tribute of gratitude to her ashes, for 
which reason I hope to obtain forgiveness: and now, like a 
serviceable nag upon the road, after the refreshment of a good 
bait, I promise the reader to jog merrily on.

Who first gave our Sally a green-gown is uncertain, but it is 
reported by many, and more particularly by one of the most 
reputable inhabitants of that neighbourhood, that upon being 
admitted an honorary member of Mrs Wisebourn's academy, she 
was (though very indifferently) arrayed in that colour, and by 
the tattered condition of her vestments, it was generally 
believed, that our venerable matron, of pious and charitable 
memory, had redeemed her (as she had before done a legion of 
other distressed nymphs) from bondage, into which it was said 
she had been cast by the inhumanity of some narrow-souled, 
merciless creditor, whose age and avarice had rendered him as 
insensible to generosity, as he was to the attractive charms 
of Sally, then in the bloom of fifteen.

But the hospitable dame, conceiving mighty hopes from Sally's 
promising air and mien, soon rigged her out fit to adorn the 
side-box at an opera. From her own mouth we learn, that an 
antiquated doctor of physic in Beaufort Buildings, extremely 
smitten with her youth and engaging aspect, was the first who 
became her ardent suitor, and for the last favour, tipped her, 
as hansel, two shining half-crowns, the greatest sum she 
declares she had, till then, ever been mistress of.

Fame says, she could not boast of very many triumphs, before 
she fell into the hands of an incautious, roving libertine, 
who had like to have made her fall a victim to the tomb of 
Venus: but the sons of Galen and Hippocrates still proved her 
best friends; for notwithstanding the inspection and 
circumspection of the vigilant governess, (whose care was so 
great to keep everything safe and sound, that she used often 
to say of her girls, "These chitty-faces make me undergo more 
fatigue than a vinter's boy, for I scour their insides as 
clean, every night, as if I made use of shot and a bottle-
brush.") The fire alas, broke out! And Mrs Wisebourn had 
immediate recourse to her never-failing engine Mr W--, an 
eminent surgeon in the Strand. To use Sally's own phrase, 
after having spit a little for a complexion, she retired to 
the purifying air of Kensington gravel-pits, under the tuition 
of Mrs L--y B--t, a city-sempstress, where we will leave them 
a while and relate a short story as told by her surgeon.

He says, that though he had the care of the whole college, it 
chanced to be so full, at the time of Sally's mishap, and so 
anxious was Mrs Wisebourn for her welfare, that she would not, 
by any means, be persuaded to let her go out of the house, 
though there was so little room in it, that she was forced to 
go through the whole operation of a flux in an old elbow-chair 
which was placed just under the jack, in the kitchen. Yet 
though this skilful artist made all the dispatch which could 
reasonably be expected in such a case, the good-natured, 
compassionate matron thought it very tedious; and would 
frequently break out into this pathetic exclamation; "Poor 
creature! She has payed dearly for that unlucky bout! Besides 
her loss of time, she was five weeks, two days, one hour and a 
half doing penance, from her first lying down till her going 
abroad."

But to return to our fair sufferer: expresses daily passed to 
and from Kensington; and in less than a month news was brought 
to Mrs Wisebourn, that as Sally and Mrs B--t were taking the 
air in Hyde Park, a man of quality was struck to the heart by 
the bewitching glances of the scarce recovered Sally, and 
instantly avowed his sudden flame, which could not be 
extinguished. For Orontus, a person of superior distinction, 
at that time, possessed the charmer. Fame reports, that Mrs 
Mary Davis living near to the Seven Dials, was the 
plenipotentiary who negotiated this affair with Mrs Wisebourn, 
and first made Mrs Salisbury happy in the embraces of a peer. 
But honour is sacred, and we must go no further.

The spring had, now, restored her drooping bloom, 
Reanimated her decaying fires; 
And made her shine anew to bless mankind.

In a few weeks she left Kensington, and removed to Villiers 
Street in York Buildings; where a sumptuous apartment was 
fitted up for her reception. Here, Orontus and the fair one 
revelled in delights, and her youth made him vigorous even in 
his declension.

There let them rest a while, another scene just opening to our 
view. Long had the gay and amorous young nobleman, (who was 
wounded in Hyde Park, as above related) stood in suspense as 
to his fate in the passion he had entertained for the 
beauteous Sally. Whole nights and months he sighed in vain, 
till at length that necessary implement, an exchange-woman, 
wrought the cure. An interview was appointed, and the punctual 
Sally met; the emotions on both sides, were too great to be 
expressed, though the pain Curalio felt (for such is his name) 
was somewhat alleviated by a genteel salute, with which the 
glowings of her cheek and heart kept equal pace. For though 
Orontus always descended in a golden shower,<114> the youth 
and beauty of Curalio, scarcely arrived at manhood, appeared 
to her like another Adonis, (as she had often declared before 
this meeting) and was the sole object of her wishes.

Curalio made many proposals, but she refused all offers except 
that of a signal for an assignation; no sooner was the time 
and place appointed, but she appeared flushed with pleasure.

The god of love sat basking in her eyes, 
Resolved like Venus to obtain the prize.

Thus looking, thus wishing, each went a different way; Curalio 
to his restless pillow, and the blood-warmed fair, to the 
withered Orontus.

But ere three suns had rolled, affairs of state required the 
attendance of the sage adviser: Orontus high in the favour of 
his royal mistress posted for Windsor, where, in debate, we'll 
leave him.

Fortune being thus propitious, a messenger was instantly 
dispatched to Curalio, with the joyful news of the departure 
of Orontus, and that he would be at least ten days absent. 
Curalio, like lightening, flew to his most adorable fair; and 
by her contrivance (females being ever most expert in love 
affairs) hasted with an appointed guide to the intended scene 
of consummation. Three days had they been fortune's 
favourites, and on the fourth, the same guide, who had been 
the conductor of Curalio, brought news of Orontus's return. 
The messenger was in the greatest consternation as well as the 
happy pair, though to their great satisfaction, they were 
assured, that Orontus was dispatched to the secretary's 
office, where the importance of the affair he was entrusted 
with, would detain him some hours; by which means the lovers 
had the opportunity to make another assignation, and to part 
in the most agreeable manner, Curalio to his own house; and 
the well-pleased Sally to her apartment in York Buildings. 
Every hand was employed to put things in a suitable decorum, 
for the reception of Orontus, who was every minute expected, 
and in a few hours arrived. Upon the first sight of him Sally 
very artfully began to bemoan his absence, seemed transported 
with his return, and the peer immediately made politics give 
way to the god of love, repeating these lines of my Lord 
Rochester.

Cupid and Bacchus my saints are, 
May drink and love still reign; 
With wine I wash away my care, 
And then to love again.

Happy Orontus! And yet more happy Sally! Whose late stolen 
pleasures with Curalio, were as successful as they had been 
delicious, and whose joys as yet, knew no interruption. But 
decency, for a while, requiring me to withdraw; I will now 
entertain the reader, with an account of Sally's religion, as 
communicated to me by Renato.



Chapter III. 
Of her Religion, and Politics.

Sir, 
	Fearing lest your other correspondents should neglect 
making a diligent inquiry into the principles of religion, 
which possess the mind of our modern heroine, I conceive it my 
duty, out of the love I bear to truth, (truth being the most 
material thing which ought to be regarded in history) to give 
you the justest account, that I have been able to collect.

Her parents educated her according to the doctrine of the 
Church of England, as it is taught in the general, viz. To 
protest against the Pope and popery, which she most 
religiously practiced till she entered the 22nd year of her 
age; when an accident brought her into the company of a couple 
of clergymen, disguised in secular habits, the one was a 
venerable old non-juror, the other, the reverend Dr. ---- Dean 
of ----. The good matron who kept the house was perfectly well 
acquainted with them both, and privately told Sally who they 
were; her little breast immediately burnt with a desire, (as 
she phrased it) of throwing in a bone for them to pick. She 
put on a grave countenance, and with an air of sincerity told 
them, she had for some time been perplexed with a scruple, 
concerning a relation of hers, who had lately taken the oaths 
for a benefice in the country of 75l. per annum, after his 
having refused them for sixteen or seventeen years; the 
gentlemen seemed equally surprised at this unexpected attack, 
they cast an eye at each other for some time, with looks which 
discovered much disorder of mind, and after about nine minutes 
of silence, the dean asked her, why her relation's having 
taken the oaths, to the queen his lawful sovereign, should 
cause scruples to arise in her mind? The words lawful 
sovereign, cut the non-juror to the very soul, he could no 
longer conceal his resentment, but with the usual heat of 
party charged the dean: the dean being of the safest side, 
answered him as warmly, to which the non-juror as briskly 
replied: but I think it not to my purpose to give the 
particulars of their argument, it is sufficient to let you 
know that the next morning Sally declared she was of the 
orthodox Church of England, as it stood before the revolution, 
nor do I think it needful to inquire whether her conversion, 
came from the force of the non-juror's argument, the strength 
of his back, or the depth of his purse; but a convert it seems 
she was, and for a month after there was no keeping Mrs 
Malapert company in peace, she was eternally putting forth her 
impertinent interrogatories; such as, "Who murdered the King I 
pray? What right had Oliver Cromwell to do as he did?" Nay, 
sometimes she would bring out a word something like 
abdication, in this manner, yes, yes, abdillication was of 
great use to you, &c., in short by all the accounts that I 
have been able to gather, her conversion was sincere, and her 
sentiments remain as firm as a rock: 'tis true, there are some 
that take the liberty of saying, she has frequently wavered, 
sometimes, towards popery, at other times towards presbytery; 
but there are none so hardy as to say positively she has been 
totally changed. Therefore I desire, she may be recorded 
according to her own account, a member of the orthodox Church 
of England, as it stood before the revolution.
I am, 
Sir, 
Your most obliged servant 
Renato. 
Jan. 12. 1722/3



Chapter IV. 
Containing, the Newmarket progress; the adventure of Baron F--
, &c.

Letter I.

In the year 1713, the late Earl of G--, memorable for nothing 
more than his great love of fine horses, and whores, and 
aversion to honest women, going to the meeting at Newmarket, 
took with him in his chariot Sally Salisbury, and another 
harlot, named D--y, upon whose laps for want of room on the 
seat, he rode all they way thither; one of which he called his 
black, the other his fair cat. For the favours of their 
company his lordship promised, and they expected, very 
bountiful presents, but losing all his matches, and the rest 
of his money at play, he could not perform his promises, which 
so enraged the viragoes, that one evening, his lordship coming 
home very drunk, they put him to bed, but instead of going to 
him, as they were wont, they tied him therein, then beat and 
scratched him unmercifully, and afterwards rifled him of his 
gold-watch, diamond-buttons, gold-buckles, sword-hilt, and all 
other valuable movables, which having done, and locked him in, 
they went a caterwauling to other cullies to whom they told 
(and made a jest of) the story: with these they stayed till 
three o'clock next morning, when a stage-coach going through 
the town, they took places and went to London.

With what they had got of these cullies, and by plundering his 
lordship, who knew nothing of his loss till the next morning, 
though it was before that time the talk and jest of the whole 
town, and his cats got too far to be overtaken.


To Captain Walker, 
	Sir, the above is matter of fact, and if put in a proper 
style may deserve a place in the memoirs; for which purpose 
'tis communicated to you by your unknown friend
J.S. 
Jan. 7, 1722/3.

Letter II.

Sir, 
	Since I saw your last advertisement, wherein you desired 
the continuance of my correspondence, I have taken the pains 
to enquire into a story, which when told, I believed to be 
romantic; but finding the material part to be matter of fact, 
I shall, to oblige you, pen it: 'tis too long for the spare 
time I've upon my hands at present, so shall bring or send it 
to Mr Jones tonight, or tomorrow, and hope 'twill be 
acceptable to you, and diverting to your readers. I shall 
endeavour to meet you next week, but cannot yet appoint the 
time,
Who am your humble servant 
J.S.
To Captain Walker, 
Jan. 15. 1722/3, 
Friday 3 o'clock

Letter III.

Sir, 
	'twas not my design to have troubled you any further, but 
you having desired I would continue my correspondence (such as 
it is, is at your service.)

This therefore acquaints you that soon after your 
advertisement (wherein you acknowledged the receipt of my 
first letter) was published, a merry friend and I meeting 
accidentally, he thus accosted me, "D----n it Jack, the sight 
of your ill-natured phiz, puts me in mind of an advertisement 
I've seen of a captain's who designs to oblige the town with 
the memoirs of Sally Salisbury, and the initial letters of 
your name being therein mentioned, I dare venture my soul to a 
dish of coffee, that the letter mentioned, which he assures 
shall be inserted, is the history of her Newmarket progress, 
which you in a fit of the spleen have penned and sent: could I 
sit down to write, I could send him a story of her, which 
might, if he wanted matter, help to fill up his memoirs, but 
as that can't be the case, and I am too volatile to sit still 
a minute, I'll relate it to you en passant, and you may 
communicate it to the captain if you think fit." I desired him 
to proceed, which he did viz.

Antoine Baron de F--g, being a younger son of a noble family 
in ---- was educated in a college of Jesuits, and designed for 
an ecclesiastic; but that life not agreeing with him, he 
quitted the college, by which he disobliged his friends, and 
being reduced to great straits, to raise some money, he wrote 
a book against that fraternity, which had the desired effect; 
but it so exasperated their order, that, to avoid their fury, 
he found himself obliged to quit his country, and getting into 
Spain, served as a volunteer under King Charles, till in an 
engagement he received a musket-ball through the body, but 
recovering, was rewarded with a commission, which he held till 
the wars were at an end; when not daring to stay in that, or 
any other neighbouring bigoted country, he came to England. 
Long he had not been here, before he had a desire to engage in 
the field of love with an English woman; and by a servant or 
interpreter he hired, had the damned ill luck to be introduced 
to the heroine of the history, or memoirs now going to be 
published, wonderfully was he pleased with her person, 
carriage, and embraces, and accordingly rewarded her; but in 
five days he found himself in such a condition, as gave him 
occasion to curse their rencontre, and employ a surgeon: long 
did he endeavour to meet her again, not to engage her 
amorously as before, but to chastise her, at length he 
happened a revoir son enemi,<115> but the cure being effected, 
and the plague and thoughts of physic over, he before he made 
the onset, thus (by his interpreter) began to parley, "You 
damned confounded pocky whore, I am glad we are met, for now 
will I give you as many stripes as I've taken pills, boluses, 
and other hellish slip-slops on your account," then with cane, 
uplifted, going to strike, the cunning jilt clasped him and 
his baton in her arms, and feigning a cry, thus spoke, "Dear 
sir, hear me, and hear me out, and then I'm sure instead of 
beating, you'll not only pardon but pity me." Her sham tears 
moved the baron, who then replied, "Well, let me go, speak on, 
I'll hear you;" when both sitting down, she thus proceeded, 
"You must know, dear sir, that I, unhappy creature, am the 
unfortunate offspring of a good family; but my father, being 
an extravagant man, spent his estate, died and left me 
destitute, penniless, and almost distracted, not knowing which 
way I should be supported; for my education was such, as had 
not qualified me any way to get a living; sometimes I had 
thoughts to get into service, out of the sight of those that 
knew my birth, and to continue as I then was, chaste and 
honest; but too soon, alas! Those thoughts vanished, and I 
found my spirit too high for servitude, at other times 
(knowing the Catholics were conspicuous for charity, 
especially to converts) I had thoughts to turn Roman, profess 
myself inclined to a religious life, and hoped to obtain 
letters of recommendation, and thereby admission into some 
convent abroad, but reflecting that that would be a work of 
time, and upon serious examination of myself, finding I had 
not a bit of nun's flesh about me, I laid aside that design; 
about that time a man of quality liking my person, and 
believing my circumstances would make the conquest easy, laid 
siege to me, attacked me with gold and rhetoric, which (I not 
knowing what else to do) soon made me beat the chamade,<116> 
and surrender up Fort Virgin, on condition that he should hold 
possession, allowing me an annual stipend. He is too 
enterprising a warrior that way, and happening not long since 
to storm a rotten fort, I soon suffered by his misfortune, and 
you (unknown to me then) by mine; thus, sir, have you heard 
the truth, which I hope will move you to pardon and pity, 
which if you grant, to make amends to a gentleman I adore, and 
unwittingly injured, I (being perfectly recovered) offer and 
hope you'll accept the use of my person now, and whenever you 
please, gratis, which I do assure you, I shall esteem as the 
greatest happiness." The credulous baron thus mollified, first 
kindly embraced her, and then instead of a wooden, made use of 
his carnal weapon, which being over, and a supper providing at 
his expense, the designing jade (resolving revenge, for his 
having put her in bodily fear) thus began a fresh discourse, 
"My dearest baron, I'm so enamoured with your person and 
embraces, that (as you are a foreigner) the fears of your 
leaving England, are to me an uneasiness, and I should account 
it my greatest happiness were I assured of your stay, that I 
might oft enjoy you, were you inclined that way: I could, nay 
would (on condition, that it might be no hindrance to the 
having my joys with you oft very oft reiterated) propose a 
means to keep you here, if your taking to wife an English 
woman of good extraction, with beauty and fortune enough to 
make you live in ease and plenty would do it." "Speak, speak 
on my charmer," says the baron, in an ecstasy (who doubtless 
wanted, and thereby hoped to mend his fortune) "and I'll do as 
you shall advise, esteem myself infinitely happy, and promise 
never to leave your country, nor your dear self." "Know then" 
(says she) "that there is a certain young lady, who, to avoid 
being obliged (by the force or entreaty of her father) to 
marry a disagreeable person, is fled from him, and is incog. 
where few besides myself have access to her: she is a virgin 
about seventeen, and not suspecting I am otherwise, puts great 
confidence in me; she has in her possession jewels, &c. To a 
considerable value, and �12,000 left her by a relation, which 
nobody can hinder her of, at the age of 21, or day of 
marriage, she is amorous, and ambitiously inclined, and I am 
of opinion, a man of your mien and quality might easily gain 
her person and fortune, in which I will assist you to the 
utmost, and when you think fit will introduce you to her; as 
you speak French, which she does not at all understand, I will 
pretend to do so too, and to interpret between you, let your 
gesture be but amorous enough, and leave the rest to me." This 
being agreed to be put in execution next night, 'tis now 
proper to inform you, that the sham fortune was daughter to a 
gardener, and apprentice to an embroiderer, from whose service 
Sally had enticed her, and sold her maidenhead to my Lord ----
. The girl thus debauched, and made fit for the game, got 
herself rigged handsomely by Sally's tallyman, but not keeping 
up to her weekly payments, was at that time obliged to 
abscond, for fear of being arrested, and in this her 
retirement, the unfortunate baron was introduced, and Sally so 
managed matters, that at the third visit they were privately 
married, the wedding night being over, Sally, to complete her 
revenge, advised the tallyman to arrest the bridegroom, which 
(as he was going to demand his wife's fortune, and before 
honeymoon was over) was done, the bailiffs kept him in their 
custody, whilst his money and movables lasted, then put him 
into Newgate, from whence by contribution he got removed to 
the Fleet, and there lay in a starving condition, till by 
virtue of the last act of insolvency he was discharged; he was 
a perfect master of the Greek, Latin, German, French, Italian 
and Spanish tongues; and having learnt tolerable English in 
prison, he became qualified for, and is now an interpreter 
about this town, to any foreigner that will employ him, and by 
this (because for the reasons above, he dare not go home) he 
gets his livelihood at court, and the Baronness hers in the 
Hundreds of Drury.
I am sir, your 
Friend and servant unknown 
J.S.

Letter IV.

Sir, 
	If you think it worth your while, to insert the following 
short tale, in the life of the famous Mrs Sarah Salisbury, 
'tis at your service, and probatum est.<117>

A certain comedian, in his days of pleasure, having been 
acquainted with the aforesaid heroine, found his amour 
unfortunately attended by a clap, in return of which, he took 
an opportunity, upon the stage, of saying somewhat, that 
almost, as bitterly stung her ladyship, and the eyes of the 
whole audience were immediately fixed on her; not long after, 
they met at the masquerade, where, with great scorn, she flung 
from him, and, in the saucy tone of a fine lady, called him 
"Player!" He replied, "Our professions, madam, are very like 
one another, any one may see the best we can do for half a 
crown."

I am, sir, 
Your humble servant 
N.P.

 

Chapter V. 
Of her Dancing for a Smock at Bath, &c.

Sir, 
	In my first letter I promised you some facts, relating to 
(our at present unfortunate) Sally, which happened to her in 
the gayer seasons of life, when she revelled at large among 
mankind, and made greater captives in the wide world, than she 
herself is now, in the narrow walls of a solitary prison, and 
I am now going to be as good as my word.

The common town-talk of her crying newspapers, selling 
oranges, and many other things of the like kind, in the way of 
low-life, may be learned in every particular article, from the 
mouths of all the good-natured females of her standing, within 
the extensive liberty of the Hundreds of Drury, and is quite 
foreign to my present purpose; I shall therefore begin with a 
relation that made her first talked of, with agreeable 
pleasure by the better sort, and that is contained in the 
story of her dancing for a smock at Bath.

Indeed this little fragment of diverting history is pretty 
generally known; but it is however very seldom related with 
that truth and justice, which ought to attend such an 
important part of her life, as first placed her in a 
distinguished point of sight, at that most remarkable and most 
remarking place, which is more public than any town or even 
city in all England, (I except not our dear wicked metropolis 
itself) and therefore I shall lay before you this observable 
adventure inside out, exactly as it happened.

Proclamation (you must know) was made in very solemn manner 
and form, by beat of drum and sound of trumpet, that a fine 
holland smock, richly trimmed at the bosom and sleeves, with 
Mechlin-lace, was to be danced for in the town of Bath, on 
such an appointed day; that there were constituted a certain 
number of nice and critical judges of the activity of the 
heels, the air, the attitude, the mien, and deportment of the 
whole body; and, that the prize was to be borne away by the 
happy lass, to whom it was adjudged due by the majority of 
voices, given by the aforesaid gentlemen so deeply read, and 
so profoundly learned in the great science of podosophy.<118>

Many and many days did the alarming drum beat, and the shrill 
trumpet sound, before the female trophy, which was supported 
on the top of a broken pike, with a cross bar that held out 
the ruffled arms of the smock, adorned with ribbons, by a man 
on horseback. Every maid at every fresh alarm flew to Bath, 
their bosoms all beat and panted with emulation, much for the 
prize, but still much more for the public applause of people 
of distinction, that was certain to follow it; numbers of them 
having promised to honour and felicitate the entertainment 
with their presence. Several of the lasses could not help 
humming over the tunes of the most celebrated rigadoons, and 
minuets, and shaking their legs to keep time with the music of 
their tongues, as the people passed, by way of prelude to a 
victory.

At length the wished for day appointed came, the assembly of 
spectators and judges was convened, and the stage laid open 
for every fair pretender who had a mind to venture 
theatrically upon this occasion.

The scenes being drawn, three very fine damsels (if a finer 
had not unexpectedly appeared) came to claim the prize. One of 
them was very beautiful in the face, but her limbs were not of 
the exactest formation. The second was of an agreeable make, 
but her face not so agreeable, and her mien affected. The 
third had a fine complexion, a tempting face, with all the 
bloom of youth upon it; her body well proportioned, but only 
that she was rather too fat, to perform the exercise she 
pretended to with so much dexterity, as might be expected on 
such an occasion; each of them however had their power in this 
faculty of dancing, so well known to the town, that though 
hundreds before had resolved to try an experiment for the 
prize, yet they all laid aside their design, as soon as they 
heard that these three celebrated lasses had put in for it. In 
fine, the judges had named the dances, the music began to 
play, and while the three were disputing which of them first 
should begin, our Sally entered, and an universal clap 
welcomed her approach on the stage: she appeared in a smock as 
white as her skin, and adorned much like that of the trophy, 
for which she was to contend; scarlet ribbons bound up her 
sleeves, her petticoat was a flowered damask, her stockings 
scarlet, her shoes laced and tied up with a green string. Her 
rivals eyed their unexpected rival with a conscious fear of 
her excellence, observing that she had the perfections of 
each, without having the imperfections of any one of them. She 
went up to them with an assurance of her own power, and of her 
future success, telling them that she would end the 
controversy between them, and begin the first dance, provided 
she might conclude with the last. The proposition was 
confirmed by a second universal clap from all the spectators; 
and her rivals, envious as they were, and jealous of her 
future performance, consented to the proposal.

She danced, and no sooner had she ended her part, but the 
three other competitors quitted the stage, upon which the 
victory was declared to be hers, without putting any second 
person to the trial, (though some present offered it) which 
was entirely partial, and contrary to the meaning of the 
donor, who presented the smock for the entertainment of the 
town. This incident made her fame celebrated, and her company 
coveted, among some spectators of quality that were there, and 
whom she had particularly distinguished, for giving her more 
than ordinary marks of applause. She likewise very craftily 
and subtly remarked those judges, that were the most for doing 
her this favour, and in gratitude to them, sought their 
company that very night, and thought there was no way of 
giving them sufficient thanks, but by granting them the last 
favour. Accordingly two of the partial judges, with whom I 
have the honour to be perfectly well acquainted, she, that 
very night, and in the self-same smock, gratified to the 
abundant satisfaction of them both. To speak a little plainer 
in the town phrase, she lay between them all night, and proved 
herself as well versed in that part of the mathematics, which 
is necessary for a lady of pleasure to know, as if she had 
studied it all the days of her life.

I shall now proceed to another part of this little history.

Failing in a great measure of the vast expectations, which she 
had conceived of picking up some cully, with a coat of arms, 
and a well lined pocket, by means of this public applause, she 
was forced to return at her own charge to town, and being 
exhausted by the expenses of the journey, as she was 
complaining of her ill-luck to a fair fellow-trafficker in 
iniquity, she was very happily recommended to that useful 
piece of antiquity Mother Wisebourn, a woman renowned for her 
charitable disposition; who commiserating the unfortunate, 
took her under her protection.

But the good matron was soon deprived of so inestimable a 
treasure; and among crowds of our Sally's admirers, the eldest 
son of a certain nobleman, slyly found means to give her an 
invitation to Gray's Inn, where he had taken chambers for the 
conveniency of the sport. Thither she went, and after a little 
refreshment, flew with unusual transport to his bed, where, by 
the accounts given of her by her bedfellow, one would imagine, 
that she only, among her whole sex, had the art of pleasing.

The morning following an undertaker knocked at the door and 
asked to speak with the gentleman, the servant answered, he 
was asleep, and could not be disturbed, the undertaker told 
him he must and would speak with him. This dispute awaked the 
gentleman, and he knowing the voice, cried "D----n you Matt, 
what a p--x has brought you hither this morning?" Matt, in a 
snivelling tone answered, "My Lord, I am come to condole with 
your lordship, for the loss of your father;" "What a p--x" 
(says the Lord) "is my father dead at last then?" With that he 
jumped out of bed, took hold of the bed-clothes at the feet, 
and rolled them up to the head, which discovered a most 
beautiful pair of legs, thighs, and so upwards, to her very 
bubbies, for the good-natured creature had pulled her shift up 
to her arm-pits that it might be no obstacle to their 
diversion, this sort of treatment very much ruffled her 
temper, she sprung up, her hair all flowing about her 
shoulders, having lost her head-dress in the encounter, and 
with, a "G--d d----n you! You a lord, you a pimp!" says Sally, 
"to use me in this manner;" the young peer gave her good 
words, soon pacified her, and at length prevailed upon her to 
get up, and take a bottle with him and Matt, for says he, 
"This Matt is the honestest fellow in the world, and by G--d 
he shall bury my father." Matt continued bowing and cringing, 
replied, "I am greatly obliged to your honour, I am very 
thankful to your lordship," till they had guzzled down three 
or four bottles by way of whet, the wine had sufficiently 
warmed Sally, and, all of a sudden, she flew at the poor 
undertaker, hit him an unmerciful box on the ear, "D----n 
you," said she, "for a whining carrion-hunting son of a bitch! 
What do you come to trouble us with your cant for, and be d---
-d to you? Go mind your insensible flesh, and leave my friend 
and me to enjoy ourselves!" Matt immediately took his leave of 
the nobleman, and only stopped short at the door, to tell my 
lord he would go take measure of the corpse, and so marched 
off.

There goes another story of her, and her footman, 'tis short, 
and I think it deserves a place; it is as follows, as a 
gentleman was conducting her out of her lodgings into a coach, 
her garter happened to untie, upon which she faced about to 
her lackey, who was following her, pulled up her petticoats, 
and exposing her well-shaped leg, &c. to his view, she tied on 
her garter; when perceiving some uncommon heavings and 
agitations in the wonder-struck fellow, she said to him, "D---
-n you for a rascal! It is so and so with you? If it be, take 
that, and go to a whore;" and at the same time gave him a 
crown.

Our Sally having thus, by the acquaintance of these noblemen, 
enriched herself, and being grown a brighter figure in life, 
resolved now to visit the Bath, in a very different manner 
from that in which she appeared there at first: she then 
courted their favours, but her design was now, that they 
should court hers, &c., in effect the event answered the 
intention. A certain [Knight of the] Garter pursued her, and 
addressed her with all the fervour with which a youth in love 
would sue the mistress of his desires, to become the wife of 
his bosom: he begged, he beseeched, supplicated and implored; 
but all in vain. When he found that no entreaties could 
prevail upon her, for she with whorish politics, was as shy, 
and kept herself at as great a distance as if she had been an 
unspotted virgin. This unlooked for coyness, and resistance, 
brought him to address her in higher terms, hinting to her the 
advantages of submitting to the will of a person of his 
dignity; upon which she replied: "D----n you, my lord! Do you 
think this yard or two of ribbon can bind me to you? The very 
foundress of your order* bore no other title, than what is my 
common name; 'twas from a garter slipping from her leg, which 
a mighty King** was proud to snatch up, that you derive the 
mighty distance you pretend there is between us: if I am less 
beautiful than my namesake, why should you pursue me with so 
much ardour? And if my charms are equal to hers, why should 
you talk of distance; in regard to that beauty, for which a 
king instituted the order, from whence you derive this 
honour?" His grace at last convinced by this, that he could 
not overcome her by any mere verbal argument, drew out a more 
powerful one from his pocket, and throwing it into her lap 
(just as Jove descended in a shower of gold upon Danae) made 
way for himself to a closer admittance there. In fine, the 
nymph received the gold, and she received the man; and she 
received more gold, and still received the man; but when no 
more gold was left, she would no more receive the man. Galled 
and vexed at this, the peer said, in company of some 
gentlemen, whom he took to be all men of honour, that Sally 
Salisbury, being a woman of an infamous character, ought not 
to be admitted into the public-room among so many ladies of 
quality, honour and reputation, and still much less into their 
private assembl�e. One of the gentlemen in the company, who 
had not so much honour, as the duke imagined, reported to 
Sally his grace's invectives against her. 
*Note: Joan, Countess of Salisbury 
**Note: Edward III.

The night following, the star no sooner appeared, but Sally, 
with her accustomed freedom, paid him the usual compliments, 
and assured his Grace, that, if she was not entirely convinced 
of his grace's good intentions towards her; a story, which had 
been industriously handed about, would much afflict her, "For 
you are to know, my lord," said she, "here is a set of evil-
minded, ill-designing people, who would have the world 
believe, that there is not so good an understanding between me 
and your grace as there really is," the Duke replied, he was 
confident he never said anything to her disadvantage; upon 
which Sally rejoined, "My lord, I am willing to believe as 
much, for I always thought you a person of too much gratitude 
to say anything to the prejudice of a woman, from whom you 
have received so many favours." To this, said the Duke, 
whispering, "You argue very justly, Sally; I would not, nay, I 
could not use thee so roughly, whom I have used so tenderly!" 
But Sally did not answer him in whispers; she spoke fairly and 
openly to him, in the hearing of the whole assembl�e, in the 
public room, in these words; "Nay, good my lord," (clapping 
her hand upon his shoulder) "I do not insist upon it, that you 
did not merely forbear saying so out of good-nature, but I 
know you to be a man of too much policy, policy I say, my 
Lord; your lordship perfectly well knowing, that you can no 
way reflect upon my reputation, without casting an equal odium 
upon the memory of your own mother: nay further, my lord; if 
you stand upon distinction, you know your father got you a 
half-brother, of equal dignity every way to yourself, by a 
woman of as low degree, but equal in beauty with myself." His 
grace entreated her to be silent, and clapped a purse into her 
hand, full as weighty as that which he gave for her last 
favour; thus this scene concluded, and with it I conclude my 
letter.
Yours, &c. 
Renato

Letter V.

Sir, 
	A certain beau being one evening at Mrs Salisbury's 
lodgings, had not been there long, before a half-pay officer 
also came thither; their unlucky meeting occasioned great 
disputes, both insisted on a right to enjoy her for that 
night; the beau, as first comer, pleaded, that priority, 
person and good manners entitled him to the preference; the 
officer insisted, that honour, wounds, scars and former 
acquaintance gave it him: Sally observing that such cavilling 
might deprive her of both the cullies (and somebody at that 
time knocking at the door) proposed the decision might be left 
to that person whoever it was, to whom she would recite the 
difference, and they should sit silent: this being agreed to, 
and the gentleman introduced, it happened to be a poet who had 
mistaken hers for another house; to him she recited their 
dispute, which having ended, the poet called for pen, ink and 
paper, and hoping to find his account in giving preference to 
the beau, and complimenting the belle, he wrote the following 
epigram, the publication of which, in Sally's memoirs will 
oblige
Yours unknown, 
Philo-musis.

BEAUTY MORE POWERFUL THAN WAR


	II. 
Let braves who to the army go, 
Their courage boast no more; 
At home we greater danger know, 
From beauty's fatal power.



	II. 
More deaths fly from fair Sally's eyes, 
Than conqu 'ring foes can give; 
In war, but one, of many, dies, 
Here, only one, can live.

Letter VI.

Sir, 
	An amorous friend of mine, poetically given, being 
captivated by the celebrated Sally Salisbury, wrote (on her) 
the following stanzas, which being read to me, I found I could 
not be easy till I had seen the person on whom they were so 
handsome an encomium. I immediately went about it, and met 
with but very little trouble to get into her company, and much 
less to get into her carcass; and though I soon after found, 
that the venomous virago had given me reason to curse my 
curiosity, yet as I can and do freely forgive her, I know you 
can and will be so impartial, as to give these lines a place 
in her memoirs, and you'll oblige

Your humble servant 
Forget and forgive.

Soon as Phoebus sheds his beams, 
On the hills and purling streams, 
The stars the feeble night resign, 
Nor Cynthia's self can longer shine, 
But does her borrowed power resign. 
So to your superior sway, 
Other beauties all give way: 
A like regard to both we show, 
He rules above and you below.



Letter vii.

Sir,

In my juvenile years I was captivated by the fatal charms of 
(that since celebrated courtesan) Sally Salisbury: our 
conversation was of some continuance, but ended, as that of 
all her other admirers will do, with the deficiency of the 
purse; though I must ingenuously acknowledge the chief motive 
of my leaving her was the present of a New-Year's gift she 
made me; but whether French or Neapolitan, I leave to the 
determination of the sons of Galen. Yet notwithstanding all 
her accomplishments, about the year 1713, a certain nobleman, 
among others, was snared in the same gin; and if fame may be 
credited, still continues her admirer. By the sheets you have 
sent me to peruse, the account you have given of her birth and 
parentage is pretty exact, though part of her education is 
omitted, which was in Tothill Fields Bridewell, and the cause 
this.

Sally, though now engrossed by those of a superior rank, is 
yet as common as any of the sisterhood, who ply in the 
Hundreds of Drury; though some have taxed her with ingratitude 
to Mother Wisebourn, I can assure you of the contrary, for she 
hardly let a week pass without making the Lady Abbess and her 
nuns a visit, to regale with a cup of burnt brandy. At one of 
these nocturnal festivals your humble servant being one of the 
company, was alarmed by those religious officers, the 
informing constables, who decently conducted the whole clan to 
a Westminster justice of the peace. The rumour of this, soon 
reached the ears of her pious parents (for her mother has been 
often heard to say that she would not upon any score be a 
partaker of the wages of sin, though it is well known she has 
frequently stripped her children of rich silks, to make them 
appear humble in mean stuffs) they soon appeared in her behalf 
before the magistrate; but his worship, who had still a colt's 
tooth in his head, cast an amorous leer upon Sally; and, 
notwithstanding her mother's canting excuses told her she was 
an impudent woman to lay claim to such a daughter, for that it 
was plain by her appearance, air and gesture, she must 
undoubtedly have sprung from the loins of some man of quality, 
who had given her a piece of money for taking care of her. Let 
me view her again, says the justice, calling for his 
spectacles, and at the same time gave her a gentle squeeze by 
the hand: Sally, as she told me herself, was in hopes of 
rivalling his worship's female clerk, but the informers 
strictly insisting upon her character, and the infamous place 
she was taken in, old Limberham, sore against his inclination, 
was obliged to commit her to Tothill Fields Bridewell, but 
sent a private order, that she should not by any means undergo 
the discipline of the house, he having a design to correct her 
himself in private. Encouraged by his worship's treatment, 
Sally whenever she was insulted by her mother, would damn her 
with an air, call her old bitch, and let her know she had 
authority to tell her she was no ways related to her. At some 
lucid intervals indeed your heroine would seem very dutiful, 
loving and condescending, but these uncommon qualities in her, 
were entirely owing to her interested and mercenary 
disposition; for many a guinea has Sally got by the kind 
concessions of her mother, who would readily fetch her from 
her lodgings to Mrs Wisebourn's or anywhere else, to earn that 
sum; or even a crown rather than fail. These important 
services as well as her maternal tenderness to cause abortion 
whenever she found her to be with child, which sad mishap 
always put them both into most terrible apprehensions of 
spoiling their future market, ought never to be forgot, though 
the good old woman's concern for the breed was so exceedingly 
affectionate, that she always preserved the embryos in 
spirits: nor was the father, as far as his capacity would 
reach, a whit the less serviceable, who being, as you have 
rightly observed, a military faggot,<119> and a soldier's coat 
carrying a sort of a terror with it, was frequently sent for 
to Mother Wisebourn's, to frighten and bully young timorous 
cullies into a compliance with her exorbitant demands, and who 
were not willing to part with their gold after favours 
received: he was likewise a necessary utensil at quelling 
disturbances, which at such houses would commonly arise among 
his daughter's sparks, contending who should have most share 
of her good graces.

What you hinted to me about robbing her landlord, when she 
lodged at a brandy-shop in New Street near Covent Garden, is 
true history. For this fact she was seized, and brought before 
justice S----s, who at first refused, but at length admitted 
her to bail, and this affair was made up in a pecuniary way 
before the approaching sessions.

I shall conclude what the present time permits me to 
communicate, with the origin of her travelling name of 
Salisbury; an attire-woman upon cutting her hair told her (as 
she relates it) that had she not just before seen the Countess 
of Salisbury pass by, she should have taken her for her 
ladyship; Sally being extremely well pleased with this 
compliment, and recollecting the words which the amorous old 
magistrate had said to her mother, had the vanity to fancy, 
that from that imaginary resemblance, she was sufficiently 
entitled to assume the real name.
I am sir, 
Your unfeigned friend, 
And humble servant 
Polydor.

Chapter VI. 
The adventures of the grave signor Gambolini, and the very 
merry Belle Chuck.

Sir, 
	In the reign of her late Majesty Queen Anne, the 
gentleman well known by the name of Gambolini, filled one of 
the most considerable posts under her administration and stood 
high in the favour of his royal mistress. Indeed men and women 
of all ranks had a value for him, but whether the esteem of 
these was more properly occasioned by the ardent passion he 
was reputed to have for the fair sex, or the admiration of 
those for the profound depth of his politics, I am not able to 
determine; but this much is generally allowed on all hands, 
that no minister was ever more adroit in dispatching the 
affairs of the public, or made a more amiable figure in the 
drawing room. A late severe writer* tells us, that signor 
Gambolini, was, "a most profligate debauchee, and that one 
evening he was observed to pass secretly from an apartment in 
the palace where his office was kept, to an house of infamy; 
and there with two stale prostitutes, the leavings of a frowzy 
Jew, he spent the whole night in riot and debauchery; while 
his abused wife and family thought him waking about the public 
cares, and busied in affairs of the highest importance to the 
state. It happened that when he was at this most elegant 
retirement, the envoy of a neighbouring prince sent some 
dispatches to him, to be immediately communicated to the King. 
Gambolini heard nothing of either the envoy, or the 
dispatches. In vain the messengers flew about the town to find 
out this most indefatigable minister. The dispatches were laid 
by unsealed, and Gambolini, thoroughly tired with the labour 
of the night, was put to bed to the two prostitutes, with whom 
he slept away the next day; while the envoy, impatient to see 
himself thus neglected, published the contents of the 
dispatches to the world; who by this means, saw them before 
either he, or his sovereign."
*Note: See Court Tales, pag. 2.

Thus is Gambolini drawn as a lover; let us now survey him as a 
wit and a politician in which last capacity another satirist 
declares, that he was the smartest fellow of his time;* and, 
continues he, "Gambolini is a lusty young rogue, pampered with 
four bottles at night, and clean diet, which makes him prone 
to carnality -- he is of a mercurial disposition, and his wit 
goes off smart and with a jerk -- and after his death he 
assures us, that the dissection of his abdomen will be of 
general entertainment: his brains will be found situated at 
the head of the os pubis: his animal spirits acting more 
vigorously in that part, than in the upper region. I beg, says 
he, his body may not be mangled; but that the executive part 
of it may be consecrated to Priapus." Such a power had 
Gambolini over the hearts of the fair sex, that the same 
author affirms, it was, "every day demonstrated by the young 
wenches, handing up to him billet-doux in their gloves and 
handkerchiefs." It is no wonder then, that he was in pursuit 
of all fresh game that was started. Thus upon the first 
notice, he roused Sally from the same form, where Orontes had 
found her lodged, upon which the grave senator, having private 
intelligence, immediately dispatched a female-steward, who 
paid the Lady Abbess, Mrs Wisebourn, 140 guineas for her 
redemption, and sent her under guard to Kensington, as already 
related.
*The High German Doctor. Vol.I. Pag. 9,10.

But it was not long before Gambolini obtained an interview 
with Sally, and for three nights lodging, gave her three 
fifty-pound bank-notes, adding, that he would glut the b--h 
with money, could he secure her to his embraces only. Though 
Sally fairly gave him to understand, that such sums were but 
mere trifles, in her elegant way of life.

Shortly after, upon more weighty considerations, Gambolini 
carried off the prize to his own house, where, no doubt, he 
thought himself secure for a time; but Sally, who could bear 
no rival, finding by one of the servants his love of variety, 
and that he had another mistress under the same roof, at night 
when he came to pay his adoration to her, as the only object 
of his vows, she, as the saying is, rid very rusty; flew from 
his detested embraces, and leapt out of a window in her smock; 
this alarmed the whole family; and Sally, in making her 
escape, meeting Gambolini's lady upon the stair-case, related 
the story of his attempt upon her, acquainted her ladyship, 
that there was a lewd woman in the signor's apartment, and 
that, unless speedy care was taken, the marriage bed was in a 
fair way of being defiled.

The good lady, out of her compassionate tenderness, though she 
had some suspicion of Sally's virtue, conducted her to her own 
apartment, gave her the best advice, equipped her for her 
departure, sent for her own chairmen, and ordered them to 
attend Sally's pleasure.

This accident caused a separation of some continuance between 
the signor and Sally, but at length falling into a set of 
company, most of 'em courtiers, at a tavern near the royal 
palace of St. James's, he was told they had a very merry lady 
with them, and being asked if he would make one at an old 
game, played after a new manner; upon consenting, he was 
introduced. When he entered the room, he found Sally standing 
upright upon a bed, but reversed, her head being in the place 
where her heels should be, she was honoured with having two 
peers for her supporters, each holding and extending a well 
shaped leg; thus every admirer pleased with the sight, pulled 
out his gold, and with the greatest alacrity pursued the 
agreeable diversion.

Between two marble-pillars, round and plump, 
With eye intent, each sportsman took his aim; 
The merry chuck-hole bordered on the rump, 
And from this play Sally derived a name. 
Within her tufted chink, the guineas shone, 
And each that she received, was all her own. 
With echoing shouts the vaulted chamber rung, 
Belle Chuck was now the toast of ev'ry tongue. 
Sally no more her Christian name could boast, 
And Priddon too, in that of Chuck was lost. 
The signor with this appellation pleased, 
Returning home, his lab'ring fancy eased, 
To Prior, writes what's past, and what's to come, 
Dating the packet from his chucky's* bum.
* See the report of the Secret Committee



Chapter VII. 
Some specimens of her ingratitude.

Letter VIII.

Sir, 
	Among the many actions which go into the composition of a 
character so public and celebrated as that you are treating 
upon, there are none more worthy our observation, than those 
which mark out to us, more immediately, the predominant 
inclinations of the party; because they serve to give us a 
perfect picture of the interior, and to lay before us, in a 
clear light, the features of the mind, as discernibly as the 
exterior lineaments of the body appear to the naked eye.

For this purpose, I shall throw together some loose incidents, 
which will represent her propensity to ingratitude, in such 
lively colours, that one would be at a stand to guess, whether 
she took more delight in receiving presents of great value, or 
in requiting the donors with contempt.

There is no expressing the violent avarice that appeared in 
her on the one hand, to get whatever she could out of the 
persons, that her charms had any power over, and she had, on 
the other hand, such a spirit of profusion, and took such a 
wantonness in prodigality, that she seemed formed by nature to 
make the most exquisite example of consummate ingratitude. 
Hence, in proportion, as she more or less touched the heart of 
any admirer, she got the command of his purse, and then made 
his generosity the measure of her extravagance.

About a year or two ago, a man of quality, was by her made an 
exemplary instance of this cruelty in her temper. He had, in 
the course of his pleasures with her, been as liberal, as a 
large fortune and a generous mind could make him, or even, as 
her own request, though never so extravagant, could tempt him 
to be. If she had granted him a hundred of her favours, she 
had received thousands at times from him, and been as fully 
requited as any heart, but hers, could wish.

The gentleman's affairs having called him into the country, 
they had been absent from one another for some time, and their 
first meeting afterwards happened to be at Hampstead Wells, 
where they were both playing at the same public table. 
Fortunes of a very different complexion, at that time, 
attended the lady and her gallant, every throw of Sally's 
carried along with it success, while the gentleman had such a 
run of ill-luck, that just when Sally had got a vast heap of 
gold before her, he was stripped of the last guinea. Hereupon, 
with a smile, he addressed the fair banker on the other side 
of the table, and desired to be her debtor for five pieces 
only, that he might try to give a turn to fortune, by what he 
borrowed from so lucky a hand, she, with a smile very 
different from that with which he addressed her, played upon 
his good nature with an air of haughtiness, and contempt, 
saying with a base sneer, that, it was not lucky to lend money 
at play, and that as she had a resolution to get it, she had 
an equal resolution to keep it; then sweeping it off the table 
into her handkerchief, and shaking it, in insolent triumph, 
with an extended hand, gave him a side-look full of scorn, and 
so marched off. Thus she left him the object of public 
derision, by way of requital for his private favours.

Her frequent visiting, the same summer, the Wells at 
Hampstead, drew the eyes of the gamesters upon her; their way 
of living, she well knew, was better suited with her 
extravagance of temper and appetite, than any other 
whatsoever. The expense which attends gaming, among persons 
who play deep, is daily greater than a very large estate would 
allow any private gentleman to spend. They riot in plenty and 
luxury beyond the nobles of the land, they are more 
voluptuous, and more costly in their pleasures, than rakes of 
any other class, and 'tis the study of one hour, how to make 
the next the most exquisitely delightful, be the expense ever 
so great. It must be one of this sort of men, if any could 
ever do it, that could gratify, to the height, the varying 
inclinations of Mrs Salisbury to extravagance, and answer 
every fresh call which her fancy was perpetually making after 
novelties of entertainment. She perceived that numbers of them 
had fixed their eyes upon her, and that their hearts followed 
their eyes: but as the heart of none of them was valuable to 
her, but only according as the purse could keep time with its 
affections, the question was, which of them she should fix her 
eye upon and make her choice. As she was pursuing this track 
of thought, she had such a discerning faculty, that she soon 
pitched upon the most proper man for her purpose. He was 
elderly, but the number of his bags exceeded the number of his 
years, yet by nature amorous, and his passion was of that 
sort, which inclining him to a kind of dotage upon whatever 
object he once admired, made him more liable to be persuaded 
out of anything, and more flexible to the commands of a 
mistress than a young and vigorous lover. She as soon found 
out an opportunity of having his company, of feeling his 
pulse, and discovered in him an extreme vanity of carrying off 
such a prize of beauty as herself, before the many longing and 
desiring fellows, who were in the pride of their years, the 
blossom of their beauty and the fullness of their strength. 
She tickled him in this vein of vanity till she brought it to 
the highest pitch, and then gratified it in order to have her 
own vanity in another way gratified to as high a degree.

The old gamester, well known by this description, was happy in 
Sally's beauty, and Sally was as happy in the command of his 
money, as he was in the possession of her charms. Every young 
fellow looked with an envious eye upon the gamester's 
felicity, and he enjoyed their envy, growing every day more 
vain, as he perceived them grown more uneasy; to make his 
triumph, as he thought, the greater, his mistress must be set 
up to light in the fairest point of lustre, no cost was to be 
spared for any ornaments that his Sally fancied would make an 
addition to her charms, and render the person, whom he could 
enjoy, when he pleased, more amiable to others, and desirable 
to thousands in vain. Hence it came to pass, that if several 
rakes of quality envied the old gamester, with no less envy 
did many a harlot of dignity, that had her gilded chariot and 
her coat of arms, look upon Sally, who almost every new-day 
appeared in a new-dress, and out-shined them all in 
atlases<120> and brocades. They were now both at the height of 
their desires, and such is the vicissitude of human affairs, 
that, when there is no going higher, a fall to the other 
extreme is too generally the consequence. The old gamester had 
tired out his vanity with habit, and one extravagance, pushed 
on another, in Sally, and made her every day more exorbitant 
in her demands, till the old man grew weary of his expenses 
and his dotage together. An unseasonable accident joined, at 
the same time, to forward their parting; on a day when the 
dice had had a plaguy ill run, and had soured the old 
gentleman's temper, Sally in great gaiety of heart, and 
knowing nothing of his losses, presented herself before him 
unluckily in the peevish minute. She wondered to find that he, 
who never dared to put on a displeasing look when it was her 
will to be merry, should return her smiles with the frowns of 
such a lowering countenance. She peremptorily bid him explain 
what he meant by that sullen air of his; he answered her as 
shortly, and as peevishly as she had spoke angrily, that he 
had been a loser at hazard beyond all patience, and was not at 
that time in a temper to hear fooleries. Sally hitherto 
unacquainted with this kind of treatment, swelled with 
indignation, and in an elevated tone of voice made him this 
reply. "I thought till now, I was to be a partaker of your 
pleasures, and not to be troubled with idle tales of losses, I 
can suppose nothing but that this is some cunning fetch of 
yours, to excuse yourself from gratifying me in some little 
and moderate demand which you think I am going to ask. Your 
losses are none of mine, why therefore am I to be made uneasy 
at them? I think I ought to have my turn of losing now," 
therefore without any more words; clapping her hands upon the 
table, "let me see fifty guineas in this place instantly." 
Thus far angrily, but dissembling a smile when she perceived 
him hesitate upon the question, she altered her tone of voice, 
and said insinuatingly to him, "Come lay them down here I 
say," touching the table more lightly with her hand, "as you 
have had ill luck, I may have good, and I long to put you out 
of this fretful humour. No more splenetic looks," says she, 
"but let me see you give it me with the same pleasant 
countenance as I receive it." A demand of fifty pieces just 
after the loss of some hundreds, came a little unseasonably. 
He was very unwilling to grant, and yet not courageous enough 
entirely to refuse her. After fumbling some time in his 
pocket, and saying not a word, out came the purse at last with 
much ado. When Sally saw the purse, she was resolved to be 
wholly silent, and watch his motions, till she saw plainly 
what he would be at. His fingers were very slow in opening the 
purse-strings, and when opened, seemed to grasp the gold with 
still more reluctancy. He very leisurely told over ten pieces, 
and asked her if those would not do for the present. She said 
nothing, but shook her head. He then told down twenty, and put 
the same question to her, looking at her very earnestly; she 
looking more earnestly at him, vouchsafed him no other answer, 
but what appeared in a second refusing nod, and a scowling 
forehead. At length, the old caster, after many inward 
struggles, brought himself to the counting of that difficult 
number, fifty. But when he had done this, he first looked 
sternly upon her, and then greedily at the gold, counting it 
over and over again. At last he ventured it out of his hands, 
and told it gently down upon the table; she was not so slow in 
acting her part, but the instant it was down, swept it into 
her lap, without giving herself the trouble of telling it, and 
so soon as she had it safe, she cried, "Aren't you a dilatory 
old pimp? Now have you been much longer in parting with this 
trifling sum, than I shall be in spending of it," then 
whisking out of the room, and giving this specimen both of her 
ingratitude and this extravagance, she left him to be sole 
auditor of his own accounts, and to balance his loss and gain, 
as well as he could.

I shall give you, sir, but one instance more of her 
ingratitude, and so conclude.

It has been the fortune of Mrs Salisbury, who has charmed so 
many men, to be sometimes captivated herself. A young officer 
in the foot guards, who was naturally formed to please, 
happened once to get into her company, and at the same time 
into her heart. She was as deeply in love with him, as ever 
any man had been with her. In fine, she became for once a 
suitor, and explained to him her inclinations sufficiently, to 
put him upon desiring that favour, which she desired to grant; 
this familiarity once begun, pleased both so well, that it 
continued between them for some years: she upon all occasions 
showed an excess of fondness for him, and there is one 
circumstance particularly, which proves it not to have been at 
all dissembled, which is, that as expensive as she had been to 
all mankind besides, she never was so to him, during the whole 
course of their intrigue. Once indeed, when she was in danger 
of being under an arrest for the sum of 35 pounds, she sent 
for the captain and informed him of her apprehensions; it was 
not then in his power to answer such a sum, but it was so much 
in his will, that being rather contented to become a debtor 
himself, than to let her remain so, he tried his friends, 
borrowed the money, and made the payment, for which she gave 
him a note of her hand, promising him, that he should be 
speedily reimbursed, and that she should always acknowledge 
the obligation. One would imagine, that if there was any 
person, with whom she would keep her word, it must have been 
with this gentleman. Not to be grateful to a man, who was not 
only her lover, but of whom she was herself the professed 
lover, argues her guilty of so superlative a degree of 
ingratitude, so unthinkingly profuse of her own money, and so 
cravingly covetous of other people's, that it cannot be said, 
that the enchanting pleasures of gallantry, love and fruition, 
are her chief vices; but that a strange mixture of avarice and 
prodigality, of inconstancy and ingratitude meets in her; and 
that these are the reigning and predominant passions of her 
mind. Loving as she was to this gentleman, as much as she was 
beloved by him, and notwithstanding this acknowledged 
obligation; she, it seems, was informed, but a few months 
after, of his being actually under such an arrest, as she had 
only been under apprehensions of. He was willing to be obliged 
to the person whom before he had so willingly obliged. He 
disdained to put her in mind of her promissory note, and would 
have been better pleased to receive her assistance as a 
favour, where he could have demanded it in justice. He wanted 
more to be convinced of her true affection in the manner of 
doing it, than even to have the thing itself done. He 
accordingly sent her word, that he was in custody, and could 
not, easily deliver himself from thence, without being 
indebted to her help. This he signified to her, in a letter 
sent by a porter, and as he strenuously insisted on an answer, 
she returned this very grateful and modest reply by him by 
word of mouth: "Look ye, fellow, if you have sense enough to 
carry a short message, give the sorry wretch you come from," 
(tossing her head with an air of disdain) "this answer in 
plain English, that I own the pimp did once lay down thirty 
five pounds for me, but that if he was to pay me but one 
farthing for every one of the greater favours he has had of 
me, it would amount to more than the sum; and that, as he got 
into jeopardy, he may get out again as he can, for Sally.

I think these three instances sufficient to give you a taste 
of her temper, and how fit she is, with all her charms, to be 
treated, by any gentleman, as a friend, a mistress, or indeed, 
a companion even of his loosest hours.

I send this account the more willingly to you, because my 
friend Polydor, long after he had left her on account of the 
wrongs she had done him, felt, at some intervals, a regret to 
think that after so many tender obligations, she could find in 
her soul to prove false to him, and the reading of this, may 
hereafter, in all probability, alleviate the sense of his 
loss, when he considers, he only lost a woman, in whose nature 
it never was, nor ever can be, to be true to any one man upon 
the face of the earth.
I am sir, 
Your humble servant, 
M. Castalio. 
Jan. 27, 1722/3

Letter IX.
From Polydor to Castalio. Upon his having communicated to him 
the foregoing.

Sir, 
	The letter which you communicated to me, and in some 
measure which concerns myself, speaks the wickedness of the 
woman in so lively a manner, representing my own former 
frailty, of being too easy in believing what I liked so 
justly, and demonstrates your own abhorrence of her 
ingratitude and concern for the alteration of my temper, so 
kindly, that I cannot requite it any way so well as by sending 
you an answer, which will show you how much I am now likewise 
convinced of her ingratitude and inconstancy to others, to 
whom she has had almost equal obligations, by which I shall 
free you from the uneasiness you express for a real friend, 
for fear of his lying still under an uneasiness for a false 
mistress.

To show you therefore, dear sir, that I no longer regret her 
having proved false to me, and that I am thoroughly convinced 
of what you very sprightly express, that it is not in her 
nature to be true to any man upon the face of this earth. 
Whether she does judiciously, feignedly, or does even really 
love him, I send you the following relation of the same kind 
as the three instances you have given of her, which when you 
have perused, you may, if you please, communicate to Captain 
Walker as from
Your humble servant 
Polydor 
Feb. 18, 1722/3

News was brought to Sally, that a particular friend of hers, 
to whom she ought to have been a friend, if obligations could 
have made her so, lay under the unhappy circumstance of an 
arrest: a circumstance, which he had frequently prevented from 
happening to her, not only with unusual bounty, but with an 
unusual manner of bestowing it. It highly delighted her to 
think that it now lay in her power to triumph, with severity, 
over a person who could never have been subject to her 
insolence, but by his kind condescensions to her. She hugged 
herself with the conceit of fondling a new lover with the ill 
treatment of an old one. For being then in company with Baron 
Leonardo, and having the distresses of a female acquaintance, 
and who was a partner in her pleasure, laid before her, she 
resolved to make her tenderness known, in regard to a harlot, 
in order the more triumphantly, to show the hardships, that 
she put upon a generous and genteel rake, whom she had, by 
studied insinuations, brought to these hardships. According to 
the fire of her temper, the Baron was asked peremptorily, 
whether he would go and visit poor Lady Betty, a well-known 
damsel, in distress, who made herself, by her good nature, too 
cheap; and added, that a man ought never to hope for the 
condescension of a woman to his pleasures, in the flow of her 
fortunes, that would not help a beauty in the ebb of hers.

The Baron, whose soul was naturally bent to women, by the 
habit of his bodily inclinations that way, and whose mind was 
formed for pity to the indigent, had generosity to all whom he 
thought proper objects of it, instantly struck in with the 
proposal, and was more ardent after the declaration was made 
to him, than the successful Sally had been in declaring it, to 
see the fair captive.

To make the story as short as I can, they met; and as soon as 
they arrived, Lady Betty had scarce dropped a tear, and Sally 
began to second with the seldom failing rhetoric of a harlot, 
but the Baron with a smile that manifested his good-nature, 
and squeezing Sally by the hand to signify that he desired her 
silence, as not needing her insinuations to allure him to that 
intent, prevented Lady Betty's disturbing herself any further 
with her sorrow, desired to know the sum which occasioned it, 
and assured her it was ready in his pocket to relieve her.

Lady Betty considering that the sum was a little of the 
largest, was too modest to express it, without some 
hesitation. "D----n you," says Sally; "I told you that modesty 
undid this wench, and now you perceive it to be true. Look ye, 
my lord, 'tis but for the trifle of an hundred guineas ---- 
and I know your good nature to the fair cause," then she hung 
fawningly about his neck; and kissed him. The baron knew the 
hardship to himself of paying so large a sum; but his facility 
of temper prevailed, upon two considerations; first, that he 
should relieve the distressed, which he heartily loved to do, 
out of a propensity to virtue; and secondly, because he was to 
relieve a pretty girl, that he had a greater propensity to 
relieve out of a stronger and more vigorous appetite, which he 
had to the vices of the flesh.

The debt being paid and the ceremonies of the officers being 
satisfied, more according to the purse of the honourable 
friend, than the circumstance of the fair captive, they 
adjourned to a tavern.

In their discourse there, the relieved Lady Betty, mentioned, 
with some concern, a gentleman that was companion of her 
sorrows. "Ay," says my lord, very readily, being still 
desirous of doing more good, "I think Sally you told me of one 
who was formerly an acquaintance of yours, and who had done 
very handsomely for you, in the greatest distress, which ought 
certainly to be remembered with the utmost gratitude, is so 
unhappy as to be confined in that very place, which I think 
myself happy in having relieved this lady from" (making, at 
the same, time a compliment with his hand to Lady Betty) "and 
what is still worse, I think you told me he had not the least 
hopes of redemption; nay," continued the baron, "you, my dear 
Sally, have owned yourself" (turning to her in the most 
affectionate manner) "that he was a man for whom you once had 
a particular kindness, and that his temper, his years, his 
air, his every action were so agreeable, that, had he not been 
guilty of that one foolish thing of spending his money, as you 
call it (but I can never think it so in regard of so fine a 
woman, whose lips are better worth sealing, as Congreve says, 
than a bond for a million) you could have continued him in 
your favour, with the utmost tenderness, to this very day." 
Sally heard with patience the lover whom she was still to 
deceive, but the impatience she had of hearing the lover 
defended whom she had already deceived, replied, as she 
thought, with a discreet, but really an indiscreet sort of 
temper (though her daily indiscretions encouraged her still to 
new ones, as acts of discretion) by reason of the prevalence 
of her charms which took place as well in this as in other 
points, and relying thereupon, she thus replied; "True," says 
Sally, "d----n him for a pimp! His generosity to me, as I told 
you, is very true, but that is the only thing I hate him for: 
I look upon him with contempt to see what a miserable ass he 
has made of himself," (and then altering her voice to a softer 
tone, and hugging the baron, as she had done the distressed 
gentleman when in good circumstances) "my lord, my dear lord, 
if ever you expect a kind look from me, leave this discourse, 
and abandon a wretch that is already abandoned."

The baron deep in apprehension of offending on the one hand, 
the woman he so tenderly loved, and yet very willing by his 
natural humanity to relieve the unhappy gentleman, still urged 
that he understood by her own narration of the fact, that most 
of those debts were contracted on her account, and begged, as 
if he was supplicating a favour to himself, that she would 
give him leave to find out some way of satisfying the 
creditors, and disentangling the gentleman from the misery in 
which he was involved. He further signified to her, that if 
she had a mind to be the mediatrix, those sums for which he 
was arrested, should be trifles in her pocket, and that 
afterwards he himself would take care, for her sake, to put 
him into a post which would enable him to retrieve what was 
passed. This opportunity one would think, of giving a man a 
redemption out of misery, not at her own, but another's 
expense, must certainly have been sufficient (when not only so 
generously, but so handsomely proffered by a gentleman, nay, 
even urged by him) to excite her to do it, if she had not 
taken a greater kind of wantonness in ingratitude, than even 
in the acts of wantonness themselves.

Sally was so far from being moved with this kind speech of her 
new companion to a compassion for her old one, that she flew 
rather into a fit of fury against her new admirer, in the 
midst of opulence and wealth, sooner than she would not show 
her ill-nature to a friend in calamity, who had shown her the 
utmost good nature when fortune smiled upon him.

Fury took so much the greater hold of her, that throwing a 
glass of wine in the baron's face, she solemnly swore, that if 
ever he mentioned the scrub or subject any more, his own blood 
not claret, should next stain his shirt, and that if she once 
gave ear to the cries of her undone fellows, as she called 
them, there would be no end; "For," says she, "there is scarce 
a jail in town, but what I have made a present of a member or 
two, nor a quarter of the world, but where I have sent some 
stripped lover a-grazing."

I hope by this time, my dear Castalio, I have convinced you 
how much I myself am convinced of Sally's ingratitude, and I 
should think myself not less ungrateful to you, if I did not 
relieve you from the inquietude you was under for me by 
showing you thus, that I am under no inquietude for her; and 
to end my letter as I began, you may, as a public testimony of 
my temper upon this occasion, communicate this to the public 
by Capt. Walker.

I am, 
Your most affectionate and faithful humble servant, 
Polydor 
Feb. 18, 1722/3

Letter X

Brother officer, 
	When I saw the several advertisements in the newspapers 
about your being concerned in publishing some memoirs (which 
you say are authentic) of the life of our famously infamous, 
and mischievously bewitching Sally Salisbury, I could not for 
some time prevail with myself to have any other opinion of the 
undertaking or performance, than that it must be some Grub 
Street stuff (you'll pardon my frankness) like what I have 
seen before in that heap of absurdity and lies fathered upon 
the never-to-be-forgotten Mother Wisebourn, at whose 
university I had been too assiduous a student, not to know how 
partially, and basely, she has been treated in that vile 
pamphlet--but t'other day a certain friend of mine, one of 
your correspondents, to whom you have been pleased to 
communicate some of the printed sheets, assured me, that it 
was his opinion that the work was far from being of the class 
I suspected, but was done with great candour and impartiality; 
so, sir, if the following short passage, of which, I assure 
you, I was both an eye and ear witness, may be worthy a place 
in your memoirs, 'tis heartily at your service.
Your unknown humble servant 
W. Rider. 
Greenwich, 
Feb. 24, 1722/3

Being a few years ago, with another gentleman, in a noted 
house of entertainment, not far from the Hay-Market, we heard 
some company in the next room (which was only parted from ours 
by a thin wainscot) saying to one another very often, "Where 
is this immortal bitch Sally, that she does not come?" And 
such like appellations. We knowing several of the voices, and 
partly guessing at the person they were so impatient for, it 
moved our curiosity to look out at the window in expectation 
of her coming, to be satisfied if our guess was right. We had 
not waited a quarter of an hour, before we saw a chair pretty 
near the door, and a very grave, genteelly dressed, sombre-
looking matron, we presumed might be turned of forty, had 
stopped short, seeming to look mighty earnestly into the chair 
till it had passed her, and then she followed it in a more 
precipitate pace, than by the gravity of her aspect, might be 
supposed she usually went, saying in our hearing, as she 
approached the door, "That's a sweet young lady! A delicious 
creature! Blessings light on her, and the mother that bore 
her!" The chairmen had now stopped just under our window, and 
out starts your heroine (for she her own self it proved to be) 
dressed like a little princess, in crimson velvet, with 
abundance of jewels about her: the matron, desirous of having 
a fuller view, and some little parley with that agreeable 
engaging object of her admiration, came up full to her, and 
accosting her with a very low, respectful curtsy, said; "God 
in heaven preserve your sweet ladyship! I han't seen so pretty 
a lady in a great while; I beg you let me look at you a 
little: your mien, person, and dress perfectly charm me!" 
Sally, who, to give her her due, can behave herself as well as 
any lady in England, when she thinks fit, very civilly 
returned the gentlewoman's compliment, and, as she never wants 
a quickness of thought, and being in one of her waggish airs, 
as appears by the sequel, resolved to banter the poor 
gentlewoman for her inquisitiveness and curiosity, and after 
some few words of course, she began this memorable dialogue 
with her, which is still verbatim, fresh in my memory. 
"Madam," said Sally, "you seem to have forgot me! Pray when 
did you see Mrs Brown? How does that good gentlewoman do?" 
"Your ladyship surprises me," replied the other, "I can't 
remember that I am acquainted with any lady of that name." 
"No!" Says Sally, "that's very strange indeed, I am certain 
that you and she are prodigiously intimate, and I myself have 
had the honour of being extremely merry in the company of both 
of you." "How, madam," answered the wondering matron, "I am 
confident I am intimate with no one person in the world that 
ever went by the name of Brown; neither can I possibly 
recollect that ever I saw your ladyship before, much less, 
that I have had the honour of being in your company: you are 
infallibly mistaken, madam; but who is this Mrs Brown you 
mean?" "Mean?" Said the wanton, gamesome devil, "who is she? 
Why who should it be or whom do you think I mean? Why 'tis 
your own brown, I mean, pray is not she of your intimate 
acquaintance, and han't I been very merry in your company?" 
Then away she tripped up the stairs laughing at her frolic, 
and bouncing into the room where her company was, she told 
them the whole story, who, I doubt not, were as much diverted 
at the recital, as I and my friend had been before, though we 
had the advantage of beholding the whole scene, and likewise 
the behaviour of the poor deceived gentlewoman afterwards; who 
looked wistfully after the arch harlot as far as she could see 
her, and then with signs of the greatest confusion and 
astonishment, lifting up her eyes, and extending her hands, 
she broke out into these exclamations: "Sweet Jesus have mercy 
upon me! As I live she is a vile whore in all this finery! Who 
could have thought it? She looks as much like a woman of 
reputation, as any I ever saw in my life! But the more's the 
pity, she is a devil in the form of a cherubim!" Thus she ran 
on, and after having blessed herself for some time, she went 
away muttering. Notwithstanding Sally, upon this occasion, 
spoke out her words very plain, yet, taking her character in a 
true light, she is very far from being the most vulgar lady, 
of her profession, we have in town, and is seldom guilty of 
talking obscenely, as any I know.

A propos. Now my hand is in, I'll give you an instance or two 
more of the nature of the beast. There is a noted female in 
the Hundreds of Drury, of her own vocation, at whose lodgings, 
as my aforementioned friend and I were, some years since, 
taking a flask, Mrs Salisbury, then in very good keeping, 
chanced to go by in somebody's chariot, and very fine she was, 
and mighty pretty she looked, or, at least, I and my companion 
thought so: but our landlady, either, not liking the encomiums 
we made upon madam (for you know people of the same trade 
seldom agree) or prepossessed with some particular pique 
against her, said thus; "That proud minx you seem to have such 
a liking to, and who is now so very brilliant, is little 
better, by extraction, than any of our twopenny thrums; and I 
would have you to know, that the first laced smock she had 
upon her skin was mine, and I lent it her to go a-bitching 
in." This, in a day or two after we told Sally, who, with a 
good round curse, made answer; "She lies like a bitch! She 
never lent me a smock in her days--yes, rot her, now I 
recollect, I believe she did once lend me a flannel one to be 
fluxed in." I shall conclude with a saying of hers, which she 
very frequently used to have in her mouth, "It was always my 
ambition to be a first-rate whore, and I think, I may say, 
without vanity, that I am the greatest, and make the most 
considerable figure of any in the three kingdoms." And to give 
you my own private sentiments of her, she is the most 
conspicuous punk, that has shined in a side box, or emptied 
the privy purse of a peer, for this last century.

Letter XI.

Sir, 
	Some years since I was (to my great misfortune) fool 
enough to trifle away my time and money upon that trifle Sally 
Salisbury. At our first acquaintance, I did not find, (or at 
least not think) it very expensive, and to say the truth, she 
for some time, afforded me lascivious love enough for my 
money, but when, by paying her too frequent visits, she 
perceived I was grown fond of her, and observed that I usually 
carried a well-lined green purse about me, then the cunning 
jilt began to make a property of me, and I verily believe, 
that had I kept an account of the ready money, expense of 
treats, and prime cost of clothes and other presents, she 
wheedled or (to my shame be it spoken) bullied me out of, I 
should find, that every solace (after our first three months 
dealings) stood me in 50 pounds, and to her may I ascribe my 
being what (instead of my name) I shall subscribe to this 
letter, which, before I conclude, give me leave to acquaint 
you, that being in her company one evening (and had presented 
her with a piece of the richest silk I could get) her maid 
came and told me, that Mr Brown (well known to be Proveditor-
General in the Hundreds of Drury) was at the door and wanted 
to speak with her herself, upon which she ordered her maid to 
bid the cock-bawd come in, which she did, and delivered her a 
letter in these terms:

Fair Angel, 
	With the utmost satisfaction I embrace this opportunity 
of paying my epistolary devoirs to the bright Astrea, whose 
matchless perfections have captivated my heart. I am conscious 
'twould be a presumption in me to desire so great a favour as 
a few minutes converse (to convince her of the fullness and 
ardency of my affection) did not the idea of a goodness, 
inseparable to so many charms, present itself, and thereby 
raise my hope, and justify my expectations; by all that 
goodness then you are mistress of, I conjure you, charming 
fair one, to believe and pity the languishing Lycidas, when he 
declares he never will (or rather that he never can) cease to 
adore you. Let this, I beseech you, extract from your fair 
hands, or ruby lips, the favour of an assignation (which if 
you kindly vouchsafe, by trusty Brown the bearer) then shall 
Lycidas hope to be happy, otherwise he must remain 
inexpressibly miserable; for the greatest blessing he covets 
in this world, is only in the divine Astrea's power to grant. 
From her passionate admirer
Lycidas.

P.S. Some circumstances requiring my making use of romantic 
names, I hope you'll forgive the freedom, since I have 
endeavoured to call you by that name which most resembles you, 
though I must beg pardon and acknowledge the greatest encomium 
I can give you is to describe you by yourself.

When she had read this, she asked him what anonymous son of a 
bitch sent it, for, till she knew, she would give no answer to 
it; Brown seemed unwilling to discover that before me, which 
she observing, called him pimp, and bid him be free, for that 
I was a friend whom she trusted with all her secrets: upon 
this he said; to tell the truth he is no better nor no worse, 
than an eminent non-con parson, lusty and lustful, who oft 
leaves his flock in the country, to regale himself in 
masquerade with persons of your sex and function in these 
parts. I am his jackal, and generally used to provide him low-
prized ware, but he having seen you (or at least heard of your 
fame) no one but yourself at this time will content him. 
Having thus ended his harangue, she thus replied, "Go tell the 
canting, fulsome, fanatical pimp, that (though I hate his 
sect, and much more to be priest-ridden) if he has 10 pieces 
in his pocket to fool away, that I have given you leave to 
show him the way to my lodging, where he may gratify his 
appetite and ambition." Her freedom you may be sure put me 
upon the fret, which she observing, placed herself upon my 
knee, chucked me under the chin, bussed, and then said, "My 
dear, you seem to be uneasy, I hope you do not grudge me the 
noble present you have brought me, if you do I shall never 
wear it with pleasure." I told her no, that was not the case, 
but her sending for another gallant before my face: upon which 
she very pertly replied, she had done that not with a design 
to affront but to convince me of the value she had for my 
present; for that if the pedantic blockhead should come, he 
should only have a little bit of old-hat to stay his stomach, 
till he got to some harlot of his own puritanical flock, for 
his money, which she would apply, with what she already had by 
her, to buy a rich trimming in order to make up the silk I had 
given her into a gown and coat, which she could not in 
conscience ask of me, who had so generously given her the silk 
itself. This dialogue had continued longer, had not the non-
con conscious lover at that time come according to the 
conscious Sally's invitation, and being conducted into another 
room, Sally left me for above 2 hours, all which time I was 
fool enough patiently to wait; then the parson being gone, and 
the money got, she returned to me, and I was sot enough to 
stay and be content that whole night with a buttered-bun, and 
her dissembling cant, and was so infatuated afterwards, 
notwithstanding this, and many other instances of ill usage, 
to continue her humble servant, until I was
A broken merchant. 
Feb 16, 1722/3

Letter XII.

Sir,

Though to your person a stranger, yet permit me as a friend to 
tell you, that I fear, in diverting the town with choleric 
Sally's memoirs, you will endanger yourself. I mean not the 
risk of your person, for that, as a captain, I suppose you do 
not value, but another which ought (if you be needy as common 
fame reports most authors are) to be more dreadful to you, 
viz. The danger of being cited in the commons, having your 
pockets emptied by spiritual court proctors, and doing penance 
in a place, where, in tracing Sally's life, I believe you will 
hardly find she has ever been since her baptism; for as in 
writing of her life I believe it will be impossible for you to 
avoid giving her a title which more justly belongs to her, 
than the name she assumes, so I also believe 'twill be as 
impossible (considering what a termagant you have to deal 
with) to escape the danger promised. To convince you my 
suspicions are not groundless, and to put you upon your guard, 
take the following story, of which may be said, as a 
predecessor of yours has said on another occasion,

Tis true, 'tis pity; 
And 
Pity 'tis, 'tis true. 
[Hamlet, Act II, Sc. II]

Not long since, a pretty novice in the family of love, hearing 
that Sally had the art to please and get money more than any 
of the sisterhood, had an ambition to get into her company, 
hoping to learn and profit thereby: but as two of a trade can 
seldom agree, so it happened with them. In the quarrel, the 
younker called Sally whore; and though at the same time light-
fingered Sally beat her heartily, and demolished a new suit of 
clothes just procured upon tick; yet not content with that, 
she commenced a process at civil law: and though upon it her 
antagonist escaped the white sheet, by Mr Clogg the merry 
proctor's taking an advantage of some flaw or delay in the 
proceedings of his brother of the civil band, whom Sally had 
employed; yet the expense so drained her pocket, that being 
behind-hand in her weekly payments to Mr Whore-eater the 
tallyman, he employed Mr Cannibal to arrest and put her into 
hell upon earth, alias the Marshalsea, to do penance there.

When the civil suit was quashed, Mr Clogg was observed 
jocosely to say no one ought to give the title of whore how 
true soever to any one, unless they could fully prove, that in 
lawless-love, they had catched, viz. seen or felt rem in 
re.<121> That this saying of the facetious Mr Clogg's may be a 
caution to you, is the intent of this, from
Sir, yours, and all that 
Tim. Timorous



Chapter VIII. 
How She Used her Lovers
Letter XIII. 

Sir, 
	By the note you left for me at the coffee-house, you are 
pleased to compliment, or rather flatter me, by expressing an 
undeserved acknowledgement for the few instances I sent you of 
some of Mrs Salisbury's merry pranks. You likewise intimate, 
that you would take it as an additional favour, if I could 
procure any more memoirs upon the same subject. I have, to 
oblige you, picked up the following notices, which, if worth 
your acceptance, you may depend upon as matter of fact.

When Sally (who seems to have been created for no other 
purpose but to do mischief, and to bully mankind) was a member 
of Mrs Wisebourne's celebrated college, there was a certain 
very remarkable Muscovite nobleman introduced into her company 
by one of our true-bred London rakes, well versed in the 
experimental philosophy of these academies. This noble 
foreigner was in his most vigorous youth; and the cold frozen 
air of the northern climate, from whence he came, had not 
congealed his blood to such a degree, but that the piercing 
beams of Sally's sprightly eyes, with a few home-shot glances, 
found a passage to his very heart, which taking fire, set the 
whole mass upon the thaw, and made it run as warm in his 
veins, as that of a Portuguese in the East-Indies. But what 
cannot almighty love perform, when darted from two beautiful 
eyes? And such, indeed, Sally's most prejudiced enemies, and 
even envy itself, must acknowledge hers to be. Why then should 
we wonder at our traveller's being captivated with her 
alluring looks, when we have so many deplorable instances of 
the pernicious glances of those fatal bewitching stars at 
home? And why should not Russia produce an amorous 
complexioned gallant, as well as other countries. But to have 
done with morals and reflections, and return to Sally's count, 
whose eyes were incessantly gazing upon her, and every now and 
then would approach her, his joints trembling, and squeezing 
her fair hand with an ecstasy, would break out in rapturous 
exclamations, in very indifferent English, calling her his 
angel; his Venus! His earthly goddess! And what not? Giving 
his introducer to understand, in French, to which language 
Sally is an entire stranger, that the brightness of that 
enchanting nymph's eyes had quite charmed his soul; and that, 
unless he enjoyed her, 'twas wholly impossible for him to 
live; looking at the same time he spoke, with an air so 
languishing, as if, in reality, he was melting away and just 
expiring. His companion, who, as I hinted above, was a true 
champion of Venus, and had lived, as we say, pretty fast, had 
a great veneration for Sally's engaging person himself; but 
having, like many more of our unbridled youth, out-run his 
allowance in pursuit of pleasure, his purse could not always 
keep time to the motions of his heart, and Sally was too much 
what she is and ever will be, to grant him love gratis, or 
upon tick; so that, to ingratiate himself with her, he had 
been forced to promise to bring her some rich cull, whom she 
might milk to good advantage; and as a gratification for that 
piece of service she engaged herself to bless him now and then 
a spare night's revelling in her delicious embraces. The 
intended milch-cow he had in his view, was our amorous 
Russian; how he came first to insinuate himself into his 
acquaintance, I am not well able to inform you, but bring him 
he actually did, and in the manner I have told you. By the 
enamoured count's ecstatic behaviour, the designing harlot 
fancied herself cock-sure of her game, and looked very 
pleasantly upon his companion; who soon after, making some 
pretence to quit the room, she beckoned him to follow her, 
which in a few minutes, he took an opportunity to do. They met 
in another part of the house, when the first questions our 
female Mohock put to the he one, were; "Do you think the pimp 
will come down? Will he bleed plentifully? Is he flush of 
gold?" To all which the salacious young libertine, his eyes 
glowing with expectation and desire, made answer; "Make you 
any doubt of my sincerity, madam? Can you imagine I would 
deceive or impose upon you? No! My dearest, my adorable Sally! 
He is all you can wish for in an easy, obsequious, 
condescending, outlandish, wealthy amorous coxcomb. Make your 
best of him, I brought him to that intent; and have made him 
believe, that you are the darling object of a potent 
statesman's views, and that nothing but the honour I have of 
being nearly related to you, could have induced you to leave 
your own fine lodgings, or have obtained this interview. This 
the gudgeon swallows; and to tell you the truth, he has been 
smitten with your beauty, ever since he saw you in the stage-
box about ten days ago, when he and I were together in the 
pit. And now, my dear Sally, continued he, I hope I am as good 
as my promise;" when giving her a gentle squeeze he was for 
grasping her in his arms, and so forth. But it was Sally, the 
inimitable Sally, he had to deal withal, who knows better 
things than ever to buy a pig in a poke, or to distribute her 
favours upon uncertainties. She disengaged herself, very 
adroitly, from this libidinous moneyless encroacher upon her 
properties and prerogatives, and, with a half frown, pushed 
him away, and kept him at arm's length; nor would the politic 
termagant virago, at that juncture, give him a more effectual 
cast of her office, for fear of spoiling the design, from 
which she began to conceive such mighty hopes; when, but for 
that consideration, 'twas ten to one, the looking-glass, which 
stood brim full, had not flew about his ears for his 
presumption, in offering his familiarities to one of her 
character, without paying for them. But as affairs stood, she 
only said; "I'll assure you, sir! Certainly, you are in great 
haste methinks; can't you have a little patience till I have 
done with the Count? If the pimp bleeds well, I'll glut you, I 
give you my word I will;" and so, with a sort of a smile, she 
left him, to his great regret, without one bit to stay his 
stomach, when he could almost have sworn he was just going to 
partake of a luscious repast. He returned to the Count, and 
while he was making his excuse for leaving him alone, Sally 
(who before was only in a night-dress, though a very neat one) 
made all possible expedition to rig herself out to the best 
advantage, and was not very long before she made her 
appearance in a habit fitter for a drawing-room, than a 
brothel. The emotions of the Count's heart, at her approach, 
were visible in his eyes; he rose up, and accosting her with a 
languishing air, took one of her hands, and fixing it for some 
moments to his mouth, imprinted ardent kisses upon that fair, 
but mischievous limb and then conducted her to her seat. To 
have only the empty satisfaction of soothing his love-sick 
mind with the discoursing of the beauties and perfections of 
that charmer of his soul, had already cost him many a tavern 
bill in feasting her pretended cousin, since the happy minute 
in which he first beheld her; and could he do less now, when 
he enjoys that dear enchantress her own self so near him, than 
treat her, and that obliging cousin, who had interceded so 
strenuously in his behalf, and had been at so much pains to 
bring them together? Certainly no. The good Lady Abbess is 
called for, and ordered to send up the very best of everything 
her house affords: the orders are punctually obeyed in a 
trice; full flasks of generous wines came pouring into the 
chamber, and brimmers of citron-water, ratafia, and the like, 
were handed about like hail, to the whole company, at the 
liberal count's request; nor had the good lady of the tenement 
forgot to introduce herself, and three or four of her neatest 
girls, to be partakers of his liberality. The mixture of so 
many different sorts of inebriating liquids, and the repeated 
bumpers had been drank round and round again, began to be 
visible in every face, and to set their tongues a-running like 
mad: the mother was cheerful, and her children all very merry, 
and frolicsome. Sally, whose eyes never want their own native 
lustre, being somewhat exhilarated with those elevating 
liquors, those beauteous twin stars of hers began to twinkle 
like brilliant diamonds; and laying aside the constrained 
demureness she had at first affected to assume, she, with an 
air of freedom, began to bestow some very gracious looks upon 
her amorous foreigner, and to prattle very agreeably with him; 
nay, and to permit him to approach nearer, and to use some 
familiarities;

As she, insensibly, grew less reserved, 
Her youthful paramour grew more assured: 
He boldly tastes her pouting ruby lips, 
Kisses her sparking eyes and snowy neck, 
Presses her yielding breast, and luscious palm, 
Forerunners of ten thousand joys to come!

He fancied himself actually wrapped up into Mahomet's fool's-
paradise; and, as we may imagine, these freedoms did but still 
increase his longing desire for the consummation of his 
happiness. The person from whom I had this whole adventure, 
assured me, that Sally was never seen to look so well in her 
life, and that what the late ingenious Earl of Rochester said 
of his Chloris, might very properly be applied to her, when 
upon this occasion she put on some of her feigned languishing 
glances;

Her eyes appeared like humid light, 
Such as divide the day and night: 
Or falling stars, whose fires decay.

It would be endless to recite all the fooleries and harlotries 
that were transacted, nor do I make any doubt but that you 
have seen several such scenes and pageantries, which are daily 
practised in those places of infamy: so to make short of my 
narrative, the impatient count was extremely eager to be 
satisfied upon what conditions he might purchase the nymph's 
favours, or in a word, what he was to give her for a night's 
lodging? And, in effect, proposed that question to his 
introducer, and who was also his interpreter. Upon this the 
two cousins, and the mother, some intelligible winks having 
interpassed among them, retired to hold a consultation; and 
after some debates (in which Sally's cousin failed not to make 
a good bargain for himself, and to oblige the old lady to 
witness it, that, for his share of the prize, he was to have a 
plentiful portion of the young one's love) they returned, and 
the count was given to understand, by his friend, that with 
much ado he had prevailed with the lady to yield to his 
importunities, and that he was welcome to solace himself, and 
to take his fill of love in her arms that very night; and as 
for the present he was to make her, it was above her to name 
any such thing, but he could not offer her less than a very 
handsome purse full of guineas, and take that as a mighty 
favour too, she having refused very considerable offers of 
that kind from the best of the nobility in the kingdom. The 
count, who by some passages he had observed in the behaviour 
of the whole family, plainly perceived the company he was got 
into, yet Sally's charms had so great an influence over him, 
that enjoy her he must; for nothing but fruition was capable 
of extinguishing the fire she had kindled in his breast, and 
though he was far from thinking her a vestal, yet he could not 
help thinking her a most agreeable, but very mercenary 
strumpet. He asks, therefore, of this bargain-maker, what he 
meant by a purse full of guineas, and how many of those golden 
pieces he reckoned to a purse? "Oh, nothing under fifty, my 
lord," says t'other: "it would be the grossest affront in the 
world to a lady of her nice speculation, to think of any 
present less than that; nor am I sure she'll accept it; and if 
she does, it will be entirely owing to my mediation, I assure 
your lordship." But the largeness of a whore's conscience, you 
know, is even grown to a proverb; and Sally here showed the 
extent of hers; for, otherwise, how could she exact upon this 
stranger so unreasonable a sum for those very wares she had, 
to my certain knowledge, sold over and over again, hundreds of 
times, to very despicable chapmen, for much less than the 
hundredth part of what she then demanded; and would then have 
leaped at half a piece, though since, to make another proverb 
or two good, She had better luck than honester folks; and 
again, Whore's luck is the best luck. So much for proverbs. 
Well but the count? The purse? And the punk? Why, the punk 
insists upon having the full purse, without the least 
abatement; the count is fired, and must extinguish his flame, 
but without the purse he might as well go whistle; therefore 
he finds it an incumbent duty on him, for his own ease, to go 
and fill it, for he had scare sufficient quantity of gold 
about him to discharge the reckoning, which, by this time, was 
pretty large. He pays it, and takes his leave, promising to 
return again towards the evening. He was observed, as he went 
out, to bite his lips, and to appear in a perfect fume, and 
was heard to say these words; O la vilaine magicienne! Une 
bourse tout pleine d'or! Cinquante guineas! Ventre bleu! Je la 
donnerais, tres voluntiers, au tous les diables pour beaucoup 
moins de la moiti� de cette somme la! Cinquante guineas! 
Morbleu! Which in English runs thus: "O the vile sorceress! A 
whole purse full of gold! Fifty guineas! Z--ds! I would most 
willingly sacrifice her to all the devils in hell for much 
less than half that sum! 'Zdeath!" the Count, notwithstanding 
this angry soliloquy, could not, it seems, forget this 
sorceress, this enchantress, but returns, according to his 
promise, bringing a purse full of shiners, as he had been 
enjoined. He sat down close by his sorceress; she looked upon 
him, and he gazed upon her; she smiled upon him, and he repaid 
her gracious smiles with fervent kisses, and close embraces. 
They are merry for about an hour, and then the count begins to 
make broad signs, that he would be glad to be abed. This the 
officious obliging mother observes, and knowing his meaning, 
by his gaping, sends one of her nuns to fetch a night-gown, 
slippers and cap, while the maid gets the bed ready. He 
undresses himself, and a fresh flask is called for by the 
lady, who, seeing no purse appear, begins to look a little 
sour and gloomy. Her cousin observes it, and winks at the 
count, who being quick of comprehension, draws it out, and 
sometimes tosses it in his hand, and sometimes dangles it on 
his fingers. The melody of that chinking sound attracts the 
eyes of the fair jilt, who, till she heard it, had been 
looking another way; but

--quid non mortalia pectora cogis 
Auri sacra fames?<111>

The bright pieces, peeping prettily through the little holes 
of the green purse, danced merrily in their lord's hand, and 
Sally's eyes kept time, and danced as merrily to the music 
they made. The Count inquires of his interpreter, if it was 
not convenient he should be left alone with the lady, whose 
caresses he was to purchase at so exorbitant a price? The 
answer to this was, that he intended to see his cousin in a 
humour good enough to suffer herself to be put to bed, and 
then to throw the stocking, drink their healths, and bid them 
good-night. The purse is now crammed into Sally's bosom, a low 
bow made her, and a gentle squeeze by the hand, all which she 
answered with a smile.

Now 'tis high time you should know the whole contents of the 
purse; before Sally looks into it. The count thought five 
guineas, instead of fifty, was a sum entirely sufficient to 
pay for one night's embraces with any strumpet he should find 
in a common brothel, and therefore had closely crammed forty 
five gilded counters into his purse, and had laid five guineas 
on the top. Sally, willing to see her purchase, untied the 
strings, and when she had got in her hand the five real gold-
coins, which bore the effigies of our monarchs upon them, she 
went to proceed further in her inspection, and the more was 
her curiosity incited, because she found the others so very 
closely stowed and wedged in: she made shift to get out a 
couple, and seeing what they were, asked him, "What are these, 
my lord?" "Oh madame," says the conscious bite, "dey be de ver 
fine gold; dey be de best fine gold in de varld; dat be de 
mompoez gold, begar, madame." "Mompo! Mompos!" says she, "The 
devil confound you and your mumpish money too, you mumping son 
of a mumping bitch; you shall be damned before you shall 
mump<122> me so, you lousy pimp you!" and taking up the flask, 
threw it full in his face; which breaking, made him in a sad 
pickle; and seconding her blow with an empty bottle, she 
actually knocked him down, and then flew like a dragon at her 
cousin, with the poker, with a "Damn your blood, you villain! 
Is this your contrivance?" And had he not nimbly avoided the 
stroke, 'tis very probable she had split his skull. While the 
poor count lay sprawling upon the floor, the dangerous hell-
cat had secured the five pieces, and what else she could pick 
up that was to her liking; for she was not so much blinded 
with fury, but that she could discern a convenient moveable. 
At last, by the interposition, and assistance of the 
charitable mother of the maids, and some of her nymphs, the 
disabled warrior was disengaged from the paws of that inhumane 
tigress, who, by her good will, would have fallen foul of him 
again, or, at least, have turned him out naked into the 
street, but that she was prevented by the better-inclined Mrs 
Wisebourne, who, in truth, would never suffer such disorders 
and outrages to be committed under her roof; so she got him 
all his scattered garments, helped him to put them on, begged 
his pardon, and very civilly conducted him to the door, and 
away he went alone (his conductor having wisely marched off 
the ground) with an aching head, and very little stomach to 
embark in another love-adventure with so dangerous an edge-
tool, such a diablesse<123> (as he always after called her) as 
that pernicious nuisance Sally Salisbury; of whom it may truly 
be said, 'twas pity she was ever born, except she had been 
better; or that, if she must needs be a whore, 'twas pity she 
had not been less inclined to mischief; and it is still a 
greater pity to see our nobility and gentry, most of whom are 
persons of worth, learning, and good-sense, how they 
degenerately debase themselves from the glory of their 
ancestors, by encouraging such cattle in their insufferable 
insolence.

A person of the first rank making a great ball at his house 
some time ago, Mrs Sally Salisbury was very desirous to be at 
it, and prevailed with one of her gallants to procure her a 
ticket. He did, and being finely rigged out in a noble suit of 
black velvet, and a considerable quantity of rich jewels, she 
took chair and went thither, and indeed cut a very good 
figure. At her entrance into the spacious apartment, where 
abundance of fine ladies were already seated, many of them 
were extremely inquisitive to be informed who that new-comer 
was, and one lady, in particular, sent her servant to ask the 
porter, and to see what equipage was waiting for her; but the 
porter being ordered by her not to tell her name to any one 
whatsoever, the servant returned to his lady, pleading 
ignoramus. He was sent a second time, with orders to get it 
out of him at any rate, which with much ado, and a piece of 
money, he did at last, and brought the answer to his curious 
lady. Now this lady's curiosity, you must know, was not 
altogether groundless; for though she was not certain, yet she 
shrewdly suspected, as it were by sympathy, that this was the 
individual naughty woman, who was the object of her naughty 
lord's tenderest desires; the injurious sharer of what she 
thought so much her own due; the presumptuous defiler of her 
marriage sheets; and, in fine, her unworthy rival in her dear 
lord's love; so that she was not only moved by mere curiosity 
to be so very inquisitive, who she was, but by a large 
tincture of that cruel disturber of the mind, jealousy, 
tyrannic jealousy; though hers was purely, as I said before, 
sympathetic, as some people swoon away if a cat comes into the 
room where they are; or, as a very honest gentleman of my 
acquaintance certainly does, but if the least bone of a breast 
of mutton happens to be where he is, though locked up in a 
cupboard, or otherwise out of his sight, yet has no antipathy 
to any other joint of mutton; and of this nature I take the 
injured lady's case to be. Well, the curiosity of the lady was 
not satisfied with the bare sight of her rival, who appeared 
in her eyes as ugly as a succubus; no, she must make a further 
inquiry, and must needs know some of her qualifications, and 
first of all wanted to see if she could dance well, intending 
afterwards to hear how she could talk. She shall soon be 
satisfied, and both see her dancing, and hear her talk 
presently. She rises up in order to obtain that satisfaction, 
and presents her hand to Sally to lead her out to dance, and 
called to the music for the last new minuet. Sally, who knew 
her full well, as she did most in the assembly, readily 
consented to the lady's request, and gave her hand. Though she 
dances well enough in a country-dance, her talent does not lie 
in the French dances; and whether it was that her fine new 
shoes pinched her, or whatever else was the matter, it is very 
certain, that she then danced consumedly ill, and with an 
awkward graceless grace, hobbling worse than a Welsh milk-
wench, newly come out of Glamorganshire. When the dance was 
ended, her partner, who had danced incomparably well, 
reconducted her to her seat, and with an air of irony and 
banter, complimented her upon her fine mien and performance, 
asking her who was her dancing-master, and then sat down by 
her.

Our Sally who is much better at repartee, and quickness of 
comprehension than at dancing new minuets, immediately 
understood her jealous rival's drift, and replied; "I perceive 
your ladyship does not approve of my manner of dancing: but I 
can assure you, madam, my Lord ----" (naming her own husband) 
"admires my dancing above all things, and has often told me, 
that he had much rather dance, or ----" (speaking mighty plain 
English) "with me than with your ladyship at any time." This 
dry answer, as may be supposed, stung the good lady to the 
quick: her cheeks glowed like gills of an angry turkey-cock, 
and quite confounded, she sat mute, as one thunder-struck. 
After some little space, the lady who sat next her on the 
other side, fearing, I presume, lest her vixenship should fall 
upon her too, and to ingratiate herself into her favour, began 
to commend her dress, and in particular said; "These jewels 
are extraordinary fine, madam!" "They had need be finer than 
yours, my lady," says Sally; "You have but one Lord to keep 
you, and to buy you jewels, but I have at least half a score, 
of which number, madam, your ladyship's good Lord is not the 
most inconsiderable." "Nay, my lady,"cries another, "you had 
much better let Mrs Salisbury alone, for she'll lay claim to 
all our husbands else, by and by." "Not much to yours, indeed, 
madam," replies Sally with her usual smartness; "I tried him 
once, and but once, and am resolved I'll never try him again; 
for I was forced to kick him out of bed, because his ---- was 
e'en good for nothing at all, my lady." These home rubs 
stopped all the ladies' mouths at once, and not one would 
venture upon her again; which the nobleman who gave the ball 
observing said; Indeed, ladies, "I would advise you not to 
concern yourselves with Sally; for she'll be too hard for you 
all, I see that."

No dancing going forward, nor anything being to be heard in 
the room but whispers, a certain Commander in the Royal Navy, 
who had been pretty great with Sally, and had had many a glass 
of claret thrown in his face by her, thought now or never to 
dash her out of countenance at once, and came up to her, 
accosting her with a "How do you do, sweet madam? Why that 
smock wears exceeding well! That's the smock you danced for at 
the bath, is it not?" This very string he had been several 
times a harping upon in other places, and had been called a 
thousand pimps and sons of whores for so doing; but now the 
well-bred Mrs Salisbury knew better than to use such gross 
epithets among so noble an assembly, and so only said, very 
deliberately; "No truly, sir, this is not the shift you mean; 
I sent that, with the rest of my linen to your mother to be 
washed last week, and she has not brought it home: if it would 
not be too great a trouble to you, sir, I would beg the favour 
of you to tell her to bring that and all the rest, as soon as 
possible: excuse the freedom I take, sir." This unexpected 
repartee was like a dagger stuck in the very heart of the 
gentleman, as appeared visible in his looks; for as few or 
none in the whole company but what knew his mother was 
laundress to the ---- of ----; the eyes of all, that before 
were fixed upon Sally and her three rivals, were now entirely 
turned upon the captain, and a loud laughter of applause 
ensued from every side of the room; insomuch, that not able to 
stand it (though he never refused to stand an enemy's 
broadside) he left the company, and went away (begging his 
pardon for the comparison) like a dog when he is ashamed, with 
his tail between his legs; nor did Sally stay long after, but 
took her leave before the ball broke up.

This brings to my memory something like it, of a certain 
honest fellow, a bookseller of my acquaintance, not a mile 
from Temple-Bar, who had an extraordinary curiosity to be 
introduced into your she-devil's company. He made his 
application to a friend of his, a noble Colonel, who, at the 
time, was a mighty favourite of hers. The expedient concerted 
between them, as the most plausible they could think of to 
facilitate this interview, was, that neighbor Tim, should 
equip himself out like a shoemaker, and come to inquire for 
the Colonel at such a tavern, on such a day, where he should 
not fail to be with the lady. At the prefixed time Timothy 
accordingly came, and was introduced as the colonel's 
shoemaker, who brought him his bill; by his appointment. He is 
desired to sit down; and to drink part of a flask of wine both 
by the Colonel and the lady; who being informed of his 
occupation, ordered him to take her measure for a couple of 
pair of shoes. Timothy, glad of this opportunity to have a 
sight of as much of her leg as he could, draws out his--his--
what d'ye call it, his thing they take measure with, and began 
to handle it, though somewhat awkwardly, as being a much 
better judge if a book is printed in a good letter, or well 
bound, than of a shoemaker's method in taking measure of 
ladies' feet, and (but that I'm apt to think the arch rogue 
did designedly) drew up all to her gartering, which made poor 
Sally say, "Master don't you go a little too high?" But she 
happened to be in one of her good humours, nor had her gallant 
said or done anything to ruffle her temper, which was very 
lucky on Tim's side, he might else have dearly paid for his 
over-niceness and curiosity: but all fell out as he could have 
wished, and he got a view of one of the prettiest legs in 
England, and indeed her limbs and the whole contexture of her 
body are formed with admirable symmetry, and most exactly 
proportioned: so that I cannot altogether condemn that 
frequent expression of a most persevering admirer of hers, who 
will say, in a perfect rapture; "The mould in which that dear 
creature was cast, is broke!" Though if I am not grossly 
misinformed, old Mrs Priddon is still living, and I believe 
very sound, and cants, prays, and plunders her daughters of 
what they have earned with the sweat of their brows, as much 
as ever, notwithstanding her exclaiming against the partakers 
of the wages of sin. But to return from this digression to our 
Timothy, who was mighty happy, as he thought himself, and 
fiddled about the leg as long as Sally's patience would admit 
of, and then promised her shoes should be very neatly made and 
brought home to her the next week, without fail, and so took 
leave for that time--He is a very merry fellow, and Sally's 
handsome leg ran so in his mind, that he learned the song of

She's a leg and a foot, 
Would invite a man to't, & c.

Which he would be singing in all companies, and toasting her 
health.

The colonel afterwards disabused her, and told the whole truth 
of the counterfeit shoemaker, at which she laughed and took no 
further notice, till going by his house, about a month after, 
in a coach, at a time when several gentlemen of the cassock 
and band, as well as of the sword, were in his shop, she bade 
the coachman stop close by the door, and call out the master 
bookseller. Tim, little dreaming of who was come to repay him 
his visit, came instantly, cap in hand, and asked the lady's 
pleasure. "Are not you a sorry rascal," said she very loud, 
"for not bringing home the shoes I bespoke of you above a 
month ago. Don't you deserve to have your ears cut off?" A 
grave clergyman made answer; "I believe you are under a 
mistake, madam, this is Mr ----, the bookseller, and no 
shoemaker, I can assure you madam." "I am certain I am not 
mistaken, sir," replied she, and turning towards Tim, again 
said; "What you lousy pimp? Are you ashamed to own your 
trade?" Poor Tim, quite besides himself to be exposed so 
grossly and bantered in the hearing of so many of his best 
customers, answered her in a very peevish tone; "Now you talk 
so much of trades, madam, pray what trade are you of? Why 
don't you know, says she, don't you know my trade? I am a 
stone-cutter you pimping son of a bitch, a stone-cutter, you 
cuckoldy knave you. Drive on coachman," leaving poor Tim 
utterly confounded.

Now, brother captain, I think I have told you stories enough 
of your fair sorceress, and being very much tired, I'll 
conclude, after I have subscribed myself, 
Sir, 
Your most humble servant, 
W. Rider 
Greenwich, 
St. Taffy's day 1722/3


Letter XIV.

Sir, 
	Looking over the public occurrences in the newspapers, I 
find your resolutions of handing down to posterity the life 
and actions of a person I was formerly bewitchingly involved 
with; and it was (if possible) by the mere strength of 
imagination; for at that time I never had seen your devil, who 
in fourteen months' time reduced my estate (that was not the 
most inconsiderable in the county) from four hundred to forty 
pounds per annum; and myself, from a strong-backed lusty 
fellow, that after the repast of old cheshire cheese, toast 
and strong ale, could leap a ditch or hedge with any of our 
fox-hunters, to a poor, sickly, puny wretch, fitter for an 
hospital than a mistress, as you'll find by the sequel.

During the recess of P--t, I often took a bottle with our M--
rs in the country, and nothing but charming Sally Salisbury 
took up the discourse; the shouts they continually made at 
toasting her health rended the very skies, and the handsome 
encomiums they so liberally bestowed upon her beauty, made me 
not a little inquisitive about her; and upon inquiry I found 
she was so far from being, as I at first imagined, the darling 
daughter of some wealthy Londoner, a fit match for one of our 
young squires, and far above my reach, that I found her 
descended, in a direct line, from the loins of Venus, and 
within my compass, at the expense of selling a few oaks, and a 
London journey. Thus equipped, with my Sancho, to town I came, 
mounted on a milk-white virgin palfrey, chosen out of the best 
stands, as an emblem of my being undefiled, and of my 
innocence: my guide informing me we were arrived at our 
desired haven, I ordered my equipage to approach madam's door 
with reverence, and a gentle knock. I dismounted, believing I 
should not be denied entrance, having in my breeches what 
would facilitate success: nothing I could say or do would gain 
me admittance, but Del Toboso, from the window, in such 
violent London airs, I was no ways acquainted with, asked, 
what country put<124> is that? What gentleman did he come 
from? What his business was? This first repulse greatly 
shocked me, but recovering myself in as good manner as I 
could, and got together what rhetoric I was master of, I told 
her my errand. She wondered, she said, at my uncommon 
impudence, to use one of her appearance and quality as I did, 
and ordered her servant to bid the rustic be gone to some inn, 
and refresh himself, which was much more proper for him than 
what he desired, after such a journey.

I protest I know not what face the moon bore at the time, but 
I am sure I appeared like one planet-struck, and retired, more 
fit indeed for a grave than a mistress.

In a few days, rallying my forces, I took courage, and by the 
assistance of a female, I, in the interim, had made my friend, 
procured an interview, and we soon struck the bargain. Never 
did any creature appear more beautiful and innocent than she, 
at that time, did to me, nor were the ideas I had entertained 
of her in the country one jot less than what she really 
deserved: in short, I thought my whole estate too small a 
recompense for her merit, which she too soon found out, and 
proved her merit too large for my estate. The plain country 
gentleman I now laid aside, turned beau, set up a real 
equipage, and launched out into all the ridiculous 
extravagancies of the town: if I denied her a trifle (as she 
called it) of an hundred or two of pieces, I was sure to have 
a handsome peruke of a considerable price made a sacrifice to 
the flames, as well as a suit of clothes of no small value 
rendered unfit for service, with a "Damn you for a son of a 
bitch! Shall you wear such things, and I want pin-money?" I 
have often wondered how she could go through all the exercises 
of the day with so many different customers I found she had, 
considering what pleasure she took in nocturnal rambles, as 
turning mohock and rake. The genteel way of breaking windows, 
with whole handfuls of half-pence, she was very expert at, 
alleviating the crime by her leaving money behind to pay for 
them: 'twould swell a volume to rehearse the outrages, riots, 
tumults, and other out-of-the-way ways of spending money, 
during my love-sick fit, she was guilty of; but as my acres 
decreased, her company I had but seldom, and whenever I had 
it, a good part of it was taken up with her advice to me to 
leave the town, and go and settle in the country, and there 
marry; and as for her part, she had sworn chastity, and only 
wanted an opportunity to retire into a nunnery, and there to 
spend the remainder of her days; after which, whilst I stayed 
in town, she had ordered her sister Peggy to attend me, and to 
officiate in her place; thinking that the small matter I had 
left, though not worth her while, would however serve her 
sister to glean upon. Now the embers which had glowed some 
time began to break out into a flame, and I had just reason to 
believe my constitution very much impaired by the French 
disease, and I found Sally's pretence of retirement was only 
to refit and clean for a future market. I can't tell what 
favour she met with from �sculapius's skill, but, with sorrow 
I must confess, that part she was so kind to bestow upon me, 
to be beyond the art of any of the ingenious sons of Galen to 
master. When she was patched up she made me a visit, damned me 
for a son of a bitch for giving her such an odious distemper; 
assured me of a jail if I did not immediately discharge a 
pretty large debt contracted chiefly by herself, during our 
correspondence; and though she was well acquainted with my 
present incapacity, she persuaded the creditors to send two 
bailiffs, who carried me to a sponging-house in a very weak 
condition, and she herself went and rifled my lodgings of all 
my wearing-apparel, and therewith rigged out her father, who, 
by the help of some botcher, cut no small figure in 'em. I 
charged Sally with this piece of barbarity, particularly of 
stripping my lodgings when I was in the utmost distress, which 
so little affected her, that she damned me for a pimp, and 
told me my landlord had seized my clothes for rent, and that 
her father, as well as anybody else, had the liberty of buying 
'em: but, "Sally," said I, "there were several things not fit 
for your father's wear, as long perukes, &c." "You lie, you 
pimp," answered she, "my father is as good a gentleman as you 
are, and as well, if not better, qualified for such a dress: 
'tis true you had some few months ago a small estate, but that 
is pretty well gone: my father is a gentleman by profession, a 
cadet in the first regiment of foot guards, and before I die I 
hope to see him a colonel, if money can make him one: 
remember, sirrah, there are more rise by the scabbard than by 
the blade." and away she flew, leaving me to condole my loss, 
by reflecting on the miserable condition fourteen months of 
her acquaintance had brought me to,
Your unknown friend and servant, 
Caleb Afterwit. 
Shropshire, 
Feb. 27 1722/3

Letter XV.

That I can aver I have, for some time past, been as sedate and 
grave as a person of my function ought to be, is to me a very 
great satisfaction, but the more especially so, when I reflect 
that, for some years, I was one of the greatest debauchees in 
town. At my first admission, as a student in this place, I 
took more pleasure to be in the apartment of a female of the 
game than in my own chambers; and by accustoming myself 
thereto, I became so hardened, as not to be ashamed, when I 
went upon the rake, to leave word, or a note in my door, to 
let anybody know at what bawd's or whore's lodgings I might be 
found. I was then possessed of a very good estate, and should 
not have had occasion to study, had not my squandering it away 
idly forced me to it, in order to qualify me to wear the gown, 
to get my livelihood. As your Sally was the goddess I at the 
time adored, and oft, too often, visited, to her extravagance 
may I ascribe my whole misfortune, and to her ill-usage my 
good fortune of being, from an unthinking indolent, became a 
man of thought, and a counsel in good esteem.

I can't but suppose, that from your many correspondents, you 
have received instances of her ill treatment to her gallants 
sufficient to illustrate your history, and perpetuate her 
memory: but as her intrigues have been chiefly with persons of 
higher rank than country-farmers, the story and occasion of 
her beating one of that class may have escaped your knowledge; 
I shall therefore give it you; and though by so doing, I, in 
some measure, expose myself, yet you may publish or conceal it 
at your pleasure.

Having one day left a note in my door, that I was at Sally's 
house, a farmer, directed thereby, came to pay me thirty-five 
pounds for half a year's rent of his farm, which by the by was 
hardly the eighth part of the estate which the keeping her 
company had obliged me some time before to mortgage, and soon 
after to sell outright. When I had told over the money, and 
left it in five-pound parcels on the table, till I had written 
him an acquittance, in order to dismiss him: Sally was then 
busy at her glass adjusting her hair, and humming over a piece 
of an old song, viz.

Those eyes are made so killing, 
That all who look must die, &c.

Which she so often repeated, that my tenant took notice 
thereof, and looking steadfastly upon her, thus bluntly said; 
"You may think what you please of those eyes, but I can tell 
you, forsooth, that a black heifer I have at home, has a 
better pair by half." This grating speech so angered Mrs 
Termagant, that, flying to the table, she catched up the 
money, handful after handful, and threw it at the poor fellow, 
with such vehemence, that she not only broke his head in 
several places, but her looking-glass and tea-equipage, the 
total demolishing of which so increased her passion, that 
after all she seized him by the throat, heartily cuffed him, 
and then sat down and cried bitterly. The poor bumpkin was so 
surprised, that he could not speak a word at first, but 
recovering, and being got out into the entry ready to go away, 
with the door half open in his hand for his security, he 
popped his head into the room, and thus said, "Had your 
minxship been a man, my landlord's presence should not have 
hindered my repaying your assault with interest: what a plague 
made you so angry at the truth? Did it gall the poor thing, 
did it so? If it did, I won't say so any more, that I won't; 
but this I must say, that I am certain, there's more danger in 
your hands and your tongue, and I believe in your tail too, 
than in your killing eyes, as you call 'em, and so good-bye, 
forsooth." Then he pulled the door after him and departed. 
Sally thus sensibly touched a second time, raved, stormed and 
cried most abundantly, and 'twas as much as ever I could do, 
with all the money I had received, and all the rhetoric I was 
master of, to pacify and bring her to herself.

Having thus gone through that story, to every particular 
whereof I was an eyewitness, give me leave to add another 
short, but true one, viz.

A certain nobleman, with the design of bantering a dignified 
fortune-hunting clergyman, and to divert himself, proposed to 
help him to a wife, and the better to carry on the jest, he 
first apprised Sally, and then introduced the doctor to her. 
The Levite was smitten at first sight, as he professed, and at 
several visits he made her, took all opportunities, in fine 
oratory and rhetoric, to express the great liking he had to 
her person, and often to praise her elegance of speech, and 
pretty manner of living. She as often acted the plain dealer 
with him, and fairly told him, that notwithstanding she lived 
so genteely as she did, yet she could not boast, nor would she 
have him think she had a large estate; for that, in truth, she 
had nothing but a very small spot to which she had any 
hereditary right: to which he replied, that she might talk of 
her estate as diminutively as she pleased, but that he was 
morally certain, she must have a very considerable number of 
acres to defray the expenses of so handsome a manner of 
living, and to be revered by so many fine people as he 
observed she was. Sally, who began to be tired with her 
canonised suitor, drew up the curtain, alias her hoop-
petticoat, &c. And clapping her hand upon Madge, said, "ecce 
signum,<125> doctor. This is my only support, and I hope will 
continue so to my life's end." The doctor, in very great 
amaze, very abruptly left his mistress, and hastened to the 
aforesaid Lord with the account of what had passed. His 
lordship laughed heartily, and at the same time advised him 
not to let the story go any further "For, doctor," said he, "I 
had only a mind to crack a jest, and the young lady you have 
addressed has every qualification but virtue, and is well 
known by the name of Sally Salisbury, and nothing that she 
either says or does causes any admiration in those who know 
her." To which the doctor replied, his lordship might be 
assured he should not divulge his own folly, but feared his 
lordship, for his further diversion, might relate the 
adventure, which, if he should, he entreated his lordship 
would be so kind as to conceal the name of a person his 
lordship's recommendation had made credulous, and whom love 
had blinded. To conclude my long epistle, give me leave to 
observe, that as setting matters in a true light is the 
business of my profession, and as matter of fact is what I 
always delight to have in my power to plead, so I hope the 
above stories, though ludicrous, being true, will be allowed 
not to contradict what has been herein averred by,
Sir, 
Your humble servant 
A. Templer. 
March 2, 1722/3



A Consolatory Epistle 
From the Distressed Females in Bridewell, to Sally Salisbury, 
in Newgate.

Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris<126>

Purputeos spargam flores animamque (puellae) 
His saltem accumulem donis <127>

While Britain's sons thy doom impatient wait, 
Each envious tongue foretelling Sally's fate; 
While lost to all the pleasures man could give, 
Alone the solitary night you grieve: 
Think, dearest heroine, think what racking pain, 
Our sympathetic souls with thine sustain; 
Torn from th'embraces of the men we loved, 
Alike from liberty and light removed. 
And yet we do but half our tale unfold 
The secrets of our prison still untold.(1) 
But half our fate has reached your tender mind, 
The worst and most severe are still behind. 
Think then thou see'st us here, a numerous band, 
Of tender minds, with high uplifted hand, 
The hemp, yet uninformed, laborious beat, 
Contriving means of death and making fate. 
So the pale sisters (or the poets lie) 
Spin the frail thread of those they mean shall die. 
Perhaps (but oh! Avert the horrid sign 
Kind gods, that look on innocence like thine) 
And now to form thy destiny we come, 
Discording hammers shake the vaulted room, 
And unharmonious peals pronounce thy doom 
Was it for this your beauty early shone, 
And to each sex your fatal charms were known, 
Worshipped by men and envied by your own? 
For this did captive noblemen adore, 
And gartered peers acknowledge Sally's pow'r, 
Countries remote, and distant shires can tell. 
By your bright eyes what mighty numbers fell;(2) 
Those eyes alas no triumphs more shall boast, 
Faint is their lustre, and their radiance lost. 
Alas! Dear maid, your surer hand supplies, 
Those deaths, which one flashed only from your eyes, 
So the rash heroes, who of old repaid, 
With scorn the sighing amazonian maid, 
Soon felt the fury of her love betrayed. 
With rage she viewed her charms neglected prove, 
And stabbed the wretch that dared refuse her love. 
Now, now the triumph of that glorious night, 
Now the great scene seems opening to our sight. 
The haughty lover to our sight appears, 
And Lesbia object of your different cares. 
Methinks we hear the proud triumphant fair 
With scornful looks, and supercilious air, 
Owning the fatal prize(3) his bounty gave, 
Condemn the lover whom she meant to save, 
Now, now the gen'rous fury takes its place, 
Darts from your eyes, and reddens in your face. 
With female rage, and more than woman's skill, 
In his false breast you plunge the driving steel. 
Still to yourself his swimming eyes he moves, 
Pleased in his pains, and as he dies he loves. 
But oh! How transient is the happy hour, 
How faint the sun-shine, and how near the show'r. 
Much for yourself but more for him you fear 
Triumph grim death attends, and conquest fell despair. 
And oh! (for sure our fears divine aright, 
Would we could wrap them in eternal night) 
Soon, very soon, all pale and dead with fear, 
At that tremendous bar you must appear; 
Where angry justice keeps its awful seat,(4) 
And monthly sessions ministers to fate. 
Then (but the trial shall too late be made) 
You'll call up all the woman to your aid. 
Exert those charms which never failed to move, 
And faintly touched the stubborn'st soul with love. 
Alas in vain! The judge's sterner heart 
Defies love's arrows, and repels the dart, 
For ever lost to beauty's happy powers 
He views indifferent what the world adores. 
Revenge at every sound he seems to breathe, 
Each word speaks justice, and each accent death. 
Yet fairest heroine, yet victorious maid, 
When thy pale beauties shall in death be laid, 
Think not that ever man to man shall tell 
Though unrevenged, you unlamented fell. 
Oft as that sad, that melancholy day: 
Breaks forth with fatal inauspicious ray, 
The pensive Druriads to your urn shall come, 
Weep o'er your ashes, and lament your doom, 
Then with fresh garlands scatter all the tomb. 
Poets to come shall sing of Sally's name, 
And place you the highest in the lists of fame. 
Where Belus, Grecian king's great offspring stand 
Each glorious nymph a poniard in her hand. 
In vain the dying husbands curse their fate, 
Useless their rage, and impotent their hate: 
So fearless for a while the hydra stood, 
In vain Alcides saw her stream of blood. 
With hasty force he still pursues his blow, 
And still he saw another hydra grow. 
At length the many-headed monster fell, 
His instant sword unable to repel. 
In vain the venom flies, each mangled head 
Chattered its feeble teeth, and lips indignant fed.

1. Vid. Hamlet. 
2. See the Dispensary. <128> 
3. An opera ticket. 
4. See the Dispensary, ut supra <129>



Conclusion 
To Mrs Sally Salisbury

Madam, 
	I have heard many flying reports, to the truth of which, 
as I give very little credit, I take this opportunity of 
assuring you, that if they are true, I value them still less.

It seems your humble servant, is not only to have the severity 
of the law inflicted upon him, but is likewise threatened with 
a more severe correction from some who are to fight very 
manfully under your banner.

As to the one, I shall be at all times ready to defend your 
virtue in every court of justice, not excluding even Doctors' 
Commons itself. And as to the other, no gentleman shall find 
it difficult to meet with me, for I shall upon all occasions 
with the utmost resignation acquiesce in that lot which is 
determined for me by fate.

I have nothing further to add, but letting you know that my 
own share of this work is the least part of it, and as I 
declared at the beginning, that I would communicate every 
letter sent me in the words of the writer, I here solemnly 
aver, that I have not only done so, but have, as I thought 
myself obliged to do, submitted the printed sheets to the view 
and correction of each correspondent.

The impatience of the public, has obliged me to divide your 
life into two parts, the second shall follow this with all 
convenient expedition, for herein you'll soon perceive many of 
your notable achievements are omitted, particularly the sequel 
of Curalio's history, the pranks you played a gentleman with 
whom you were once very intimately acquainted even before you 
changed your name, and the surprising passages between you and 
another gentleman for nothing more remarkable, than for his 
unexampled condescension and profound humility.

I have likewise a faithful register of many feats performed by 
you at a certain tavern near Covent Garden and in several 
other places, too numerous here to recount. 

I am, Madam, 
Impartially yours, 
Cha. Walker. 
Kensington, 
March 3, 1722/3

FINIS.



Lavinia Beswick (1728)

The Life of Lavinia Beswick, Alias Fenton, Alias Polly 
Peachum: Containing Her Birth and Education. London: Printed 
for A. Moore, 1728.
https://books.google.ie/books?id=9HGyAAAAIAAJ



Title Page

THE
LIFE
OF
Lavinia Beswick, alias Fenton,
ALIAS
Polly Peachum:
CONTAINING

Her birth and 
education. Her 
intrigues at a 
boarding school. Her 
first acquaintance 
with a certain 
Portuguese nobleman. 
The times when, and 
persons to whom she 
bestowed her first 
favours. A 
particular account 
of her conversation 
with a mercer, now 
living near the 
Royal Exchange. Of 
the Portuguese 
nobleman being 
confined in the 
Fleet, and the 
honourable method 
she took to gain him 
his liberty. A copy 
of verses which she 
composed on a fop, 
which conduced to 
her acquaintance 
with Mr Huddy, for 
whose benefit, at 
the New Theatre in 
the Haymarket, she 
first appeared on 
the stage. A 
particular account 
of a benefit she 
shared with one Mr 
Gilbert, a few weeks
after Mr Huddy's, at 
the same theatre. 
Her first admittance 
into the Theatre 
Royal in Lincoln's 
Inn Fields: her 
weekly salary, both 
now and then; and 
the time when, and 
the cause why, it 
was raised. Of her 
wit gaining her more 
lovers than her 
beauty. The horse-
courser dismounted, 
yet saves his 
distance. A poet 
strutting under the 
protection of the 
Nine Muses. Another 
poet, who would 
attack Ulysses and 
Penelope in a 
barbarous manner, is 
severely handled by 
Polly in a satirical 
stanza. Her judgment 
in poetry, and 
history painting. 
And the reasonable 
reason why so many 
great men have been 
her humble servants.

The Whole interspersed with convincing Proofs 
of her Ingenuity, Wit, and Smart Repartees. 
And concluding with some remarkable Instances 
of her Humanity to the Distressed.
===================================================
LONDON:Printed for A. MOORE, near St. Paul's; and sold 
by the Booksellers and Pamphlet-Shops in London 
and Westminster. 1728. (Price One Shilling.)



Frontispiece 
Portrait of Lavinia Beswick by William Hogarth
 




The Life of Lavinia Beswick, alias Polly Peachum.

The Town being amused with the performances of Polly Peachum, 
who has exerted herself in the Beggar's Opera far above any of 
her contemporaries at the theatre, the author of these sheets 
being perfectly acquainted with every remarkable passage of 
her life, is of opinion, that a collection of the surprising 
incidents that have happened to her, will entertain the 
public; and add, if possible, a further lustre to the great 
name she has already acquired.

It is said (and with a great deal of truth) of the unhappy Mr 
Savage, that his misfortunes began before his birth; which is 
in some sense a parallel case with that of Polly Peachum: for 
as on the one hand she knew not who to call father, so on the 
other she had nothing to recommend her to the world, but the 
gifts of nature: yet, as it will be expected that he, who 
gives an account of her life, should also give an account of 
her birth, and of the person who had the honour of having her 
laid to his charge; the reader is to observe, that her mother, 
like herself, was not of a very scrupulous conscience, but 
paid the sacrifice of love, before she performed the 
ecclesiastical ceremony. The person who had the pleasure of 
having her mother's first affections, was a lieutenant of a 
man of war, his name Beswick; and this pretty Polly, who is 
the subject of the ensuing discourse, was the fruits of their 
amours, and was born in the year 1708.

To give the history of the intrigues which passed between her 
father and mother, would be an amusement not inferior to 
Robinson Crusoe, or Moll Flanders; but we shall only make use 
of a letter sent from her father to her mother, when she was 
big with child: which letter unravels part of the secret, and 
will be a proper introduction to the proceeding observations.

To Madam, &c. 
	Your beauty, madam, which was once my delight, is 
now my torment; since I am denied the happy opportunities 
which have given us such inexpressible felicity: and as a 
predominant love naturally runs us into jealousy, give me 
leave to fear, and give me leave to advise. I know, 
madam, that not a few will expect to make an advantage of 
my absence; and as you have beauty to attract the most 
noble, I dread, lest your weakness should be overcome by 
gay appearances, gold and importunities. There are as 
many hazards at land as at sea, and a neat vessel (such 
as you are) may be STranded, run down, or split in the 
twinkling of the moon, if you have not a hand at the 
stern, and your eye to the compass. Therefore, my dear, 
be careful.

You tell me in yours of yesterday, that you are certainly 
with child, and that the shame will be too great for you 
to bear, not having me to comfort and direct you. 
Prithee, child, banish that fear, and contrive to lie-in 
like a citizen's daughter, twenty or thirty miles off in 
the country, and then come up and rejoice with your 
friends, that you have recovered from your fit of 
sickness. And for my absence, you ought to let that 
concern you the less, since I have left a little image of 
myself behind me; and depend upon it, if I live to return 
home, I will make that provision, both for you and it as 
shall convince you that my passion is permanent, and not 
the flights of an amorous minute. No, madam; if ever I 
forget you, forget your love, forget our mutual joys, or 
forget the offspring and product of them, may the ship 
sink to the bottom of the ocean, and my soul ten thousand 
fathom deeper! for my passion is so far from palling at 
enjoyment, that it increases my flame; and assure 
yourself, it is impossible for me to be more than,

I am, 
	Your sincere slave, 
	Beswick.

P.S. If Hans-en-kelder<130> should ripen into a living 
monument of our loves, call it Porteus, if a boy; if a 
girl, Lavinia. And now, adieu, my dear, for two long 
tedious years.

Thus the father of Polly being gone to sea, care was taken for 
a decent lying-in; and accordingly her mother moved to a 
private place, and was brought to bed, with very little noise 
and ceremony: for, as Mr Prior says,

Ten months after Philomel happened to wed, 
And was brought in a laudable manner to bed, 
She warbled her groans with so charming a voice, 
That one half of the parish was stunned with the noise; 
But when Philomel deigned to lie privately in, 
Ten months before she and her spouse were akin, 
She chose with such prudence, her pangs to conceal, 
That her nurse, nay her midwife, scarce heard her to 
squeal.

However, she was baptized by the name of Lavinia, according to 
the desire of her father; but he not returning from sea, her 
mother married, whilst Poll was an infant, to one Fenton in 
the Old Bailey, and she being a woman of a popular spirit, 
soon after her marriage, got up a coffee-house near Charing 
Cross; where Polly being a child of a vivacious lively spirit, 
and a promising beauty, was a play-thing for the fops, and she 
never failed to afford them an agreeable diversion; and though 
at this time she was but 7 or 8 years of age, she had some 
singular turns of wit, which showed her of an aspiring genius, 
and one that would in time strive with emulation to exceed the 
bounds of her narrow fortune. It was about this time that a 
comedian belonging to the Old House, took great delight in 
hearing her sing such little catches as she had learnt from 
the humming beaux, or the more elevated strains of her mamma, 
by whose intercession this gentleman took a great deal of 
pains with Polly, and taught her some airs, which have since 
been to her advantage, and in which she daily improved, till 
her mother sent her to a boarding school, where she stayed 
till she was about thirteen, and then came home again to live 
with her mother, who was removed once more into the Old 
Bailey.

But before we bring her home from the boarding-school, it may 
be something entertaining to tell of the pretty little pranks 
she played there, and how her early inclinations were to shine 
conspicuous above her contemporaries.

Polly and the other misses, one day playing in the garden, one 
of them happened to drop a letter which was but just before 
delivered to her from an humble servant; and Polly being 
always active, snatched it up, without being discovered: the 
purport of it she found was, That the amorous spark was dying 
for love; that this was his first epistle; and that he should 
be at the outward Gate about sunset. The suddenness of the 
interview put Polly's invention upon the rack, how she should 
be provided for his reception, and disappoint the young lady, 
to whom she had an utter aversion. To complete which, she 
informed the Lady Governante, that Miss ---- had a billet-doux 
delivered to her; and that she understood an assignation was 
made for the evening. This precaution caused an order to be 
published, that everyone should retire to their apartments, 
for private reasons; and that one might not take umbrage at 
another's liberty, there was to be none exempted from this 
severe confinement; but Polly being the informer, gained the 
good graces of her lady so far, as to be admitted to the door 
unknown to the rest in the dusk of the evening, where she had 
the pleasure of seeing the dying slave walking about in a 
dejected posture, with his arms across, and every half dozen 
yards giving a stamp with his foot, and lifting up his eyes 
with an ejaculatory sigh and groan, that gave Polly assurance 
he must be the person the waited for. "Sir," said she, "I 
believe I have a message to deliver to you." The gentleman 
dumb-founded, like one thunder-struck, turned about, and 
scarce had power to say, "A message to me, madam!" "Yes, to 
you, sir," says Polly; "you address to a person that disdains 
you, and has sent your letter back, there it is; though, sir, 
to do you justice, a gentleman of your appearance, and one 
that can write such lost, pleasing, passionate, agreeable 
things to a lady, deserves better usage at her hands. However, 
if you have the courage to proceed in the affair, after this 
repulse, deliver your thoughts to me next Sunday, at church, 
where we shall be in the morning; and, if possible, I will 
prevail with the lady to read it, and accept of a heart she 
seems to have the command of." Upon which, shutting the door, 
the spark had scarce time to return a grateful bow, before he 
lost sight of her.

On the Sunday following, the gentleman came provided with a 
second epistle; and though he endeavoured to give it Polly in 
the way to church, he had not the opportunity, without being 
seen: however, he took care to place himself at the door of 
the pew into which they went, and Polly took care to be ready 
to receive the billet. But the mischief of it was, the spark 
ogling the lady that had set his heart on fire, caused her to 
take notice of him, and might believe him to be the person who 
sent her the letter she had lost; and what might reasonably 
confirm her in the truth of such a suspicion, the observed, 
that whilst his eyes were attentively fixed on her, he 
delivered a letter to Polly unsealed, carelessly wrapped up, 
and without directions; and she getting up to receive it, as 
her proper right, or to be informed of her mistake by Polly, 
an unmerciful merry thought came into Polly's head, the 
prosecution of which put the gentleman in the utmost 
confusion, damped the expectations of the lady, and gave Polly 
the most agreeable diversion that a young girl (too young to 
be acquainted with love, and yet old enough for fancy) could 
be capable of receiving; for what did this unlucky pretty 
little witty devil do, but hand it forwards; so that in less 
than two minutes, the poor expiring lover had the 
mortification to see it in the clumsy fist of the clerk, who 
gave it to the parson, who was provided for receiving billets 
of another nature.

Not long after this, another remarkable incident happened, 
which may inform the reader, that she was soon ripe; though it 
is to be hoped the proverb will not be verified in her, Soon 
ripe, soon rotten.

A gallant spark of the Inner Temple, seeing her one night at a 
ball, fell deeply in love with her, and took occasion to let 
her know it, both by letter and personal application; and 
though she was scarce thirteen, she felt such emotions for 
young Noverint Universi<131>, that she suffered the servant to 
take bribes to let him into the garden, and would frequently 
bless him with an hour's conversation; and here it is said (by 
those who are acquainted with her most private actions from 
her infancy to this time) that she fell as deeply in love with 
the Templar, as he could possibly be with her; yet she had 
ever that discretion to make a distinction between the secret 
impulses of her heart, and the expressions of the tongue, 
daily seeing by experience, that when a woman lets the 
sentiments of her soul out at her lips, her love is counted 
fondness; and the man that was ready to die at her feet, will 
be ready to stigmatize her for a good-natured fool. Hypocrisy 
being now made a necessary ingredient in affairs of love, and 
downright dealing the only impediment that can make a 
promising view prove abortive; she therefore kept him at a 
convenient distance, and seemed to give way to his courtship 
only, as a grateful complaisance to a man that merited 
something which she was uncapable of granting. And with this 
pretended indolent temper the made use of that infallible net 
for catching men in love, A KILLING COYNESS. And, alas! Poor 
Polly! The spark happening in company where her name was 
mentioned, took occasion to enquire into her private affairs, 
and finding her birth and fortune were such as would but bring 
a disgrace to his family, he left her.

This disappointment made such an impression in her mind, that 
the company at the boarding-school became burdensome, and the 
pleasant garden where she used to delight herself with the 
young lawyer, intolerable; and as an expedient to wear off the 
dilemma she lay under, she left the school, and came home to 
her mother, who finding her daughter's temper altered from the 
gay to the melancholy, she took her to the park, the play, and 
to all entertainments that might conduce to recover her to her 
former vivacity. But well had it been for Polly, if she had 
continued at the boarding-school; for dress and company soon 
made her vain, and in a little time the needed no further 
allurements to entice her; yet, it cannot be said by her 
greatest enemies, that she was ever a common prostitute, as 
some would insinuate, nor that she was ever ungenerous or 
dishonourable to her benefactors.

It was in 1725, when Polly fell first a sacrifice to Priapus; 
and about that time her mother had an intrigue upon her hands, 
which began at the playhouse, and ended in the bed-chamber: 
the gentleman, who was her mother's gallant, would fain have 
been an humble servant of Polly's, but the mother, 
notwithstanding she indulged the tempting baits which were 
daily offered her, yet at last the kept her for some great 
man; and bade her, above all things, to observe this; that the 
first market a woman made, was always the best; and second-
hand goods would fetch but a second-hand price. And it's 
confidently reported, that lest Polly should fling away her 
charms on someone who could not purchase them at a price more 
exorbitant than La�s demanded of Demosthenes, her mother made 
overtures to a certain ludicrous knight, known by the name of 
the Feathered Gull, and the bargain was made as followeth: 
that upon the first surrender, Polly should have 200l. in 
ready specie, and be decked in all the mundus mulieris<132> at 
the knight's expense; that she should have 200l. per annum 
while she remained constant, but if she suffered the enemy to 
beat up her quarters, she was to be divested of all her 
ornaments at once, and driven out of paradise.

But whilst the mother was thus bargaining for her ware, Polly 
was no less active in providing for herself; and a Portuguese 
nobleman, being her only favourite, she consented, unknown to 
her mother, to give him the prize, which he generously 
rewarded; and accordingly, on a Friday, in the year 1725, he 
sent his own coach into the Old Bailey, by appointment; and 
after the coach had waited three hours, she went into it, and 
was carried to the place of assignation, where the nobleman 
kept her till the Monday following, and then sent her home 
again in the same coach. But this person being unhappy in his 
private affairs, after some time spent in raptures at his own 
house, he brought her to her mother, and promised he would 
make a provision for her, to the merit of so fine a creature. 
And, to do him justice, his generosity was above his 
patrimony, insomuch, that his stock was exhausted, before his 
appetite was palled; and falling into the hands of some severe 
creditors, he was arrested and carried to the Fleet.

Whilst the Portuguese nobleman lay confined in the fleet, a 
mercer's apprentice, who now keeps a shop of that business 
near the Royal Exchange, then living upon Ludgate Hill, fell 
deeply in love with Polly: seeing her one night at the 
playhouse, the poor smitten spark was so captivated at first 
sight of her, that he could scarce forbear making love to her 
before the face of the whole audience; his colour went and 
came, he sighed, trembled, and in short, felt all those 
emotions which men in love are subject to. After the play was 
over, he watched her into a coach, and lest he should miss of 
her in a throng of whirligigs, he very orderly got up behind, 
and was soon set down at her door in the Old Bailey; but his 
love was so strong, as deprived him of any other strength; 
insomuch, that when Polly stepped out of the coach into the 
house, his soul was near stepping out of his body, he was so 
far overcome by his amorous passion. All night he waited about 
the door, sometimes sighing, and sometimes raving, fearing she 
was a married woman; or doubting if she were not, such a fine 
creature as she was, would repulse him, being but a young lad, 
and not out of his apprenticeship: but when the morning came, 
he was eased from part of his pain; for upon enquiry after 
her, he found that she was a single woman; and at the same 
time he heard who she was, that she was a person of a noble 
mind, though of but a narrow fortune, which did not put the 
least damp to him, he having a pretty handsome estate, when he 
came to age, and was willing to lay both that and himself at 
her feet, and the next day he picked up a little courage (yet 
with a heart almost broken for fear of a denial) and went to 
inform her of his passion.

Polly, who had ever a great deal of wit, as well as good 
manners, received him like a gentleman, and entertained him 
very courteously; but at the same time the assured him, that 
though he came with seeming honourable pretensions, for which 
she could not but use him with civility, yet there were some 
private reasons which would keep her from a married state, and 
make his pretensions to her of none effect.

This so dumbfounded the spark, that he could scarce make a 
reply; but, at length, recollecting his fleeting spirits, he 
addressed himself in such generous and honest terms, that she 
could not but have some respect and compassion for his youth; 
and as she saw he was sincere, she obligingly told him, that 
the gods dealt with mortals in a manner unaccountable, and the 
fate of things often came about by unforeseen accidents; 
therefore she would not obstinately give him a denial, but 
told him, that her apartment was so far at his service, that 
he should be welcome to spend an hour there, when he could 
find leisure, but bid him not be too confident upon the little 
hopes she might give him, by admitting this freedom, lest he 
should meet with a disappointment. Overjoyed at this promising 
success, the youth knew not how to express himself; nor could 
she keep him from his knees, to show his thankfulness with the 
greater humility.

He seldom missed seeing her every day from the beginning of 
July 1725, to the latter end of August; and sometimes she 
would favour him with her company abroad: when, though he was 
but a lad, he had always some pretty things to say to her, and 
she in return was at length so generous as to tell her mind 
freely, that he must never expect to have her, though she 
condescended to please him with her company; for, to deal 
plainly and honestly with him, she told him her heart was 
disposed of otherways. This struck such a damp to the young 
lover, he could scarce contain himself: yet, as she had never 
flattered him with any real expectations, he had nothing to 
reproach her for. But Polly seeing his passion rather 
increasing every day, resolved not to act dishonourably by a 
youth who acted so honourably by her; and as she could not 
consent to marry him, since she had given her heart to the 
Portuguese nobleman, she feared if she should indulge his 
passion longer, the conclusion might he attended with some 
dreadful effects. To prevent which, she told him he must 
endeavour to set his heart at ease, for she could  not comply 
with his desires upon any terms or conditions whatsoever, and 
therefore he must desist from coming to her house for the 
future, since it was impossible he should conquer his passion 
by means which served only to inflame it. Which words, like a 
dagger to his soul, put him in the greatest agony, and sent 
him home in deep despair and melancholy, not stirring out of 
the house from Monday to the Friday following, when he sent 
her the following letter.

"Divine destroyer! 
	"What have I done, that Heaven should sentence me to 
die by the hands of an executioner who has the appearance 
of an angel! Must you, who never gave me a vindictive 
frown to torment me, nor a treacherous smile to allure me 
(two weapons with which your sex do all the execution!) 
now destroy me, after so much goodness of admitting me in 
your presence, when you knew my passion. Could you see 
any merits in me at first, that inclined you to that 
kindness; or did you suffer me to go on and discover 
fresh beauties in you every day, till the god of love had 
fired my heart beyond all cure, that my grief at the 
disappointment might sink me to the grave for my 
presumption? Or did you discover any demerits in me after 
my admittance to that paradise, your apartment? Tell me, 
divine charmer! What had I done to gain the little esteem 
you seemed to have for me; and what have I done to lose 
it? I should outdo the greatest romance with truth, could 
I recount the extravagances of mind I have had, and the 
perturbations of soul I have felt; insomuch, that I am as 
uncapable of business, as I am of pleasure. A lady, this 
morning, asked for a green silk, I handed her a scarlet 
camlet, and told her it was India damask. She, surprised 
at my stupidity, asked me who I was in love with, which 
recovered me for that minute out of my confusion; but the 
distemper returns each hour, and I find the effects of 
love is such as I could never yet find a right 
description of it, either among poets or philosophers.

"When I first had the happiness of your dear sweet 
conversation, I concluded with the poet; that

Love is a generous passion of the mind, 
The softest refuge innocence can find; 
The safe director of unguarded youth, 
Taught with kind wishes, and secured by truth. 
The cordial drop, heaven in our cup has thrown, 
To make the nauseous draught of life go down. 
Dryden. <133>

"But, alas! I am now confirmed in the contrary; and by 
woeful experience I find,
That love, of all the passions, is the worst; 
With which a man's no sooner touched, but cursed. 
For love to madness sure is near allied, 
A thin partition does the two divide.

"And madness sure, must be my lot, since I find it 
impossible to command a passion so strong and powerful of 
myself; and you, who have the cure in your own hands, 
refuse to be my physician: yet, though you have denied me 
to approach you any more, be so kind, my angel, to send 
me a line either as a sword to dispatch me, or as a 
cordial to comfort, the otherways comfortless, 
	"&c. &c. &c."

To which Polly, the next morning, sent the following answer.

"SIR, 
	"Your seeming sincerity induced me to show you some 
respect, it's true; but I never entertained you so as you 
could have the leaf prospect of making me your wife, nor 
could I with honour give you any hopes that way; 
forasmuch as I am too deeply engaged with another, to 
admit of your proposals: for which reason I frequently 
intimated to you, that your desires could not with any 
possibility be granted; and upon your still pursuing your 
addresses, I was obliged to give you an abrupt denial.
Then, sir, no more your fond desires pursue, 
Since I, with honour, can't comply with you; 
Heavens bless you in some other choice: adieu.

"LAVINIA."

The Portuguese nobleman still continued in the Fleet, and her 
mother at that time failing, she went and lived within a door 
or two of Cowplands, the great soap-boiler's in the Old 
Bailey; and her generosity to this gentleman under confinement 
was such, as is seldom found in a woman wholly abandoned to 
pleasure; for instead of seeking out for another gallant (or 
rather entertaining another, for she wanted not for humble 
servants) she took his misfortunes to heart, and paying him a 
kind visit, begged he would tell her how she might be 
serviceable to him. He seeing her singular humanity, seemed 
rather to choose confinement, than to lay any burden upon so 
much good nature; he therefore told her, he would wait there 
with patience till he could have money remitted over to him 
from his own country; and desired her in the meantime, that 
she would not make his troubles her own, but take her pleasure 
in the town; and if she would now and then condescend to bless 
him with an hour's conversation, it would make his confinement 
tolerable; and if he lived once more to enjoy his liberty, his 
whole life amid be devoted to her service.

Polly was so sensibly touched with this kind way of his 
expressing himself, that she immediately, without his 
knowledge, went and sold all her rings, jewels, and other 
valuable curiosities (most part of which he had aforetime 
given her) and purchased his enlargement; after which, he went 
over into his own country: and the generous returns he made 
for this unparalleled generosity in her shall be taken notice 
of in its place.

It was in this same year 1725, that she began to think of 
treading the stage; and she haying a lively imagination, 
joined with a good memory, a clear voice, and a graceful mien, 
seemed as if nature had designed her for the pleasure of 
mankind, in such performances as are exhibited at our 
theatres.

And what conduced very much to recommend her to the stage, was 
the following lines, which she composed on an empty fop that 
would have taken her into keeping, provided she would go down 
into the country, and be cloistered up in a little village of 
his near Richmond in Yorkshire.

Vain fop, to court me to a rural life; 
Let him reserve that usage for a wife. 
A mistress, sure, may claim more liberty, 
Unbound by nature, and by law she's free. 
Monster! thy country cottage I disdain, 
In London let me live, and let me reign; 
The seat of pleasure, where we, unconfined,  
Delight the body, and improve the mind. 
To park we range, where youth and beauty shines, 
There we intrigue and manage brave designs 
Give me a play, a ball, or masquerade, 
And let who will enjoy your lonesome shade, 
Lavinia, for more noble ends was made. 
Let some fond wench to your wild village run, 
And, though a mistress, be a cloistered nun. 
Curious of worth, I prize my freedom more, 
Than to withdraw like an abandoned w----.

These lines falling into the hands of a certain nobleman, he 
endeavoured by all means to get her into the playhouse, 
perceiving she had wit and spirit, that would certainly gain 
her admirers, if he could but get her admitted; but this was 
not done without great difficulty.

Mr Huddy (now master of a strolling company) being turned out 
of the playhouse in Lincoln's Inn Fields, in February 1726, 
had The Orphan, or the Unhappy Marriage, for a benefit, a 
month after, at the New Theatre in the Haymarket, which was in 
March; and at his benefit Polly had the honour of first 
mounting the stage; and though it was her first time, the 
gained such applause, that she had several presents made her, 
and some billets; one in particular from a young ensign; which 
is here faithfully transcribed from the original copy.

"Madam, 
	"You may be a person of honour, for aught I know to 
the contrary, and I hope you will be so honourable, as 
not to let a man of honour die dishonourably at your 
feet; for, by heavens! Though I thought nothing so bright 
as my sword; yet I find your eyes are much brighter. My 
dear, dear guardian angel, could you conceive the anxiety 
I suffer on your account, you would surely pity me; for 
there's never an officer in our regiment, but takes 
notice of my being changed, (since I saw you upon the 
stage) from the most lively, brisk, fashionable, 
mannerly, genteel beau in the whole army, to the most 
dull, insipid, slovenly, out-o'-th'-way tempered dunce in 
Christendom. Damn me, madam, if I am not so overcharged 
with love, that my heart, which is the bullet in the 
barrel of my body, will certainly burst and blow me into 
atoms, if I have not your help to discharge the burden; 
and then, Blood! Madam! I am guilty of so many blunders 
and mistakes in the execution of my office, that I am 
become a laughing-stock to the whole army. Yesterday I 
put my sword on the wrong side; and this morning I came 
into the Park with one of my stockings the inside 
outward; and instead of applying myself to the colonel in 
the usual terms of, 'Most noble sir!' I looked pale, and 
with an affected damned cringe, called him 'Madam.' Thus, 
madam, you see how far I am gone already. Then, to keep 
me from Bedlam, take me to your arms, when I will lay 
down my arms, and be your slave and vassal"

She had other letters sent her by others of a different kind; 
some courting her after the platonic manner, others, like 
Ovid, more soft and sweet.

After she had acted a part in the play, for Mr Huddy's 
benefit, she was allowed to have a benefit herself with one Mr 
Gilbert, at the same place, five weeks after. The play they 
chose, was, The Beaux's Stratagem, written by Mr Farquhar; and 
Polly acted the part of Cherry Boniface, the innkeeper's 
daughter, in such a winning manner, that the house even 
contended who should most applaud her for the performance.

This benefit turned much to Polly's advantage, as well as 
honour, and gained her so much favour with some noblemen 
present, that they promoted her into the company of young 
comedians, who acted twice a week, during that summer season, 
at the playhouse in Lincoln's Inn Fields; and Polly's being 
admitted one of them, she had a part of the advantage, which 
accrued from their performances; and every time of acting, she 
gained new admirers, insomuch, that intercession was made with 
Mr Rich to have her taken into the house as a stated actress, 
which he agreed to, and being admitted the ensuing winter, was 
allowed fifteen shillings per week.

Polly becoming now the most celebrated toast in town, she 
gained new admirers every time she appeared on the stage, and 
persons of the highest rank and quality made love to her; 
insomuch, that by the presents she has received, she lives in 
ease and plenty, keeps her servants, and appears abroad in as 
much magnificence as a Lady.

The first lover that courted her favours since she has charmed 
the town with her fine warbling in the Beggar's Opera, was a 
noble Knight of the Bath; a person of too noble a mind to 
participate of the pleasure with her, without some valuable 
consideration: and indeed Polly has so much wit, and is so 
well acquainted with men and things, that he must be a man of 
honour, as well as sense and generosity, who is admitted to be 
of her Cabinet Council: yet this must be said in her behalf, 
that she is above asking money for dispensing her favours; and 
yet not so foolish as to surrender before the sees the 
glittering bait, for by some pretty witty tale, smile, parable 
or fable, she insinuates so finely, that her sparks are always 
ready to offer a diamond ring, a green purse, a watch, gold 
snuff-box, or some valuable trinket.

A spark of hers, known by the name of Horse-Courser-General, 
came to her one evening, and begged she would excuse his rough 
manner of address, for he was as mettlesome as a stallion, and 
could not be kept in with a curb-bridle, but must, without 
further apology, faith must he ----. "Hold in your reins, good 
sir," says Polly, "do you ever run a race at Newmarket before 
you stake; pray tell me how many stone you carry, whether you 
propose to trot, gallop, or pace, and then we'll draw up 
preliminaries, sign, seal, and deliver." "You pretty jennet," 
said the knight, "I shall ride without either whip or spur, 
and I'll lay you 50 guineas, there it is, I hold the rate of 
30 miles an hour." "For how many minutes?" said Polly. "For 
5," said the knight. "You don't hold it for 2," said Polly. "A 
match," said he, "done, done." Upon which, they started, and 
Polly won; for he foundered between two hills, and lost breath 
in one minute, three seconds, and two moments.

It was not long, before a young amorous D----, who, tired with 
hymeneal duty, would needs be admitted amongst the number of 
her humble servants; and accordingly he came in an 
extraordinary manner, gave her sixty pounds, and like a 
reasonable man took a whole night to consider upon it.

The Portuguese nobleman, mentioned before, hearing of Polly's 
vast success, and gratefully remembering her generosity to him 
when he was under confinement, sent her over 400 pounds; and 
fearing that she should be quite run away with, by the report 
he daily received of the number of her slaves, he came over 
himself, to enjoy the pleasures which all the world covets; 
and to assure her, that the Portuguese ladies were but mere 
dowdies in comparison of his dear Polly: and, as we shall show 
by what follows, he met with such a kind reception from her, 
as overwhelmed him with joy and ecstasy.

In the last Passion week, the noble horse-courser going for 
Newmarket, desired her company part of the way; which she 
consenting to, they went with a chariot drawn by four horses, 
and staying that night at Enfield, they made another match; 
but how far they run, how long they run, and how swift they 
run, is yet a secret. However, since her agility is known to 
be extraordinary, it is not doubted but Polly was on the 
winning side; for the next day she came back in the chariot 
with a great deal of pleasure, and the old knight, it's said, 
pursued his journey in but a heavy posture.

On the 29th of April last, she had her benefit-night, and the 
play she chose, was The Stratagem, in which she acted Cherry; 
but she offended the best part of her friends, by laying pit 
and boxes together, insomuch, that she had a great many of her 
tickets returned,: but the generosity of Mr R----h made amends 
for this disappointment, for he took the money for that night 
to himself; and on the Saturday following gave her a benefit 
again, when the Beggar's Opera was acted with great applause 
before a crowded audience, and Polly exerted herself so far, 
that the claps of her officious friends were so frequent and 
loud, that it took off the beauty of the performance.

This singular piece of generosity in Mr R----h, gives occasion 
for people to make their observations; and most are of 
opinion, that the nimble harlequin has a private understanding 
with her; and since she has been so famous for acting her part 
in the Beggar's Opera, she has been advanced to thirty 
shillings per week, and if she merits the same praise in other 
performances, as she does in this, it is not doubted but it 
will be raised to something more considerable.

A certain poet, who treats her, praises her, kisses her, &c. 
till he is uncapable to write a single stanza on any other 
subject than that of Polly, being swallowed up in rapture one 
night at a certain tavern, he burn out into the following 
ecstasy:

Ye gods! Ye goddesses! Ye muses nine! 
And thou, my father Bacchus! God of wine, 
Let pretty Poll be your peculiar care, 
Make her as great, as she is wise and fair: 
For she! Even she! Like alchemists of old, 
Transformed my lead to glittering solid gold. 
Let no contagion, or mischance befall 
My life! My angel! Heavenly goddess, Poll! 
Guard her, let not the clapping crowds bewitch her, 
For she is! O good gods! I'll go and ----

Hert amours are not inferior to those of the celebrated Sally 
Salisbury, nor have her gallants been less generous to her 
than they were to that once famous beauty. But to do Polly 
justice, she is not to be mentioned in comparison with Sally; 
for it's well known by those who have had the pleasure of 
conversation with Polly, that she has a penetrating genius, 
whereas the other had only some low-life flights of wit to 
recommend her, and by being twice in her company, her 
conversation became insipid, dull, and nauseous; when on the 
contrary, Polly has so many smart, as well as polite 
repartees, such a grace in the delivery, and withal so little 
of that affectation which frequently makes a witty woman's 
company intolerable, that the oftener any one hears her 
converse, the oftener he will desire it, and will improve 
himself by her profound skill in several faculties, as well as 
divert himself with her merry sayings and smart returns of 
gallantry: for it must be acknowledged, that her beauty has 
not gained her so many admirers as her sense, and the good use 
the makes on't.

She was once in company with a fop and a fine gentleman, who 
each addressed her in their turns, but in a very different 
manner, and Polly very ingeniously gave each of them such 
suitable answers; as converted the fop, and made the man of 
sense a mere fool. For from that time, he was ready to lay 
down his life and estate at her service. "Madam," said the 
fop, "you have a very fine hand, which adds a great grace to 
your person." "Sir," said Polly, "you have a very fine snuff-
box, which adds a singular grace to yours." "Madam," said he, 
"be pleased to take a pinch out of it" (at the same time 
presenting it with a ridiculous affected air) "my snuff is 
very good for the brain." "Sir," said she, "I frequently 
observe where the brain is defective, snuff is of great use, 
and though it cannot properly be called either a restorative 
or a provocative, yet certainly it is a good preparative to 
expel dullness." "You are very witty and satirical, madam," 
said he. "Sir," said she, "if your snuff would inspire me with 
wit, I would satirize upon your box."

The other gentleman finding Polly too many for the fop, and 
not willing to have him quite made a sacrifice, very humanly 
interposed; and after desiring to be excused for interruption, 
"Madam," says he, "with that very air in which you this minute 
appeared, the town has obliged you with your picture in 
mezzotinto." "Sir," said she, "the town may picture me as they 
please; but was the town to be pictured running to the 
Beggar's Opera, I am sure it would be to my advantage." "I 
hope, madam," said he, "you would not rally the town for their 
good opinion of your performances." "No truly, sir," said she, 
"I am glad the town is governed by opinion and caprice; but 
that is more than I would have said to a gentleman of less 
penetration and generosity than yourself: you, sir, discern 
things in their proper light, and are satisfied that neither 
Mr Gay, nor myself have outdone our outdoings, as Colley 
expresses it, but we in this have spoke the town on the weak-
side the head, and made it so giddy, I fear in a little time 
it will fall, and dash the brains out of the Beggar's Opera." 
This she spoke with such pleasing accents, as took the 
gentleman she was speaking to, on the weak side the head; in 
such a manner, that he flung himself at her feet; and told 
her, let the town be mistaken in what manner they would, they 
could never be mistaken who espoused her cause; for sure she 
was more than woman. And, in short, he fell so deeply in love 
with Polly, that though his title is no less than an Earl, he 
submits himself like a slave at Polly's footstool. And not 
only this, but several noblemen, who have distinguished 
themselves by great actions, both in the field and the C----, 
are now Polly's most humble servants; for though she now is 
but in a mean capacity, yet she has something so noble in her 
presence, she is so sweet in her conversation, and withal so 
grateful and obliging to her benefactors, that her lovers are 
not ashamed of their amours, forasmuch as they are devoted to 
the shrine of one who is mistress of so many perfections.

She is a good historian, and will frequently quote the 
authority of Plutarch to confirm her opinion of things, not 
obstinately persisting in the woman's reason, It is so, 
because it is so; but she will argue very profoundly, both 
with regard to politics and plays, and will rally and 
criticise as finely as any of her sex in Christendom; and 
never leaves a company, but she leaves them something to 
charge their memories withal.

She is such a judge of painting, that the greatest of our 
modern artists in this profession are glad to have her opinion 
of a piece before it is shown to the world, knowing, that if 
it escapes her censure, it will gain the approbation of the 
whole town; for she is so nice in the discovery of an error, 
that it's as impossible to deceive her, as it is to express 
her strength of fancy: yet, what makes her the most valuable 
of any woman that ever was reputed for gallantry, is that, 
notwithstanding her wit and skill, she is the most humble, the 
most affable, and the least conceited of any woman (that is 
both wise and beautiful) in the King's dominions. Nor will she 
bear to hear encomiums on herself, it being a greater affront 
to praise her before her face, and she resents it more than if 
she was to be publicly called gilt, coquette, or even common 
whore or strumpet.

She was invited some time since to see a fine gallery of 
history-painting, where she read every story at first sight so 
pathetically, and moralized upon each history so ingeniously, 
that the owner could not forbear launching too far in her 
praises. "Sir," said she, "I beg, if you would not have me 
loathe and detest you, that you will not act the parasite, I 
understand but what everyone ought to know, and am not 
therefore worthy of your commendations." Seeing her a little 
moved, he led her into the hall to see the family pictures, 
where she took occasion to admire the gravity of the one, the 
venerable aspect of another, and the juvenile vigour of a 
third, and took care not to forget Sir Godfrey Kneller in her 
observations, who could make a family live upon canvas after 
they had been a hundred years buried in their graves.

It is observed before, that she is a good judge of poetry, and 
very often exerts herself in the praise or dispraise of any 
performances that appear either beautiful or contemptible. 
Some time since, a gentleman of a better estate in the 
kingdoms of Great Britain than in the land of Parnassus, and 
is more familiar with the ladies of the town than with 
Apollo's daughters, showed Polly a copy of verses, which, he 
said, he had wrote with a great deal of pains; that he had 
wrote his thought first in prose, and then after letting them 
lie a year fallow, he had cultivated and improved them into 
verse: the design was taken from the story of Ulysses and 
Penelope; but he being of opinion, that Ulysses was not so 
continent, nor Penelope altogether so chaste as the Greek poet 
had represented them to be, had given them a little more 
liberty, and given the hero a lady in his travels, and his 
spouse a favourite at home, to pass now and then a tedious 
night with this fine copy. The gentleman desired Polly to 
peruse, and give him her thoughts on them the next 
opportunity; accordingly, he came to wait on Polly two or 
three days after, when she not being at leisure to wait on 
him, sent her servant with them downstairs, with this answer 
from Polly, that she had wrote her thoughts on the back-side 
of them: which were as follows.

Sir, 
To give my opinion in an humble strain, 
Your muse is rude, and your improvements vain. 
Ne'er contradict what Gods of verse have done, 
Nor judge the Grecian ladies by our own. 
Each day new subjects for your verse affords, 
Of lady prudes kept by cornuted lords, 
Or porters drunk, or dangling thieves in cords. 
Take that, or this, or choose you which you will, 
We've native themes t'employ your natural skill.

I shall add to Polly's wit two or three instances of her 
humanity and good nature, and I think she may pass for an 
accomplished worthy lady, if the public will allow an actress 
the title.

Her reputed father, Mr Fenton, being now living, and in very 
mean circumstances, Polly is so generous as to allow him a 
decent maintenance, and entertains him with the same duty and 
respect as if he was her real father, without so much as 
desiring it should be by others, or that he himself should 
cringe to her for his allowance, but makes him use as much 
freedom in coming or sending for it as if it were his due; 
which evidently demonstrates, that what she does is out of a 
principle of humanity.

Another remarkable instance of her charity was seen in her own 
neighbourhood. A poor milk-woman, who has married a black 
husband, was brought to bed of two tawny children at a birth, 
and the neighbours being mostly either too rich to take any 
notice of the poor woman, or so poor and ill-natured, that she 
could not be provided with gossips<134> at their being 
baptized, Polly hearing of it, sent her maid to stand 
godmother for her by proxy, and gave her half a guinea to give 
the poor woman for an immediate supply, and after the ceremony 
she went herself, relieved the woman very generously in that 
exigency, and ordered her to make free in sending to her house 
during the time of her lying-in, for such necessaries as she 
should have occasion for. This being rumoured about, a 
tailor's wife being brought to bed some time since, and not 
being provided with gossips, Polly went and offered herself to 
stand, which they gladly accepted of, and she called the child 
by the name of Polly Peachum, it being a girl.

The latest and most noble of actions was but in April last, 
when the Portuguese nobleman, mentioned before, and so well 
noted in town, happened to fall again into some trouble, when, 
without hesitation, she sent him 300l. in cash, which redeemed 
him from an arrest from which he knew not how to get clear, 
nor had he courage to apply to her from whom he had received 
such unparalleled favours before; but her timely generosity 
put him out of all anxiety, and now they live together in one 
house, enjoying the utmost felicity, and their tempers exactly 
suiting each other, makes up a complete harmony.

FINIS.



Jane Douglas (1761)
https://play.google.com/books/reader?id=i9VlAAAAcAAJ&hl=en&pg=
GBS.PA2  



Title Page

GENIUNE
MEMOIRS

Of the late CELEBRATED

JANE D * * * S

============================================ 
Audire est oper� pretium, procedere recte 
Qui m�chis non vultis.	HOR.* 
============================================

LONDON:
Printed for J. SIMPSON. at Shakespear's Head 
in Paul's Alley, St. Paul's Church-yard
MDCCLXI


*"You who wish to avoid adultery, must pay the price of 
listening"  
Horace Satires Bk. I Sat. 2 



Frontispiece: Jane Douglas' Brothel
 
Detail from The March of the Guards to Finchley by William 
Hogarth. Jane is at bottom left. 




Chapter I. 
The Purpose of this Book

It is the province of biographical writers to embalm the 
memory of those who have been eminent, during their residence 
upon earth. But our present undertaking must be allowed to be 
much more difficult, as the memory of the person whose life is 
to be the subject of the following sheets, in all probability 
stinks already, though her carcase is not yet rotten.

Our intention in conveying an account of her life, and 
adventures to posterity, is not to excite others to tread in 
her footsteps, though if it were, we might be justified by the 
maxims of the celebrated author of the Fable of the Bees, that 
private vices are public benefits; for sure no one ever 
contributed more to promote private vices than the irreverend 
matron who has lately paid the debt to nature. Our design is 
quite the reverse, we mean to represent vice in all its horror 
and deformity; that these who are engaged in vicious courses, 
may be disgusted by the representation, and to lay open all 
the snares of artful wickedness that the innocent and unwary 
may henceforward be upon their guard.

It may perhaps be objected that the knowledge of vice is but a 
bad preservative of virtue, but every day's experience must 
convince us that many unhappy wretches are seduced from the 
ways of virtue merely through their ignorance of life, who had 
they been sufficiently informed of the wicked practices of 
women of the profession of her, whose memoirs we now present 
the public with, might have avoided all the infamy, disease 
and guilt which they were involved in merely by their 
ignorance. Mr Pope has justly observed that,

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien 
As to be hated, needs but to be seen.

And it shall be our endeavour to represent it in such colours 
as may inspire every reader with the utmost detestation of it. 
We shall therefore enter upon our narrative and through the 
whole course of it strictly adhere to truth.



Chapter II. 
An account of the birth and parentage of Jane D----s.


Though our chief design is to instruct, we intend likewise to 
entertain the reader, in order to render these memoirs 
agreeable to every taste. But lest we should be thought to 
imitate some modern writers, whose works often consist 
entirely of preface and introduction, we shall immediately 
enter upon our history.

John D----s a negro by complexion, though born in these 
kingdoms, having in his early youth an inclination to a 
military life constantly associated with soldiers, and at last 
by one of those turns of fortune, which the French call Tours 
de Baton, was raised to the honourable place of a kettle-
drummer.

Susanna A----n, who had long followed the army, though 
inferior to Desdemona both in beauty and chastity, resembled 
her in an affection for blacks; and seizing the visage of her 
beloved Othello in her mind, received his proffered love as 
readily as Desdemona did that of the Venetian general.

They were all their lives looked upon as man and wife, though 
many have doubted, and not without reason, whether they were 
ever married according to the ritual of the church. Many 
authors are of opinion that the ceremony was performed in the 
military manner, namely, that John leapt over a drum, and Jane 
followed; for among soldiers the nuptial knot is quickly tied, 
'tis only leap rogue and follow whore, and the business is 
done.

Though the kettle-drummer and his spouse agreed in the main, 
and had an equal propensity to drinking strong beer, gin and 
brandy, smoking, swearing, &c. Yet they sometimes had 
differences, and their conjugal endearments were frequently 
interrupted by broils which were generally productive of black 
and blue marks upon the back and shoulders of Susanna, though 
as she was of a more robust constitution than the ladies at 
court who sip tea, and never meddle with strong liquor, she 
often revenged herself by scratching him in such a manner that 
the streams of blood, which flowed from his face, converted 
his dusky hue into a fine vermilion.

Tis said likewise, that neither man nor wife adhered very 
scrupulously to the laws of conjugal fidelity, so that some 
have doubted whether Jane the subject of this history, was the 
daughter of John D----s the kettle drummer, or of some of the 
soldiers and grenadiers, who frequented his house; for John 
kept a sort of a. public house, which was frequented by the 
gentlemen soldiers, and the conversation at their merry 
meetings consisted almost entirely of swearing, talking 
obscenely, bawling, &c.

In this school of virtue was born the illustrious Jane D----s, 
whilst her parents resided at Aberdeen in Scotland, but tis 
apprehended, that that city will never boast of being the 
place her birth, as the seven cities of Greece took pride in 
supposition, that one or other of them had given birth to the 
immortal Homer.



Chapter III. 
Of the early indications of virtue given by Jane D----s.

Being descended of such parents as those we have described, 
'tis no wonder that Jane should have a natural propensity to 
all the vices that might be learned at her father's house. 
While very young she took great delight in spping gin, brandy 
and other strong liquors, and listened so favourably to the 
addresses of the soldiers that before the age of fifteen she 
had got that disorder which has been so often fatal to the 
noses of the votaries of Venus.

It has been said by some, that her father himself frequently 
lay with her. Of this we will not be positive, but certain it 
is that he encouraged her in her vices, finding that her free 
behaviour brought him every day new customers.

Her father dying, her mother, finding herself unable to carry 
on the business alone, came to London, where she carried on 
the business of a receiver of stolen goods; but being at last 
detected and brought to her trial at the Old Bailey, she was 
condemned to be transported for fourteen years, and has never 
been heard of since.

To return to her virtuous daughter, Jane, though she had not 
inherited a fortune from her parents, had received from them 
an education which prevented her being in the least at a loss 
about getting a livelihood. Being then but 19 years of age she 
had charms sufficient to captivate the hearts of many of the 
bucks of Aberdeen, most of whom she was a match for in 
drinking. But as she did not think herself sufficiently 
supplied by their bounty she sometimes stole a watch, from 
one, his purse from another, and finding herself at last 
threatened with a prosecution, thought it advisable to change 
her quarters and make a retreat to Edinburgh.



Chapter IV. 
An account of Jane's adventures at Edinburgh.

Our Heroine being arrived at Edinburgh, soon became known to 
all the dissolute and debauched young fellows of that city: 
for though there is a great exterior show of piety at 
Edinburgh, there are perhaps, in proportion, as many 
debauchees there as elsewhere. Here she was taken into keeping 
by one Captain Hunter, who finding that she had made him a 
present of a certain disease, with the name of which we do not 
choose to stain our history, kicked her out of doors, 
whereupon, she was obliged once more to have course to street-
walking. The first cully she met with was a presbyterian 
parson, from whom she purloined a watch and a purse, 
containing ten guineas, but her canonical lover not caring to 
expose his character, thought proper to abide by his loss.

Jane being now rich, equipped herself in such a manner as to 
attract the attention of many Edinburgh beaus, and as she had 
taken care to get herself cured of the disease abovementioned, 
she became highly acceptable to them. Their parties of 
pleasure were always thought imperfect without her, and as she 
surpassed all her sister whores in swearing and obscene talk, 
she was universally allowed to be the heartiest girl in the 
town. She could drink punch to such a degree, that she once 
drank for a wager with two sea-officers; and when they were 
quite overpowered with the liquor, rifled them and marched 
off.

Her pilfering temper having disgusted this new set of 
acquaintance, she went to live with Mother R----, an Irish 
bawd, who understood her business the best of any of the 
profession in Edinburgh, and was by her initiated into those 
secrets of which she afterwards so availed herself.

As she became extremely useful to Mother R---- as well in the 
management of the house as her engaging behaviour to all that 
frequented it, the latter chose her as an assistant in the 
laborious business of keeping a public house for the reception 
of the votaries of Venus; and Jane, who never neglected her 
own interest, found means hereby to fill her private purse; 
but this she did in so cautious and circumspect a manner that 
mother R----never entertained the least suspicion of her. Thus 
did Jane prosper for a time, but her good fortune did not 
last, as the reader will see by and by.

A quarrel happening soon after at Mother R----n's, Jane, in 
the scuffle, received a contusion, which rendered her entirely 
incapable of business; and the prudent bawd not caring to be 
at the expense of getting her cured, thought it most advisable 
to turn her out of doors, Thus Jane found herself in a worse 
hole than ever.

But happening accidentally to meet with a charitable 
Christian, she told him a moving tale, which had such an 
effect upon his compassionate temper, that he caused her to be 
received into an hospital, where she was cured in a short 
time; and no sooner did she quit it, but she began to patrol 
again, according to custom.

But fortune, which intended her for greater things, would not 
suffer her long to walk the streets. She happened one Sunday 
night to be surprised in a familiar posture with a young 
fellow in a by Lane of Edinburgh: her gallant whether by 
bribery or mere accident found means to make off, but Jane had 
the misfortune to be brought before a magistrate, and, as she 
unluckily happened to have a more extensive reputation than a 
person of her way of life would desire, she was for this and 
many former misdemeanours, condemned to be publicly whipped 
and turned out of the city.

This punishment, Jane, who was not of the most delicate 
constitution, bore with the utmost fortitude: and having a 
small sum of money which she had found in the pocket of one of 
her lovers remaining, resolved to retire with it to London, 
having a secret impulse, that she would in time make a fortune 
in that metropolis.



Chapter V. 
An account of what happened to Jane upon her arrival in 
London.

Jane entered the capital of this kingdom with great 
expectations; but, as is often the case with adventurers, she 
for some time found herself greatly disappointed. Being led by 
a secret instinct, she took a wretched lodging in an ale-house 
in Drury Lane, but her appearance was so mean, and her 
finances so low, that she for some time lived in obscurity.

She walked the streets every night, but with grief and 
surprise found herself entirely neglected. 'Twas upon this 
occasion she learned to smoke tobacco, finding it necessary to 
be very sparing of the little money she had left, she 
breakfasted every morning upon a pennyworth of purl and a 
pipe; and her dinner was a slice of bread and cheese and a 
pint of porter.

One day as she was making this wretched meal, a young woman 
entered the tap-room, and called for half a quartern of gin. 
This young woman, whose name was Suky S----d, casting her eye 
upon Jane D----s immediately, perceived her to be the same 
girl that she had lived with at Mother R----n's in Edinburgh. 
Suky S----d had all that affection for her country, which so 
eminently distinguishes the Scotch nation, and though a common 
whore, was by no means destitute of humanity. She immediately 
accosted Jane; who was overjoyed to see her, and very kindly 
invited her to drink a glass of gin. Jane thankfully accepted 
the offer, and entered into a conversation concerning their 
past adventures, which lasted so long that Suky called for 
another quartern of gin to amuse them between whiles.

Suky, then informed her friend Jane, that she lived at Moll J-
---s's under the Piazza in Covent Garden.

"Our bar-keeper," added she, "has just left us, and I believe 
you are very well qualified to supply her place; I'll speak to 
her about you this very day, meet me under the piazza about 
seven o'clock. I can't possibly stay now, so I'll take my 
leave of you, but we'll have another quartern of gin first." 
So Suky called for the gin, and while they were drinking it, 
Jane in the warmest terms expressed her acknowledgment and 
grateful sense of the goodness of her friend. They soon after 
parted, and Jane did not fail to repair to the place of 
rendezvous at the appointed hour.

She was soon met by Suky, who told her, that her mistress 
could not see her till the morning, as she had a great deal of 
company to entertain that night, and did not care to hurry 
things.

"In the meantime, "added she, "as I have got no husband for 
tonight, we'll go and have some supper."

So away they went to the Duke in Chandos Street, and after 
having regaled themselves with a-la-mode beef, drank a pot of 
porter and a quartern of gin. They parted, and next morning 
Suky introduced Jane to her mistress, who having asked her a 
few questions, perceived that she was an understanding women, 
and kindly offered to do all that lay in her power, but 
informed her at the same time that she had provided herself of 
a bar-keeper.

Poor Jenny being thus disappointed by the advice of her friend 
above-mentioned, had recourse to selling oranges and fruit in 
the wheelbarrow way, being supplied by her generous 
countrywoman with money to enable her to set up.

Jane D----s was not the only illustrious personage who begun 
the world in a low way, if we look among the great and 
renowned persons, who have filled the world with their fame; 
we shall often find, that their greatness rose from a source 
both low and base, as proud Venice from dirt and seaweed.

Thus we are informed by historians, that Augustus C�sar owed 
his first preferment to having been p--k to Hirtius in his 
youth. A genius can never be long concealed.

Jenny was soon taken notice of by many gentlemen who made 
Covent Garden their chief place of resort; and these she 
served in so many ways of industry that she received the 
appellation of industrious Jenny.

By the interest of her masters, she was promoted to sell 
oranges in the Play-house, and having thus quitted the 
wheelbarrow for a higher sphere, distinguished herself both in 
the pit and galleries, by that sort of eloquence in which 
orange-women are not inferior to the matrons of Billingsgate. 
Such was her success in this business, that she has been otten 
heard to say, that she has taken five pounds in a night; for 
gentlemen would take an orange and give, some half a guinea, 
some a crown, &c.

The reader however is not to imagine that this confederation 
for Jenny was owing to her fruit alone; gentlemen had other 
motives for showing Jane this uncommon favour, and these may 
be easily guesred at.

Such was the grateful temper of Jenny that she never forgot 
these her first patrons; but when she afterwards carried on 
the greatest business of any woman of her profession in town, 
called them always her old masters, and took care always to 
keep the best girls for them. From hence it appears that Jane 
had virtues, though the rigid part of mankind may be inclined 
to think that they entitle her to but little praise.



Chapter VI. 
Jenny's further rise and progress.

Jane did not long move in this low sphere, Betty C----s some 
time after lost her new bar-keeper, who died in an hospital of 
a fatal disorder which she had brought on herself by to too 
great an application to business. Suky S----d reminded her 
mistress of Jane D----s as soon as the other bar-keeper had 
retired from the management of affairs, and Jane was 
immediately promoted to that honourable place. She acquitted 
herself in it in such a manner that the house was frequented 
more than ever. Many of her acquaintances called every day; 
and whilst Jane stepped up stairs, the obliging Suky S----d 
supplied her place at the bar.

Jane discovered such abilities, that she soon became the 
factotum to Betsey C----s, who finding what her genius was 
turned to, employed her frequently as a substitute procuress.

In this branch of business she discovered extraordinary 
talents: In going her rounds, she, by the force, of natural 
eloquence, prevailed on many young country girls to enlist in 
the service of her mistress; and as they were new faces, 
Betsey C----s found herself considerably a gainer by them.

Some of them she passed upon her customers for virgins, by the 
assistance of certain nostrums, which the sage dames, who 
carry on the business, should never be ignorant of. Jane 
quickly learnt the secrets, of which she often availed herself 
afterwards, as will appear in the sequel.

Our heroine being naturally of an aspiring temper, had not, 
long lived with Betsy C----s, till the resolved to better 
herself; and having accidentally made requaintance with Moll 
J----s, another b----, who had lived under the piazzas, and 
kept a much better house than Betty. She went to live with 
her, and greatly found her account by the change.

This house was frequented by many noblemen and gentlemen of 
considerable fortune, and Jane found her perquisites greatly 
increased. She still retained her place of bar-keeper, but had 
often calls to step up stairs, and was better paid than when 
with her former mistress.

Jenny being thus employed by Moll lived a life of pleasure. 
She acquitted herself to perfection at the bar, and was 
frequently called upstairs.

But being naturally ambitious, the could not help thinking 
that she was able to keep a house herself; and happening one 
day to have a smart altercation with her mistress, formed a 
resolution to live with her no longer.

So she had recourse again to street-walking; and meeting 
accidentally with one of her old masters, went with him to a 
house near Covent Garden, when she soon became acquainted with 
the mistress, and made herself so agreeable to all those who 
frequented the house, that she was reinstated in her former 
place of bar-keeper, and met with so much respect there, that 
she formed a resolution never to quit the place.

At Moll J----s's, Jane exerted herself with such uncommon 
abilities, that she was taken, as it were, into partnership by 
her new mistress, whose house was frequented more than ever, 
after Jenny had a hand in the management of it. She every day 
brought young girls into the service, and as the major part of 
these were passed upon the customers for maids, Jenny's 
perquisites became very confiderable. She however once had a 
troublesome affair upon her hands, having sold a maidenhead to 
one Captain D----r, a countryman of her own, the Scot, who was 
a smatterer in physic and surgery, discovered the imposition, 
and perceived that Polly, who had been put off upon him as a 
maid, was no more a virgin than his own mother.

The Scot who was of no very pacific temper, made such an 
outcry, that Jane was obliged to refund the money. But being 
an industrious, painstaking woman, she soon found means to 
repair her loss, for a few days after she sold another 
artificial maidenhead to an Irish P----, who paid her thirty 
guineas for it, and never once suspected the deceit.

Jane had always a great liking for Irish gentlemen; she was 
used to say that they spent their money so freely, and were so 
easily pleased, that it was a pleasure to serve them.

Jane however was not born to be always a substitute, Betsey C-
---s dying of an inward decay, which she had brought upon 
herself by drinking that liquor which goes by so many names, 
though it is generally known by the name of gin; Jane at the 
particular desire of several persons of quality, took the care 
of that house upon herself.

Jane soon got acquainted with Moll C----s, an experienced 
dame, who having gone through all the degrees of debauchery, 
was at last become one of the ablest procuresses in town.

With her she often took a trip to Ireland, and there furnished 
herself with fresh girls.

Moll C----s was greatly respected in that kingdom. No sooner 
did she arrive, but she was saluted by every whore in Smock-
alley with, "Long life to you, Mother C----s."

This useful acquaintance Jane cultivated, and by her assistace 
generally returned from Ireland with five or six new faces. 
Those she disposed of to the nobility and gentry; and her 
house soon begun to thrive more than any house of the same 
kind in England.

Mother D----s, in patrolling one day, accidentally made 
acquaintance with Mother D----n,

"Great souls by instinct to each other turn."

Mother D----s found so great a sympathy between herself and 
Mother D----n, that she immediately entered into a sort of 
friendship with her. Christians, said she, should mutually 
assist each other; let us lay our heads together, and by 
acting in conjunction, both our houses will thrive the better.

The league between Mother D----n and Mother D----s proved very 
advantageous to both, by mutually assisting each other; they 
both found themselves gainers.

Mother D----n constantly kept a good look out for fresh girls, 
and so did Mother D----s; and they managed matters so well 
that both houses were always provided with new faces.

Thus Mother D----s carried on her business with greater 
success than any of the same trade had done for a long time. 
But soon after she made a voyage to Ireland with Moll C----n, 
in order to provide herself with a new supply of girls of the 
game.

In their passage a storm, which overtook them in the channel, 
threw Moll C----s into despair; she fell upon her knees, 
crossed herself, for though a bawd, she was a very good 
Catholic; but Jane was quite undaunted. She drank flip, and 
cursed as loudly as any sailor of them all.

They soon after landed at Ringsend, where Moll C----s 
introduced Jane to her old acquaintance Biddy R----y. After 
dinner, the three bawds entered upon business; but Mother R---
-y, with a melancholy air, informed her guests, that there was 
never a more dead season for business. "As G--d's my judge," 
said she, "I am afraid I shall be obliged to shut up house. If 
it had not been for my Lord I should have been ruined before 
now. But he dealt with me the other day for a maidenhead; so I 
received twenty guineas, and his Lordship never once suspected 
that Polly D-----r could not even remember that she had ever 
been a virgin. To be sure," said Mother R----y, "Polly is a 
young woman of great merit."

This character so excited the curiosity of Mother D----s, that 
she desired to see Polly; and having asked her a few 
questions, perceived, by her answers, that she was very well 
qualified to set at a bar at Covent Garden. So she proposed 
carry her to London; and Mother R----y readily consented to 
part with her, in order to oblige her friend.



Chapter VII. 
An account of a difference between Mother D----s and Mother 
D----n.

Jenny having got into business, made such improvement in the 
trade of procuress, that she was by many looked upon as a 
genius, born to carry that branch of business to perfection.

She constantly ernployed people, to go into the country 
villages about, and these emissaries being properly instructed 
by their diabolical mistress, found means to draw in many 
young girls, upon pretence of getting them places in town.

These were immediately delivered up to this substitute of 
Satan, who would send for her tally-woman in order to get them 
provided with clothes, such as might become them, and suit in 
such a manner, with their natural charms, as to draw in 
admirers, whose pockets were to be well drained for Jenny's 
emolument.

When she once got these unhappy victims into her clutches, she 
usually confined them in her house, as boarders, at two 
guineas a week, for gentlemen that wanted a new face and a 
maid.

Ten guineas was the lowest price, that Jenny ever took for a 
maidenhead, but she sometimes received twenty, thirty, and 
even forty, and that for a girl that was no more a maid than 
herself.

But accidents will happen in the course of business: Jane 
having got a relation of Mother D----n's into the house, 
disposed of her maidenhead for twenty guineas to a young 
gentleman who was just come to possession of a considerable 
estate.

Mother D----n having received information of this, reproached 
Jenny in the bitterest terms imaginable: she told Jenny that 
she had good blood in her veins, and that though she was 
obliged to carry on a little business, she was resolved that 
nobody belonging, to her family should ever turn common whore. 
Hereupon, Jane damned her for a proud b----h, and told her in 
plain terms, that there had been both a whore, and a bawd, of 
her family.

D----n, who valued her pedigree, resented this last expression 
highly, and swore that Jane should suffer for it.

She immediately quitted the room, and Jane was the same 
evening visited by an officer from Justice F----g. This Jane 
did not much mind, she was so well known in the neighbourhood, 
that the immediately got security, but she resented this 
behaviour of Mother D----n so highly, that the resolved to 
take an ample revenge upon her: soon after put her purpose in 
execution, as the reader will find in the next chapter.



Chapter VIII. 
An Instance of Mother D----s's forgiving temper.

Jane, who had always a very good memory, could not possibly 
forget this injurious treatment: so she applied to an honest 
attorney that often frequented her house, and he acquitted 
himself so well that Mother D----n was the sessions after, 
condemned to the pillory.

Here poor Mother D----n was sadly pelted by the mob; and such 
was the humane disposition of Jane D----s, that when she was 
informed of all her quondam friend had passed through, she 
very charitably cried, "The devil relieve her."



Chapter IX. 
Containing an unfortunate adventure.

Jane soon after had a call from a gentleman who was just 
returned from America; he paid her very well for a fresh girl; 
but being unfortunately troubled with the yaws, a very bad 
sort of a p--x, which he had imported with him from America, 
the poor girl was infected in such a manner, that she was 
obliged to go to the hospital, where, in some weeks, she was 
cured at the expense of her nose.

Being thus disfigured, neither Jane D----s nor Mother C----s 
would take her in. So she was obliged to patrol about the 
streets: and having one day inadvertently picked a gentleman's 
pocket of his handkerchief, was brought to her trial at the 
Old Bailey.

But Mother D----s, who thought she might still be of use, gave 
her so good a character, that she was acquitted of the petty 
larceny: and being immediately taken into service by Jane, in 
quality of bar-keeper, became generally agreeable to the 
customers by her officiousness and the help of an artificial 
nose.



Chapter X. 
Contains a further account of her proceedings.

Jane was by this time so well settled, that she thought 
herself quite above the world.

But soon after a young gentleman in a green frock, laced with 
gold, happened to call at her house: his person was so 
genteel, and his manner so engaging, that Jane, though not 
very susceptable of the passion of love, was greatly smitten 
with him; so Jane lay with the young fellow that night: and he 
acquitted himself so much to her satisfaction, that she would 
willingly have laid with him the whole week.

But, alas, outward appearances are not to be trusted to: Jenny 
the next morning found her pockets emptied of forty guineas; 
and being excessive thirsty in the morning, she called for a 
pint of negus. Betty could not immediately find the tankard, 
so Jane D----ned her for a good for nothing b----ch. But the 
poor girl was quite innocent; for Mother D----s's young 
gallant had made off with the plate, and quite forgot to pay 
his reckoning.



Chapter XI. 
Contains a further account of the manner, in which Jenny 
carried on the business of bawd and procuress.

Humanity was not the foible of Jane D----s, so that when the 
poor girls, whom she had drawn in to their perdition, became 
old faces, and were estimated at a guinea; she rigorously 
insisted upon five shillings, by way of poundage, as the 
phrase is.

And when these unhappy wretches could no longer please her 
customers, she, without the least remorse, turned them out of 
doors, which reduced them to the necessity of becoming common 
street-walkers.

Jenny, upon these occasions, always alleged hard taxes and 
great rent; but her real motive for thus clearing the house 
from time to was, to make room for new faces in order to bring 
grist to her mill.

Old Jenny was perfect mistress of the art of conciliating the 
affections of young gentlemen. It was customary with her to 
call them her dear children. And this tender appellation so 
far gained their hearts, that they generally addressed her by 
the name of Dear Mother. She became so serviceable to them, in 
their pleasures, that most of them had a much greater esteem 
for her, than for their real mothers; and Jenny knew very well 
how to avail herself of this. She often made them promise her 
a piece of plate, when they should come of age in return for 
her tender care of them, and this promise, she took particular 
care to remind them of.

In this manner, Jane procured to the value of a thousand 
pounds' worth of plate or upwards, by the kind contributions 
of her affectionate sons, and this treasure she was possessed 
of, at the time of her death.



Chapter XII. 
Contains a remarkable instance of Jenny's thrift and skill in 
the management of business.

We are credibly informed that old Jane, once cleared 20 
shillings by a bottle of arrack in punch. The reader may 
perhaps be inclined to call this fact in question, but we 
shall relate it with all the veracity of a faithful 
biographer.

The servant having made four five-shilling bowls out of one 
bottle, and more being called for; whispered his mistress for 
the key; in order to get another bottle.

Old Jane immediately took up her crutch, and with great 
emotion, asked him, what was gone with the bottle she had 
given him.

He told her he had made four bowls, and it was all out; 
hereupon Jane d----ned him for a good-for-nothing rascal, 
swore that such a fellow would be the ruin of her, and 
immediately turned him out by the shoulders.

3

Chapter XIII.  
Contains an account of an amorous adventure of Mother D----s.

A gentleman of a considerable fortune conceived a longing to 
have an interview with Jenny, but his motive was rather 
curiosity than love. Jenny listened to his addresses, but as 
she was a perfect mistress of every branch of her business, 
and knew how to make the best hand of a cully, she bound him 
by strong articles to disburse a pretty round sum in case she 
should prove with child, and a sum was likewise to be settled 
on the offspring, if there should be any.

The gentleman who was resolved to have his jest, agreed to 
these terms, and the favour was granted; but Jenny, being an 
experienced dame, found means to turn the jest against him.

She had taken her measures so well, that about the limited 
time, she found herself with child, returned into the country; 
and when the time necessary for her lying-in was expired, she 
returned to town with a poor child, whom she purchased from a 
country-woman, who was very glad to get rid of the burden.

The child being exactly of the same age that Jenny's would 
have been of, if she had had one, perfectly answered her 
purpose.

The gentleman having received information, that Jenny was come 
to town, went to see her, and his supposed daughter.

Everybody told him, that it had a strong resemblance of him, 
and he was so highly delighted thereat, that he settled five 
hundred pounds upon it, which remained in the stocks till the 
fatal day that put a period to the life of the illustrious 
Jane.



Chapter XIV.  
Containing further proofs of the extraordinary abilities of 
Jane D----s.

Old Jane was possessed of the art of getting her girls into 
keeping to gentlemen, whom she assured with the most solemn 
attestations, that they would prove as chaste as a wife, if 
taken into keeping by any gentleman, and save more than any 
wife either in the city or court end of the town.

By these means Jane often found herself a considerable gainer, 
and no sooner had she feathered her nest in this manner, but 
she addressed the unhappy victim in terms like these. "Now Mrs 
Bitchington I have done for you, and made you a gentlewoman. 
You can't do less in return than let me draw a bill upon you, 
though you owe me nothing: I am sure the gentleman will pay 
it."

The poor girl for her own sake was ready to close with 
whatever was proposed by the substitute of Satan so they 
proceed as follows,

Miss H----t, dr. to Jane D----s.

�
s.
d.
To 12 weeks board;
25
4
0
Paid for stays,
2
2
0
Holland for shifts,
2
3
9
To the apothecary,
9
18
0
For shoes,
3
1
9
Total
42
9
6


These bills were generally paid; but Jane happening upon a 
time to send in an unreasonable one to a Welsh gentleman. The 
descendant of Caractaacus was incensed to such a degree, that 
he reproached her in the most injurious terms: and Jane not 
being of a very mild disposition answered him in the same 
style. This provoked the Cambro-Briton so far, that forgetting 
the sex, and respectable charader of Mother D----s, he had 
recourse to fisticuffs, and the consequence of which Jane was 
obliged to keep her bed for a fortnight afterwards.

Daring her disorder, which was dangerous, she expressed great 
concern at being interrupted in her business to which she was 
attached by by principles. Her common expressions were, "Lord! 
what will become of the house when I am gone."



Chapter XV. 
Contains a specimen of Jenny's conscentious dealings.

Young gentlemen from Oxford in their excursions to town, 
seldom failed to call at old Jenny's; and she, at her first 
setting up, had more customers amongst the sons of Alma Mater, 
than any other of the sage dames in the precincts of Covent 
Garden.

Being highly delighted with the night scenes and amusing 
transactions they constantly reported them upon their return 
to Oxford, and seldom without some exaggeration, though indeed 
there was but little occasion for it, as Jenny's house 
afforded as much matter of observation to those who delighted 
in scenes of vice, as that of the most illustrious matron that 
ever undertook the arduous task of of gratifying the public 
call for pleasure, in order to cram her own avarice.

A young preacher, whose name we shall suppress, on account of 
the great respect which we have for his sacred funtion, being 
but just entered into holy orders, had not entirely got the 
better of those desires, which divines of a longer standing 
are, doubtless, delivered from by the powerful influence of 
grace. So his imagination being warmed by the representation 
of his college acquaintances, he resolved to partake of the 
same pleasure, and accordingly set out for London.

Here a fair opportunity occurs to make frailty of the flesh, 
&c. But as we apprehend that the province of a historian is to 
relate facts, rather than amuse his readers with declamations, 
we shall proceed with our narrative.

The young theologian having without much inquiry, found out 
the well-known house of Mother D----s, and was by her very 
graciously received. For old Jane was well pleased to have 
dealings with ecclesiastics, and has often been heard to say, 
That she has sometimes made more by the clergy in a month than 
by the officers of the army and navy in a twelvemonth.

Jennny taking it for granted that her canonical visitor would 
prove a good customer, brought him her youngest girls, caused 
music to be sent for, a supper to be provided, and did her 
utmost to enflame the concupiscence of the young Dr., though 
the care was almost unnecessary; as her new guest, though he 
served at the altar, leaned greatly to the flesh, and had 
perhaps stronger desires than those town rakes, who by 
constantly leading a life of debauchery, at last lose the rein 
even of that, and often frequent brothels merely because it is 
the fashion.

The doctor was so well pleased with his dear mother and 
spouse, that he protracted his visit, for three days, and 
three nights. But the last night they made him drunk, with 
burnt Champagne; for the which the conscientious Jane charged 
only twelve shillings a a bottle.

The parson being quite overpowered with liquor, was put to bed 
with his spouse.

This is a circumstance which we would gladly have suppressed 
did not our regard to historical truth oblige us to relate it.

But much may be said to extenuate this frailty of the young 
divine. If the patriarchs, Lot and Noah, could not resist the 
juice of the grape, we should not be surprised that a 
clergyman, was once in his life overtaken.

The doctor in the morning got up, and whether he was cloyed 
with love, or felt some remorse of conscience, at having 
behaved in a manner so inconsistent with the dignity of his 
character, or whether he began to find cash short, he, 
resolved that morning to take his leave. It seems probable. 
that his sudden resolution, was owing to the motive assigned 
last: for when gentlemen of Oxford come to town upon a frolic, 
the air of Covent Garden, has such an effect upon them, which 
is by the vulgar called the hollows; the other we shall not 
name, through a regard to the laws of decency.

To return from this digression. The doctor having ordered his 
bill to be brought, the old bawd was a little chagrined, and 
taking it for granted, that she should not have much much of 
his custom, resolved to make the most of him for the time. So 
as she was never at a loss for expedients, she the same 
morning, accosted him in these terms.

"Good morrow doctor, you was pure merry last night" 
(scratching his shoulder).

"I believe I was, Mother" answered, the doctor.

"O lord," replied Jane, you was very naughty. Now do you. know 
all the mischief you, did; to be sure people may be merry; but 
I wish they could be merry and wise."

The doctor being little startled at this exordium told her, he 
hoped he had done no harm.

"No harm," said Jane, "you gentlemen think nothing of these 
things, but if such accidents were to happen every day, I 
should soon be obliged to shut up house. Come with me and I'll 
show you:" so she took him into a room, and showed him a large 
pier-glass which had been broken some years before: "only look 
here," said she, "is not this a fine piece of work."

The doctor could not be positive that he had not broken the 
glass, as he could scarce recollect a circumstance of what had 
passed the night before; and so the old beldame insisted upon 
being paid for it, though it had perhaps, been paid for twenty 
times before upon the like occasions.

The poor doctor expostulated, but Jane, who could assume a 
face of authority when requisite, swore he should pay for it 
before he stirred out of the house. All the whores having 
obvious reasons to side with their mistress, swore positively 
that he had broke the glass, so the poor doctor being 
apprehensive of public disgrace, and having his gown stripped 
over his shoulders, was obliged to send for money to his 
friends at Oxford in order to procure his releasement.



Chapter XVI. 
Contains some proofs of Jenny's kind treatment of her 
inferiors.

Jane was never without a considerable number of maid-servants, 
but she could never keep them long. This was owing to her 
having a particular turn to that species of eloquence, which 
though not treated of either, by Quintilian or Longinus, is 
generally understood in this metropolis, and goes by the name 
of Billingsgate.

She scarce ever spoke to them, without using the appellation 
of rag-doll b----h, or some other epithet equally indelicate. 
And as women's ears are very nice, often the nicest parts 
about them, a maid was seldom known to live with Jane above a 
week or two.

A new waiter once coming, to her house, she sent him to Mr F--
--g's office for a servant.

The clerk was amazed, and staring the man full in the face, 
asked, whether he was mad or in jest.

"Lord," continued he, "who do you think would send a servant 
to that old bawd, Mother D----s."

The fellow hereupon hung down his head and sneaked off 
trembling with fear, lest he should be committed for going on 
such an errand.

Thus Jane sometimes met with difficulties and cross accidents; 
but these did not give her great perplexity.

She touched confiderable sums, from time to time; and as her 
avarice was gratified, was easily consoled for the rubs which 
she met with in the carrying on her business: and having an 
extensive acquaintance among the gentlemen of the ----, was 
under no apprehension of public justice.



Chapter XVII. 
Contains a further account of Jane in her public character.

Old Jane was such a skinflint, if I may be allowed the 
expression, that she was frequently summoned to the court of 
conscience about trifling debts under forty shillings,

But her lameness rendered her incapable of appearing herself, 
she was obliged to have recourse to proxy; so the waiter 
generally appeared for her. So that when the court called Jane 
D----s, the waiter answered. And when they told him, "You are 
so much in this woman's debt," the man, not being able to 
prove the contrary, was obliged to pay the money.

Upon his return, old Jenny enquired how the cause had been 
decided; and when he told her, that he had paid the money, she 
fell into such pangs, that she immediately fell down upon her 
knees, and uttered the most horrid imprecations, till she 
became black in the face; and when she called out to be helped 
up again, so great were the agonies into which she fell upon 
these occasions, that it was as much as all present could do 
to raise her up.

The following circumstance may perhaps be thought trivial, but 
as trivial circumstances are, in the opinion of that grave and 
judicious historian Plutarch, best calculated to give an 
insight into the real character; we then here present our 
readers with this anecdote.

Jenny had a French w----e in the house, who went by the name 
of M----le: this foreign gentlewoman had an old woman to wait 
upon upon her, who was extremely fond of soup, as most of her 
country-women are.

This poor creature being half starved in the service of her 
mistress, one day made a soup with a leek, and a little 
oatmeal.

Old Jenny, who had a good nose, soon smelt the stink of leeks, 
and called out, "G--d d----n me, who is that poisoning my 
house below."

Answer being given her, That it was only M----le's maid making 
a little soup.

"D----n the French b----h," cried Jane, "I'll give her her 
bellyful of soup by and by."

So Jane having provided herself with a close-stool pan, which 
was full, ran to her, and throwing it full in her face, cried, 
"Here, you French b----h, here's soup enough for you; you 
shall never want for soup; I'll make you as good soup as the 
best cook in the King of France's kitchen; I'll season it for 
you, you b----h. G--d d----n ye."

�

Chapter XVIII. 
Contains an acccount of an unlucky accident which befell 
Mother D----s with some other particulars.

It was customary with old Jenny, to walk out with some of her 
whores, and upon these occasions, she always used to make them 
treat her. If they happened to pass by a milliner's shop, she 
seldom failed to take a fancy to a rich piece of lace, and 
importuned the poor devils in in such a manner that they could 
not avoid making her a present of a piece of lace, which 
generally came to three pounds a yard.

Captain R---- of a very waggish disposition, who had used 
Jenny's house for a long time, paid her a visit one night, and 
treated old Jenny and her whores, with baked sprats. Happening 
to see a stale bolus<135> of one of the whores, lying upon the 
shelf, the Captain, who would not have spared his own mother, 
if he could but have his joke, slyly took the bolus, and 
spreading some bread and butter, put it on, and gave it to old 
Jenny; Jenny eat it, but soon perceiving some of the gold upon 
the bread and butter she ekclaimed; "Captain G--d d----n me, 
if I know what to make of this; why, here I am eating gold." 
But soon after the old b----h was seized with violent 
evacuations both upwards and downwards, swore she was poisoned 
by one of her whores.

She cursed at a terrible rate, and continued to puke so 
violently, that she set everybody present a-puking, not 
excepting the captain himself, who now began to repent of his 
jest.

However Jane soon bethought herself of a remedy; she took care 
to be always provided with drams and cordials of all sorts, 
and these she swilled so plentifully, that she was obliged to 
go bed, and leave the management of affairs, for that night, 
entirely to the bar-keeper.

However, she next morning found herself fit for business, for 
Jane, as we have already informed the reader, had a 
constitution that could bear a great deal of liquor, and it 
was well for her she had. For the herself has often declared, 
that, she could never go through all the business she had upon 
her hands, without now and then taking a glass of ratafia, or 
a little wormwood cordial, to keep up her spirits.

But Jane did confine herself to so moderate a stint in 
drinking, she has been often known to drink her share of four 
or five and twenty bowls of punch in a night.



Chapter XIX. 
Contains an account of what passed between Jenny and a late 
nobleman.

E----, whose unfortunate exit lately made so great a noise in 
the world, was formerly one of Jane's best customers.

Jenny, who was a great epicure, was extremely fond of wild 
fowl; and once importuned his lordship to send her some game 
to town.

The earl promised faithfully  to do as she desired him, but 
being very fond of a jest, he resolved to put a trick upon 
her: so he sent a basketful of dead owls, the carriage of 
which cost Jane three shillings; and the story becoming 
public, rendered her a laughing-stock to all her friends in 
Covent Garden for some days.

Jenny, who was naturally vindictive, resolved to be revenged 
on his lordship; so the next time he called at her house, she 
offered him a maidenhead at the moderate price of ten guineas.

His lordship having accepted the offer, desired to see the 
girl; the girl being brought, E---- retired into a private 
room with her, and having examined the premises, thought he 
discovered all the marks of virginity.

However, he chose to defer the exploit till night; for his 
vigor had been so exhausted by amorous combats, that he seldom 
chose to attempt maidenhead till he had recruited bis wasted 
powers by hard drinking.

At night his lordship returned, extremely flustered with 
liquor; and Jane perceiving him quite intoxicated, easily 
found means to pass an American whore upon him for the 
maidenhead, which his lordship had agreed for. He paid down 
the ten guineas, and went to bed to his fire-ship, being so 
far gone that he could not perceive the difference.

His lordship soon after found himself afflicted with the 
American p----x, commonly called the y----s: but as he had 
lain two or three times with common drabs in the 
neighbourhood, after the above-mentioned interview, he never 
once suspected to whom he was indebted to for this favour.

Thus did Mother D----s, find means to gratify her ruling 
passion, avarice, and her propensity to revenge; a passion 
which has been thought to have as much influence over women as 
any other, except only the love of a good ----.

Jane had almost every day some adventures of this kind but for 
a further account of them, we must refer the reader to the 
following chapter, it being high time to conclude this.



Chapter XX. 
As well worth reading as the former.

Colonel D----of the guards, and Captain R----, of a man-of-
war, going one evening to the play, happened to pass by 
Jenny's house, and saw her sitting at the window.

The captain, who was a good physiognomist, fixed his eyes upon 
Jenny; and tapping his friend upon the shoulder, exclaimed in 
the sea-officer's phrase, "D----n my blood, Jack, there's the 
remains of a good face; she is not very young; but I dare say 
she'd make as good sport at midnight as Betsey W----g at 
Wapping."

"I love an experienced whore, they understand all sorts of 
attitudes; but these D----ned green-sickness girls from the 
country, leave a man to do all the business himself. D----n my 
blood, when a man turns in to one of them, he must sail before 
the wind, or lay to; for G--d D----n me if any of them know 
how to bear a hand."

"Pox take her," says the colonel, "if I don't mistake her, she 
gave me a good winter's firing."

Hereupon Jane started up, and said, "I believe, colonel, you 
are mistaken; for you bought it, and gave five guineas for it. 
Besides, if it was so, surely it is foul play to kiss and 
tell."

"That's right, by G--d," said-the captain. "Old Jenny, we'll 
come in, and while away the time with you, till the play 
begins. I like your spirit, by G----." So they were 
immediately conducted into the back parlour.

They called for a bottle of Champagne, and the sagacious Jane, 
who apprehended that the gentlemen might want a relish with 
their liquor, brought a good country girl.

"How often," said the colonel, "have you sold this girl's 
maidenhead?"

"As G--d's my judge," answered Jenny, "she has never yet been 
broke up to my knowledge; but whether she was ever run down in 
the country I cannot say. I would not impose upon your honour 
for the world. All the gentlemen that frequent our house, 
allow me to be the fairest dealer in Covent Garden."

"Well," says the colonel, "upon condition she has her 
maidenhead, here's ten guineas for you; in case she has not, 
you must return me nine."

"Agreed," said Jenny; and immediately ordered clean sheets to 
be put upon the bed.

So old Jenny went to show the colonel his apartment, and he 
being a gallant man, as most of the gentleman of the army are, 
said to her, "Why do they call you mother? You don't seem to 
be old enough for that; by G--d I'll make use of you instead 
of her."

So he slipt a guinea into her hand, threw her upon the bed, 
and Jane exerted herself so well, that the colonel thought 
himself no loser by the change.

He bid her keep the ten guineas, and Jane, who would have been 
satisfied with the recreation even without being paid, for an 
old coachman loves a crack of the whip, very prudently took 
the money and politely said to the colonel, "Well sir, if you 
had not young meat, at least it was wholesome."



Chapter XXI. 
Contains further proofs of Jane's great abilities in her 
reputable calling.

Old Jane managed her house a long time with the greatest 
circumspection imaginable, and kept all snug, and upon 
occasion of any disturbance, as such things will sometimes 
happen in her way of business, she tipped the constables a 
yellow-boy;<6> the affair was amicably accomodated.

These Arguses of justice have sharp eyes, but the sight of a 
piece of gold has a great effect upon their organs of vision; 
so even when the house was full of whores from top to bottom 
they could never see any of them.

However, Jane once met with an accident, having offered a 
surly fellow of a constable a crown; the fellow thinking it 
too little, carried her before a magistrate. But how agreeably 
was Jane surprised to discover in him one of her old 
customers.

He having reprimanded the constable for seizing a woman of 
character, retired with Jane to another apartment, and told 
her that, he intended to call at her house the next day.

"God bless your honour, relpied old Jane, "you were always 
good, I'll take care to have one of the finest young creatures 
under the sun for you. I know your worship generous, and when 
my customers use me well, I leave no stone unturned to oblige 
them."

The sequel of this adventure between the bawd and the 
magistrate we shall waive to the next chapter.



Chapter XXII. 
Contains an account of the conclusion of Janes's adventures 
with the magistrate.

His worship who always punctually kept his word, did not fail 
to pay Jane a visit at the time agreed upon. Jane made more 
than ordinary preparations for his reception, and the justice 
laying aside the dignity of a magistrate, for a while, drank 
copiously of arrack-punch after supper.

About eleven o'clock he retired with a damsel, whose charms 
were sufficiently powerful, to make him resolve to dishonour 
the marriage-bed.

Indeed he hereby only gave his wife her due; for she had taken 
care to adorn her husband's head, with as large a pair of 
horns, as ever were worn by a magistrate.

His worship was just preparing to glut himself with the joys 
of love, for he had as good a stomach for a pretty girl as a 
public-feast; when all on a sudden, a quarrel happening in the 
next apartment, amongst a set of drunken bucks, one of them in 
the confusion and uproar burst into the room where this worthy 
guardian of the laws was solacing himself with the lady of 
pleasure above-mentioned.

But how great was the surprise of the young fellow, when he 
perceived this was his father who was constantly preaching 
morality to him, and making him remonstrances upon his 
extravagant conduct.

Their surprise was mutual and the confusion of the old 
gentleman equal to that of the Roman censor, when surprised, 
drunk in the streets of Rome.

The young fellow, after rallying his venerable sire, retired 
like a dutiful son, and left him to enjoy the pleasures of 
unlawful love.

However he did not fail to remind him the next morning of the 
scene which he had beheld; and by threatening to inform his 
mother of it, so terrified his poor worship, that he was ever 
after obliged to bear with irregular conduct, and to supply 
him in all his extravagancies.

Jane, was always pleased at these adventures, for the 
consequence of grave and substantial tradesmen frequenting her 
house was that she could always have bail in the space of half 
an hour.

It has been reported that a certain celebrated Methodist 
preacher, was once seen at Jane's house, in company with two 
whores, over a bowl of arrack, and that being rallied by some 
of the young bucks, he lifted upon his eyes, and declared in 
the most solemn manner, that he came with a design to exhort 
the women to quit their evil course of life, and turn their 
hearts to grace: adding that none but the diseased had 
occasion for a physician and that the men of the cloth were 
sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.



Chapter XXIII. 
Contains a remarkable instance of Jane's zeal for religion.

We have already informed the reader that Jane frequently 
changed her servants.

One day, a new servant came to offer Jane her service, the old 
bawd having asked her many questions, in the course of her 
interrogator discovered that she was a Jew. This circumstance 
threw Jane into such violent agonies, that the cursed and 
swore like the master of a vessel, when the winds are high.

"D----n you, you b----h," said she, how could you come to such 
a house as mine to offer your service? What you b----h do you 
think I have no more conscience than to suffer Jews amongst 
Christians?" So she immediately turned her out of doors in 
such a fury, that one would have thought that the zeal of G--
d's house had eaten her up:

Such an instance of Jane's attachment to Christianity may 
perhaps induce the reader to think that she was one of those 
devotees who retain a spice of enthusiasm whilst they lead a 
life of vice and debauchery.

To prevent this mistake, we shall here give a catalogue of the 
books which composed Jane's library.

The reader may possibly think that The Week's Preparation, The 
Practice of Piety and other religious books filled her 
shelves; but he will find it was quite the reverse, if he does 
but take the trouble, to read to the end of the chapter.

We shall therefore here insert a list of her books as it was 
taken by' a gentleman who once happened to wait for her in her 
study.

The cabinet of love. 
The art of money-catching. 
Aristotle's master-piece. 
The London bawd. 
The English rogue. 
The ladies' delight 
The trial of Colonel Charteris 
Doctor Faustus. 
Rochester's poems. 
The Scotch rogue. 
The Spanish rogue. 
Visions of Hell. 
The harlot's progress. 
The memoirs of a woman of pleasure.

With many others of the same sort, which we shall not at 
present enumerate. From this list, the reader may form a 
judgment of the manner, in which Jane chose to be edified in 
the hours which she consecrated to study.



Chapter XXIV. 
Contains an account of Mother D----s's peregrinations to 
France.

As Jane dealt much with the nobility and gentry, many of whom 
have a particular taste for French girls, having been used to 
them in their travels; sthe thought it advisable to take a 
tour to France, in order to provide herself.

She soon arrived at Paris, a city where her business is 
carried on with as much success as in any part of Europe.

Here she soon became acquainted with Madam P----s, who kept 
celebrated convent in la Rue de St. Honor�, which may be 
properly called the Covent Garden of Paris, as it abounds with 
houses of evil reception; and the ladies of pleasure, in that 
quarter, have such attractions, that a certain abb�, who had 
chosen it for his place of residence (in all probability by 
mere accident) has often gravely asserted, that let a man be 
ever so well disposed, he could not possibly work out his 
salvation in la Rue de St. Honor�.

Mother D----s was highly delighted with the place, and liked 
the girls so well, that she immediately agreed with Madam P---
-s for six of them; and having immediately paid her own price, 
resolved to return directly to London, with an intention to 
make the Frenchified noblemen pay dear for her foreign 
commodities.

Upon her arrival at Calais, she lodged at the house of an 
Irishwoman, who kept a cabaret, where both French and English 
were welcome for their money. The former she supplied with 
soupe bouill� and toupeel from Paris: the latter, who could 
not accomodate themselves to the French taste, she regaled 
with beefsteaks, mutton-chops and beer, having likewise 
constantly kept up correspondence with Drury Lane, she was 
always able to oblige her custorners from Great Britain and 
Ireland, with English, Irish, and Scotch whores.

Mother D----s took a particular liking to Mrs M----n; so she 
resolved to rest herself three days at her house before she 
set out for Dover; but before the second was expired, she was 
seized with a violent fever, which confined her to her bed for 
a fortnight.

Mrs M----n, who was a zealous Roman Catholic, though losses 
and crosses had reduced her to the necessity of carrying on 
the business of procuress, got a cordelier of her acquaintance 
to visit Jane, during her illness.

The exhortations of this monk had such an effect upon old 
Jane, whose disorder had thrown her into some remorse of 
conscience, that she made a full confession of her past sins; 
and formed a resolution to turn papist and end her days in 
devotion in a convent of English nuns at Calais.

But finding herself perfectly recovered, a few days after, she 
very wisely concluded that business should not be neglected; 
and determined to be a little longer of use in her generation 
before she thought of another world. So she took leave of her 
good friend Mrs M----n, and set sail for Dover with a cargo of 
French whores.

Upon her arrival at Dover, she met with a gentleman of 
fortune, who had dealt with her for a long time; and having 
given him a sight of one of these girls she had imported, he 
was greatly taken with her, which Jane perceiving, found means 
to persuade him to, take her into keeping; assuring him that 
she was a model girl, and that being reduced to poverty by the 
bankruptcy of her father, a merchant at Rouen, she came over 
to England in order to procure a subsistence, by teaching 
French to young ladies at a boarding school.

She received a handsome present from the gentleman, who 
immediately went with his new purchase to Rochester.

He, for some time, found her company very engaging, and was so 
credulous as to think her a maid.

But he had not long lived in this blissful state, till he 
found it necessary to have recourse to physicians and 
surgeons, for the vestal, whom he thought himself so happy in, 
had been formerly a chorus-dancer at the French opera, where, 
though her salary amounted only to a hundred livres a year, 
she, for some time, lived at the rate of four thousand. But 
having at last contrasted a disease, and the fear of being 
tumbled, made her gladly strike up a bargain with Madam P----s 
to come with Mother D----s.



Chapter XXV. 
Contains an account of the advantageous manner in which Jane 
disposed of her foreign commodities.

Jane soon after arrived in London, and her return to her old 
habitation, at Covent Garden, was celebrated by a bonfire made 
by bucks who frequented her house.

A nobleman calling there that evening, Jane addressed him in 
these terms. "My Lord, I have just imported from France some 
of the finest, prettiest creatures that ever peer of England 
could desire to amuse his leisure hours with. As G--d's my 
judge there's not one of them but has beauty enough to be 
received in the seraglio of the Grand Seignior."

His lordship immediately desired to see thcm, and accordingly 
they were introduced, and a bowl of arrack, brought to refresh 
them.

His lordship immediately entered into a familiar conversation; 
the which turned upon that topic, which the French call la 
foutrerie, and the English bawdy.

In the course of the conversation his lordship with surprise 
perceived that one of these imported ladies was a fine girl, 
whom he had known at the Italian coffee-house, opposite to the 
French comedy, where she generally sat at the bar; and having 
very fine eyes, fine dark hair tied behind, and a most elegant 
shape, drew a great number of customers to the house, which 
was every day frequented by musqueteers, officers of the 
guards, abb�s, and foreigners, from all the countries in 
Europe.

His lordship being transported with joy, at seeing her again, 
offered to take her into keeping: and without the least 
hesitation, she accepted his proposal.

He however thought it necessary to treat with Mother about 
her, as she having brought her over, might, with some show of 
reason, consider her as a property.

Old Jane perceiving from his lordship's manner of expressing 
himself, that he had conceived an affection for the girl, 
resolved to have a good price for her.

"My lord," said she, "Mademoiselle Du--p--s, had a virtuous 
education; but being reduced to poverty, by the indiscretion 
of her parents, who did not know well how to avail themselves 
of a Paris coffee-house, was obliged to retire to a convent. 
Christian charity was my motive for taking her from thence. I 
thought it a thousand pities that so fine a young creature 
should be shut up all her life, among a parcel of nuns, and 
obliged to shiver in a chapel at six o'clock in the morning, 
and at vespers, and what not. I could never approve of such 
inhuman practices, which thank God only prevail in Roman 
Catholic countries. Though to be sure the reformation has done 
a great deal of good.

"My lord I'll warrant her a virgin: and as you have always 
been a good customer, you shall have her maidenhead for forty 
guineas."

His lordship immediately burst into a loud fit of laughing; 
and told Jenny, that she offered to sell him what he had had 
long before gratis.

"I knew Mademoiselle Du--p--s about a month after my arrival 
at Paris," said he, "she was then but fifteen years of age, 
and I dare say I had the first of her favours."

Old Jane was not a little mortified at receiving this 
information; but much more so when his lordship paid her three 
guineas for mademoiselle's passage, two for her board, during 
her residence with Mother D----s, and carried her off in his 
chariot.

Mademoiselle Du--p--s lived about five years after with this 
nobleman, and perhaps their mutual affection was much stronger 
than that of many of those who are joined by the honourable 
bands of wedlock.

His lordship dying at the expiration of the five years, 
settled six hundred a year upon his mistress, who retired to 
Montpellier, where she passed the remainder of her days in a 
convent; and not being disposed to enter into a second love-
engagement, dedicated herself entirely to religion. For the 
ladies of France generally speaking turn religious enthusiasts 
as soon as the love-enthusiasm begins to subside.

So here we will leave her with her crucifix, and her books of 
devotion, and return to Mother D----s, who continued still 
attached to secular affairs.

Her next adventure that befell her was of a less serious 
nature: but the reader must wait for it till the next chapter.



Chapter XXVI. 
Contains an account of a comical adventure in which Mother D--
--s's monkey, an Italian count, and a French whore were the 
chief parties concerned.

Mother D----s carried on her business with such success, that 
her house was almost as much frequented by foreigners as 
English.

One day an Italian count came to her, and Jane, who knew very 
well how to please the appetite of all her guests, brought him 
a French girl, who understood all sorts of attitudes, and 
generally did almost half of the business herself.

The count after making a slight supper with his mistress, for 
the Italians have weak stomachs, drank very freely of burgundy 
with her, and retired with his Desdemona to an apartment 
prepared for them.

The Italian soon began to solace himself with Mademoiselle M--
--n, who having been used to his countrymen whilst she lived 
in la Rue de Fossez at Paris, knew perfectly the whole man�ge, 
and humoured him in all the caprices of his country.

The count left the candle lighted, for he was of the same 
temper as the emperor Otho, and chose always to unite the 
pleasure of seeing, to that of feeling.

Their sport was however soon interrupted, by a very odd 
accident.

Mother D-----s always kept a monkey, which happening to be 
then in a corner of the room, was so highly pleased with the 
salacious scene that passed before him, that he leapt upon the 
bed; and in this way threw down the candle.

Mademoiselle hereupon, finding the count a little drowsy, 
seized upon his breeches, which contained a gold watch and few 
guineas, and slipping the monkey into her place, put on her 
clothes in a hurry, and ran downstairs.

The monkey having a certain sympathy with Italian, began to 
caress him in such a manner, that he soon awaked and 
proceeding to renew his love-combat, received so unlucky a hug 
from his bedfellow that he started out of bed, and exclaimed 
in his own language, "Cosi vuol dire questo, il diavolo 
certamente e venuto per tormertor me." What does this mean? 
The devil has certainly come to torment me ]

He ran about the room like a madman: but at length, finding 
himself tired and stupefied, went to bed again, and fell 
asleep.

About two o'clock Mademoiselle slipped into bed to him again: 
and next morning, when the count got up, he swore that the 
devil had been with him in the room.

"Mon Dieu," said Mademoiselle, "there was either the devil or 
a thief here. For somebody has carried off the silver tankard 
that lay upon the table."

Mother D----s just at that moment came into the room, and 
missing the tankard, which Mademoiselle had put out of the way 
by her directions, swore damnably that the count should pay 
for it.

The count hereupon fell in a violent passion; and told Mother 
D----s, that she had used him very ill: "you promised to sell 
me a maidenhead, and you have sell me the devil. Il diavolo e 
venuto questa notte."<136>

"I know nothing of your diavolo or your notts, answered Jane; 
but I insist upon being paid for my tankard."

The Italian swore, in his broken English, that he would never 
pay for it; for he had paid too much already.

This provoked Jane to so high a degree, that she caused him to 
be seized by an officer, who was generally within call, just 
as he was going out of her house.

The Italian hereupon would gladly have paid; but upon 
searching his pockets, could neither find his money or his 
watch. However he found his gold snuff-box, which had escaped 
Mademoiselle, who never thought of searching his coat or 
waistcoat pockets, as she thought a man carried all he was 
worth in his breeches.

He sent that, together with his diamond ring, to a pawn-
broker, who lent him fourteen guineas upon them, and paid Jane 
for her tankard, which she took care to charge him pretty 
roundly for.

But the poor ignorant stranger was glad to compound the 
matter, rather than be tried at the Old Bailey.



Chapter XXVI. 
Contains an account of an adventure which was productive of 
some troublesome consequence to Mother D----s.

P--f--n, a French officer, whose appearance was such, that 
Mother D----s conceived hopes of making a good hand of him, 
happened one day to call on Mother D----s.

She addressed him in his own language, though she spoke it but 
very indifferently. She promised him a fine girl of his own 
country; and to excite his desire the more, affured him, that 
she had refused her to a nobleman, who made a scruple to pay 
ten guineas for her maidenhead; "For may I never enter into 
the kingdom of heaven," said she, "but it is worth twenty." 
The officer thought the price was a little too high; so he 
beat her down to eight guineas.

Mademoiselle was introduced; but how great was the surprise of 
the officer, when he discovered her to be his sister. They had 
both had many adventures; and the officer was what the French 
call Chevalier de l'Industrie.<137> So he suggested a scheme 
to his sister to rob Mother D----s. This was effected in the 
following manner:

Mademoiselle, who knew where the old bawd deposited her cash, 
ran into her chamber about midnight, and alarmed her with an 
account of a fire just broke out in the house.

Jane rose up in a hurry; and not caring to stay to strike a 
light, huddled on her clothes, and crawled up stairs, cursing 
and swearing, and calling to her maids, whom she damned for a 
parcel of lazy, good for nothing bitches.

In the mean time Mademoiselle found means to secure her keys; 
and having opened her escritoire, took out the sum of fifty 
guineas, with which she and her brother made off; during the 
hurry and confusion into which this false alarm had thrown the 
whole house.

In the next chapter the reader will find sufficient proofs of 
the Christian. patience with which Mother D----s bore such a 
cross accident.



Chapter XXVII. 
Contains an account of Jane's behaviour in consequence of the 
foregoing adventure.

Jane finding that it was a false alarm, retired to bed: but 
next morning happening to look into her escritoire, she could 
not find the fifty guineas above-mentioned.

She raved and screamed like a mad woman, and went up and down 
stairs till she was quite out of breath, suspecting that some 
of the French girls had played her this trick. She immediately 
went to their several apartments, damning them for a pack of 
French b----es, and insisted upon searching of them 
immediately.

The search proved entirely fruitless, she all of a sudden 
recollected that Mademoiselle D----s, who had done the 
business, was out of the way.

She went up and down the house in quest of her; and neither 
being able to find her, or her gallant (for so she thought the 
officer) she flew into a more choking passion than ever she 
had been seen in before; and running to the French girls beat 
them with such fury, that she soon laid two of them sprawling. 
However the third, being tolerably robust, gave her such a 
blow, that she fell flat upon her back.

The waiter luckily coming in, just at that time, helped her 
up, and Jane called for a large glass of tent,<138> water and 
brandy.

Having taken this cordial, she recovered strength enough to be 
able to curse; so she fell upon her knees, and uttered the 
following imprecation, "G--d eternally D----n all the French 
b----es! May their own country disease, the p--x, rot them to 
the bone! May they be all covered over with ulcers, their 
noses drop off; and may they all die upon a dunghill, and the. 
Devil run away with their souls! Amen."

This, and a good deal more, the same style and tone, is 
uttered with such vehemence, that she dropped down, and, 
immediately called for the waiter to take her up.

She was carried to bed: and being quite unfit for business 
that day, resolved to compose herself, and ordered some 
wormwood cordial to be left by her bed-side.



Chapter XXVIII. 
One of the funniest chapters in in the whole history.

Old Jane's passion subsided the next morning; but the waiter, 
who was grown tired of the constant hurry and disturbance of 
house, quitted it directly.

A new waiter soon came to supply his place, but not being long 
come out of the country, he was not perfectly acquainted with 
all the customs of such houses; so he forgot to bring with 
him, which is looked upon as very essential, both in the 
bordelles of Paris, and in the bawdy-houses of London.

The reader will readily guess that I mean certain machines, 
commonly called ----, which to the great honour of our 
countrymen, who have so eminently distinguished themselves in 
the arts and sciences, were invented by a native of Great 
Britain.

A gentleman one day waiting for this useful implement, the 
waiter ran to the S----r and borrowed one. Whilst he was below 
in the kitchen, waiting for some warm water, the gentlemen 
growing impatient, called down stairs, which old Jenny 
hearing, was provoked at the waiter's delay; and called out, 
in a voice that might be heard all over the house, "G--d 
confound you, for a lazy son of a b----h, why do you not bring 
up the ----; do you think the gentleman's ---- can stand for 
ever!"



Chapter XXIX. 
Longer but not quite so pithy as the former.

Another time a gentleman calling at Jane's, desired to see one 
of her French girls and was so much taken with her beauty, 
that he offered her two guineas for the favour.

This offer was readily accepted, for Jane's French damsels 
were by this time so well known, that she could sell their 
maidenheads no longer.

The gentleman, upon examining the premises, found some reason 
to apprehend, that a p--x might be the consequence of his 
lusty embrace, so declared off, and insisted upon having his 
money returned.

The girl answered, "Mon dieu monsieur vous ne scavez pas les 
usages de l'opera, dans ce pais la on ne rend jamais de 
l'argent quand le toile, est lev�." Lest the English reader, 
whose education we have chiefly in view, should lose the jest, 
we shall here present him with a translation. "Lord, sir, you 
don't know our practice at the opera; there no money is ever 
returned, when once the curtain is drawn up."

This answer so pleased the gentleman, that he entered further 
into conversation with mademoiselle; and not being satisfied 
with conversation merely, he all on a sudden bethought himself 
of a ----, which was immediately brought.

The ---- being brought, Mademoiselle, who had been used to 
such implements at Paris, where they are greatly in vogue, 
dipped it in warm water, and having put it on herself, we 
leave the reader to guess what followed. The consequences of 
this interview however were such as the gentlemen never once 
expected.

He soon afterwards found himself p----d in the most shocking 
manner imaginable; and having unfortunately fallen into the 
hands of an unskilful surgeon, he lost the part which he 
thought so well secured by the instrument above-mentioned.

It was cut off inch by inch, and his groin being covered over 
with buboes, he one day, in the height of misery, took a knife 
and cut and gashed himself in a most terrible manner.

In a short time after he died, a sad example of the fatality 
of that machine, called a ----and 'tis to be hoped our readers 
will take warning by his state, and not place too much 
confidence in such weak armour.

Certain it is, that though this machine sometimes preserves 
from a slight infection, it is but a weak defence against a 
virulent p--x.

This the reader may be fully satisfied of, if he consults Dr. 
Astruck's learned treatise upon the venereal disease.

As this story is something of a tragical nature, we shall, for 
the relief of our gay readers, conclude it with a merry tale.

About the time of the above-related adventure, some Scotchmen 
happened to dine at old Jane's upon a Scotch haggis. One of 
them bragged highly of his great performances: Jane who was 
very well able to form a just idea of his abilities, addressed 
him in these terms.

"I'll tell you what captain, I have but one good eye, and 
that's a tender part, D----n me if you shall not have three 
thrusts at it for a shilling."

This answer so dashed the captain, that he had not a word more 
to say for himself, and a loud laugh was raised at his 
expense.

Old Jane had a particular talent for smart sayings, though 
there generally entered a good deal of that sort of humour 
into them, which is so common among fish-women, and upon the 
Thames.

A person who was intimately acquainted with her made a 
collection of her bon mots, and as he has been so good as to 
communicate. it to us, we shall publish it entire for the 
amusement of all ladies and gentlemen, who delight in fun and 
drollery, in case that this our history meets with that 
favourable reception from the public which we flatter 
ourselves it deserves.

The reader who perhaps thought the last chapter too short may 
very possibly think this too long, so we shall conclude it 
here.



Chapter XXX. 
Contains an account of what passed between Mother D----s and 
one of the people called Quakers.

Obadiah Broad-brim, who though he was full of the spirit had 
not entirely subdued the lusts of the flesh; once upon a time 
ap plied to Mother D----s, and she being very glad of such a 
customer, promised to procure him one of the most fine, 
delicate young creatures in England, the next night. So she 
advertised for a servant under twenty at the register office.

She soon found one for her purpose, and Obediah paid ten 
guineas for the girl's maiden-head, so they were conducted 
into a private room and supper was served up,.

Obediah however soon began to to feel a longing for more 
delicious meat, than that which lay before him, retired to bed 
and there immediately ensued a combat between the flesh and 
the spirit in which the former soon proved too hard for the 
latter.

Obadiah, preparing to depart in the morning, was surprised to 
meet upon the stairs one of the Friends, who was come there 
upon the same account with himself. Benjamin, for that was the 
name of the other Quaker, expressed equal astonishment by his 
attitude, and cried out, "Obadiah, Satan has been too strong 
for thee."

Obediah very gravely answered, "Neighbour Benjamin, Satan has 
been too strong for us both, so let us make the best of our 
way, lest these things should become a laughing-stock to the 
people."

This prudent advice was followed by the other Quaker, but as 
they were going, some of the bucks happening to enter; one of 
them knew Obadiah, whereupon a great fit of laughter ensued; 
and the poor Quakers after being obliged to stand the brunt of 
their raillery for some time sneaked off to a public house at 
some distance and called for a bowl of brandy and water.

While they were drinking it, in came five or fix persons who 
with a great deal of noise and merriment, sat down to a bowl 
of arrack.

But how great was the confusion of the Quakers, when the three 
bucks whom they thought they had  got clear of, discovered 
them and immediately related the above-mentioned adventure 
before the people of the house, many others coming in, about 
the same time the Quakers were laughed to scorn.

So they paid their reckoning and made off as fast as they 
could, acknowledging that misfortunes often befall the 
righteous, and praying heartily that these things might not 
come to the ears of the faithful. Their reputation for 
sanctity however did not suffer by this adventure; for they 
both preached soon after, and their auditors were as much 
edified as ever.



Chapter XXXI. 
Contains an account of an adventure, which turned out very 
little to Jenny's advantage.

One day a sharper came to Jane's house and desired her to 
furnish him with a good clever country-girl, which she 
accordingly did. He was to pay two guineas for the night's 
lodging, with his spouse. So the sharper produced a bill of 
exchange for twenty guineas, and asked her whether she knew 
any one who would immediately let him have the money. Jane who 
had no suspicion of the matter, sent to a Jewish merchant of 
her acquaintance, who disbursed the sum, and the sharper 
above-mentioned having paid down the two guineas pocketed the 
rest.

The next morning Jane found her house robbed of plate to the 
value of 20l. and it soon after appeared that the bill had 
been forged. The person who had played Jane this trick was 
soon after apprehended, Jane having caused strict enquiry to 
be made after him; he was the next sessions brought to his 
trial at the Old Baily, where Jane was the principal evidence 
against him and being cast was shortly after executed at 
Tyburn, but this Jane looked upon as very poor satisfaction 
for the loss of her plate which she could never recover. This 
was not the only cross accident that Jane met with in the 
course of business. She once was so unlucky as to deal with a 
certain Irish adventurer, who after having passed the night at 
her house, and spent to the value of 3 or 4 guineas, paid her 
in false money and never was heard of after. The reader may 
perhaps be puzzled to know how Jane could be thus imposed 
upon, but this was owing to her being at the time so 
intoxicated with liquor that she could hardly distinguish her 
right hand from her left.

The most whimsical disappointment that ever happened to Jane 
was this, one day a rich tradesman of Bristol came to her 
house, and having agreed with her for a woman to pass the 
night with, Jane happened to bring him his own wife who having 
eloped about three years before, had been reduced to turn 
common street-walker and was at last taken in by Mother D----
s. The husband upon this odd discovery insisted upon having 
the money returned, Mother D----s refused, asserting that it 
was a fair bargain, the wife flew out into reproaches, and 
even went so far to throw a candle-stick at her husband's 
head. The blow was so well aimed that it knocked him down, he 
thereupon cried out, "Murder!", and the watch entered, so that 
Jane found it a very difficult matter, to restore peace and 
quietness in the house.



Chapter XXXII. 
Contains some account of the means by which Jane came to be 
the most noted of her profession in town, with some other 
particulars.

Old Jane always held Drury Lane bawds and whores in the utmost 
contempt, though she was herself the most notorious bawd in 
the precincts of Covent Garden. She was above the mean 
practice of sending out her daughters and children (for so the 
bawds style their whores) at night, in order to pick up 
gallants, and bring them home. She made them sit at the 
parlour window, and by that means they brought her in more 
customers than they could have done by patrolling about the 
streets.

We have already spoken of the chemical secrets which she made 
use of, in order to solder shattered m----s. These she at last 
brought to such perfection, by some hints communicated to her 
by her good friend Madam P----s, that she has often made her 
girls' maidenheads last them the year round: and has sometimes 
sold them, at ten guineas a time.

Madam P----s was likewise of great service to her in another 
respect. She constantly recommended Jane's house to the 
foreign gentlemen who frequented there: and Jane, who always 
took care to cultivate a useful friendship, never failed to 
return the good office, by addressing the noblemen and 
gentlemen who honoured her with their custom to Madam P----s, 
when they took a trip to France.

She likewise kept up a constant correspondence with most of 
the noted bawds in the three kingdoms, which proved highly 
serviceable to her, both in procuring new faces, and new 
customers.

During the course of her life, however she was exposed to 
various troublesome adventures; once in particular, having 
found means to decoy a young lady, who had quitted her 
relations, to her house, she had recourse to all her arts to 
make her see company. But the young lady found means to evade 
them, and escape from her house.

The affair, coming to the knowledge of some of her relations, 
they resolved to be amply revenged on Jane, who would 
certainly have been put to great trouble, had not she had 
better interest than any of her profession. Indeed Jane's 
interest was so good, that she was seldom without a friend at 
court, which gave her such confidence, that she proceeded with 
great resolution in her business and her success was in great 
measure owing to her boldness, according to the Latin proverb, 
Audaces fortuna juvat.<139>



Chapter XXXIII. 
The most edifying in the whole book.

Mother D----s had not many extraordinary adventures after that 
which we have related in the last chapter. But as the reader 
may form a perfect idea of her character from those which we 
have already laid before him, we shall now proceed to the 
concluding scene of her life, and faithfully relate all the 
circumstances which attended the death of this substitute of 
Satan.

She was a long time afflicted with the dropsy, and many other 
disorders, which are the natural consequences of such an 
irregular life as she led.

She suffered great pain and misery for some time before she 
made her exit; and these were considerably aggravated by 
uneasy reflections upon her past guilt.

She had recourse to the reverend Mr W----d,* being persuaded 
that he alone could save her from the rocks of perdition, and 
conduct her into the harbour of salvation.

*Note: But Mr F----te, in the Minor, made her a Methodist, 
before her time. He coming into her house one day, and hearing 
her cursing at her old rate, cried,--"Why, Old Jenny, you'll 
never repent"----"No! replied she, for by G-d, I SCORN 
repentance as much as YOU do."

This worthy divine attended her every day, and exhorted her in 
the most pathetic terms, to think seriously of regeneration, 
and the new birth.

Old Jane, who perceived that she was no longer a woman for 
this work, turned her thoughts to an hereafter, and found 
great consolation in the conversation of this holy man.

Jane sometimes finding herself a little better, went out in a 
coach to the tabernacle.

The pious preacher was very assiduous in his visits to this 
poor sinner, who constlantly struggled with God (for she had 
no mind to die) and the charitable Mr W----d prayed for her 
every day at the tabernacle.

However, the fatal hour at last arrived, and the illustrious 
Mother D----s paid the debt to nature on the second of June 
1761.

She was the same night carried privately out of her dwelling-
house to an undertaker's. This measure was very prudent, as 
there was reason to apprehend, that the mob might rise, and 
some mischief ensue on the occasion. So she was buried 
privately in the night-time on the eighth of the month in 
Paddington churchyard.

She died a true penitent, in the seventy-fourth year of her 
age, but very little lamented.

It were to be wished, that eloquence of Mr W----d, or that of 
the elegant writer, the ordinary of Newgate, had done justice 
to the memory of Jane D----s. But we shall not vainly attempt 
to give a charater of her. As we know our abilities are very 
unequal to such a task.

Having thus concluded the life of this illustrious personage 
we shall take our leave of the reader, with the following 
lines of the Latin poet,

Credo pudicatiam, Saturno Rege, moratam 
In terris visamque diu.<140>

FINIS



Jeany Muir (1765)
"Montgomery, Miss Betty." (Pseudonym)  A Funeral Oration in 
Honour of Miss Jeany Muir, a Celebrated Lady of Pleasure. 
Amsterdam, n.d. 
https://archive.org/details/AFuneralOrationInHonourOfMissJeany
Muir



Title Page

A
FUNERAL ORATION

IN HONOUR OF
Miss JEANY MUIR,
A Celebrated Lady of PLEASURE

BY 
Miss BETTY MONTGOMERY 
Her dear Friend and Successor.

--------------------------------------  
AMSTERDAM 
[Price TWO-PENCE]



Preface.

Eloquence is the noblest faculty of the human mind, and has 
ever been held in such veneration, that, we may observe, the 
highest rewards have been in all ages conferred upon it. 
Riches, honours, esteem, admiration, and immortality, have 
never failed to crown the labours of those, on whom nature has 
bestowed an extraordinary share of that talent. The names of 
Demosthenes and Cicero are mentioned with as much respect, as 
those of Alexander and Pompey, and the former have, with their 
tongues, established for themselves, a reputation more 
lasting, than the latter have been able to do, with all the 
power and wealth of the Grecian and Roman empire. The 
philippics of the two first are still entire, and charm 
mankind as much at this moment, as the first hour they were 
delivered; while the mighty empires established by the two 
last, at the expense of so much blood and labour, have changed 
very frequently their masters: and those barbarians, who 
overturned the Roman state, have luckily left us unimpaired, 
the glorious productions of the Roman orator. Britain is said, 
by some modern writer, to be almost the only nation in Europe, 
where there is room for an unbounded exercise of that faculty. 
By eloquence, in parliament, we assert our liberty, against 
the united attacks of despotism and corruption; by eloquence, 
in the civil courts, we defend our property from the 
depredations of rapine and injustice; and in the criminal 
courts, we vindicate our character from the stains of calumny, 
and our lives from the daringness of accusation; and by 
eloquence our clergy have long stemmed the current of 
prevailing infidelity and immorality. But still the fairest 
field of eloquence seems to be unknown, or at least 
unattempted amongst us. The merits of the deceased ought not 
to be buried in oblivion, and it is a tribute justly due to 
the memory of those, who have done eminent services to 
mankind, to celebrate their virtues after their death; and the 
duration of our gratitude night at least to be proportioned to 
that of their services. Funeral orations were very frequent in 
Rome, and every warrior, who died in the cause of his country, 
had a harangue pronounced over his dead body, by his dearest 
friend, or by the ablest orator, commemorating the virtues of 
the deceased, and commanding the tears and sorrow of those who 
survived. This may be one great reason why we see those heroes 
were ever ready to resign their life in defence of their 
country; and surely it was a most agreeable reflection to 
think, that a man only quitted the scene himself to make way 
for the celebration of his virtues. Non omnis moriar, multaque 
pars mei vitabit libitinam.<141>)

The French have long cultivated this species of eloquence, and 
some of their writers, notwithstanding the disadvantages of a 
feeble circumlocutive language, have made a wonderful progress 
in it. Their superiority to us in this point reflects no 
dishonour however upon us; and may rather be accounted for 
from the difference of our governments, than from the odds of 
our geniuses. Born in a country where passive obedience 
constitutes all the merit of a citizen, debarred from exerting 
their talents in the cause of liberty and independence, that 
people, naturally lively and ingenious, have turned the course 
of their eloquence towards the composition of panegyric; and 
have lavished upon the dead, those praises, which their 
monarch would not, without jealousy, have seen conferred upon 
the living.

This attempt to introduce amongst us the only species of 
eloquence that we are ignorant of, will not I hope be ill 
received. The author little thought of ever appearing in 
print; but to have let this opportunity lapse would have 
argued ingratitude towards that person who is the subject of 
the following oration, as well as indifference towards her 
countrymen, who may be roused perhaps from their supineness, 
to take some pains in the cultivation of this useful talent; 
so that we may hope one day to see, in this kingdom, some 
productions, worthy of being put in competition with those of 
Bossuet, Flechier, or Bourdaloue. The author has endeavoured 
to be as much original as possible, and as she does not 
recollect anyone who has writ upon the same plan, so she hopes 
none will do her the injustice to suspect her of plagiarism. 
Whatever shall be the fate of the work, she will always have 
the home-felt satisfaction to think, that her intention was 
purely meant to serve the public: a reflection that must 
always be consolatory to the author, of the worst received 
performance.



A Funeral Oration, &c.

Gentlemen and Ladies, 
	When I first heard the melancholy news of the death of 
the worthy JEANY MUIR, I formed the design of assembling this 
company. I thought I could, I was sure I could, be eloquent in 
the praises of a person for whom I had so great a regard; but 
upon more serious and deliberate consideration, I began to 
fear that I who have been so long engaged in the practice of 
the mute art, might perhaps fail in doing that justice to her 
character which it deserved; and therefore I shall content 
myself with giving you a brief account of the most material 
and interesting particulars of her life; and shall endeavour 
to observe as exact a medium as possible betwixt the fulsome 
flattery of a panegyrist, and the dull veracity of a 
historian.

(Here she pulls out a coloured handkerchief, in place of a 
white one.)

Jeany Muir was born in the Canongate on the 12th of August 
1728, of a parentage justly revered in that part of the town 
for their virtue and sobriety. Her forefathers had been in 
some measure hereditary keepers of a billiard-table, and her 
mother no inconsiderable member of that profession in which 
her daughter was destined to make so eminent a figure. With 
these advantages we need not doubt but the young mind of our 
heroine, which began already to display some very early 
symptoms of genius and vigour, would be imbued with every part 
of necessary instruction. It happened indeed somewhat unlucky 
for Miss Jeany Muir, that public b----y houses were not 
established in this metropolis, upon that sure and honourable 
footing which they have since been; that our young adventurer 
had not an opportunity of hearing those precepts and lectures 
which are commonly read in such seminaries of learning. But 
although nobody had more faith than she in the benefit to be 
reaped from this method of instruction, yet she was convinced, 
that, to a mind like hers, rapacious of knowledge, the 
practice itself might contain everything useful and necessary. 
She lastly reasoned with herself, that the theory of the art 
was no more than a set of rules and maxims drawn by the wise 
and sagacious practitioners, from that variety of cases which 
occur in the course of a long practice; and as a great 
promptitude of genius commonly inspires confidence and 
sufficiency, she concluded that there was no good reason why 
she might not gather that knowledge from the subjects 
themselves, rather than submit to the drudgery of conning over 
the works of those, who possessed no greater abilities than 
she. The one was becoming wise at second hand, and by 
reflection; wisdom in the other case was drawn pure from the 
very source itself. She therefore had not M�ursius, nor 
Rochester so frequently in her hands, as some other pieces no 
less fit for her improvement.

One happy circumstance however amply recompensed all the 
disadvantages under which our heroine was born: Hannah Marine 
was then alive, and in the greatest reputation for capacity 
and skill in her profession; she contracted an early prejudice 
in favour of Miss Jeany Muir; she had too much penetration not 
to discover, though only in the bud, those talents of our 
heroine's, which disclosed themselves so amazingly afterwards, 
and too little of the jealousy or rivalship of her sex to 
depress her rising genius, or to misguide her ill-directed 
curiosity. She formed a design of rearing her up for a 
successor; and for that purpose carried her to all her 
gossipings, introduced her to many private retailers of 
spirits, discovered to her the most secret turnpikes, and 
instructed her in all her arts of duping a cully, and of 
sponging a fob. By her advice Jeany Muir took the resolution 
of visiting foreign parts. Her first excursion was to Gl--s--
w, a city justly celebrated for the devotion and impiety of 
its inhabitants. It was there she first learned the use of 
strong spirits, and the uselessness of beds. She there formed 
the closest intimacy with some of the oldest students, and 
youngest professors of the university, which were of great use 
to her through the rest of her life. This little flight which 
she made, purely to try the strength of her pinions, was only 
a prelude to her other travels; she visited Covent Garden, the 
English, German, and some add the French camps, in Flanders; 
and the speel-houses in Amsterdam; beginning by this time to 
alter her plan, and conferring as much pleasure as she 
received. 

The love however of one's country is too natural a passion not 
to have had a large place in Jeany Muir's breast: and that, 
joined to a certain restlessness and appetite for new 
pleasures, common in people of her prfession and genius, 
brought her home, notwithstanding the repeated solicitations 
of many a foreign friend to remain in those countries. She 
luckily returned to her native country just at a period, when 
Hannah Marine's great fatigue, joined to some diseases to 
which the well-employed practitioners in the mute art are 
frequently exposed, had reduced her to the disagreeable 
alternative of either resigning her business, or of being 
deserted by her employers. Her friendship for her young 
favourite was founded on too sure a basis to be shaken in the 
least by Jeany's absence; she received her with open arms, and 
calling for a gill of brandy, drunk to her as her successor, 
with nearly the same ceremony the Mayor of London uses in 
appointing his sheriffs.

I do not pretend to say, that the practitioners in our 
profession are entirely faultless, it would be false and 
absurd if I did. It must be remembered, that though we are wh-
-es, still we are women, and though our employment purges us 
of many female weaknesses, yet some few will remain. Upon this 
principle it was natural to expect among the elder 
practitioners a general dissatisfaction and opposition to our 
young entrant, as they no doubt were vexed to see the whole of 
that business, which before had run in so many different 
channels, now collected into one great stream, and flowing 
like a torrent upon this upstart interloper. But no such thing 
happened. Envy's snaky head was scarce heard to hiss. And we 
unanimously agreed, that Jeany Muir was more than able to bear 
that load of business with which she was soon to be burdened.

This is now the most conspicuous era of our heroine's life. 
Behold her now, my gentle hearers, arrived at the zenith of 
her glory! Behold her practising her art with most surprising 
success! enriching herself, and diffusing blessings and 
pleasures over all the wide circle of her acquaintance, and 
even exciting sentiments of vanity in the bosoms of her 
relations, proud to be connected with a lady now become the 
favourite of half the human race!

And here I must again have recourse to my philosophy, to 
justify a part of her conduct, which her greatest admirers 
would sometimes censure. Some philosophers have carried their 
scepticism so far as to affirm, that there is nothing real in 
nature, and that everything is deception: whatever we see, 
whatever we hear, whatever we touch, say they, we do not 
really see, hear, or touch, but are imposed upon by our 
senses, and only fancy we do. What truth may be in this 
observation as to the material world, I shall leave to 
naturalists to determine; but in the ideal world I may 
venture, without being contradicted, to aver, that deceptions 
are very frequent and very dangerous. Why does the miser 
perpetrate the blackest villainies to fill his purse, and 
centres all his happiness in his wealth?--because he is 
deceived. Why is such a young advocate vain of his abilities?-
-because he is deceived. Why does yonder graceless knight 
drink and, game perpetually, and yet imagines his estate is 
not impaired?--because he is deceived. And why does a certain 
fine lady think the world are ignorant of what she wishes they 
may not know?--but because she is deceived. Our heroine, 
sensible of the prevalence of deception, and convinced if it 
were rooted out of the world, mankind would commit many fewer 
absurdities and crimes than they do, made a noble opposition 
to this general torrent of deceit. So strongly are mankind 
prone to be deluded, that they are sometimes disappointed, 
when they are not. This observation is never more fully 
verified than in some parts of Miss Jeany Muir's profession, 
where a cold return to the endearments of her friends, was the 
behaviour in the world most likely to occasion dryness, and to 
disjoin the closest  unions.

Tu quoque, cui veneris sensum natura negavit, 
Dulcia mendaci gaudia finge sono. 
Infelix, cui torpet hebes locus ille, puella es, 
Quo pariter debent femina virque frui, 
A! pudet-- <142>

Upon these occasions, as our heroine never felt any tendency 
towards a reciprocal passion, so she never would affect any, 
and chose rather to offend by a calm lifeless behaviour, than 
to please by the most innocent deceit. And it is only from her 
aversion to hypocrisy and dissimulation, that I can account 
for this tranquillity and quietism in our heroine's conduct.

It is incumbent upon me too to make honoourable mention of 
Jeany Muir's generosity, the quality which predominated most 
strongly in her disposition. This however, though a true, 
might, I fear, turn a disagreeable part of our funeral 
oration; I see, few of one sex here, who do not retain some 
marks of her generosity. But it would be unjust to her memory 
to omit, that though she had frequent occasion to be employed 
by a very numerous and very respectable body of men, yet she 
never would consent to accept of any of their money; and as 
she was ever ready to lend them her assistance, so was she 
ever obstinate in refusing their remunerations. I should 
likewise give a particular account of the care she took of her 
own health, and the dexterity with which she warded off those 
diseases with which she was threatened, either from her 
constitution, or from the fatigues of her business, without at 
the same time ever ceasing to be useful in the exercise of it.

As to her children, the assiduity of her calling prevented the 
world from being blessed with any of these. But I should do 
injustice to the memory of Jeany Muir, as well as violate my 
own conscience, if I concealed from you, that in examining her 
trunk, after she died, I discovered a pair of abortions 
carefully preserved in spirits. Were not your patience already 
quite exhausted, I should give you a minute description of 
them; but suffice it to say, that in every feature, and in 
every limb, I could trace an exact resemblance to their 
mother, and so far as I could then judge, they promised to 
have been every way worthy of so celebrated a parent.

Her death was sudden, as she herself wished it to be. She 
survived none of her faculties. Three of her friends had just 
left her, and were thoroughly satisfied with their reception. 
So gentle was the first attack of that distress, which soon 
after proved fatal, that she did not shut any of the books 
that were lying before her. Two were found open on her table; 
for it is remarkable, as she had but little time to devote to 
study, she employed it to the greatest advantage, by commonly 
perusing a couple of books at a time, one with each eye. That 
which lay next her right eye, I presume she was engaged to 
read, from the pompousness of its title page, which promised 
her some satisfactory account of the great inequalities which 
she found among men. The other was a favourite author, open at 
the following passage,

Contra alius nullam, nisi olenti in fornice stantem. 
Quidam notus homo cum exiret fornice, Macte 
Virtute esto, inquit sententia, dia Catonis. 
Nam simul ac venas inflavit taetra libido; 
Huc juvenes �quum est deicendere, non alienas 
Permolere uxores.<143>

Upon the whole, if her life was useful, her end below was 
fulfilled.

FINIS.



Anna Maria Faulkner (1770)
The Genuine Memoirs of Miss Faulkner; Otherwise Mrs D**L**N; 
or, Countess of H***X, in Expectancy. Containing, the Amours 
and Intrigues of Several Persons of High Distinction, and 
Remarkable Characters: With Some Curious Political Anecdotes, 
Never before Published. London: Printed for William Bingley, 
1770. Facsimile from ECCO/GALE.



Title Page


THE GENUINE 
M E M O I RS
OF
Miss FAULKNER;
OTHERWISE
Mrs D***L***N;
OR,
COUNTESS OF H*****X, 
IN EXPECTANCY.
CONTAINING,
THE AMOURS AND INTRIGUES OF 
SEVERAL PERSONS OF HIGH DISTINCTION, 
AND REMARKABLE CHARACTERS:
WITH SOME
CURIOUS POLITICAL ANECDOTES,
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

LONDON:
Printed for WILLIAM BINGLEY, at No. 31. in 
Newgate Street. 1770.  
[Price 3s. sewed, and 3s. 6d. bound.]




Frontispiece: Portraits of Anna Maria Faulkner and Lord 
Kingsborough
  



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W. Bingley thinks it his duty a to inform the reader, that the 
Author of the following Memoirs is mistaken in one material 
point, namely the marriage of Miss Johnson with Mr Fleming, 
such an event, he is well assured, never having happened, that 
gentlewoman being now the Lady of a Scotch Peer, and having 
never been married to any other person. But this is a 
circumstance, which, it is probable, the Author designedly 
misrepresented, in order to save the honour of the noble 
family, with which by her marriage she is now connected; of 
perhaps, being only a collateral subject, and introduced with 
the sole view of carrying on the History of Miss Faulkner, he 
might think himself at liberty to use the common licence of a 
novella, and to set it in whatever light might best suit his 
purpose.

The publisher returns his most grateful thanks to the Authors 
of the Letters, which he has inserted by way of Supplement at 
the end of the work, and humbly hopes the faithful manner, in 
which he has printed them, will entitle him to their future 
correspondence.



Chapter I. 
Miss Faulkner's birth, education and parentage; with some 
account of her uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Paragraph.

Miss Faulkner was born in Ireland, about twenty miles from the 
metropolis, of very honest, but very poor parents; whose 
circumstances prevented their giving her that sort of 
education, which the elegance of her person deserved. But it 
was her good fortune to be the niece of the celebrated Peter 
Paragraph<144> of Dublin; who, having no children of his own, 
took Miss Faulkner under his protection, when she was about 
ten years old, and received her from her parent as his adopted 
child: and Mr Paragraph, being then in very opulent 
circumstances, and of a really benevolent and generous 
disposition, had Miss Faulkner immediately sent to a boarding 
school, with an appearance suited to her future education and 
expectance from her uncle.

Whilst Miss Faulkner is now laying the ground-work of her 
future accomplishments, it may not be disagreeable, or 
improper, to give some little account of Mr Peter Paragraph, 
her uncle, as on him alone all her expectations of advancement 
and support depended after her adoption.

Mr Paragraph was born of equally obscure parents with those of 
his niece, and with some oddities, and some infirmities; of a 
very low stature, and an uncommonly large head and face, 
amazingly disproportioned to his body and limbs, and one leg 
considerably longer than the other, all these circumstances 
rendered him, what is generally called a very grotesque 
figure; his eyes also were remarkably large, and his voice so 
much in the authoritative, that, with the assistance of an 
enormous large white wig, with innumerable curls, he has often 
passed for a nabob in disguise. 

The obscurity of Mr Paragraph's birth did not, however, 
deprive him of an aspiring genius, nor did the largeness of 
his head, support the old proverb, for chance having put him 
into the service of a printer, who had sagacity enough to see 
into Mr Paragraph's abilities, he not only instructed him in 
the art of printing, but furnished him with such further means 
of learning as he thought necessary for the prosecution and 
management of his trade and business; and as it has been 
already observed, that Mr Paragraph always showed an aspiring 
mind, he read and studied with so much assiduity and zeal, 
that, in a few years, he exceeded the utmost expectations of 
his employer, as well in the art of printing, as in his 
knowledge of the best authors in several languages, and proved 
himself (in his own style) a very sensible clever fellow.

Thus in the high esteem and regard of his patron did Mr 
Paragraph continue to live for some years, when it pleased the 
fates to put an end to his master's life and printing at once, 
and left Mr Paragraph in the peaceable possession of all his 
business and a considerable part of his fortune.

Upon this great acquisition Mr Paragraph despised the drudgery 
of a printing house, and immediately opened one of the most 
considerable bookseller's shops in Dublin, and the inimitable 
Dean Swift having at that time wrote his Drapier, and several 
other spirited papers, Mr Paragraph procured the printing and 
publication of them, and in a few years became a favourite of 
the Dean's, at the expense of a laugh, not uncommonly 
occasioned by his singularities, both of style and dress, an 
instance of which, we hope, will not be disagreeable to such 
of our readers as love a joke. After Mr Paragraph had been 
some time distinguished and greatly honoured as the Dean's 
printer and publisher, by which he had acquired a considerable 
fortune, his gratitude, as well as his pride, prompted him to 
cut a very conspicuous, and consequently a very ridiculous 
figure on the Dean's birthday; and for this purpose he ordered 
an elegant suit of velvet, with a bag wig, sword, and every 
other apparatus suited to a man of fashion, and getting into a 
chair, set out for the Dean's house, to compliment him on the 
occasion. On his arrival the Dean saw him from a window of one 
of his apartments, and astonished at the folly and foppery of 
his printer, was resolved, if possible, to cure him of a 
foible he so much detested. On Mr Paragraph's being introduced 
to him, the Dean immediately got up from his chair, and with 
the greatest ceremony received Mr Paragraph, handed him to a 
chair, and, after the dual compliments between strangers, the 
Dean asked to whom he was indebted for the honour of the 
present visit, or if he had any commands for him; for he had 
not the pleasure of knowing him. Mr Paragraph, not a little 
abashed and confused at this question, informed the Dean, that 
he was Mr Paragraph, his reverence's printer, upon which the 
Dean, without further ceremony, said, it was a damned lie; 
that he knew Mr Paragraph, his printer, extremely well that he 
was a plain, worthy, good sort of man, and had never made such 
a baboon of himself, as the figure before him represented, 
that he was an impostor, and desired he would instantly quit 
his house. Poor Mr Paragraph, confounded with such ridicule, 
in the utmost confusion got down stairs into his chair, and 
returned home, terribly mortified and perplexed, dreading the 
consequences of the Dean's satire and raillery.

He had not been many minutes at home, when a servant from the 
Dean informed him, that his master desired to speak to him 
immediately on very particular business. This message had well 
nigh deprived Mr Paragraph of his senses. He now saw his 
folly, and feared no less than a dismission from all his 
employments under the Dean. Great was his suspense, whether he 
should obey the summons or not; but upon consultation with Mrs 
Paragraph, who is one of the handsomest, as well as one of the 
most agreeable ladies in the kingdom, and had great weight in 
all Mr Paragraph's deliberations; it was resolved, that Mr 
Paragraph should appear personally and immediately before the 
Dean; but not until he had entirely changed his dress, and re-
assumed his weekday robes.

This point adjusted, Mr Paragraph limped off to the Dean's, 
who received him with his usual friendship and familiarity; 
and, in seeming great emotion, told him, that some fantastical 
puppy had been there a little before, dressed, in a suit of 
velvet; bag wig, sword, &c. and had assumed his name; "But," 
says the Dean, "I knew you too well, George, to be so imposed 
on, I ordered the fellow out of my house, and immediately sent 
for you, that you might be guarded against this imposter, lest 
he might hurt your reputation and credit in the city; and I 
would advise you to advertise him directly."

Mr Paragraph felt the severity of this irony; but thanked the 
Dean for his friendship; and a second time got out of the 
house as fast as he could, well pleased that it was no worse. 
This was, however, a mortifying blow to the pride of Mr 
Paragraph, who about this time had some expectations of being 
dubbed a knight, and elected one of the sheriffs of the city, 
which this unexpected, fatal accident, totally overthrew.

Happy, however, would it have been for the peace, prosperity, 
and grandeur, of the respectable family of the Paragraphs, if 
this had been the worst consequence, that attended this double 
disappointment; but, alas, who can foresee what mischiefs are 
attendant on even trifling incidents! We have already 
mentioned Mrs Paragraph, as one of the most beautiful and 
accomplished of her sex; it naturally follows, that her dear 
Mr Paragraph (who is one of the best judges of the sex) loved 
her to admiration (an ample proof of which, shall be given in 
its proper place) and it unfortunately happened, that Mrs 
Paragraph was pregnant at the time of this disgrace, which so 
affected her, that she was suddenly taken ill, during her 
husband's second expedition to the Dean's, and soon after his 
return home, was delivered of a dead child, a male too! the 
hopes, the heir of this worthy family; and as Mr Paragraph has 
never since been able to put his beloved in the like 
condition, the name and family of the Paragraphs, are now 
likely to become extinct.

As the sympathising reader is, no doubt, deeply affected with 
this tragical story, we shall not dwell longer on the 
afflictions of this unhappy family, than just to observe, that 
it was this accident that occasioned the vacancy for the 
adoption of our heroine before-mentioned, and as we now are 
somewhat better able to judge of the temper and character of 
her uncle and aunt, we shall return to the adventures of the 
niece, which will most agreeably engage our attention in the 
next chapter.



Chapter II 
Miss Faulkner's accomplishments, personal and acquired. Lord 
K--ngs--b--r--gh's character. His introduction to Mr 
Paragraph's family. His scheme to carry off Miss Faulkner.

Miss Faulkner had been about three years at the boarding-
school, where we first placed her, and had arrived to her 
teens, when she gave such proofs of her extensive genius and 
uncommon understanding, as astonished those who had the care 
of her education, and exceeded the most sanguine expectations 
of her uncle and Mrs Paragraph, who were now become so equally 
fond of her, that few days passed in which they did not visit 
her, and show her every mark of love and affection, which they 
could have bestowed on their heir, had he lived to enjoy their 
paternal regards. In short, masters and instructors in every 
art and science, fit for her tender years, were employed, and 
she excelled the whole school in painting, drawing, music, 
dancing, and every other polite accomplishment; and, in her 
fifteenth year, Mr Paragraph took her from the boarding-
school, and brought her home to his own house, where she 
continued her amusements, particularly music, in which she 
both excelled and delighted.

It may be now thought necessary, to give some account of Miss 
Faulkner's person. She was somewhat above the middle size, but 
as exactly proportioned, as ever any goddess was drawn by the 
pencil of a Guido or Titian, her hair, which was as black as 
ebony, in flowing curls, covered the finest neck and skin in 
the universe; her eyes also were large and black, with all the 
soft languishment of the blue, and every turn of her face, 
discovered some new grace: add to all these natural charms, a 
voice that was perfectly transporting, assisted by all the 
powers of music, and you may, perhaps, from some idea of what 
Miss Faulkner then appeared to her numerous train of admirers.

A bookseller's shop is generally a place of resort for men of 
genius, taste and gallantry; but the beauty of Mr Paragraph's 
wife and niece, brought him more visitors of high rank and 
fashion, than his books, and his pride always admitted persons 
of quality to make frequent visits in his family; for he was 
frequently known to boast of his extensive acquaintance among 
the nobility, that he knew lords, and lords knew him.

In the number of his noble acquaintance, was Lord K--gs--h, of 
gallant and facetious memory; this young nobleman was as 
remarkable for his benevolence, generosity and hospitality, as 
he was for his spirit of intrigue, gallantry and debauchery; 
there never was such a compound of the high qualities than can 
adorn the human heart, blended with vices and excesses, that 
would disgrace the most abandoned profligate: in short, virtue 
or distress never departed from his door without reward and 
relief, whilst youth, beauty and innocence, were the daily 
victims of his most inordinate passions. He was not, by any 
means, what the ladies pronounce, a handsome man: but he was 
one of the best bred men in Europe; master of the most 
insinuating address, and where he once commenced a siege, was 
never known to withdraw his forces, until he had full 
possession of the citadel; in the course of which he exerted 
the most surprising courage, dexterity, and diligence, when 
necessary, and never spared a profusion of the most powerful 
ammunition.

No sooner did Mr Paragraph remove Miss Faulkner to his own 
house, than Lord Kingsborough heard of and saw her; and as his 
Lordship had a fine taste for music, and played on most 
fashionable instruments in a very masterly manner, he 
frequently visited Mr Paragraph, and spent several hours with 
his lady and Miss Faulkner, in this enchanting amusement; and 
as Mr Paragraph thought himself prodigiously honoured in the 
company of his noble guest, several entertainments were 
prepared, and little parties made at Mr Paragraph's, in which 
the whole family were so delighted with the wit, good humour 
and elegant behaviour of his Lordship, that they were seldom 
happy but in his company; and, after some time, his Lordship 
prevailed with Mr Paragraph to attend the ladies to his 
Lordship's house, where they were entertained with a splendour 
and magnificence, that quite dazzled and confounded them.

This sort of intercourse was too flattering to the vanity both 
of Mr and Mrs Paragraph, to permit them to reflect on its 
consequences, especially as Lord Kingsborough had always 
behaved in such a manner as not to give them the least cause 
of suspicion nor had he, as yet, been in the least particular 
in his behaviour to Miss Faulkner, more than in the raptures 
he expressed at her musical abilities, and those freedoms that 
are usual in musical performances, between persons of the 
first condition.

It is true, that Lord Kingsborough had made some valuable 
presents, such as diamond ear-rings, necklaces, &c. both to 
Mrs Paragraph and Miss Faulkner, which he prevailed on them to 
accept, but his Lordship had now laid the train, and he was 
resolved to blow up the garrison, if he could not take it by 
surprise or capitulation.



Chapter III. 
Employs a Mrs Tabby, a mercer's wife, for that purpose. 
Invites Miss Faulkner, and her uncle and aunt, to a ball at 
his house.

Lord Kingsborough had hitherto found it extremely difficult to 
get a proper opportunity of declaring his passion for Miss 
Faulkner, for in love with her he really and truly was, as his 
Lordship had been with some dozens before her; and if a few 
thousands would have purchased her from either Mr or Mrs 
Paragraph, he would not have hesitated one moment about 
entering into the treaty. But although no man knew the 
powerful effects of this magnum bonum, or the proper methods 
of applying it, better than his Lordship, he had same reason 
to think it would be rejected in the present case; and if so, 
the parties would be more on their guard, and might possibly 
remove his beloved where he might not be able to find her: he 
therefore resolved to proceed by stratagem, and to call in 
fresh auxiliaries.

In the neighbourhood of Mr Paragraph lived a lady, whom we 
shall call Mrs Tabby, the wife of a mercer, who his Lordship 
knew was not in so opulent circumstances as Mr Paragraph; and 
as this lady frequently visited in that family, Lord 
Kingsborough very sagaciously supposed, that a few hundreds 
applied there might be very serviceable to his cause. To Mrs 
Tabby he therefore applied for her assistance, and, after 
presenting her with a bank note, value two hundred pounds, 
engaged her to procure him a meeting with Miss Faulkner at her 
house, unknown to Mr or Mrs Paragraph; to which Mrs Tabby 
readily agreed, and promised his Lordship every assistance in 
her power. And the better to countenance this design, Mrs 
Tabby that evening met his Lordship at Mr Paragraph's, when he 
invited the whole company to supper and a ball a few nights 
after. Things being thus concerted, Mrs Tabby in the interim 
began to sound Miss Faulkner's inclinations in favour of Lord 
Kingsborough and to her great satisfaction found, that his 
Lordship had made some very tender impressions on her heart; 
and in order to touch her to the quick, told her, she was 
informed, that his Lordship was soon to be married to a young 
lady, whom she mentioned, one of the greatest fortunes in the 
kingdom of Ireland.

This was a trial, which the unsuspecting Miss Faulkner was 
utterly unprepared for; and the moment Mrs Tabby had finished 
her disagreeable information, she fainted in presence of Mrs 
Paragraph and Mrs Tabby, and it was some time before she 
recovered. And, although the artful tale-bearer well knew the 
cause of her indisposition, Mrs Paragraph never once suspected 
it; but having mutually assisted Miss Faulkner, she on her 
recovery retired to her chamber, and, for the first time in 
her life, felt all the agonies of a love-sick heart, on the 
point of losing the dearest object of its maiden passion; nor 
did she herself, until this fatal moment, know how deeply her 
affections were engaged to this bewitching, dangerous lord.

Mrs Paragraph spent all the next day in preparing suitable 
dresses for herself and Miss Faulkner, to appear in at his 
Lordship's ball, and though the latter would have gladly been 
excused from appearing there, she knew it was impracticable; 
and she prepared accordingly, but with emotions far different 
from those the usually went with to his Lordship's 
entertainments.

It must be owned, that young ladies, under those critical 
circumstances, are extremely to be pitied. The virgin heart 
often receives this fatal impression, when they least know, or 
even suspect it, until some accident or stratagem forces the 
discovery, and it is then very difficult, and often 
impracticable, to prevent or remove it: but when once this 
secret is known to the object of their wishes, it in a great 
measure depends upon his generosity and honour, whether they 
don't fall a sacrifice, to those natural impressions and to 
the impulse of that passion, to which every human being is 
subject; unless powerfully protected, and prudently cautioned. 
And the insurmountable difficulty, which inexperienced young 
ladies generally make, of disclosing the first impressions, of 
this sort, on their tender hearts, to some friend or 
confidante, on whom they could with some safety depend, 
frequently leads them to discover it to low or improper 
persons, who prostitute the confidence reposed in them, and 
but too often turn the discovery to their own private 
advantage and base purposes.

While things were thus preparing at Mrs Paragraph's, Mrs Tabby 
did not fail to fly to Lord Kingsborough, and acquaint him 
with the important discovery she had made. Indeed it was what 
he before suspected and hoped; but he was now in raptures to 
hear it confirmed, and by his bounty convinced Mrs Tabby, that 
he would amply reward her future services.



Chapter IV. 
His Lordship's man�uvres during the ball.

The night for Lord Kingsborough's entertainment being at 
length arrived, his Lordship sent his own coach for Mr and Mrs 
Paragraph and their lovely niece, in which Mrs Tabby was also 
conveyed. This particular mark of respect and distinction from 
his Lordship, almost turned the brain of Mr and Mrs Paragraph, 
and would have been highly pleating to Miss Faulkner, had she 
not been much depressed in her spirits, and her little heart 
fluttered with sensations she never before felt. 'Tis true she 
was dressed in the genteelest manner, and in the most 
fashionable taste, and the jewels, that had been presented to 
her by Lord Kingsborough added to her natural charms, rendered 
her one of the completest beauties in the universe. She 
however dreaded, that she should here meet with her detested 
rival, whom she now desperately hated, though she had never 
seen her; so that love, jealousy, despair and hatred 
alternately seized and perplexed her tender bosom, and almost 
deprived her of the faculties of speech and reason.

In this perplexed situation she arrived at Lord Kingsborough's 
house; but no sooner had the coach stopped, than his Lordship 
and two or three others of the nobility, were ready at the 
door to receive them He had previously engaged Lord D----, of 
equal address and gallantry, to attend on Mrs Paragraph during 
the whole evening, and keep up her attention from observing 
what should pass between himself and Miss Faulkner; and he had 
also prepared a personage, of the greatest consequence in the 
kingdom, to engage the attention of Mr Paragraph upon 
politics, his darling subject, for the like reason: so that he 
had the coast quite clear to carry on his operations.

According to the plan that had been concerted, Lord D----
received Mrs Paragraph from the coach, whilst Lord 
Kingsborough had the inexpressible pleasure of handing in his 
adorable Miss Faulkner; and no sooner had he seized her 
trembling hand, than he knew the violent emotions of her 
palpitating heart; and such is the cruelty of lovers, that, 
notwithstanding the pain and confusion which he saw expressed 
on her countenance, he rejoiced to know, that he was the 
secret cause. He, however, whispered soft nonsense in the fair 
one's ear, and in some degree calmed her swelling bosom, 
before they joined the company.

Lord Kingsborough had previously acquainted the company, which 
he had assembled on this occasion, with Miss Faulkner's 
amazing powers in music: several of them were nice judges, as 
well as Lord Kingsborough, and no sooner were the usual 
ceremonies, and tea &c., over, than Miss Faulkner was 
unanimously requested to play and sing, accompanied by some 
others of the company. This particular attention to his niece, 
for the first time, drew Mr Paragraph from his political 
corner; he was transported with the compliments everybody 
deservedly paid Miss Faulkner; and though she several times 
attempted to play a favourite song of Lord Kingsborough's on 
the harpsichord, her hands trembled so violently, and her 
whole frame was so agitated, that she could not proceed: but, 
in order to oblige the company, and obey her uncle, who was 
particularly pressing on the occasion, she requested Lord 
Kingsborough would play, and that she would endeavour to 
accompany him with her voice. This met with universal 
approbation; and she exerted such powers, accompanied with a 
tender plaintiveness in her voice, that every word of the 
song, which was immediately applicable to her own situation, 
sunk into the very soul of Lord Kingsborough; and when the 
whole room joined in their warmest praises, he sat in silent 
admiratron and delight unutterable. It is impossible for those 
who have not experienced the powers of music, flowing from the 
lips of a fine woman, to conceive what Lord Kingsborough felt 
upon this occasion, there is no magic equal to the sounds of 
such heavenly harmony; nor is it possible for human nature to 
resist such united charms. Upon this occasion, indeed, Miss 
Faulkner expressed what she really felt, with that modest 
confusion and pathetic sweetness, which sent thousands of 
flying Cupids, with their pointed shafts, through all Lord 
Kingsborough's vital frame: no wonder then, that his Lordship 
was all transport, and totally absorbed in the most ecstatic 
bliss.

Several other noble performers seized the sounding 
instruments: but to our heroine or his lordship, there was no 
music, no harmony in their dull notes. After this concert was 
over and supper served up, Miss Faulkner began to recover her 
usual vivacity and spirits. She saw no rival. Lord 
Kingsborough had behaved to her with the greatest tenderness 
and respect, and Mrs Tabby did not fail to encourage her by 
every persuasive the could think of, and the company were in 
raptures with her beauty, wit, and charming behaviour. Mr 
Paragraph himself was delighted with and complimented his most 
engaging niece; and when the ball began, which Lord 
Kingsborough opened with Mrs Paragraph, Lord Kingsborough 
danced the whole evening with Miss Faulkner.

During the dance Lord D---- took particular care to draw off 
Mrs Paragraph's attention from Lord Kingsborough and Miss 
Faulkner; and his Lordship took that opportunity of declaring 
his passion to his beloved. In such a place and so 
circumstanced, she could not make any reply, which was what he 
both knew and desired, as he before knew the situation of her 
heart, and only wanted to convince her of the ardency of his 
own passion; and after saying everything he thought necessary 
for that purpose, he in the most earnest manner begged she 
would honour him with a meeting the next evening at Mrs 
Tabby's, that he might further convince her, both of his 
sincerity and regard for her. To this request she readily 
consented, and after spending the evening in the most 
agreeable manner, Mr Paragraph, his Lady and niece, returned 
home, as they came, in his Lordship's coach, concluding it one 
of the most agreeable and happy days of their lives.



Chapter V. 
Completes his triumph over the heart of Miss Faulkner, and 
actually carries her off to his seat in the country.

It has been already observed, that Lord Kingsborough was 
completely versed in all the arts of seduction, intrigue and 
gallantry, and knew to a moment when to sieze any advantage he 
had gained. He was, therefore, determined to lose no more time 
in completing the present design, than was absolutely 
necessary; and though he was as abandoned and devoted to his 
pleasures as any man living, he always endeavoured to gain the 
affections and regard of those very innocents, whom he 
afterwards was as fully determined to seduce and destroy. And 
as he was now convinced he had fully engaged the whole soul of 
Miss Faulkner, he resolved to carry her off, before she had 
time to reflect on the nature or consequence of her 
engagements in his favour; and for that purpose had ordered a 
chariot and six of his best horses, with proper attendants, to 
wait near Mrs Tabby's the evening after the ball, that if he 
could persuade her to elope with him, it should be done 
instantly. Thus prepared he set out for Mrs Tabby's, where he 
found Miss Faulkner at tea with that worthy Lady; and, upon 
his Lordship's entering the room, our heroine was once more 
seized with her palpitations, and apprehensions of she knew 
not what. However after some general conversation, Mrs Tabby 
retired, and his Lordship having declared to Miss Faulkner, in 
the most passionate terms, that he was the most miserable man 
in the world, that he had not known a moment's happiness since 
first he beheld her lovely face, and that there was nothing in 
his power to make her happy which he would not comply with, 
provided he might flatter himself, that he had the smallest 
degree of her esteem; she innocently, but truly, assured his 
Lordship, that she entertained the highest respect and esteem 
for him, but that she could not hear his addresses without the 
permission of her uncle Paragraph; and added, that she was 
well assured his Lordship was then on the point of being 
married to a lady of birth and fortune, suitable to his rank 
and quality, and begged he would not endeavour to disturb her 
peace of mind, and humble condition, with which she was 
perfectly contented.

This his Lordship justly construed into the warmest 
declaration in his favour; and after protesting, in the most 
solemn manner, that he never would marry the lady she spoke 
of, that, if she would condescend to go with him into the 
country, he would settle an ample fortune upon her for her 
life, and that, if he ever did marry, she should be his 
choice. He represented to her, that the consequence of her 
refusal would be his marrying the lady she mentioned, and 
that, if she remained with her uncle, she would in course be 
tied to some rude, low bred mechanic, who would not only 
despise and abuse her lovely person, but keep her in a servile 
poor way, where she would languish out her life, without 
tasting those luxuriant pleasures and elegancies, to which her 
wit, beauty and accomplishments entitled her. Thus pressed by 
love on one side, by splendour, importunity and deceit on the 
other, Miss Faulkner was prevailed on, and did consent to 
elope with his Lordship into the country; but had no notion of 
setting off that night, which his Lordship was firmly resolved 
on, lest the should more seriously reflect on the business she 
was going to embark in, and repent. 

Lord Kingsborough, however, stepped out of the room, and 
giving Mrs Tabby some money, desired she would buy some few 
necessaries which might be wanting to Miss Faulkner on the 
road; at the same time he issued fresh orders to his servants, 
to hold themselves in readiness. Those myrmidons were so well 
versed and experienced in these exploits, that they 
immediately understood what his Lordship was now about. He 
always travelled with a numerous and splendid equipage, 
equally well mounted and armed; nor had he a servant in his 
train, that would not hazard his life in support or obedience 
of his Lordship's commands, as they perfectly adored him. For 
such really was the enchanting address and behaviour of this 
noble Lord to all ranks and degrees of people, that, 
notwithstanding his notorious debauches and excesses with 
regard to women, he was universally respected and beloved, 
wherever he appeared; and those, who the moment before were 
abusing him, and condemning his profligate life, no sooner 
beheld him, than they were struck with the general admiration 
entertained of him by both sexes, and joined in the universal 
applause that was paid to his many other noble qualities, and 
his acts of princely generosity. On Lord Kingsborough's return 
to Miss Faulkner, he told her, that he had sent Mrs Tabby to 
buy her a riding dress, which he had that day seen, and was 
sure would exactly fit her; and Mrs Tabby just then entering 
the room with such a dress, his Lordship, requested Miss 
Faulkner to try it on; and while she was dressing, withdrew. 
Everything being now ready for his purpose, he communicated 
his design to his beloved, and prevailed on her that instant 
to get into his chariot, which was waiting within a few steps 
of Mrs Tabby's door. Thus our heroine was not permitted even a 
negative voice; for whilst his Lordship pressed her to 
immediate flight, Mrs Tabby alarmed her with the apprehensions 
of a discovery, and being forced from the arms of her adorer.

Into the chariot they both got, and the word of command was 
given, to drive to his Lordship's country house, which is 
about a hundred miles from the metropolis. And whilst they are 
driving as fast as six fine horses can carry them, we shall 
return to Mr and Mrs Paragraph, from whom we have been absent 
some time.



Chapter VI. 
Mr and Mrs Paragraph's consternation on hearing of this event.

Mr and Mrs Paragraph, we have already observed, were in such 
raptures with Lord Kingsborough's entertainment, and the whole 
of his behaviour during the last meeting, that next day they 
did nothing but visit all their friends, and acquaint them 
with the particular honours they had received from his 
Lordship and his noble friends; nor had Mr Paragraph the least 
doubt but he should now be honoured with the title of Sir 
George, and that Mrs Paragraph would shine in the character of 
Lady Paragraph. In short, he neither thought nor dreamt of 
anything else, till he was roused from these delightful 
visions by the absence of his niece.

Mrs Paragaph had been out all that afternoon, spreading her 
own consequence among her mechanical acquaintance, whilst Mr 
Paragraph was displaying his folly in a circle of his common 
council friends and companions, and, on his return home, was 
amazed to find his dear lady in the utmost perplexity and 
concern for the absence of Miss Faulkner, whom the knew her 
husband doted on, not only as being his niece and heir 
apparent, but because that, through her powerful influence and 
personal charms, he expected to acquire those dignities, which 
had long filled his warm imagination, and in the the pursuit 
of which Mrs Paragraph was equally eager.

No wonder, then, that the absence of the author of all their 
present and future bliss filled them with the most dreadful 
apprehensions. Messengers and expresses were sent to every 
part of the city, where Miss Faulkner had visited; whilst Mr 
Paragraph, in person, limped to Mrs Tabby's; but alas! on 
enquiry there, that worthy lady had not seen Miss since the 
night of the ball at Lord Kingsborough's. This almost 
distracted Mr Paragraph, but when all the messengers he had 
sent (amongst whom were a number of young devils) returned, 
without being able to discover the least trace of the fair 
fugitive, Mr Paragraph was no longer able to contain himself, 
or support that philosophy and steadiness of temper, which he 
had been always remarkable for, and greatly boasted of. Mrs 
Paragraph was equally affected, and, for two days and nights 
they indulged the most poignant sorrow and affliction: but, on 
the third morning, they received the following letter, which, 
though it did not entirely remove their uneasiness, acquainted 
them with the route Miss Faulkner had taken, and with whom. 

"Dear Dear Mr Paragraph, 
	You are no stranger to the pressing invitations, which I 
have repeatedly given to your worthy lady, Miss Faulkner, and 
yourself, to favour me with your company at Rockingham, where 
I would have the pleasure of entertaining you with those rural 
amusements, which your good taste and inimitable fancy would 
relish, beyond anything the smoky town can afford. Some 
business of importance, which calls me suddenly to the 
country, prevented my paying the respects due to your lady and 
yourself, before my departure; and, as I could not bear 
travelling alone, I have prevailed with your adorable niece to 
honour me with her company: I have assured her you will excuse 
so precipitate a departure, when you are convinced she is 
under the protection of her faithful admirer, and 
	Your most obedient servant, 
	Kingsboroughh.

P.S. If Mrs Paragraph and yourself will honour us with your 
presence, I have given directions, that a coach with a set, 
and whatever servants you may please to order, shall attend 
you to Rockingham."

The receipt of this letter at once convinced Mr Paragraph and 
his lady of the folly of their conduct with respect to their 
niece, and at the same time blasted all their golden dreams of 
title, preferment and grandeur. The story immediately became 
public, and they were both laughed at, and highly censured by 
all their acquaintance, so that it required same months to 
silence the ridicule, before Mr or Mrs Paragraph could venture 
again to appear in public.

Reflection convinced Mr Paragraph, that he was much to blame, 
and that he was in some degree chargeable with his niece's 
disgrace; but he was astonished, that Lord Kingsborough should 
thus openly avow the crime he had committed, and as some of 
our readers may be of the same opinion, we shall, in the next 
chapter, further acquaint them with the real character of that 
nobleman, and give them some account of his country residence, 
which perhaps may not prove disagreeable.



Chapter VII. 
More particulars of the character of Lord Kingsborough. How he 
seduced the lady of a foreign nobleman (a Lady Valeria by 
name) and brought her to Ireland: his manner of treating her. 
Description of his fine seat at Rockingham, and of the curious 
seraglio he kept there.

Lord Kingsborough's father died when his Lordship was about 
twelve years old. He was then at Eton school, where he 
remained for some time afterwards, till he went to Oxford, 
and, upon his leaving this last place, made the tour of 
Europe, and returned when he was about twenty-two, in 
possession of a real estate worth 16,000l. a year, and woods 
and ready money to the amount of two hundred thousand pounds. 
In the course of his travels, his Lordship seduced the lady of 
a foreign nobleman, and persuaded her to elope with him to 
England, and from thence to Ireland, where he supported her 
with utmost magnificence and expense for two or three years, 
and though she was universally allow to be one of the finest 
vmmen in Europe, her charms were not sufficient to keep the 
inconstant heart of Lord Kingsborough attached to her. His 
intrigues and amours became too conspicuous to be concealed 
from her; and she only desired Lord Kingsborough would permit 
her to retire to his country seat, where the might enjoy 
herself in those rural amusernents, which she delighted in; 
and that she would not attempt the least restraint on his 
pleasures.

This proposal was readily agreed to by his Lordship; for 
although the fervour of his passion was entirely abated for 
this agreeable lady, he treated, in every other respect, with 
all that decorum, politeness, and every other mark of 
distinction, that was due to her birth, rank and great 
accomplishments; and the place she chose for her retreat was 
Rockingham.

It is really a difficult task to attempt a description of this 
place. Lord Kingsborough's father had expended upwards of 
sixty thousand pounds in building there one of the finest 
palaces in Europe, with suitable offices, and other 
conveniences. It is situated in the middle of a most 
delightful country, and nature has been most profuse in her 
bounties to this enchanting spot, than to any other perhaps in 
the universe. Through the gardens runs a large river of the 
finest water, which discharges itself into a large lake, 
surrounded by several high hills, covered with pines, oak, and 
other woods, for several miles: which affords a prospect 
diversified and beautiful. The lake is several miles broad, 
and on it his Lordship has built two very elegant ships of war 
in miniature, and by art has raised an island or peninsula, 
the exact model of Gibraltar. In the summer season he 
frequently entertains his company on this fine sheet of water, 
and while the ships regularly besiege this little garrison, 
which is defended by a number of small pieces of cannon, which 
are very regularly and beautifully played off in its defence, 
the music, warlike instruments, fireworks, &c. form sounds and 
diversions that are perfectly enchanting.

To this paradise Lord Kingsborough conveyed Miss Faulkner, and 
on her arrival introduced her to Lady Valeria, (which was the 
name of the foreign lady already mentioned) who received her 
with every mark of respect and esteem, as from the great 
complaisance, which his Lordship showed to his fair stranger, 
this lady concluded Miss Faulkner was more than a common 
acquisition to the number of those unfortunate beauties, who 
had visited this mansion during her residence here.

You must not be surprised, gentle reader, at the mention of 
numbers, that had visited this mansion of seduction and 
prostitution; for numbers, indeed, of innocent pure virgins 
were here frequently sacrificed, and robbed of their 
innocence. For such was the unbridled passion of this 
unfortunate nobleman, that he constantly kept in his pay a 
whole troop of abandoned, profligate old women, who travelled, 
in different disguises, through all parts of the kingdom, and 
wherever they saw any prey worthy his Lordship's appetite, 
they immediately began their plan of seduction and 
procuration, for which purpose they were constantly furnished 
with large sums of money, and never differed about the price; 
but if that failed, they reported their endeavours, with a 
description of the object, when his Lordship either personally 
attended, or sent most proper or capable persons on the 
enterprise. By these means, and the fruits of his own 
industry, he never wanted a variety of these victims, who were 
seduced to this house, and there dressed in all the gaudy pomp 
that can dazzle the weak minds of such innocents.

And for the preparing of these unfortunates for his embraces, 
a like number of infernal matrons constantly attended in his 
house, who gave them such instructions and pious documents, 
that his Lordship had no more trouble than he desired in the 
accomplishment of his unbounded wishes; nor was it uncommon 
with him, in one night, to debauch two or three of these 
deluded wretches, who, from the treatment they at first 
received on their initiation, fine clothes, delicacies, and 
the pleasures with which they were intoxicated, imagined they 
were landed in paradise.

Their pleasures were, however, of a very short duration, for 
his Lordship very seldom visited any of them a second night, 
unless it were an uncommon beauty indeed, and then the 
continuance of a week was an amazing proof of his constancy: 
such of them however, as were afraid or ashamed to return to 
their friends or parents, he sent to a seraglio, which he 
kept, for that purpose, on the borders of the beautiful lake 
above mentioned. To others of them he gave considerable sums 
of money, so much at least as generally contented them for 
what they had lost; and many he had married to his servants 
and tenants, to whom he generally gave two or three hundred 
pounds as a portion, which, with his former knowledge of the 
bride, was an ample fortune.

It may be supposed, that his Lordship kept this seraglio for 
his own gratification, as it was supported at a prodigious 
expense. There seldom were less than fifty or sixty 
unfortunate girls contained in it; all of whom were attended 
and supplied, not only with all the necessaries, but all the 
luxuries of life; a number of women servants were kept to wait 
on them; and as the greater part of them were generally 
pregnant, physicians, apothecaries, and midwives, were also 
constantly employed, nor was the smallest necessary or 
convenience wanting to any of them This is mentioned in common 
justice to his Lordship, for though he constantly visited and 
inspected into the management of this seraglio, when in the 
country, he was seldom or never known to trespass on the 
sanctity of the place, or any of its inhabitants, after they 
had once taken up their residence there.

What then, will the reader say, could induce him to keep up 
such an expensive establishment? It was really and truly for 
the accommodation of his friends. His Lordship spent the 
greatest part of the year in the country, and, besides a 
number of gentlemen that occasionally visited at his house, he 
gave a public hunt once every month, and sometimes once every 
week in the season. His general rule was to invite every 
gentleman that hunted to dine with him, and consequently to 
sleep at his house; and as to those that he was more 
intimately acquainted with, or chose to compliment, he 
generally asked them if they chose a bedfellow, which being 
usually answered in the affirmative, a servant was ordered to 
attend his guest to the Seraglio, whew he might choose for 
himself; and when he had made his option, he returned to his 
Lordship, and the object of his choice was immediately 
conveyed to his Lordship's house; and when the gentleman 
retired, he found the lady of his choice in bed, perhaps 
dreading, instead of impatiently expecting, his arrival: and 
according to his Lordship's particular esteem, or as a 
distinguished mark of respect, every gentleman had a right of 
precedency in this visit to the seraglio.

In further vindication of his Lordship's character, it will 
here be also necessary to observe, that none of those ladies 
durst, upon any account whatever, accept of the smallest 
favour, gratuity, or present, from any of his Lordship's 
guests, on pain of immediate expulsion, unless any of his 
friends became enamoured of his bed-fellow, and delved to take 
her into keeping, which if the lady relished, his Lordship 
always consented to, and she was directly struck out of the 
books of the convent, and sent to such quarters as her lover 
thought proper. As to the consequences of those nocturnal 
embraces, his Lordship, as has been observed, employed every 
needful assistance; and the number of children, annually 
produced from this intercourse, were carefully sent to proper 
nurses, and maintained at his Lordship's expense, to the great 
benefit of the community, and the increase of his Majesty's 
subjects.

However extravagant this account of Lord Kingsborough may 
appear, to those who have not before heard of or known his 
Lordship, it is literally true, and in this very situation was 
his houshold at the time Miss Faulkner arrived there, but as 
we do not intend to introduce her into the seraglio, or put 
her on the same footing with the wretched medley already 
mentioned, we will defer what farther remains to be said of 
her reception at Rockingham, to the next chapter.



Chapter VIII. 
Triumphs over the virtue, as he had formerly done over the 
heart, of Miss Faulkner, who is delivered of a boy, that soon 
after dies. His Lordship and our heroine return to Dublin.

Notwithstanding the depravity of Lord Kingsborough's fancy, no 
man had a higher notion of delicacy, in his sense of the word, 
that is, he placed his highest felicity in the certainty of 
his being a real object of desire with those he most ardently 
wished to enjoy; nor would he on any consideration force the 
inclinations, or use the least compulsion in the gratification 
of his wishes. When, therefore, he happened to encounter any 
young woman above the common class, which was his particular 
delight, his whole study was to please, and render himself 
perfectly agreeable, which he thought absolutely necessary to 
render his enjoyment perfectly complete; nor had he, in all 
his various adventures, ever met with an object, in every 
respect, so suited to his fancy and taste as Miss Faulkner: 
and, as he had now reduced the unfortunate Lady Valeria to the 
detested office of assisting or administering to his 
debaucheries, we may readily conclude, that every invention, 
every species of luxurious entertainment and mode of 
intoxication, was employed to amuse, delight, and subdue the 
present object of his flame. The first and second day, after 
her arrival, were spent in various amusements and sports; and 
although Miss Faulkner could not but foresee and apprehend the 
consequences of her present situation, yet she could not help 
admiring and approving the delicacy and politeness of his 
Lordship's conduct, and she was lost between apprehension, 
love, and admiration; for Lord Kingsborough had in his 
address, what some poet finely describes

"---- that prevailing gentle art, 
That can with a resistless charm impart  
The loosest wishes to the chastest heart; 
Raise such a conflict, kindle such a fire, 
Between declining virtie and desire, 
Till the poor vanquished maid dissolves away, 
In dreams all night, in sighs and tears all day," 
[John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, An Allusion to Horace; 
the Tenth Satire of the First Book. ]

Lord Kingsborough was a perfect mster of this art, and had too 
often succeeded in his designs by the practice of it, when he 
knew all other methods must fail him. He was convinced this 
mode of address was absolutely necessary with women of 
education, and would prevail, where rusticity, broad 
expression and forward obtrusion, would give offence, and 
render the transgressor odious and detested.

By such insinuations he had now entirely subdued the heart of 
Miss Faulkner, so that she only breathed, or rather sighed, 
languishment and desire. The second night after her arrival, 
he was determined to grant her no further respite; and 
accordingly gave orders for every preparation for the bridal 
bed, except the formal ceremony of marriage, which he utterly 
detested. He had requested Lady Valeria to be particularly 
attentive in her instructions, and also in administering a 
certain potion of such ingredients, as would oblige his 
charming victim to obey Love's first summons.

Miss Faulkner was accordingly conveyed to a magnificent 
chamber, adorned and furnished with everything that could 
please the most refined taste and imagination, but

Nor Hymen, nor the graces here preside, 
Nor Juno to befriend the blooming bride; 
But fiends with funeral bands the process led, 
And furies waited at the genial bed. 
OVID [Metamorphoses Bk VI ]

These lines are so immediately applicable to the infernal 
wretches employed on the present, and many prior occasions, 
that they must convey a picture of those fiends who led the 
devoted Miss Faulkner to this scene of her ruin, but she had 
no time, or opportunity for reflection. Lord Kingsborough 
immediately followed the obnoxious train, and no sooner was 
the undressed and in bed, than she found herself in the arms 
of her dearly beloved Lord.

The banquet was too delicious to relate--

So powerful, so inexhaustible were the charms of Miss 
Faulkner, that his Lordship's flame was rather increased than 
diminished by enjoyment; and the next day they arose, only to 
recount those ecstatic raptures which words cannot express; 
but which they, the happy pair, panted to renew. In short, 
days, nights, weeks and months passed in this Elysium, and 
Lord Kingsborough not only thought, but was convinced, he was 
the happiest amongst mortals, and to fill up the measure of 
his delight, Miss Faulkner in due time declared her pregnancy. 
There was now no bounds to his Lordship's happiness. The 
moment he was acquainted with this circumstance, he ordered a 
complete set of the most valuable jewels to be made, which he 
presented to the idol of his soul, and for upwards of nine or 
ten months, during which they remained in the country, this 
inconstant Lord never once transgressed the bounds of 
fidelity; so devoted was he to the charms of Miss Faulkner.

About the end of ten months Miss Faulkner was delivered of a 
fine boy, to the great joy of this noble family, which however 
lived but a few days. Miss Faulkner had suffered inexpressible 
torture in her labour, and her life was in imminent danger for 
several days, during which Lord Kingsborough could hardly be 
kept a moment out of her room, and was like a frantic man 
during her illness. The death of the child was a mortal blow 
to the happiness of both its parents. They were both 
inconsolable, and on the re-establishment of Miss Faulkner's 
health, his Lordship resolved to return to Dublin, which sthe 
readily agreed to, as the country had now lost all its charms 
for her, nor could she endure the place where she had lost the 
tender pledge of her virgin love.



Chapter IX. 
His Lordship persuades the celebrated Miss Johnson to elope 
with him. Is pursued by the lady's father. Account of the 
rencounter between his Lordship and that gentleman.

Lord Kingsborough and Miss Faulkner returned to Dublin in the 
winter, and took up their residence in his Lordship's house; 
and as it was now publicly known, that his Lordship had this 
fair prize in keeping, he did not scruple to appear with her 
in all public places; and the splendour of her dress and 
equipage, added to the beauties of her person, created her 
numberless enemies amongst her own sex. Indeed his Lordship 
was profuse and lavish in his favours to her; and it was 
currently reported and believed, that he had not expended less 
than ten thousand pounds in clothes and jewels for her person 
in the space of one year.

In the meridian of her glory, and at a time, when she and 
everybody imagined that his Lordship was more firmly attached 
to her than ever, an incident happened that blasted all her 
hopes and enjoyments.

About this time it was that Lord Kingsborough became 
acquainted with the celebrated Miss Johnson, daughter to a 
gentleman of fortune, and much esteemed in the polite world. 
Miss Johnson was deemed one of the greatest beauties of the 
age, and one of the most accomplished women. No sooner had his 
Lordship seen her, than he entertained some hopes of adding 
her to the number of his conquests--nor was he long in 
suspense. Miss Johnson was grown to the age of two and twenty, 
and as her father had lived very gaily and expensively, he 
could not afford his daughter a fortune, suitable to the 
expectations her rank in life and personal charms flattered 
her with. She was amorous and sprightly, and with very little 
solicitation agreed to elope with Lord Kingsborough, which she 
did a few days afterwards, in broad day, and in presence of 
some hundreds of spectators; and the elopement was performed 
in the following manner.

Her father's house was immediately adjacent to one of the most 
public walks, or places of resort, in the metropolis, and it 
was previously agreed on between Miss Johnson and Lord 
Kingsborough, that he should order his equipage to attend near 
the walks that afternoon; that he should appear about five 
o'clock, and as soon as he saw her approach, he was to get 
into his chariot, and that she should follow and immediately 
drive off, all which was executed as agreed on. And although 
her father saw her go into Lord Kingsborough's chariot, he was 
not able to prevent their escape, his Lordship having as usual 
ordered his postilions to drive as fast as the horses could 
go; and before Miss Johnson's father could get his horses 
ready to pursue them, they had, by taking cross roads and 
travelling most part of the night, eluded his search.

They at length arrived at an inn about thirty miles from town, 
where, without without any ceremony, they stripped and went to 
bed, totally indifferent about what the world might say them, 
where we shall leave them, to, indulge a few hours only, and 
return to Miss Johnson's father, who never stopped riding the 
whole night, and having got intelligence of the fugitives in 
many places on the road, he at length came to the very house 
where they were in bed.

This gentleman had been an officer of distinction in the army, 
and though now advanced in years, was a man of spirit, and 
extremely tenacious of the honour of his family; and though 
attended but with one man, he was determined to oblige Lord 
Kingsborough to repair the injury he had done his daughter, by 
instantly marrying her: for this he put a case of loaded 
pistols in his pockets, and while Lord Kingsborough's servants 
were regaling themselves after their fatigue, Mr Johnson found 
out the very room where his Lordship lay, and having suddenly 
forced open the door, he found his Lordship and his daughter, 
in love's closest fierce embrace.

The sight of so unexpected and unwelcome a visitor roused Lord 
Kingsborough, when Mr Johnson presented a pistol to his 
breast, and swore vehemently, that he would that instant blow 
his Lordship's brains out, if he did not immediately rise, and 
restore the honour of his family, by marrying his daughter. 
Lord Kingsborough in vain expostulated with the enraged Mr J--
-- for a few minutes, and what might have happened is hard to 
determine, if one of his Lordship's servants, an old faithful 
Swiss, who had lived with him some years, had not at that 
moment rushed into the room, and presented a blunderbuss to Mr 
Johnson's head, swearing, in his turn, that he would blow his 
brains out, if he did not permit his Lord to rise and dress. 
This gave his Lordship some time to think, when he assured Mr 
Johnson that if he would go out of the room until he dressed, 
he would wait on him immediately. The honest Swiss obliged Mr 
Johnson to comply with this proposal; and having withdrawn 
into another room, Lord Kingsborough followed him directly, 
after assuring Miss Johnson that he would not give her up, nor 
suffer any violence to be offered her by her father, or any 
other person, at the peril of his life. As soon as Lord 
Kingsborough entered the room, where Mr Johnson waited for 
him, Mr Johnson asked his Lordship, whether he intended to 
marry his daughter, to which his Lordship replied, It was the 
very first time he had ever thought about it, and whatever his 
intentions might be on that head, he was determined that 
compulsion should not influence them. He did not attempt to 
justify his conduct with respect to his daughter, but that he 
was not to be intimidated either by force or menaces. Upon 
which, Mr Johnson asked his Lordship, if his pistols were 
ready? and his Lordship having answered in the affirmative, Mr 
Johnson stood on the other side of the room, and fired one of 
his pistols at Lord Kingsborough  which having missed him, his 
Lordship declined his fire, but told Mr J---- that he hoped he 
was convinced he was not to be bullied, or compelled into any 
reparation for what had passed between his daughter and him. 
He vowed the greatest regard for her, and added, that he could 
not be provoked to offer any violence to the parent of one so 
dear to him; and then begged Mr Johnson would return home, and 
wait a few days for the result of their future progress. 

Mr Johnson found that Lord Kingsborough was a man of the most 
undaunted courage, equally cool, enterprising, and resolute, 
and that force would not do with him, and after endeavouring 
to extort a promise of marriage from his Lordship, which he 
utterly declined or refused to give, and seeing all his 
Lordsip's servants armed, and in readiness, he found it would 
be in vain to attempt the recovery of his daughter, and was 
therefore obliged to depart without her. On Lord 
Kingsborough's return to Miss Johnson, he found her in the 
arms of two or three women servants in fits, and absolutely 
deprived of her senses; for when she heard the report of the 
pistol, which her father had fired, she was certain that 
either her Lord Kingsborough or her father was killed, nor 
could she be persuaded of the contrary, until the return of 
Lord Kingsborough, whose voice was like a cordial to her 
spirits, and helped to revive her. His Lordship convinced her 
that her father was returned home, and that they were both 
unhurt. This account of what had passed perfectly restored 
her; she soon recovered her former vivacity, and they set out 
in search of new adventures; where we shall leave them, and 
return to the afflicted and deserted Miss Faulkner. 



Chapter X. 
His Lordship, with his new paramour, sets out for Paris. 
Dreadful effect which which this incident has upon Miss 
Faulkner, who immediately sets out for London.

The elopement of so conspicuous a character as Miss Johnson 
with Lord Kingsborough, and in so public a manner, could not 
long remain a secret, nor was Miss Faulkner one of the last 
that heard of it, for early the next morning, Mr Kingsborough, 
a brother of his Lordship's, called upon her, and in the 
greatest hurry and confusion told her the whole story; and 
added, that he feared his brother's life was in the most 
imminent danger, as Mr Johnson had the night before pursued 
his Lordship, with a party of men all armed; and that, as he 
knew the temper and resolution of both parties, he concluded, 
that many lives were likely to be lost on both sides; but 
could not learn what route they had taken. He, however, 
summoned all his own servants, and several of his Lordship's, 
and immediately set out in quest of them.

In this melancholy condition was our fair sufferer left, and 
all her hopes and enjoyments blasted by this fatal adventure. 
She really loved Lord Kingsborough, and the apprehensions she 
was under for his life, for some time, engaged all her 
thoughts and reflections. But when she considered, that he had 
deserted her for another, without the least fault to be 
attributed to her, that his affections were alienated from 
her, that she was now left destitute without any means of 
support, and despised and rejected by Mr Paragraph, on whom 
she originally depended; resentment, jealousy, and despair, 
alternately seized her, and she was reduced almost to 
distraction; nor had she, for three whole days, heard one 
syllable of what became of Lord Kingsborough, or the detested 
companion of his flight.

On the fourth day, however, his Lordship's brother returned, 
and delivered her a letter from her Lord, acquainting her, 
that business of importance obliged him to leave the kingdom, 
and that in a few days he intended to be in Paris; that as the 
time of his return was altogether uncertain, he had given his 
brother directions in what manner to provide for her, and that 
she might ever depend on his friendship and sincerest regards.

Every word in this letter was a death wound to the tender 
heart of Miss Faulkner, nor could she be prevailed on to pay 
the least regard to the future provision that was intended for 
her, and proposed at that time by Lord Kingsborough's brother. 
Her case was truly pitiable; and though this young gentleman 
was, by no means, of so generous or humane a disposition as 
his brother, yet he was sensibly affected with the real 
anguish, grief and despair, which were conspicuously settled 
in every feature of her lovely face. After many proposals that 
were made to her, she was firmly resolved not to remain in 
that kingdom, where she was suffered so much public disgrace; 
and she declared her intention of setting out immediately for 
London: upon which Mr Kingsborough furnished her with bills to 
the amount of 300l, which was all she would accept of, and 
only some part of her clothes and jewels; and with this 
pittance the arrived in London in a few days, very much 
dejected in her spirits, and in a very poor state of health.

Certain it is, that if this separation had happened in the 
immediate presence of Lord Kingsborough, or had he not been so 
critically circumstanced at that time, that he was really 
obliged to leave Ireland, the generosity of his own heart, and 
the great regard which he had for Miss Faulkner, would have 
induced him to make an ample settlement on her for her life, 
as he had done for others, who were not, by any means so well 
entitled to it as she was. But, at the pressing solicitation 
of his brother, and many other of his friends, he was 
prevailed on to make a tour through France and Italy, to avoid 
any further mischief, and until the storm raised by this last 
adventure should be a little blown over. He therefore desired 
his brother to make only a temporary provision for this lady, 
until his return, not in the least suspecting that her spirit 
of resentment would so suddenly operate, or determine her 
resolutions until his return.



Chapter XI. 
His Lordship receives a challenge from Colonel Johnson, the 
young lady's brother. Meets the Colonel at Dublin, according 
to appointment. They come to an explanation, and part without 
fighting.

During this transaction, Colonel Johnson, the brother of Miss 
Johnson, was in London; but Lord Kingsboroughh had not been 
many days at Paris, when he received a letter from Colonel 
Johnson, in which the Colonel insisted, that Lord Kingsborough 
should, immediately upon receipt of that letter, return to 
Ireland, where he would meet him, and expect the usual 
satisfaction, for the injury done his sister. Miss Johnson was 
present when Lord Kingsborough received this letter, knew her 
brother's writing, and immediately suspected the contents, 
which dreadfully alarmed her; for she dearly loved the 
Colonel; and it is natural to suppose Lord Kingsborough was 
equally dear to her. She therefore exerted all her influence 
with Lord Kingsborough to decline the challenge, as she had 
every reason to dread its consequences; but all she could urge 
was ineffectual. His Lordship represented to her the folly of 
declining the interview; that he knew the Colonel to be a man 
of courage and resolution, and that if his Lordship could be 
poltroon enough to refuse the meeting he desired, they must 
expect he would pursue them to the most distant part of the 
globe; that a meeting was therefore absolutely necessary, and 
that he was determined at every event to give him an interview 
as soon as possible; but at the same time pledged his faith to 
Miss Johnson that he would, by every means consistent with his 
honour, avoid doing her brother any bodily hurt. This point 
settled, it was next determined, that Miss Johnson should 
remain at Paris until his Lordship's return, or until she 
heard the event of this dreadful meeting, as she trembled at 
the thoughts of seeing her brother more than at death itself. 
Now it was, that she began seriously to reflect on her folly, 
and the disgrace she had brought upon a family, before 
unblemished, and valued for their unspotted honour; which, 
together with her separation from Lord Kingsborough, whom she 
never expected to see again, filled her mind with the most 
gloomy apprehensions.

Lord Kingsborough then retired to another room, where he made 
a will so far as it respected Miss Johnson, wherein he charged 
all his estates with the payment of twenty thousand pounds to 
Miss Johnson in six months after his decease. With this paper 
sealed up he returned to Miss Johnson, and desired she would 
take care of it, until she heard further from him; and after 
giving her unlimited credit at his banker's for her present 
occasions, he took the most tender and affectionate leave of 
her, and set out from Paris that very afternoon, of which he 
gave the Colonel notice by express.

Lord Kingsborough arrived in Dublin a few days before Colonel 
Johnson; and when he was informed of the precipitate flight of 
Miss Faulkner, and the poor provision which had been made for 
her by his brother, he was touched to the very soul with 
compunction and concern for her; and when he found, that all 
enquiries after her were ineffectual, and that she had not 
left any directions where she might be wrote to, or sent 
after, and that she had not taken one half of either her 
clothes or jewels, he could not sufficiently admire her spirit 
and generosity, nor could he help approving her resentment at 
his inconstancy and infidelity. He determined, however, to use 
all possible endeavours to find out her residence in London; 
and as soon as the important business, in which he was then 
engaged, should be settled, he resolved to reward both her 
generosity and sufferings.

As soon as Colonel Johnson arrived in Dubha, he sent notice to 
Lord Kingsborough that he should expect to meet his Lordship 
next morning at an appointed place a few miles out of town, 
and that he would be attended by Lord A----, a particular 
acquaintance of Lord Kingsborough's, who was punctual to this 
appointment, attended by Mr Kingsborough his brother. As soon 
as these champions were met, Lord Kingsborough desired to know 
Colonel Johnson's commands for him, upon which the Colonel 
asked his Lordship, if he intended to marry his sister. Lord 
Kingsborough replied, he verily believed he never would marry, 
and that a thought or a word on that subject had never passed 
between him and his sister; that he did not mean to throw the 
least reflection on Miss Johnson, but that, in his own 
vindication, he thought it then particularly necessary to 
declare, that he never had, nor ever would make any promise of 
that nature to any woman whatsoever; that if he had made any 
such promise to Miss Johnson, compulsion was not necessary to 
induce him to perform it; but as he had never made her any 
such promise, and as it never had been mentioned between them, 
he did not hold himself in honour bound to any such 
engagement, and therefore would not give the most distant hope 
of it. And, after some other conversation on the subject, his 
Lordship jocularly asked the Colonel, if any one of his 
Lordship's sisters (and he had then three, very fine young 
ladies) should take it in her head to elope with him, without 
previously obtaining his promise of marrying her, whether he 
thought his Lordship would be mad enough to insist on his 
fighting him for indulging her; and then declared, upon his 
honour, that he would not. His Lordship then very judiciously 
remarked, that there was a wide difference between seducing a 
young lady under promises of that nature, and without; that he 
did not think either the laws of the land, or even the laws of 
honour, required so great a sacrifice as a man's life, for 
flying with a charming girl, with her own free will and 
consent; and that if any man was to take one of his sisters on 
these conditions, he would not think himself in any degree 
obliged to call her lover to any account whatsoever for it: 
but, on the other hand, if any of them should be seduced under 
false promises, that he would, at the peril of his life, 
oblige her seducer to perform such promises as were made her, 
previous to her elopement, and that was as much as the laws of 
either justice or honour required.

Lord Kingsborough had given but too many proofs of his 
courage, to suppose he made use of these arguments from 
motives of fear: on the contrary, he then assured Colonel 
Johnson, that if he was not satisfied with his principles, or 
if he thought that he was guilty of any sinister or unfair 
dealing with Miss J----, he was ready to give him whatever 
satisfaction he desired; but that his regard for the Colonel's 
personal safety as well as his own, (as the fate of bullets 
was very uncertain) obliged him to give his opinion, and state 
the case in the manner before-mentioned, and he requested the 
Colonel would duly consider it, before they engaged in so 
serious a business as they were prepared for.

Colonel J---- was as remarkable for the excellence of his 
understanding and his good sense, as he was for his generosity 
and courage, and was struck with the force of his Lordship's 
arguments, as well as his open, candid behaviour; and Lord A--
-- being also strongly of Lord opinion; the Colonel declared, 
he did not think himself justified either in attempting Lord 
Kingsborough's life, or risking his own, from what had 
happened; but with great complacency and good humour told Lord 
Kingsborough that his father was inconsolable for the loss of 
his daughter, whom he loved to distraction, and that he would 
esteem it as a favour, if his Lordship would restore her to 
her disconsolate parents; but that, for his own part, he would 
never speak to her, or take any notice of her. This request 
Lord Kingsborough thought himself obliged to comply with; and 
thus the combatants parted, giving signal proofs of their good 
sense, as well as of the most undaunted courage.



Chapter XII.  
In his return to Paris, his Lordship takes London in his way, 
where he endeavours, though in vain, to find out Miss 
Faulkner. Brings Miss Johnson from Paris to London, where she 
cuts a very brilliant figure. 

Lord Kingsborough had no sooner finished this important 
business, than he set out for London, in his return to Paris, 
determined, if possible, to recover Miss Faulkner, and to 
restore Miss Johnson to her parents, agreeable to the promise 
he had made the Colonel. With this intention, on his arrival 
in London, emissaries of various kinds were employed and 
dispatched through all parts of the town, and several days 
were spent in fruitless enquiries for our heroine. She had 
taken lodgings in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor Square, the 
most retired and private part of the town; and being an entire 
stranger, without one single acquaintance, she lived in the 
most frugal manner with a widow lady, to whose house she had 
been recommended; and seldom stirred out of doors but in her 
company, sometimes to the play, and at other times to take a 
walk in Hyde Park; and in this obscurity she had passed 
several months, so that it was almost impossible to find out 
her retreat. Lord Kingsboroughh had spent a whole week in 
London, without receiving the least account of her; he 
continued several persons in employ for the same purpose, 
during his absence, and set out for Paris.

We must not, however, too hastily conclude, that Lord 
Kingsborough's immediate return to Paris, proceeded from the 
violence of his passion for Miss Johnson, or that it was in 
preference to the pleasure the discovery of Miss Faulkner 
would have given him. It was quite the reverse. Ambition 
prompted his Lordship more than love, in his adventure with 
the former. He never entertained for her any of that real 
tenderness and regard, which he felt for Miss Faulkner, and 
now that she appeared lost to him, all his former passion for 
this lovely fugitive revived with additional ardour, and the 
apprehensions he was under lest any fatal accident had 
happened to her, filled his mind with a concern and anxiety 
which he never before felt, and he was resolved to recover her 
at any expense or trouble, on his return to London.

These were his principal inducements for immediately setting 
out for Paris before he had found her; and the promise he had 
made Colonel Johnson to restore his sister, was another motive 
for his speedy return to that lady. She was equally rejoiced 
at his safety, and the attention, which he paid her, in so 
suddenly removing her fears and apprehensions; but after a few 
days, when he acquainted her with the promise he had made to 
her brother, she was confounded, and touched with the severest 
remorse.

Lord Kingsborough however assured her, that the Colonel had 
given him his word of honour, that she should meet with the 
kindest reception from her parents, and that not a syllable of 
what had passed would ever be mentioned to her, provided she 
returned to them immediately; and to convince her that these 
were the sentiments of her father, he advised her to write a 
penitential letter to him, and request an answer directed to 
London, where they should receive it on their return to 
Ireland, as they would leave Paris in a few days.

Miss Johnson was none of those inflexible ladies, that 
languish out the remainder of their lives, and die of broken 
hearts for the loss of their lovers. When she found there was 
no alternative, and that Lord Kingsborough was determined to 
part with her, she consoled herself, wrote as he desired to 
her father, and after a few days spent in viewing all the 
curiosities at Paris, set out for London, as cheerful and 
happy as the nature of her situation would permit.

On their arrival in London, Lord Kingsborough resolved to take 
separate apartments for Miss Johnson as well to keep up some 
appearance in her favour, as to prevent the further resentment 
of Miss Faulkner, if he should be so happy as to find her. 
Elegant lodgings were accordingly taken for Miss Johnson in 
Pall Mall, where a handsome equipage was ordered to attend 
her, with two footmen in her own livery, and as Lord 
Kingsborough had purchased her a great many very rich and 
elegant dresses at Paris, she cut a very conspicuous figure. 
This, his Lordship knew, was her darling passion, and he was 
determined to indulge it to any excess, in order to divert her 
from more pensive reflections. She was now in as high spirits 
as ever. She had received the most pressing letter from her 
father to return home, and that everything should be buried in 
utter oblivion; but she could not think of leaving London, 
till she had seen all the public diversions, and indulged her 
natural vanity in the display of her charming person, dress 
and equipage.

The first night she appeared at the play, she drew the 
attention of numbers of both sexes. She was really an elegant 
figure, and the richness of her clothes and jewels, together 
with the novelty of her face, attracted most of the bloods and 
bucks from all parts of the house, amongst whom was a young 
gentleman from Ireland, who had seen her some years before in 
Dublin, and knew her brother and family; but, having been out 
of that kingdom for some years, had not heard anything of her 
adventure with Lord Kingsborough, who was then also to the 
house, but purposely avoided going into the same box with Miss 
Johnson for the reasons already mentioned. Mr Fleming, for 
that was the gentleman's name, who was now particularly struck 
with Miss Johnson's figure and appearance, seeing her alone 
and unattended, resolved immediately to make himself known to 
her: but as this accidental meeting is of some consequence to 
Miss Johnson and cannot be related in this chapter, we shall 
defer it to the next, that the reader and author may have a 
little respite, which one of them, at least, is this moment in 
need of.



Chapter XIII. 
Miss Johnson makes an impression on the heart of one Mr 
Fleming, an Irish gentleman of family and fortune, and manages 
matters so well, that she draws him into the holy bands of 
wedlock, without his once being sensible of what had passed 
between her and Lord Kingsborough.

In the foregoing chapter it was observed, that Mr Fleming was 
very much struck with the beauty and elegance of Miss Johnson 
and that he resolved to approach her fair shrine. He did so, 
and was immediately recognized by her. Mr Fleming was a young 
gentleman of very genteel family and connections, and had 
frequently visited at her father's, when a student in the 
college of Dublin. He had just entered into possession of his 
paternal estate of the value of 1500l. a year, was but a few 
weeks returned to England from travels, and was, what may be 
called, an agreeable young fellow, and perfectly well dressed.

Mr Fleming was particularly pleased with the affable and 
polite reception he met with from Miss Johnson, nor was her 
vanity less gratified by the assiduity and profound respect of 
her visitor, so that they became not only very intimate, but 
greatly delighted with each other's company; and as soon as 
the entertainment was over, Mr Fleming politely requested Miss 
Johnson would permit him to attend her home, which was readily 
granted.

When they had quitted the box, Miss Johnson requested Mr 
Fleming would call her servants who were in waiting, when he 
was very agreeably surprised with the appearance of two 
footmen in very elegant liveries, and an equipage finished in 
the very first taste, in which Mr Fleming was conveyed to Miss 
Johnson's lodgings.

It is here to be observed, that Lord Kingsborough took very 
early notice of the profound respect which Mr Fleming had 
shown to Miss Johnson at the playhouse, and enquired of some 
Irish gentlemen that were with him, who, and what Mr Fleming 
was, which being truly acquainted with, he was extremely 
pleased, as it would have given him the highest pleasure to 
promote this lady's happiness or preferment, and that too at 
any expense, provided he was once disengaged from her. He had 
promised to sup with her that very night, and had ordered a 
very elegant repast from Almack's, but lest his appearance 
might give Mr Fleming the least cause of suspicion, or 
interrupt what he ardently wished to promote, he went into the 
Shakespeare, and wrote a card to Miss Johnson excusing himself 
from supping with her, at the same time hinting that he knew 
the gentleman that attended her home, and desiring that she 
would make the best use of her time, until he should wait on 
her the next morning, and give her further instructions what 
part to act.

Miss Johnson was extremely well pleased with Mr Fleming's 
behaviour and conversation, and on the receipt of Lord 
Kingsborough's card, doubled her assiduity to charm him. 
Supper was immediately ordered; which was extremely elegant 
supplied with the first wines, and followed by a rich dessert. 
Mr Fleming was quite transported with the affability and 
sprightliness of Miss Johnson; and having stayed with her till 
after one in the morning, took the most respectful leave of 
her, having first obtained permission to attend her to the 
opera the next evening.

After the departure of Mr Fleming, Miss Johnson entered into a 
most strict examination of herself, her situation and 
circumstances, than she had ever before had either reflection 
or opportunity to do, and, upon full debate and deliberation, 
she found, that Mr Fleming was not totally disagreeable to 
her, that if the returned to her father, her adventure with 
Lord Kingsborough was already known, and would become more 
public, that she would not only be pointed at, and insulted by 
many of her own sex, whom she had formerly looked down upon, 
for their gravity and deformity; and that, in all human 
probability, she never should be able to get a husband in 
Ireland. All those weighty causes and considerations her 
thereunto moving; she was resolved instantly to subdue and 
vanquish Mr Fleming, and bring him into the holy bands of 
matrimony; and with this pious determination she went to 
sleep.

The next morning Lord Kingsborough waited on her to breakfast 
and being informed how matters went on the preceding night, 
that Mr Fleming was to attend her to the opera, and finally of 
her resolution to noose him; his Lordship was transported with 
her spirit and stratagem and to convince her of the great 
regard and esteem he entertained for her, called for the 
sealed paper, which he had delivered to her at Paris, opened 
it in her presence, and read to her the contents. Miss 
Johnson, who had been hitherto an utter stranger to the 
purport of this paper, which had been long in her custody, was 
astonished at the generosity of this noble Lord, and expressed 
her gratitude for this uncommon instance of his affection for 
her, His Lordship then declared to her, it was his solemn 
determination never to marry, but that as he had been 
accessary to a misfortune, which in the nature of things, and 
according to the notions of mankind, must affect her in her 
future prospects, he thought himself bound to repair any 
injury she had sustained through his means, in the best manner 
in his power; and therefore, assured her, that if the could 
prevail on Mr Fleming to marry her, he would instantly raise 
10,000l. and present it to her as a portion, suitable to her 
quality and merit. 

Miss Johnson could not be insensible of the greatness of his 
Lordship's generosity and goodness in this proposal, nor was 
she wanting in proper acknowledgements. It was then agreed, 
that his Lordship should visit her but seldom, and in as 
private a manner as possible, that if Mr Fleming, should make 
any declaration in her favour, she was to inform him, that the 
design of her present visit to London, was to receive a legacy 
of 10,000l. that had been left to her by a relation, who died 
in the East Indies, which she expected every hour to be paid 
her, and that as soon as she had settled that business, she 
intended to return to Ireland directly, but that her return 
there would afford her very little happiness, as her father 
insisted she should marry a person every way beneath, and 
disagreeable to her, though he was superior in point of 
fortune, and that she expected her brother every day in London 
to expedite her return.

This deep concerted scheme being thus planned, Lord 
Kingsborough and Miss Johnson parted equally pleased, and with 
mutual promises of confidence, advice, and every other 
assistance for completing their project.

Mr Fleming the next night, according to his appointment, 
attended Miss Johnson to the opera. She was now resolved to 
play off all her artillery upon this unsuspecting young 
gentleman, and her designs succeeded even beyond her 
expectations, for he became so violently enamoured of this 
artful adventurer, that, on the sixth day after their 
acquaintance, he made a formal declaration of his passion for 
her, which the received with the utmost seeming surprise and 
confusion and, agreeable to the plan that had been concerted, 
introduced her legacy, her father's cruelty, and her brother's 
appearance to enforce his commands.

These were stimulatives that Mr Fleming did not want, for he 
was really and bona fide in love with Miss Johnson and would 
probably have married her without once mentioning her fortune, 
as he knew her family, and doubted not but her father would 
give her a very genteel portion, if such a thing had taken 
place. But when he learned that she was in danger of being 
sacrificed to the embraces of a man obnoxious to her, and that 
she had 10,000l. totally independent, he thought it was 
madness to risk the chance of permitting her to return, until 
Hymen had made them inseparably one. In short, he became so 
importunate, and Miss Johnson became so pleased with his 
importunity, and so fearful of being noosed to the monster of 
her hatred, that in a few days after she was prevailed with to 
let Mr Fleming obtain a licence for their marrrage, the day of 
which was fixed, and everything ready for the union of this 
happy pair. Lord Kingsborough was no stranger to all these 
preparations; and, agreeable to the promise he had made his 
quondam fair, he procured the 10,000l. which he deposited in a 
banker's hands in her name; and delivered to her the banker's 
receipt for it. In the meantime Mr Fleming very generously had 
made a settlement of 500l. a year on Miss Johnson, payable out 
of his estates, in case the should survive him, which he 
produced to her, attended by his lawyer, and executed in her 
pretence, when she as generously delivered to him her banker's 
receipt for 10,000l; and the next day they were married in St. 
James's Church, immediately set out for Ireland, and arrived 
there perfectly happy in each other, where we shall now leave 
them to their future destiny, and return to Miss Faulkner, 
whom it is time to remember.



Chapter XIV. 
Lord Kingsborough cannot find out the place of Miss Faulkner's 
residence, but Miss Faulkner discovers that his Lordship is in 
town, and where he lives. Thinks the preparations for the 
intended nuptials between Mr Fleming and Miss Johnson were 
designed for the marriage of Lord Kingsborough to that lady. 
Is so overwhelmed with grief on the occasion. Falls into a 
dangerous fever, from which she is with great difficulty 
recovered.

It would be doing Lord Kingsborough the highest injustice to 
suppose, that the business of the foregoing chapter, however 
anxious he was to see it completed, diverted his attention 
from making the necessary enquiries after Miss Faulkner, for 
he was really as assiduous in his researches for her as ever, 
but to as little purpose; and though he used every means for 
discovering her, he never could obtain the least intelligence 
concerning her, which gave him the greatest uneasiness. Miss 
Faulkner was not, however, so great a stranger to his 
Lordship's residence, as she was to the true sentiments of his 
heart; for a few days after his arrival in London she saw one 
of his servants pass by the house she lodged in, which put her 
into such a tremor and surprise, that she was almost ready to 
faint. The lady of the house observed it and kindly enquired 
into the cause: but though Miss Faulkner answered her 
evasively, she was resolved to know whether his Lordship was 
in town or not, and for that purpose would have pursued the 
servant immediately, and watch where he went to, but was so 
affected at his sudden appearance, apprehending he might be in 
quest of her, that she had not power to stir, till he was 
quite out of her sight. Convinced however that, if his 
Lordship was in town, she should see him in some of the public 
places of resort, she that very night went to both playhouses 
and to the opera, but could not observe him. She therefore 
went the next night to Drury Lane, and there beheld her dear 
Lord in one of the side boxes. She was now seated in the 
gallery, and although she was so anxious to get sight of Lord 
K, she by no means intended to speak to him, or that he should 
see her. She therefore set a proper person to watch him from 
the playhouse home, and by that means soon found, that Miss 
Johnson was in London, where she resided, and the splendid 
manner in which she was kept, all which confirmed her in the 
opinion, that his Lordship was attached to her in the 
strongest manner, and that she held him by the firmest bonds 
of affection.

However mortifying this account was to Miss Faulkner, she had 
too much spirit, either to interrupt their enjoyment, or to 
upbraid Lord Kingsboroughh with his infidelity, and was 
resolved to bear it with fortitude and resignation. But as she 
had never seen Miss Johnson, she was now determined to indulge 
her curiosity, and, unfortunately for her, went to a house 
directly opposite to that lady's lodgings, the very morning 
she was to be married to Mr Fleming; where she waited her 
appearance with all that anxiety, agitation, and dread, which 
it is possible for a woman, in her situation, to entertain at 
the sight of her rival. Miss Faulkner had not been placed in 
the window opposite, above half an hour, when Miss Johnson 
appeared in all her charms and splendour, and dressed in the 
most costly and brilliant manner, as a bride. This was too 
much for Miss Faulkner to bear. She was ready to expire at the 
sight of this fatal beauty; and as her whole dress, as well as 
that of her servants, indicated her approaching nuptials, the 
doubted not, but Miss Johnson was on that very day to be made 
the happy Lady Kingsborough. But as we are generally very 
desirous to ascertain what, when proved, will give us the most 
poignant grief, she begged a servant belonging to the house 
she was in, to step over and ask one of her servants, if the 
lady was not going to be married; and being answered in the 
affirmative, the could not support the agonies of her soul any 
longer, but fainted into the arms of her informer, and 
relapsed so continually from one fit into another, that a 
physician was at length called, who pronounced her extremely 
ill; and ordering a chair, she was brought home to her 
lodgings, in a situation better conceived than described.

On her return home she was instantly put into bed, where she 
remained upwards of three weeks in a violent fever, and most 
of the time delirious, so that there were very little hopes of 
her recovery, and although the gentlewoman, in whose house she 
was, had the greatest regard for her, and they had been 
extremely intimate, Miss Faulkner had never hinted to her the 
least part of her history, nor acquainted her with her 
circumstances, and Miss Faulkner having always dressed very 
plain, though genteelly, and having lived with the greatest 
frugality, her hostess concluded that her finances were much 
lower than they really were, and began to be under great 
apprehensions, lest she should die in her house, and that she 
should have the physician, apothecary, and the more dreadful 
train of undertakers to pay, besides losing the money due to 
her for board and lodging. She therefore impatiently waited an 
opportunity of finding Miss Faulkner sufficiently in her 
senses to be spoke to on such a subject, which she at length 
obtained, and with great delicacy and discretion asked her if 
she had got any money in her drawers, as she was quite 
exhausted by the great expense of her long illness. This 
reminded our suffering heroine of what she had before entirely 
forgot or neglected. She therefore immediately gave her keys 
to Mrs Preston, for that was the good woman's name, and 
desired she would take whatever she wanted out of her drawers.

Mrs Preston had always behaved to Miss Faulkner with the 
greatest respect, and entertained a great esteem for her; but 
when she went to her drawers, in which the found very near 
300l. besides some jewels of value, and very rich clothes, she 
was quite confounded, and began to suspect that Miss Faulkner 
was a person of distinction, who had met with some 
misfortunes, which induced her to live in that obscurity; and 
was confirmed in this opinion from some expressions of that 
young lady's during her illness, mentioning her dear Lord, and 
other corroborative circumstances; so that when the doctor 
next visited his patient, she desired him to double his 
assiduity, for that she was a person of more consequence than 
he imagined; and having put five guineas into his hand, he was 
more confirmed in the belief of what the good woman urged, 
than he could have been by the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
without the like proof of his sincerity and veracity.

Whether this discovery contributed to the recovery of Miss 
Faulkner or not, we shall not determine; but certain it is, 
that Mrs Preston, as well as the doctor, afterwards attended 
with double diligence; and in less than a week, she was 
pronounced to be out of danger, though by no means perfectly 
recovered. It is now time to know what is become of Lord 
Kingsborough.



Chapter XV. 
Lord Kingsborough despairs of being able to find out Miss 
Faulkner; returns to Ireland, and dies of an apoplexy.

At the beginning of the foregoing chapter, we parted from Lord 
Kingsborough in the greatest concern at the many fruitless 
enquiries he had made after his fair fugitive; but had he 
known the situation, to which her anxiety and unextinguished 
love for him had reduced her, what would not his generous, 
sympathizing heart have suffered? It was her greatest 
misfortune, that he could not discover the place of her 
retreat; for had he then met with her, certain it is, he would 
have given her the most signal proofs of his love and esteem, 
and though he should not have been able to prevail with her to 
return with him to Ireland, and renew their intimacies, he 
would have made such an ample provision for her, as would have 
put her beyond the reach of those vicissitudes in life, which 
it would seem the fates had decreed the should pass through, 
before she should be rewarded for her truth, honour and 
virtue.

A whole month after the departure of Mr Fleming and his lady, 
Lord Kingsborough continued in London, in quest of Miss 
Faulkner; but finding all his enquiries ineffectual, he 
concluded she had not left Ireland, and in that belief, he 
then set out for that kingdom in hopes of getting some 
intelligence of her there.

On his arrival in Dublin, he sent privately to Mr, Paragraph's 
to know whether he could give any intelligence of Miss 
Faulkner; but that gentleman, with great concern declared, he 
had never seen or heard from her, since her elopement with 
Lord Kingsborough; soon after which his Lordship retired to 
his country seat, and was seized with an apoplectic fit, which 
ended his life and his intrigues in a few minutes.



Chapter XVI. 
Miss Faulkner meets, by mere accident, with Lady Valeria, who, 
in her way to France, where she intended to reside after Lord 
Kingsborough's death, spent a few days at London. Lady Valeria 
begins her interesting history. Her marriage to Count Valeria. 
Her first acquaintance with Lord Kingsborough, &c.

The first account that Miss Faulkner received of Lord 
Kingsborough's death, was from the public papers, which gave 
her the greatest concern; for, notwithstanding his Lordship's 
infidelity, and utter neglect of her, as she imagined, she 
still loved him to excess, and this so sudden and unexpected 
an account of his death, filled her with equal grief and 
surprise: and as she had not yet recovered her health, since 
her late indisposition, she relapsed, not into so dangerous or 
violent a distemper as the former, but into a settled 
melancholy and dejection of spirits, which reduced her almost 
to a skeleton, although she was extremely well attended by Mrs 
Preston, who used every means in her power to recover her, and 
treated her with great friendship and tenderness.

In this desponding situation was Miss Faulkner, when she went, 
one fine day, into Kensington Gardens, attended by Mrs 
Preston, for the benefit of the air, and a little exercise; 
and in the walks met Lady Valeria. They were equally surprised 
and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, and entered into the 
most familiar and interesting conversation; in the course of 
which, Lady Valeria acquainted Miss Faulkner with the whole 
progress of Miss Johnson's adventure with Lord Kingsborough, 
and her marriage with Mr Fleming, which greatly affected her. 
But when she was informed of the real sentiments of that noble 
Lord for herself, the uncommon pains he took to find her out 
both in London and Dublin, and the unhappiness he expressed at 
his disappointment, all her former love and esteem for him 
revived, and gave her such exquisite pain, that she could no 
longer support it, but fell as it were lifeless into the arms 
of Lady Valeria and Mrs Preston, who, with much difficulty, 
got her to the coach, which was waiting for them, and in which 
Lady Valeria accompanied them home, where she grew somewhat 
better, but was still overwhelmed with grief.

After some little refreshment, Lady Valeria used every means 
in her power to comfort Miss Faulkner, and convince her of the 
folly of her present dejection, that there were many who 
suffered much greater misfortunes and losses than she laboured 
under, of which she herself was an unhappy instance: and as 
they had always found the greatest satisfaction in each 
other's conversation; Miss Faulkner requested Lady Valeria to 
favour her with her history, which she had never heard, and 
she doubted not was extremely interesting; to which that 
agreeable Lady readily consented, as she knew it would 
entertain and divert her dejected friend, and at the same time 
convince her, that she was equally an object of of compassion, 
and more than an equal sufferer, through her own folly, and 
fatal love for Lord Kingsborough.

"My father," said this lady, "was one of the first rank of the 
nobility of Venice, and I being his only child, and heir to a 
prodigious estate, you may suppose no expense was spared on my 
education, and before I arrived at my fourteenth year, many 
persons of the most considerable rank and fortune paid their 
addresses to me, and made proposals to my father, for the 
honour of his alliance. I was, without vanity, one of the 
greatest beauties in that gay city, and as much esteemed for 
my wit, lively conversation, and good nature, as for those 
acquired accompliments, music, painting, drawing, &c. which, 
together with the immense possessions that were to descend to 
me, the high rank my father held in the state, and the 
antiquity of our family, made all the Venetian nobility vie 
with each other in the magnificence of those diversions and 
entertainments, which were daily prepared for me, and for 
which that country is more remarkable than any other ih 
Europe. But in the whole crowd of my admirers, there was none 
that ever made the least impression on my heart: all were 
equally indifferent to me. My father was, however, extremely 
desirous of having me married, and by himself and my mother 
had several times requested I would acquaint them, who it was, 
in the number of my suitors, that appeared most agreeable to 
me, or I should like best for a husband, as they declared they 
would not in the least influence my choice, provided it should 
be any of the nobility of unblemished honour; but I assured 
them, with great truth, that they were all equally indifferent 
to me, and that I should be solely governed by their advice.

"My dear parents loved me to dotage, and this condescension, 
as they deemed it, so affected then, that they repeatedly 
assured me their sole happiness depended on seeing me the wife 
of some noble lord, whose quality and accomplishments would 
reward my virtue and filial obedience; but that they were 
advanced in years, and could not be easy until my happiness 
was completed. My father, therefore, informed me, that he had 
the greatest opinion of the honour and dignity of Count 
Valeria, a nobleman of the first Venetian family, and although 
his fortune was not by any means equal to the possessions that 
would devolve to me, he was assured his gratitude, for the 
double advantage conferred upon him, would insure my felicity, 
and his attention to please me in everything I desired.

"Count Valeria had been for some time in the number of my 
admirers; and though he was then near forty years old, he was 
perfectly agreeable in his person, had the most engaging 
conversation, and was highly commended and respected for his 
probity and benevolence in the many important stations, which 
he had filled in the state and in the senate; and as I had not 
the least pre-engagement or particular regard for any other 
person, and was extremely desirous to obey and oblige my 
dearest parents, I readily consented to receive his addresses, 
as the person intended for my husband. The joy, which this 
condescension gave my father, is not to be described, and 
Count Valeria received it with the utmost transport and 
delight. Very little ceremony was afterwards necessary; and, 
fatally for me, my youth and inexperience prevented my seeing 
or considering the consequence of giving my hand and person to 
a man, who had not the least share of my affections, but was 
esteemed merely as the friend of my father, and respected 
entirely from the public report of his many great qualities 
and distinguished abilities. But so entirely ignorant was I of 
those tender impressions, to which I have since fallen a 
sacrifice, and so wholly devoted to the will of my parents, 
that without the least reluctance and with the most perfect 
indifference, in less than a month, I surrendered myself to 
the arms of the Count.

"The immense wealth, which Count Valeria received with me, and 
was afterwards to receive, enabled him to gratify his ambition 
and elegant taste, in the magnificent and expensive equipage, 
which he purchased upon this occasion. His country seat, which 
is one of the finest and most ancient palaces in Europe, was 
stripped of all its old furniture, and fitted up with new of 
the most superb kinds; and his house in Venice, which is also 
perfectly noble, received the same additions; nor was he less 
profuse in the number of the most valuable and elegant jewels 
which he presented me with; and though I had always been used 
to the highest entertainments and most costly dresses, his 
noble fancy and generosity exceeded all that I had ever seen. 
In short, he engaged all my gratitude and respect, though he 
had never engaged my love for him. But of this distinction I 
was as ignorant as himself, for I really thought I loved him 
as well as it was possible for me to do, and more than any 
other, except my parents; and he was perfectly convinced, that 
my esteem for him proceeded from the purest passion of love.

"We had been married above a year, which I spent in this happy 
indifference and tranquillity, when my evil genius brought 
Lord Kingsborough to Venice, in the course of his travels, and 
as the Count was remarkably fond of the English, and 
frequently entertained them at his house, the arrival of Lord 
Kingsborough was no sooner announced to him, than he 
immediately waited on him, and a few days after engaged his 
Lordship to an entertainment with some others of the English 
nobility. He accordingly came, and the whole company were 
charmed with his wit, sprightliness, and good humour; and as I 
had learned to speak English from my infancy, and Lord 
Kingsborough could not speak Italian perfectly, he, with the 
greatest politeness, requested I would be his interpreter, 
which, with his turn of good humour, tinctured with a little 
gallantry towards some ladies that were present, highly 
diverted the company, and pleased me--to my shame I own it--
but too much. In short, the whole day and evening was spent in 
the most agreeable manner; and after the Count had, with great 
civility, pressed the honour of Lord Kingsborough's company, 
as often as he could disengage himself, his Lordship withdrew.

"After the company had departed, and the Count retired with me 
to bed, he could not discourse of any thing, or anybody, but 
this agreeable Lord. He said, he had met with many English 
gentlemen distinguished for their politeness and education, 
but had never seen any so perfectly accomplished as Lord 
Kingsborough, and for some time we joined in our encomiums 
upon his many agreeable qualities. For my own part, I had his 
image before me all the remainder of the night, and the next 
morning the Count having sent a polite card to enquire after 
his Lordship's health, on my going downstairs I was very 
agreeably surprised to see his Lordship in conversation with 
the Count, all joy and life."



Chapter XVII. 
The history of Lady Valeria continued. Order of Cicisbei 
described.

"It was just at this time that the Carnival at Venice began, 
and Lord Kingsborough acquainted the Count, that he was that 
evening engaged to a masquerade ball at Count P----'s, and on 
my husband's telling his Lordship that we were both engaged to 
the same place, Lord Kingsborough begged I would let him know 
my dress, and continue to him the honour of my interpretation; 
which, together with letting him into the customs and 
intrigues of Venice, would lay him under the highest 
obligations, to which both the Count and myself readily 
consented.

"At the usual time we went to Count P----'s, and I was 
surprised that Lord Kingsborough was not to be seen in the 
rooms, but in less than half an hour he made his appearance in 
the character of an English sailor, which he filled with so 
much wit, and supported with so much spirit and vivacity 
during the whole evening, that the company, and particularly 
the ladies, were in raptures with him; and as he was 
frequently seen in familiar conversation with Count Valeria 
and myself, it was immediately known that he was a person of 
quality, and my acting the part of his interpreter, upon many 
occasions, drew upon us the attention of all the sprightliest 
persons of both sexes wherever we moved.

"There is not in the universe a place, where intrigue, 
gallantry and pleasures of every sort, are carried on or 
indulged to a higher degree than at Venice during those 
carnivals, which are annually kept; nor are the belles 
passions there managed or conducted with that delicacy and 
discretion, which they are carried on with in this country. It 
was, therefore, publicly rumoured and believed, that I had 
adopted Lord Kingsborough for my Cicisbeo, which is the custom 
in that country for almost every married woman of any 
fashion." "Cicisbeo!" says Miss Faulkner, "I don't know what 
that means, and but that I would not interrupt your agreeable 
story, should be extremely glad to have it explained to me." 
Lady Valeria smiled at her ignorance, and proceeded thus.

"The order of Cicisbei was first instituted at Genoa, but the 
fashion is now spread all over Italy. There are gentlemen, who 
devote themselves to the service of some particular married 
lady, and are obliged to wait on her to all public places, 
such as plays, operas, masquerades, &c. and attend her as 
lackeys, devoting their whole time and fortune to her service. 
When at home, they are constantly with those ladies in their 
most retired apartments, where even their husbands are refused 
admittance; and as they have those frequent opportunities, you 
may easily guess how the ladies reward these attendants; but 
their husbands are not to have the impudence to suppose this 
intimacy proceeds from any other cause than pure platonic 
friendship."

"'Tis true, every husband endeavours to give his wife a 
Cicisbeo of his own choosing, (which was my case) but when the 
lady happens not to be of the same taste, which is frequently 
the case, she never fails having one of her own fancy, and any 
husband that would be unreasonable enough to refuse or be 
offended at it, would be deemed the most ignorant stupid 
wretch in the universe, and excluded all polite assemblies. In 
short, I believe the first intention of this institution of 
Cisisbei was rather that they should be a kind of spies or 
watch upon the ladies than lovers, but the case is now 
otherwise, and if a lady is known to dismiss one of these 
gentlemen, and engage in any new gallantry with another, the 
disbanded hero is obliged, by the custom and nature of his 
office, to resent the injury, and either cut the throat of his 
rival, or have a sword run through his own body; so that these 
Cicisbei are now the guadians of their mistresses' honour, and 
obliged to resent all their quarrels and affronts, instead of 
their husbands, which you will allow is some consideration for 
the favours they sufffer their ladies to bestow upon these 
champions."



Chapter XVIII. 
Continuation of the history of Lady Valeria. Progress of her 
amour with Lord Kingsborough.

Count Valeria had appointed one of this order of Cicisbei to 
attend me, but so far was he from having any private 
intercourse or intimacy with me, that I detested him, as I was 
almost constantly pestered with his company, as well at home 
as abroad, and although he had never made any attempt on my 
honour, nor ever declared any passion for me, except the usual 
compliments of gallantry, which the nature of the office 
authorizes; yet I could perceive, that he entertained some 
thoughts of that nature, and my youth, no doubt, inflamed and 
flattered his hopes of success. This Cicisbeo of mine was a 
young nobleman of distinction, and the only son of one of the 
greatest senators, of the family of Cantaria, not ungenteel in 
his person, but haughty, passionate, and revengeful; and as he 
attended me at the ball, seemed very uneasy at the intimacy 
which appeared between me and Lord Kingsborough; and as he 
frequently dicoursed in English, which Cantaria did not 
understand, his jealousy construed every word that passed, 
into a declaration of love, or a private assignation. And as I 
observed before, that his consant attendance on me was 
extremely disagreeable, I will own to you, that I took a 
particular pleasure in mortifying him, and for that reason 
indulged several little airs and compliments to Lord 
Kingsborough, which I should not otherwise have done, for 
although, I believe, that dangerous companion had even then 
made some impression on my heart, I did not know it, or 
suspect my falling virtue; and I considered the pleasure, 
which I took in his company and conversation, as proceeding 
only from the high sallies of wit and humour, which 
perpetually flowed from him, and with which every other person 
seemed as much delighted as myself.

"Having stayed at the masquerade till five in the morning, I 
was, as usual, attended home by Cantaria, who hinted, in 
presence of my husband, that he believed I had fallen in love 
with the agreeable English Lord, from the particular 
compliments which I paid him, and although he mentioned it a 
jocular manner, and it was received as such by Count Valeria, 
I could easily discern that he spoke it with a malicious 
design, and to punish me for the uneasiness I had given him at 
the ball, but my husband's presence prevented my replying to 
him, as I should have done at that juncture.

"The next night I was at the opera; and as soon as Lord 
Kingsborough came into the house, I could observe him looking 
through the boxes very attentively to discover me. I made him 
a signal with my fan to come into my box. This put Cantaria, 
who was with me, out of all patience; and as soon as Lord 
Kingsborough approached, he withdrew, to my great 
satisfaction. His displeasure at Lord Kingsborough's entrance 
was so conspicuous, that his Lordship took notice of it, and 
asked me the reason, which I incautiously, and, I am sorry to 
say, very impudently told him. I do not know whether Lord 
Kingsborough then put that construction upon this information, 
which men of gallantry and intrigue generally do on 
intimations of the like nature; or whether he came designedly, 
or prepared, to make a formal declaration of his passion for 
me, but we had not been half an hour together in the box, when 
he convinced me, that I had engaged my heart but too much in 
his favour, and that he was a most enterprising and artful 
seducer. He represented to me the injury done to my honour by 
placing Cantaria as a watch on my actions; the absurdity of 
being under the direction of a person of so mean a character; 
the inequality of my husband's years, and the custom of the 
ladies of quality; with many other sophistical arguments, 
which entirely subdued my weak understanding; and pressed me 
to a private interview with so much ardour, that unfortunately 
for me, I consented to it; and the next day sent one of my 
women to him, to concert measures for our meeting. This artful 
woman I found perfectly experienced and accomplished in the 
business of intrigue, and as Lord Kingsborough was as 
bountiful, as he was ingenious and enterprising, my confidant 
returned to me in raptures, and with the plan settled for our 
assignation that very night, in lodgings which they had taken 
for the purpose, in a retired genteel part of the city. We 
accordingly met at this fatal place, and from that moment 
commenced my misfortunes."



Chapter XIX. 
The same subject continued. She elopes with Lord Kingsborough.

"After this meeting my husband became odious to me, so that I 
could scarcely behave to him with common civility; and I 
positively insisted, that Cantaria should withdraw his 
attendance on me. The Count, who only lived to please and 
oblige me, though he was astonished at this sudden change in 
my temper and disposition, readily consented to remove this 
troublesome attendant, and he was forbid the house, which gave 
me the greatest pleasure; and as my husband had not the least 
suspicion of my honour, I had every opportunity I could wish 
of meeting Lord Kingsborough at the place of assignation which 
we never failed to do every night.

"We continued our fatal intercourse about three weeks without 
any interruption, and as I had never heard from, or seen 
Cantaria, but in public places, where he never spoke to me, I 
had not the least apprehensions of him; but he was not so idle 
as I imagined. Dismission from the office of Cicisbeo, is one 
of the greatest indignities, that can be offered; and this 
haughty young nobleman was resolved to be amply revenged of 
me. For this purpose he set watches upon my every motion, and 
as he knew almost every place where Count Valeria and I 
visited, there was not an action or an expression of mine that 
he was not acquainted with, except the place of private 
meeting with Lord Kingsborough and that too he unfortunately 
discovered, but by what means I know not nor ever could learn; 
and the consequences removed all possibility of enquiring.

"Lord Kingsborough was one night somewhat later in his 
appointment than usual, which gave me the utmost uneasiness, I 
had waited for him near half an hour, when my anxiety led me 
to look out of the window to see for him, and although it was 
quite dark, I perceived a man walking several times by the 
house we were in; and from circumstances which I now 
recollect, I have come reason to conclude, that my woman knew 
it was Cantaria, though cloaked and masked. But we had not 
been long at the window before I perceived Lord Kingsborough 
approach, who was likewise disguised, and when he came within 
a few paces of the house, the person we before observed 
walking suddenly drew his sword, and made a dreadful push at 
him, which I thought went quite through his body, upon which I 
cried out, 'Murder!' and instantly fainted; and in that 
situation I remained, insensible and lifeless, till I found 
myself recovered, and in the arms of Lord Kingsborough.

"As soon as I was sufficiently recovered, my Lord informed me, 
that it was the villain Cantaria, that had attempted to 
assassinate him, and had wounded him, but that he had received 
the reward of his barbarity, and was then lying in another 
apartment, he feared, expiring, that therefore there was not a 
moment to be lost, that as to me he would not part with me at 
the peril of his life, and that as the death of Cantaria would 
instantly found out, so the cause of it and our intercourse 
would be likewise made public: he therefore conjured me, that 
moment, to fly with him out of the Venetian territories. At 
this instant a servant of my Lord's, who always attended at 
these apartments, and to whom he had given Cantaria in care, 
entered the room and in the utmost confusion told us, that he 
was dead. This gave us all a fresh alarm, and I was so 
perfectly petrified with terror, grief and astonishment, that 
I was incapable of moving or speaking: therefore my Lord 
ordered his servant to wrap me in his cloak, and carry me in 
his arms, until we could get a carriage, and taking hold of my 
woman himself, we quitted this fatal house, and went through 
several dark streets and passages, before we could stop or 
call for a coach. We at length got one, and drove to the 
utmost limits of the city, near the harbour, when my Lord 
ordered his servant to go directly in quest of the captain of 
an English ship, whom he had formerly known and sailed with. 
The servant returned in a few minutes with the Captain, and in 
less than a quarter of an hour we were aboard his ship.

"Lord Kingsborough acquainted the Captain, whose name was 
Wilson, with what had happened respecting Cantaria; and seeing 
me with him, and knowing his Lordship's general character, he 
easily guessed the rest. And although he had not finished half 
his business at Venice, he immediately agreed to go with us to 
Genoa, and we set sail accordingly.

"After we had been some time on board, and everything was 
settled for sailing, my Lord asked the Captain if he had a 
surgeon on board, and being answered in the affirmative, he 
desired he would find send him to the cabin, as he had 
received a little hurt in his arm. When the surgeon came and 
undressed his arm, which was tied up with two or three 
handkerchiefs to stop the blood, he found his Lordship had 
received a terrible wound in his left arm, and had lost a vast 
quantity of blood, which his cloak prevented our seeing 
before. The surgeon immediately dressed it, and my Lord made 
nothing of it. For my own part, from the moment I saw 
Cantaria's sword, to that instant, I was perfectly insensible 
of everything that passed, and I had no more thought of going 
aboard ship, and for ever quitting my parents, husband and 
friends, than if no such people ever existed; but tacitly 
submitted to every thing my Lord did and ordered.



Chapter XX. 
The same subject continued. An account of their journey. Their 
passage over the Alps. Their arrival in France, and soon after 
in England.

"Notwithstanding my Lord suffered much pain for several days 
we were at sea, he used every means in his power to comfort 
and entertain me, and my anxiety for his health engaged my 
attention so much, that I did not then feel those severe 
reflections, which have since tortured me, for being the cause 
of so much distraction as I knew my unhappy conduct had 
occasioned, and the inexpressible grief it would give to my 
parents and husband. In short, I was so entirely devoted to 
this bewitching Lord, that I bore all those dreadful 
calamities with a resolution and resignation, that both 
surprised and charmed him, and which he returned with the 
utmost tendernesfs, love and respect; and after a very 
agreeable voyage we arrived safe at Genoa, out of fear and 
apprehension.

"We stayed at Genoa but a few days, until my Lord's wound was 
tolerably well, and to purchase same necessaries both for 
myself and my woman, as we had not during the passage, a 
single change of either clothes or linen; nor had my Lord any, 
but as he borrowed a shirt from the Captain, who behaved to us 
with all possible respect, and entertained us in the very best 
manner he was capable. Lord Kingsborough was here also under 
further obligations to Captain Wilson, for he had no money, 
nor had he any letters of credit on Genoa, but as soon as the 
Captain made known who he was, several gentlemen and merchants 
offered to advance whatever sum his Lordship wanted. He 
accordingly took what was necessary to carry him to Lyons, for 
which he gave bills on his banker at Paris, and made a present 
to Captain Wilson of five hundred guineas, and fifty more to 
be divided amongst the ship's crew. 

"Having purchased what necessaries we wanted, we set out from 
Genoa, for Turin. My Lord and I travelled in one chaise, and 
his servant and my woman in another, and we arrived at Turin 
the second day. But the weather was so intensely cold in 
travelling over this mountainous country, that my Lord 
suffered much in his arm, and I was almost froze to death, 
though we were wrapped up in fur all over. We therefore 
remained at Turin for some days and my Lord wrote to Venice, 
and ordered his servants to meet him with his baggage at 
Lyons, as soon as possible.

"During our stay at Turin, my Lord met with two English 
noblemen of his acquaintance in their way to Venice and 
Naples, to whom he communicated our adventure, and as he was 
convinced, that the death of Cantaria and my elopement would 
make much noise in the republic, and would be justly imputed 
to him, he requested these noblemen to represent the affair in 
its true light, and clear his Lordship of the charge of having 
killed than unfortunate man, in any unfair or ungenerous 
manner, but in defence of his own life, when the other 
intended to assassinate him. And with respect to me, he 
entreated his friends would wait on my parents and acquaint 
them, that they had seen me at Turin, in our way to Ireland, 
where his Lordship declared he would do everything in his 
power to render me happy, but that after what had happened, it 
could not be expected I should ever return to Venice: all 
which his noble friends promised to perform, and to acquaint 
his Lordship of what had passd, in a letter directed to his 
bankers at Paris.

"These points settled, we set out from Turin to pass the Alps, 
which I had often heard of, but never before approached; and 
indeed it is impossible to entertain any just idea of them, 
without viewing and passing them. The first day's journey from 
Turin is to a place called Novalesse, through a very fine 
country, which, at another season of the year, would have 
afforded us infinite delight, from the variety of fruits, and 
charming plantations with which it abounds, and which my Lord 
assured me were equal to any to be found in any other part of 
Italy; but it was now in the month of December, and the whole 
country covered over with snow and intensely cold.

"The second day we began to ascend the famous Mount Cenis, 
which is by much the highest of all those wonderful mountains. 
At the bottom of this tremendous Alp, our chaises vere taken 
to pieces, and with our baggage put upon a number of mules, 
who climb up those otherwise inaccessible rocks, with a 
nobility and dexterity that would amaze you. We were all over 
wrapped up in furs, and put into little seats or chairs of 
twisted rods, fixed upon poles, like those used here in sedan 
chairs, and in that manner were carried upon men's shoulders; 
and although we set out at daybreak in the morning, it was 
quite dark before we got to the bottom on the other side of 
this one mountain, in crossing which I thought I should have 
been froze to death; nor would I have been able to stand it, 
if we had not stopped on the very summit of the mountain, on 
which there is a plain of some miles over, and a very large 
lake filled with the finest trout in the world. Here there is 
a wretched cottage, where persons of all ranks and degrees, 
who travel this way, are obliged to stop for some refreshment, 
and it is the only place that any can be had during a whole 
day's severe journey.

"My Lord assured me, that when he passed this place in the 
summer before, he was highly delighted on this plain; that he 
had fished upon the lake, and never beheld a more delightful 
prospect: but it was now all over covered with snow many yards 
deep, and froze so hard, that the mules travelled on it with 
great safety. And I cannot help owning, that this amazing 
prospect of mountains, which are never free from snow, the 
immense clouds which hung suspended for several miles below 
our feet, and the dreadful cascades of water rolling down the 
stupendous rocks, with a noise that can be heard for several 
miles, rendered the whole scene, if I may be allowed the 
expression, horribly delightful.

"Three whole days we travelled through these mountains, with 
wretched accommodations of every sort, although there were two 
couriers who went post constantly before us, to provide 
provisions and horses. We as last arrived at Pont Beauvoisin, 
the frontier town of France which, by a small bridge, divides 
that kingdom from the dominions of Savoy. And the fourth night 
we got into Lyons, to my great comfort and satisfaction.

"We remained at Lyons for several days, waiting for my Lord's 
retinue and baggage, which  at length arrived by way of 
Marseilles. Our time was here very agreeably spent, in viewing 
the curiosities of the place, and the greatest silk 
manufactures in the world, with an immense quantity of which, 
the richest and most beautiful I had ever seen, my Lord filled 
several chests for my use, which I took with me to Paris, and 
had them there made in the most elegant and fathionable taste, 
and in the purchase of these and other necessaries, with some 
diamonds and trinkets, my Lord expended several thousand 
pounds, and gave me in every other respect the highest proofs 
of his generosity, love and respect; so that I began to resume 
my former tranquillity, and enjoy the highest happiness in his 
company and conversation, nor was he hardly ever an hour 
absent from me.

"After a month's stay at Paris, my Lord received letters from 
his friends whom he had parted with at Turin, congratulating 
him on his escape from Venice, and informing him, that he had 
not sailed half an hour before the whole city was in an 
uproar, and that if he had been taken with me it would have 
been impossible to have saved his life, the power and 
resentment both of my father and husband, and that of the 
Cataria family were so great; that Count Valeria threatened to 
pursue us even to Ireland, and they advised my Lord by all 
means not to stay at Paris, as they doubted not but some 
villains would be there employed to assassinate him, and 
perhaps seize me. This account alarmed me so much, that I 
would not sleep another night in Paris for a kingdom, and I 
had influence enough over my Lord to prevail with him to set 
out that very night, and on the third day we arrived safe at 
Dover, where I was satisfied we were out of all danger."



Chapter XXI. 
Continuation of the same subject. Their arrival in Ireland. 
Lady Valeria is brought to bed of a son. Rupture between her 
and Lord Kingsborough, occasioned by an intrigue, which his 
Lordship had with another lady.

"Some few nights after our arrival in London, Lord 
Kingsboroughtook me to the play, where, in the very next box, 
I met with the Venetian Ambassador, who was a near relation of 
mine, and particularly intimate with me and all my family. He 
was as much astonished at seeing me, as I was terrified and 
alarmed at seeing him; for I doubted not but he had heard of 
my elopement, and the death of Lord Cantaria, to whom he was 
also related. Nor was I deceived in that opinion; for, after a 
very cold salute, I could perceive he was prodigiously uneasy, 
and after some time retired, which I concluded was to give 
orders to have me watched, and to find out my residence. This 
new alarm so terrified me, that I had like to have fainted. My 
Lord observed my distress, and enquiring the cause, I informed 
him of my suspicions, and begged he would permit me to leave 
the house directly, which, in regard to me, he complied with; 
and having conducted me out at a private door, put me into a 
chair without any attendants but himself, and ordered the 
chairmen to stop at a certain street which he mentioned, but 
not at the place of our residence. We had not gone far, when 
my Lord called a hackney coach, which we both got into and 
went home; and, by this caution, eluded any enquiry the 
Ambassador might have made after me; nor could my Lord ever 
afterwards, during our stay in London, prevail with me to go 
into any public place or meeting, which very much disconcerted 
him, as he intended to have spent the remainder of the winter 
in England. But this adventure, and my resolution not to 
appear any more in public, determined him to set out for 
Ireland, and we arrived at Dublin in a few days afterwards.

"It had been reported to several of my Lord's friends in that 
kingdom, that he had been murdered at Venice, and they had 
received a very imperfect account of our adventure there; but 
his sudden and unexpected appearance gave so much joy and 
satisfaction, that for several days he was not permitted to be 
one moment alone. His house was perpetually filled with 
persons of the first distinction, who flew to congratulate his 
Lordchip on his safe arrival, for I need not tell you how much 
and how universally he was beloved and respected. We remained 
near three months in Dublin, and I was entertained by his 
Lordship and all his frrends (except ladies) with the same 
respect and distinction, as if I had been married to him, and 
he had given positive directions to all his servants and 
domestics to treat and obey me as such; so that I was as happy 
as the nature of my situation would admit, and I believe, 
that, during that period, his Lordship was never guilty of any 
infidelity to me.

"Some time in May following he took me to Rockingham, which I 
need not describe to you. I was charmed with this delightful 
place, and as I had centered all my happiness in my Lord's 
presence and company, and as I enjoyed much more of it there, 
than I could possibly do in town, I grew perfectly pleased 
with my situation, and I soon discovered that I was pregnant.

"This event so delighted my Lord, that he, if possible, 
doubled his assiduity to please and indulge me in everything. 
You have seen the manner he lived in at this enchanting seat, 
and have experienced his power to please. In short, everything 
about me was a perfect paradise, and all devoted to my 
pleasures. In this delightful manner we passed the summer, and 
as the time of my delivery drew near, we repaired to town in 
October; and, about the middle of November, I was mother of 
one of the finest boys in the universe. My Lord was all 
transport, and every preparation was made and attendance 
given, suited to a person of the first rank and distinction; 
and he had the child called Robert, after his own christian 
name.

"A nurse was, at my particular desire, taken into the house, 
and my whole attention was engrossed by my lovely boy; nor was 
my Lord less fond of him, which rendered me entirely happy; 
when a cursed adventure interfered, that blasted all my hope 
of future happiness and repose. My Lord was taken in bed with 
the honourable Mrs G----, a near relation of his own, and the 
wife of a person of the very first rank and family in the 
kingdom. The manner in which they were discovered, rendered it 
impossible to keep the affair secret. It was spread all over 
the city in a few days, and a prosecution was commenced 
against my Lord by the husband; whilst the lady was 
immediately put into a ship in the harbour by her own family, 
carried over to France, and there immured in a cloister, where 
she remains to this day. And my Lord, at the request and by 
the persuasion of many of his friends, retired into the 
country, until the confusion, which this shameful amour had 
produced, should be blown over.

"I need not mention to you, nor indeed can I, the tortures I 
felt on this occasion. I became frantic, and upbraided my Lord 
for his infidelity, and the insult he had offered to me, in 
terms that were, I own, rather too violent, and both surprised 
and offended him; for you know with what impatience he could 
hear any of his faults, or remonstrance against them. We had 
not been long in the country before we quarreled and became so 
uneasy, that he ordered separate beds, and shortly after 
openly avowed his inconstancy by keeping wenches in the very 
house with me. On reflection, I think it but justice to his 
Lordship's memory to own I was much to blame on this occasion; 
that my behaviour to him was too violent and aggravating; and 
that if I had preserved more moderation and discretion, he 
never would have treated me with that disrespect and 
indifference, which I ever afterwards so fatally experienced. 
For some time I was really out of my senses; but my youth and 
inexperience, joined to the violence of my love and attachment 
to him, blinded my understanding, and I gave entire sway to my 
passions without once reflecting on the consequences.

"The measure of my misfortunes was not however yet full, 
though I thought myself as miserable as any human wretch could 
be made. My dear boy was taken with that cruel distemper 
called the smallpox, and died in a few days. I shall not 
attempt to describe my sorrows on that occasion, nor did I 
ever see my Lord so much affected. He was really grieved, and 
for some days would not see any company. For a whole week I 
had never spoke to him or seen him, but remained in my own 
apartments, where I wept myself into a perfect stupefaction, 
regardless of everything that surrounded me."



Chapter XXII. 
The uneasy manner, in which Lady Valeria lived at Rockingham, 
on account of the licentious and riotous behaviour of his 
Lordship and his companions. His Lordship's generosity to 
Valeria. 

"From this lethargy I was roused by the arrival of a number of 
my Lord's most riotous and debauched companions, who had been 
previously engaged to come down to hunt with him; and as 
nothing could long affect his gay spirits, he soon returned to 
his usual excesses of drinking and debaucheries of every sort; 
so that the house became a perfect brothel. It is true, he 
never permitted any of his abandoned company to come near or 
disturb me. I had a set of the best apartments in the house, 
appointed for my separate use, the most remote from the scene 
of riot and intoxication, and my Lord regularly every morning 
paid me a visit, behaved to me with the highest respect, and 
gave strict orders for my being attended and furnished with 
everything I desired; and in this situation we continued to 
live for several months.

"My Lord saw, and was touched with my misfortunes. He candidly 
confessed he had treated me ill, but that he could not account 
for the fickleness of his temper and extravagant desires; and 
very generously offered to accompany me to any part of Europe 
I should choose for my residence, and to settle an annuity on 
me for life, that would enable me to live up to the height of 
my ambition--all which I refused. I was apprehensive, that, if 
I went to any other part of Europe out of his protection, my 
residence would be found out by my husband or parents, and 
that they would by force carry me to Venice, which I dreaded 
much more than death itself. I was an entire stranger both in 
England and Ireland, and did not know where or to whom I 
should remove, and was delighted with the situation I was then 
in. I therefore requested his Lordship would permit me to 
continue at Rockingham, and assured him I would not presume to 
interrupt his pleasures or pursuits, in what I saw he could 
not be restrained from."

"In this melancholy situation I had remained upwards of three 
years, when you arrived at Rockingham; and in the course of 
that time, it is incredible to think what a number of unhappy 
young creatures were daily sacrificed to the lust and passions 
of this strange, extravagant Lord, and his more abandoned, 
profligate companions; though there were but few of them of 
any note or family, nor did I ever keep company with any of 
them, but two or three, who, I knew, were persons of some 
condition, and had been seduced to this mansion of 
destruction, before your arrival; and from the moment I saw 
you, I was prejudiced in your favour, and felt severely for 
the ruin, which I knew would be brought upon you by your love 
for my Lord. On his return from England after the marrrage of 
Miss Johnson, he expressed to me his comcern for you, and the 
apprehensions he was under that some accident had happened to 
you, and most of all that no settlement or provision had been 
made for you; and added, that lest some fatal accident should 
prevent his providing for me in future, he insisted I should 
then accept of a deed of annuity of 600l. a year, payable half 
yearly during my life, together with a legacy of 1,000l. 
payable in one month after his death, if I should survive 
him."



Chapter XXIII. 
His Lordship's sickness, and death, and interment. Further 
instances of his generosity. Conclusion of Lady Valeria's 
history.

"As soon as these matters were settled, he gave orders that 
everything should be got ready for his journey to Vienna, and 
from thence to the Court of Russia, but a few days before he 
was to set out, he was taken with an apoplexy, and in one 
moment deprived of the power of speech and the use of all his 
limbs, but with proper care he was recovered in a short time. 
The fortitude and resignation, with which he bore this 
dreadful shock, astonished me and every person present. He 
ordered everybody out of the room, and with an affection and 
tenderness, that overwhelmed me with grief, desired I would 
let him know, if there was anything I desired should be done 
for me, or added to the provision already made for me. 'I 
know,' continued his Lordship, 'that the shock I have had is 
the signal for my dissolution; and I don't know any crime I 
have ben guilty of, that weighs so heavy upon my mind, as 
seducing a lady of your rank, beauty, and fortune, from your 
elevated station in life, and the thought of leaving you here, 
friendless and forsaken, at this moment renders me miserable.' 
This kind concern for me, and the manner in which he expressed 
it, more than recompensed all my former sufferings. I sunk 
before him, dissolved in tears, love and gratitude; and 
assured him I was amply provided for, and had not a wish for 
any more worldly riches; but begged of him to compose himself, 
and ardently prayed that the hour of his death might be many 
years distant. 'My dear Valeria!' replied his Lordship, 'that 
cannot be; the life I have led, ever since I was sixteen, will 
not, in the nature of things, permit it; and for some time I 
have perceived violent symptoms of what has now happened, and, 
I am sure, will shortly return, and end all my enjoyments in 
this life. 'Tis a kind of death I am pleased with; and as I 
have already enjoyed more than one man's share of worldly 
pleasures, I am perfectly willing to resign. My friends have 
long endeavoured to persuade me to marry, as well to furnish 
an heir to my title and estate, as to reclaim me from that 
extravagance in pursuit of your sex, which I flatter myself 
has been my only foible, and has irresistibly hurried me into 
those many dangers, excesses and crimes, that I now sincerely 
repent of, but I could not, nor would not marry any woman that 
I did not entirely love, and I was too well acquainted with my 
own unhappy temper and constitution, not to be convinced, I 
should make her miserable. I therefore declined every overture 
of that nature that was made to me, which at this moment gives 
me the greatest pleasure and comfort I am capable of 
receiving. His Lordship concluded with advising me to go into 
the south of France, and place myself in some genteel convent, 
until I should hear from my parents, or some other event might 
enable me to return to my native country.

"His Lordship then called in Mr Kingsborough, his younger 
brother, in whose favour he had made his will, and conjured 
him, in the most pathetic manner, to show me every act of 
tenderness and friendship in his power; and that in case he 
should be able to discover you, he should in the like manner 
amply provide for and befriend you; which Mr Kingsborough 
promised faithfully to perform. My Lord then acquainted his 
brother, that he had advanced several sums of money to several 
needy gentlemen, his friends and companions, which they would 
not accept of, but as borrowed from him, and for which they 
had given him bonds, notes, &c.; that he was convinced many of 
them were prejudiced in their circumstances from many 
extravagancies, which they had committed in his company, and 
which their fortunes could not afford; and that at the time he 
advanced the money, for which he received their bonds, he 
never intended to demand any payment of them. He therefore 
desired they should be all brought to him, and he instantly 
put the whole bundle into the fire. After this he was 
perfectly cheerful, and resumed his former vivacity, which he 
enjoyed for seven days, till at last he was seized with a 
second fit, which put an end to his life.

"Notwithstanding this noble Lord's innumerable follies, I 
don't believe there ever was a man's death so universally 
lamented, by all ranks and degrees of people. The moment he 
died, all his vices died with him, and were utterly forgot; 
but his unexampled benevolence, generosity and hospitality, 
were all gratefully remembered and applauded; and the cries 
and lamentations of many hundreds of his poor tenants, 
labourers and servants, were heard and continued for several 
days through all parts of the country, and followed him to his 
grave. And I was assured, that such a funeral was never seen 
in that country, that several thousands of gentlemen and 
ladies attended at his interment from all parts of the 
kingdom, to testify their respect and esteem for the memory of 
their noble friend.

"After his interment, as soon as decency would permit, I 
acquainted Mr Kingsborough with my desire of fulfilling his 
Lordship's directions, in retiring to France, which he readily 
agreed to; and immediately gave me an order on his banker in 
Dublin, for the 1,000l. his brother had bequeathed me, with 
directions to draw half yearly for my annuity. He then 
presented me with a valuable ring as a token of his respect 
for me, and ordered his own post-chaise, horses and servants, 
to attend me to Dublin. I have been but a few days in London 
in my way to France, where if my dear Miss Faulkner will 
accompany me, she shall with the greatest pleasure share my 
little fortune, and I think it enough to supply us both with 
everything we can desire, in that part of the world."

"Here Lady Valeria ended her melancholy history, with which 
Miss Faulkner was equally affected and delighted; and they 
mutually condoled with each other, and lamented the death of 
their beloved Lord Kingsborough; and after Miss Faulkner had 
returned suitable acknowledgements for the trouble Lady 
Valeria had taken to oblige her, and for the generous and 
polite offer she was made to her, which she was forced to 
decline on account of her very bad state of health, they 
parted with assurances of seeing and entertaining each other, 
as often as possible, during Lady Valeria's short stay in 
London.



Chapter XXIV. 
Miss Faulkner appears as a singer at Marylebone Gardens, where 
she is received with great applause.

There is no greater relief to a suffering mind, than a 
companion in our afflictions. The misfortunes of Lady Valeria 
lessened those of Miss Faulkner, and, by the sensible advice 
and cordial friendship of that lady, she began to recover her 
strength and spirits. They were almost constantly together, 
and. as Lady Valeria was an excellent judge of music and knew 
Miss Faulkner's elegant taste and admirable performance in 
that art, and, hearing of the extravagant salaries given to 
all the eminent performers in our public entertainments, she 
advised her to practise and study it with some attention, and 
that she could not fail of getting a very genteel income by 
it.

Lady Valeria having settled what business she had to do in 
London, and despairing of getting Miss Faulkner to go with her 
into France, set out for Dover, whither Miss Faulkner attended 
her, accompanied by Mrs Preston, in a post-chaise, and the 
next day they parted, with mutual assurances of the most 
inviolable friendship and constant correspondence by letters.

On her return to London, our heroine began seriously to 
consider her situation. She knew, that the small fortune she 
had would not be sufficient to support her for any length of 
time, in a life of idleness; and the opinion and advice of 
Lady Valeria had great weight with her. She therefore sold the 
most valuable part of her jewels, and some clothes, which she 
thought unfit for her use; and the produce of these, with the 
remainder of her cash which she had not spent, amounted to 
upwards of 600l, which, with the assistance of Mrs Preston, 
she laid out in the purchase of bank stock. She then bought a 
harpsichord, and began to practice and study with the utmost 
diligence: and having communicated her design of appearing in 
public to Mrs Preston, that gentlewoman brought one of the 
first performers and best judges to hear her play and sing. Mr 
L---- was charmed with her, and being then proprietor of 
Marylebone Gardens, immediately engaged her at a very genteel 
salary; and she made her first public appearance there that 
very summer. Never was any new performer so applauded, or so 
much encouraged as Miss Faulkner. Her voice and taste for 
music were greatly admired; but the elegance of her person, 
her modest deportment, and the natural sweetness of her temper 
and her affability, procured her universal esteem and respect; 
and every night the gardens were crowded with the genteelest 
company, to hear and see this admirable young lady.

We must suppose the gentlemen, most famous for gallantry and 
intrigue, were not idle on this new acquisition to their 
pleasures: for, however unreasonable or unjust it may be 
deemed, by much the majority of our nobility and gentlemen of 
fortune immediately conclude, that any young woman, who makes 
her appearance on the stage, or any of the other public places 
of entertainment, becomes their lawful prize; and that they 
have a right to treat and insult her with their scandalous 
proposals for debauching and keeping, though she is perfectly 
modest and averse to such sentiments. This is a real hardship 
on those young ladies, whose merit, youth, and sex, entitle 
them to the public encouragement and  protection; and although 
necessity may oblige them to enter into that state of life for 
their support, and to avoid destitution, it by no means 
justifies the cruelty or insolence of those unthinking fools 
of fashion, who are hourly pestering them with their loathsome 
and insipid addresses and proposals.

Miss Faulkner suffered prodigiously from this shameful custom. 
Many considerable proposals and offers of settlement were made 
to her, which she rejected with a resentment and disdain, that 
did her no less honour, than it abashed and mortified the 
ninny-hammers that made them, and, for that season, she 
escaped without the smallest censure on her conduct, and with 
the highest public applause.



Chapter XXV. 
Miss Faulkner is married to Mr Donaldson.

In the winter it was expected and agreed on, that she should 
make her appearance on Covent Garden theatre, but amongst the 
number of her admirers was one Mr Donaldson, a young gentleman 
of very genteel appearance and polite address. He used every 
possible means of getting acquainted with her, and at last 
effected it through Mrs Preston, in whose house Miss Faulkner 
still continued to board and lodge. Mr Donaldson assured Mrs 
Preston, that his intentions respecting Miss Faulkner were 
strictly honourable, and that he was a gentleman of an 
independent fortune; that her lodger had made the deep 
impression on his heart, and that, if she would countenance 
and encourage his addresses, he would amply reward her. Mrs 
Preston assured him, that, if his designs were honourable, and 
his addresses agreeable to Miss Faulkner, she would do him any 
service in her power; and the next morning engaged him to 
breakfast with herself and our heroine.

Mr Donaldson had before several times occasionally spoke to 
Miss Faulkner in public, merely as a singer, and to compliment 
her on her performance. She immediately recollected him, and 
being assured by Mrs Preston, that his addresses were 
perfectly honourable, she received him with her usual 
politeness and civility; and as soon as breakfast was 
finished, and Mrs Preston withdrawn, Mr Donaldson made a 
formal declaration of his passion: that he had long wished for 
an opportunity of assuring her his intentions were sincere and 
honourable; that his fortune, though not abundant, was 
competent and independent; and that if she would condescend to 
think favourably of him, he would esteem himself extremely 
honoured in her acceptance of his hand and fortune. He added, 
that he was no stranger either to her disagreeable situation, 
or the nauseous proposals which were every day made to her, 
and she had nobly refused, that these refusals increased his 
esteem for her, and justified the impression which her beauty 
had first made upon him; that when it should be known she was 
married to a gentleman, her troublesome suitors would desist 
from their ungenerous and mean pursuits, but that whilst she 
continued single, she must not expect any respite from their 
importunities.

Miss Faulkner, with great attention, heard the whole of Mr 
Donaldson's declaration, and returned him suitable compliments 
for his kind intentions and favourable opinion of her; but 
assured him, that she did not entertain the least thoughts 
about matrimony, and were she but free from those fulsome and 
disagreeable solicitations he had mentioned, she should be 
extremely well contented with her situation: that if anything 
could persuade her to alter her condition, it would be the 
very motives he had mentioned; but that at present she could 
not think of it. Mr Donaldson however obtained her permission 
to repeat his visits, and after expressing his hopes, that his 
future conduct would procure him some part of her esteem, he 
took a most respectful leave of her for that time; but more 
than ever in love and charmed with her good sense and elegant 
behaviour. Although courtship is a pleasing subject, we will 
not here dwell longer upon it, let it suffice, that Mr 
Donaldson was so assiduous in his addresses, and rendered 
himself so very agreeable to Miss Faulkner, that, at the end 
of three months, she consented to give him her hand, and they 
were married in as private a manner as possible.



Chapter XXVI. 
Meets with the most cruel treatment from her husband. Receives 
a pecuniary assistance from Lord Halifax, who was at that time 
an utter stranger to her person. 

Mr Donaldson was so very generous in his addresses to Miss 
Faulkner, that, during the whole time of their courtship, he 
never once enquired into her circumstances or fortune; and her 
own integrity, generosity and inexperience, prevented her ever 
entertaining a thought on that subject, with respect to his 
circumstances. She really liked him, and considered herself as 
highly honoured and obliged in the generosity of a gentleman, 
of his appearance and independence, marrying her in the 
situation of life she was in; and therefore never suspected 
the least imposition; and in a few days after their marriage 
she acquainted him, that she had in the funds 600l. to dispose 
of as he thought proper.

This was a circumstance, that Mr Donaldson was before well 
acquainted with, and in reality was the loadstone that 
attracted all his affections to the unsuspecting Miss 
Faulkner. It is true, he once had a small fortune, which was 
entirely consumed in gaming and other follies, and he was now 
reduced to the most desperate circumstances, and therefore 
seized this 600l. as the only means to keep him from a prison 
and immediate poverty. Nevertheless he kept up appearances 
with his wife, and, after he had got this at this money, they 
lived some time in great content and tranquillity, and she was 
perfectly happy in her choice.

Their sunshine did not, however, long continue. Mr Donaldson 
took to his old trade of gaming, and associating with a set of 
villains, who had before cheated him out of his fortune, they 
in a few months stripped him of every shilling of his last 
acquisition. This made him desperate, and he plunged himself 
into every sort of debauch and excess. He threw off every 
appearance of love and respect for his wife, and by degrees 
stripped her of even her wearing apparel, and every necesary 
she had about her person and, to complete the horror of her 
misery, he gave her the foul distemper, and then absconded 
both from her and his creditors, to avoid that prison from 
which she had before redeemed him.

It would but too much affect a sympathizing heart, to describe 
what our unfortunate heroine suffered on this occasion. She 
was reduced to the most deplorable circumstances, without a 
second change of apparel, or any friend on earth to assist or 
relieve her, but her greatest misfortune was the dreadful 
distemper, which she laboured under for some time, before she 
knew or ever suspected the cause. Mrs Preston first discovered 
it, and as she was principally the means of this fatal 
connection with Mr Donaldson, she was indeed deeply afflicted. 
She made immediate application to Mr M----, a gentleman of her 
acquaintance, who, she knew, had a very great friendship for 
Miss Faulkner, as well before as after her marriage, and 
acquainted him with her unhappy situation and circumstances.

Mr M---- had a heart abounding with compassion and 
benevolence, but his circumstances prevented his giving the 
immediate assistance, that his inclinations and this 
unfortunate lady's case required. He contributed what he could 
towards it; but was resolved to solicit and procure for her, 
what he was not able to do himself. He was at that time very 
intimate with Lord Halifax, knew, that his Lordship's heart 
and purse were ever open to distressed merit. To him therefore 
Mr M---- immediately applied, and related so much as he knew 
of our heroine's history and distresses, in so pathetic and 
moving a manner, that his Lordship instantly dispatched him 
with a banknote of 50l. to our fair sufferer, and desired that 
a surgeon of the first eminence should be forthwith employed, 
and every other attendance given for her immediate cure, all 
which he would cheerfully pay.

Mr M---- in raptures returned to Mrs Preston, and acquainted 
her with his success. Mrs Preston was no less overjoyed, but 
all that she could say, could not persuade Mr M---- to 
approach the object of their mutual concern, lest he should 
abash and confuse her. He knew her delicacy and modesty would 
be shocked at his knowledge of her condition, and therefore 
would not go into her presence, but giving Mrs Preston the 
bank note, he desired her to go and purchase whatever 
necessaries were wanting and went directly himself to engage a 
surgeon. Miss Faulkner was an utter stranger to everything 
that passed upon this occasion, nor had Mrs Preston fully 
apprised her of the dangerous situation she was in, but as 
soon as the surgeon came, after a proper consultation between 
Mr M----, the surgeon, and herself, for that purpose, he was 
introduced to Miss Faulkner, as a surgeon of Mrs Preston's 
acquaintance, who called accidentally, and, as she was 
indisposed, would prescribe something for her; and by degrees, 
the affair was thus opened, until the surgeon explained to her 
the necessity of her submitting to a regular cure. All the 
misfortunes, that had ever before happened to her, were 
trifling to what she felt, on this information of the nature 
of her disorder, and she would have cheerfully resigned her 
life, rather than bear the infamy, which she conceived the 
very name of this disease carried with it. She was, however, 
obliged to submit, and, in a little time after, Mrs Preston 
informed her of the obligations she was under to Mr M----, who 
had procured her such assistance both of friends and money.



Chapter XXVII. 
Lord Halifax is introduced to her, and is charmed with her 
accomplishments. Finds out her husband, who had absconded from 
his creditors. Gives him a place in America, to which he 
immediately retires. His Lordship resolves to take Miss 
Faulkner into keeping.

At the expiration of two months our fair sufferer was once 
more re-established in her health, but rendered extremely weak 
and delicate, nor had she for some time before, or since her 
illness, ever heard a syllable of Mr Donaldson. The surgeon, 
who attended her, reported daily the progress of her cure to 
Mr M----, who constantly reported it to Lord Halifax, and when 
she was perfectly recovered, his Lordship signified his 
intention to Mr M---- of visiting his fair friend, as soon as 
it was agreeable to her

Mr M---- immediately acquainted Miss Faulkner, (as we shall 
continue to call her) with his Lordship's intentions; and 
though her gratitude obliged her to receive his Lordship with 
every mark of respect, she was so overcome with grief, 
confusion, and distress, at the cause of this visit, that she 
would have given any consideration to avoid the interview: but 
there was no alternative, and a day was accordingly fixed for 
his Lordship to visit her. Mr M---- introduced his Lordship, 
who, with his usual affability and politeness, requested Miss 
Faulkner would favour him with a dish of tea, and although our 
heroine, as well as Mr M---- several times attempted to 
introduce the obligations his Lordship had conferred, he 
politely evaded hearing it, and showed Mr M---- that it would 
be disagreeable to him to have it mentioned. His Lordship was 
charmed with the behaviour and sensibility of Miss Faulkner 
and after tea, requested Mr M---- would intercede with his 
fair friend for the favour of a song, which she immediately 
consented to. Lord Halifax is a perfect judge, and a great 
admirer of music, and he was now at once delighted and 
surprised. He had indeed heard of this lady's inimitable voice 
and performance, but she exceeded everything he had formed an 
idea of, and he was sensibly struck, as well with the beauty 
and elegance of her person, as with the ravishing harmony of 
her voice.

Lord Halifax took Mr M---- home with him in his chariot, and 
assured him, that he had never felt more exquisite delight 
than in the company of our heroine, that it was his firm 
purpose to put her above both want and temptation; and as an 
instance of his regar for her, he gave Mr M---- banknotes to 
the amount of 200l., desiring, he would immediately remove her 
from Mrs Preston's, and take proper lodgings, where he might 
see and visit her, and that Miss Faulkner should furnish 
herself with clothes and other necessaries, with the remainder 
of the money.

For several months afterwards his Lordship continued to visit, 
and spent several most delightful evenings with Miss Faulkner, 
without showing the least particular attachment to her, other 
than the usual compliments on her extraordinary musical 
abilities; and behaved to her with so much respect and 
affability, and at the same time with such generosity, 
tenderness, and delicacy, that she was entirely overcome with 
gratitude and esteem for him, insomuch that she perfectly 
adored him. At length, his passion for his fair ward became 
too violent to be longer restrained. He with reluctance, but 
with the greatest delicacy, opened his mind to her, and if she 
did not love his Lordship, as much as he desired, her 
gratitude and esteem for him put it out of her power to refuse 
him anything he could request of her.

In short, the apprehension of being detected and seized by Mr 
Donaldson seemed to be the only objection or obstacle to their 
union, and that Lord Halifax undertook to remove. His Lordship 
was then at the head of one of the most considerable offices 
under the crown, and had such diligent enquiry made after Mr 
Donaldson, that he with some difficulty found him out, and 
after severely reprimanding him for the infamy of his conduct 
and behaviour to his wife, his Lordship told him, that if he 
would go to America, and engage never to return to England to 
disturb or molest her, he would instantly furnish him with a 
sum of money to carry him there, and provide him with 
necessaries, and that he would gve him an employment worth 
500l. a year, during his continuance in that place.

Mr Donaldson very clearly understood his Lordship's 
intentions; but this was too advantageous an offer, for a man 
in his circumstances to refuse. He did not therefore hesitate 
about accepting the proposal. His Lordship strictly fulfilled 
all his engagements, and Mr Donaldson embarked for America in 
less than a week after the treaty was concluded.



Chapter XXVIII. 
Lord Halifax takes her into keeping, and has two children by 
her. Becomes so entirely devoted to her, that, at her request, 
he breaks off a very advantageous match, which his friends had 
provided for him.

As soon as Lord Halifax knew that Mr Donaldson was sailed, he 
waited on our heroine with the news, with which she was 
perfectly pleased, and declared herself entirely at his 
Lordship's disposal; upon which he took out of his pocket a 
paper, which he read to her, whereby he had settled 400l. a 
year upon her for life, payable to proper trustees, for her 
sole and separate use, independent of her husband; and she 
went home immediately to his Lordship's house, but in the 
character of governess to two young ladies, his daughters, and 
in that situation she remained, till her pregnancy, in less 
than a year, made it necessary she should retire into the 
country for some time.

Lord Halifax's love and esteem for our heroine every day 
increased, and her behaviour, sweetness of temper, and 
perpetual study to please and amuse him, justly entitled her 
to his utmost regards, nor were the young ladies, his 
daughters, less fond of her. After she was brought to bed in 
the country, she immediately returned to his Lordship's house 
in town, and the young ladies having before made some progress 
in music, and having naturally a fine ear and taste, Miss 
Faulkner devoted her whole time and assiduity to their 
instruction, till they became the admiration of everybody that 
heard them.

At the expiration of another year, Miss Faulkner was obliged 
to retire a second time into the country, and was delivered of 
a second child, which was also sent to nurse; and on her 
return to town, his Lordship was under a necessity of taking a 
separate house for her, the reason whereof she did not then 
know, or enquire into, as his will was a law to her.

Lord Halifax had been many years a widower, and his great 
generosity and benevolence always kept him in distressed 
circumstances and as he was extremely respected and beloved by 
almost all ranks of people, several of his friends advised him 
to marry some woman of large fortune, and thereby discharge 
the many encumbrances which devoured his estate, and enable 
him to live in that splendour which his rank and inclinations 
required. It was a long time before he could resolve on this 
project, though he knew the expediency of it, and his strong 
attachment to Miss Faulkner was his greatest difficulty. But 
necessity, and the persuasion of his friends at length 
prevailed and he accordingly paid his addresses to a lady, 
that had been fixed upon, one of the greatest fortunes in the 
kingdom. He met with every encouragement he could wish for; 
and after a courtship of a few months, marriage articles were 
prepared, and a day appointed for the celebration of the 
nuptials.

This treaty, and every negotiation relative thereto, was kept 
a profound secret from Miss Faulkner; nor did she ever hear or 
suspect anything of it, till a few days before that fixed on 
for his Lordship's marriage. The news almost distracted her; 
and she was determined, if possible, to prevent this union, on 
which all her future welfare and happiness depended. She 
therefore posted into the country, for her two children, and 
the very day before Lord was to be married, she got admittance 
into his Lordship's house, when he least expected to see her, 
and falling prostrate before him, with a child in each hand, 
the begged his Lordship to have pity on her, and not desert 
herself and those innocent babes. In short, she pleaded so 
powerfully, and the compassionate heart of her Lord was so 
sensibly moved with her unfeigned grief and distress, that he 
was entirely subdued; his regards for her returned upon him 
with sucah irresistible tenderness, that he raised her from 
her prostrate posture, embraced her, and declared that to gain 
an empire, he would never desert or forsake her. She was lost 
in transport, and her tears only expressed her gratitude and 
her joy; to complete which, his Lordship, in her presence, 
wrote a letter to the lady he was to be married to the next 
day, acquainting her, that some insurmountable obstacles had 
intervened, which prevented the honour of the union she 
intended him; and the whole negotiation was finally set aside, 
to the astonishment and vexation of all his Lordship's 
friends, as well as those of the lady.



Chapter XXIX. 
She accompanies his Lordship to Ireland, when he was appointed 
to the government of that kingdom. Her popular conduct there.

Various were the opinions of both sexes on this part of his 
Lordship's conduct. We shall therefore make no comments upon 
it, but leave every reader to form his own judgment upon so 
very extraordinary an event.

The purpose for which his Lordship kept a separate house being 
now ended, he, immediately after this adventure, took his 
beloved home again to his own house, where she was treated 
with every authority as mistress of it, and as such was 
obeyed, treated, and respected, for upwards of three years, at 
the end of which time, his Lordship was appointed governor of 
a neighbouring kingdom.

This noble appointment filled our heroine with the highest 
transports. She knew she should thereby have an opportunity of 
visiting her native soil, and providing for several of her 
poor friends and relations. The necessary preparations being 
made, his Lordship set out for his government, and took her 
Excellency with him, but as he could not, with any propriety, 
take her to the usual place of residence of the Viceroys of 
that kingdom, a certain courtier, (who was then heartily tired 
and ashamed of the name he was born with, and therefore warmly 
solicited for a title, which he has since obtained) having a 
delightful villa, within a few miles of the capital, made his 
court to our heroine, not doubting but it was the proper 
channel for preferment, and requested she would honour his 
seat with her residence, during her Viceroyship, which was 
graciously accepted. The name of this place is Luttrelstown, 
where she kept a very brilliant court, and received as many 
addresses and memorials, as the first governor of that, or any 
other kingdom. She indeed filled her part of the 
administration with the greatest dignity and applause, and 
became as remarkable, and as universally respected for her 
generosity and compassion, as for her patriotism and profound 
skill in politics. She was, in short, the Maintenon of the 
age.

Amongst many other instances of her generosity, we shall 
mention one that is a recorded fact. There was at that time in 
the university of the metropolis, a young student, whose name 
was Wright. His father was a clergyman, who enjoyed a 
considerable living in the church for many years; but having a 
large family, to whom he gave a genteel education, he died, 
leaving little or no fortune amongst his children. And this 
young gentleman having studied very hard for a fellowship, it 
was, on examination, given against him, as he thought, through 
the partiality of the Provost; and having by that means lost, 
or given up, all hope of preferment that way, he became 
desperate, and resolved on the following extraordinary method 
of promotion.

He repaired one morning to our heroine's court in the country, 
and requested an audience, which was granted him. He explained 
the injustice done him by the Provost of the University, and 
his other circumstances as above related; and declared, as he 
had no method of procuring an honest livelihood, that if her 
Excellency did not procure him a commission in the army, 
within two days, he would then commence highwayman, and rob 
man, woman, and child, until he should be apprehended, as he 
would, he said, much rather be hanged than starved. Our 
heroine, struck with his resolution and address, presented him 
with a purse of guineas, took down his name and address, and 
promised he should hear from her shortly. She accordingly went 
to his Excellency, and represented the affair to him exactly 
as it had happened, and gave him the young gentleman's 
address; requesting at the some time that something might be 
done for him, as he seemed a young fellow of great spirit and 
resolution. His Excellency immediately sent for the Provost, 
and enquired into his character and conduct, and finding both 
altogether irreproachable, he instantly sent an ensign's 
commission to Miss Faulker, who presented it to this hero, 
with a purse of 100 guineas to buy him regimentals and other 
necessaries; and he has since, through his patroness's favour, 
been raised to the rank of a captain of dragoons, which he now 
enjoys. 



Chapter XXX. 
Produces her brother, an unlicked cub, upon the stage, and 
gets him a commission in the army. Sends for her uncle 
Paragraph, who conceives the greatest hopes of being knighted 
by her interest. 

On enquiry into her own family affairs, she found both her 
parents were dead, and had left a son unprovided for, who 
lived with a gentleman near the place of his nativity: this 
brother she sent for, and ordering him to be clothed and 
properly dressed, he made his appearance at court, but a few 
degrees above Peter the wild boy. He was, however, immediately 
put under the care of a tutor, to instruct him as well in 
letters as behaviour, and in a short time he could make a very 
decent bow, and return a civil answer to any question that was 
asked him. Miss Faulkner could hardly be persuaded he was her 
brother; for there was something in his nature, as well as in 
his shape, size and manner, so clumsy and uncouth, and so very 
opposite to her own delicate frame and temper, that she 
dreaded it was an imposition on her to make her receive him as 
her brother, until she had proper testimonials of his birth, 
&c.

After much pains and instruction, he was, however, introduced 
to the presence of his Excellency, and was graciously 
received, but how to provide for him was the greatest 
difficulty. Many consultations were held for this purpose; 
when it was at length determined to advance him in the army, 
and a commission was accordingly given him. He was dressed in 
very elegant regimentals; and, by his constant attendance at 
his sister's court, and the constant instructions he received, 
with the additions of dancing and fencing, he became very much 
improved in his manners and conversation, and was permitted to 
dine at the same table with her Excellency, when alone.

We must not suppose that, in this high station, our heroine 
was unmindful of her uncle and aunt Paragraph; she really was 
not. She had not been long settled in her government, when she 
sent for them; and they were no less surprised than rejoiced 
at seeing their dear, long lost niece in such an exalted 
sphere of life. Their darling hope of title and preferment was 
once more renewed, and Mr Paragraph assured his lady, that he 
always entertained the greatest hopes, nay was quite certain, 
that the dignity of the Paragraph family would be raised by 
his accomplished neice. Certain it is, that Mer Paragraph was 
introduced to his Excellency at Luttrelstown, and that he was 
promised the honour of knighthood before the departure of his 
Excellency from the administration of that kingdom. But his 
evil genius still attended him in the pursuit of this title, 
and at the moment he was most sure of having it conferred on 
him, an unlucky and unforeseen adventure, once more, snatched 
the laurel from his bended brow. And as it cannot not be 
doubted, but every compassionate reader entertains the highest 
concern for the frequent disappointments of Mr and Mrs 
Paragraph, the circumstances attending this last misfortune 
must be agreeable to them, and are for that reason only 
related in the following chapter.



Chapter XXXI. 
Mr Paragraph's hopes of a knighthood disappointed by an 
unlucky accident. Curious cabin-scene between him and his 
lady.

It happened that Mr and Mrs Paragraph, about a year before 
their niece's arrival in Ireland, had some occasion to go to 
London, and, in their passage to Parkgate, were in the most 
imminent danger of being lost, and the ship wrecked. Mr 
Paragraph's greatest concern was about his worthy Lady, and in 
the midst of the terror and confusion, which the danger 
occasioned amongst the passengers and sailors, Mr Paragraph 
was quite composed, and resigned to his destiny. He used every 
means in his power to cherish and comfort Mrs Paragraph, who 
was almost expiring with fear, and the cries and shouts of the 
numerous passengers on board rendered the scene truly 
horrible. But this did not in the least affect Mr Paragraph, 
he was a perfect philosopher; and retiring with his Lady to a 
private corner of the cabin, took the most affectionate adieu, 
and at the same time assured her, there was one thing which he 
could wish to be resolved in before he left this world, and 
that her answering him a single question would set his mrnd 
perfectly at rest, and fit it for a passage to the Elysian 
shades. Mrs Paragraph with astonishment assured him, there was 
nothing that she could do to contribute to his repose or 
happiness, which she would not cheerfully comply with, and 
desired him to explain himself; which he did by the following 
question: "I beg then to know whether my dear Mrs Paragraph 
has ever been false to my bed?"

Which question produced the following reply: "My contempt, Mr 
Paragraph, for the present shall conquer my indignation. If 
you were not conscious of some defects on your part, you would 
not have dared at any time, but particularly on such an 
occasion as this, to have asked me so presumptuous a question; 
nor will I answer it otherwise than by assuring you, that 
whatever has happened, relative to your mean suspicions, shall 
remain a profound secret in my own bosom, sink or swim." In 
all probability this conversation would never have been 
repeated, had not a certain passenger been lying in a hammock 
just near them; and in the dark they could not perceive him. 
Mr Paragraph, confounded and abashed, left his lady to get on 
deck, and learn whether he should be allowed further time to 
dive into this impenetrable secret, which he had so much at 
heart; and to his great joy was informed, they were all out of 
danger, and ready to land, which they did a few hours 
afterwards at Parkgate; and he hoped and believed, that his 
cabin conversation was was entirely forgot by Mrs Paragraph, 
and that he should never hear more about it nor did he ever 
after, until he was upon the very point of his knighthood.

Hear, gentle reader, and sympathize in the misfortunes co this 
worthy man. The person that heard the cabin conversation, was 
no other than the inimitable, satirical, and wicked Mr Foote; 
and Mr Paragraph having about this time a dispute with the 
manager of one of the theatres in Dublin, the cruel and 
malicious Foote was tempted, by some infernal instigation, to 
introduce this conversation, with some other severe strictures 
on the person and character of Mr Paragraph, into his Orators, 
which rendered him so perfectly ridiculous, that for some 
months he never went out of his own doors, without being 
followed by a parcel of boys and rude mob, mimicking this 
cruel mimic, in the character of Mr Paragraph, and asking him, 
whether his dear Mrs Paragraph had ever been false to his bed?

Although it is perfectly disagreeable to relate, yet it is 
true, that there never was a character exhibited, Cadwallader 
not excepted, that afforded so much diversion, or met with so 
much applause. Mr Paragraph could not be persuaded, that Foote 
could be so inhuman, as to render him an object of such 
ridicule, and for his conviction, was persuaded by some arch-
rogue to get into a private part of the house, and have both 
ocular and auricular demonstration; which he agreed to. But no 
soaner had he taken his seat than he was surrounded by such 
crowds, that he could not get out, of which the cruel Foote 
had intelligence, and added some strokes of wit and satire, 
which let the audience know that Mr Paragraph was present, 
which drew such bursts of applause and laughter, as almost 
deprived that worthy gentleman of his senses. He got home, and 
instantly complained to his niece, but neither her authority, 
nor that of the Viceroy, could suppress the performance for 
upwards of twenty successive nights.

Mr Paragraph at length had recourse to the law, and preferred 
a bill of indictment against Mr Foote for libelling him, which 
the grand jury immediately found, and by that means the piece 
was for the present suppressed; but the affair had such an 
effect on Mr Paragraph, that he would not have attended before 
his Excellency to be dubbed for the first title in the 
kingdom, and has ever since remained plain Mr Paragraph. 



Chapter XXXII. 
Miss Faulkner is suspected of having a pension settled on her 
on the Irish establishment. Improves in her knowledge of 
politics. Gets her brother preferred to a company of foot. And 
lays a scheme for procuring him in marriage a rich city 
heiress, named Miss C----r.

This unlucky incident gave our heroine much anxiety, but she 
conducted herself with great moderation and prudence, and, in 
the course of her administration, acquitted herself to the 
entire satisfaction of the whole kingdom. But, after her 
return to England, she had a pension settled on that 
establishment, of six or seven hundred pounds a year on one Mr 
L----, whom the people of that country never saw nor heard of, 
and have never since been able to find out, and for that 
reason many in that kingdom, as well as in England, have been 
malicious enough to report, that this pension is established 
for her own use; and that she receives it to this day; which 
has greatly altered their sentiments both of her and his 
Excellency.

Granting this were true, is it not very surprising, that these 
ungrateful and unnatural people should murmur so much at 
paying a few hundred pounds a year to a gentlewoman of their 
own country, who rendered them many signal services during her 
administration amongst them, when they at the same time, 
without reluctance, pay upwards of a hundred thousand pounds a 
year, in places and pensions, to the Sardinian Ambassador, 
Dicky Riggabout, Blackard Hamilton, and many other honourable 
and right honourable rascals, whom they have never seen nor 
heard of, unless when they come among them, to enslave and 
plunder them?

It has been often remarked, that it is impossible for ladies, 
who have any hand in the administration of national affairs, 
to preserve their integrity, that is, that they are most 
liable to what is vulgarly called bribery and corruption,  in 
the selling and procuring of places, employments, &c. &c. than 
men; or at least that they do it, with a much better grace; 
and it is reported that our heroine, after her retturn from 
her Viceroyship, became so skilled in this art and mystery of 
politics, that she planned out the channel for her Lord's 
being appointed to one of the most honourable and lucrative 
employments in this kingdom, in the conduct of which it is 
whispered, that she has acquired an immense fortune for her 
and many of her attendants.

Her brother, whom we must now distinguish by the name of 
Captain Faulkner, returned with her to England, and shortly 
after obtained a company of foot; and as she was determined to 
make him the head of her family, she employed several agents 
to find out some rich citizen's widow or daughter, with whom 
the could strike up a match. She at length found out a widow 
lady, who lived near Bloomsbury Square, and who had an only 
daughter, extremely beautiful, and entitled to a fortune of 
20,000l. This lady, whose name was C----r, was the widow of a 
stockbroker in the city, who had acquired an immense fortune, 
and had left his widow as rich as his daughter. In this family 
our heroine determined to provide for her brother, either with 
the mother or daughter, and for that purpose got into the 
acquaintance of same of Mrs C----r's friends, who knowing her 
influence over Lord Halifax, and how much it was in her power 
to promote both them and their friends, thought themselves 
highly honoured in her acquaintance and visits, and Mrs C----r 
and her daughter were soon admitted into this party. Even in 
this company, great apologies were necessary to be made for 
the roughness and crudity of the Captain's behaviour, but it 
was observed, that he had always been at sea, or in the field, 
ever since his youth, and it could not be expected, that the 
joint production of Mars and Neptune should be modernly 
polite, though acceptable even to a Venus. Miss C----r was 
really an elegant girl, and was now in her twentieth year, but 
had never had any opportunity of keeping polite company, and 
had received but an indifferent education; yet she could not 
but entertain an utter aversion to this heterogeneous monster. 
His bulk was enormous, his complexion and countenance 
horrible, and his behaviour and conversation resembled that of 
a wolf, more than a human being, no wonder then that this 
lovely girl could not endure him. But on his part it was 
entirely otherwise; he was enamoured with her from the first 
moment he saw her, and pressed his sister, in the most earnest 
manner he was able, to forward his pretensions.



Chapter XXXIII. 
Her method of conducting this scheme. Miss C----r cruelly 
treated by her mother. Disappionted with her views with 
another lover. 

It is true, Mrs C----r gave this amiable Captain all the 
encouragement he could wish for. But in order to vindicate her 
character, it is necessary to observe, that Miss C----r had 
some time before taken a fancy to her mother's coachman, and 
eloped with him for a whole week before she was discovered and 
taken back from him, and though Miss C----r assured her mother 
and all her friends, that the coachman was too modest to make 
any attempt on her virtue, yet her mother was under 
apprehensions, that something more had passed that might be 
productive of very visible consequences in due time, or that 
her constitution was too warm for the climate of London. These 
considerations, together with the honour and advantages of the 
intended alliance, induced her to give the captain all the 
encouragement he could desire; and as the finishing stroke to 
this treaty, Lord Halifax in person waited on Mrs C----r, and 
assured her of his countenance and protection on the occasion. 
This was an honour not to be resisted, and Miss C----r was 
ordered to hold herself in readiness for the captain's 
embraces.

They dreaded the aversion Miss C----r expressed to her lover, 
and although Miss Faulkner never passed a day that she did not 
visit Mrs C----r and her daughter, or had them down with her 
at Lord Halifax's country seat, she could not procure Miss C--
--r's consent to the nuptials. On the contrary, she declared, 
she would suffer death rather than marry the man she detested. 
But as the captain was sure of the mother's consent and 
20,000l., he gave himself very little concern about the 
inclinations of the young lady, provided he got her into bed 
to him, which his sister and Mrs C----r promised him he should 
have. Under these circumstances it was thought most advisable 
to have a special licence, lest she should prove refractory at 
church, and mar their desrigns; but with the special licence 
she could be noosed at Lord Halifax's country seat by his 
chaplain, by force or any other means they could devise or 
should find necessary. A special licence was accordingly 
obtained, and everything prepared for the ceremony.

Miss C----r suspected their designs, and had for some time 
past entertained an affection for a young gentleman, that 
lodged directly opposite to her mother's house, but had never 
had an opportunity of speaking to him but once, though they 
had often conversed with their eyes from the opposite windows. 
To this gentleman she was determined, at all events, to apply 
for assistance, and as she was never permitted to stir out of 
doors but in the company of her mother and other attendants, 
she was under the necessity of writing to him; and after 
acquainting him with her melancholy situation, she frankly 
owned she had for some time loved him, and was ready to put 
him in possession of her person and fortune.

This young gentleman had for some time looked on Miss C----r 
with a favourable eye, but being informed that she was just on 
the point of being married, he thought it idle to give himself 
any farther trouble about her, and for that reason had 
neglected to pay that attention to her frequent appearance at 
her window to him, and some other signals, which this 
information only prevented his considering in their true 
light; but, on receipt of her letter, he was determined to 
rescue her out of the house, at the peril of his life. He 
accordingly bribed her maid to deliver his answer to her 
letter, desiring that she would be ready to elope that night 
at eleven o'clock, that a chaise and four, with proper 
attendants, would wait within a few yards of her door, and 
that he would be ready to receive her the moment she set her 
foot out of the house; and drive off directly for Scotland.

The receipt of this letter rejoiced Miss C----r to such a 
degree, that the could hardly contain herself; nor did ever 
poor maid so much long for the appointed hour. She could not 
rest a moment in any one place, but run into every private 
room and corner of the house, to read over and kiss this 
warrant for her delivery. Night came, and her lover stood at 
his own window, looking at this lovely girl putting on a light 
riding dress, and just preparing to steal down stairs, when 
lo! her virago mother entered the room, and seizing her in the 
most brutal and violent manner by the hair, dragged her about 
most inhumanly, and threatened to murder her. No man of either 
courage or humanity could stand to see such barbarity. Her 
lover flew down stairs, and thundered at Mrs C----r's door, 
but was refused admittance. The treacherous maid, who carried 
the letter, was in pay with Miss Faulkner, and discovered the 
whole design to Mrs C----r, who had previously sent off an 
express to the captain, barricaded and locked all her doors, 
and would not permit any person to enter, until the arrival of 
the captain and his sister. But she no sooner saw the young 
gentleman knocking at her door, than with a true Billingsgate 
vociferation, the cried out, "Thieves! Murder! Rape! 
Ravishment! Robbers! Watch! Help! Neighbours" &c. &c., for a 
full half hour, without once stopping, till her breath was 
quite exhausted, and she became so hoarse, that she could not 
bawl out any longer. Her cries alarmed the whole 
neighbourhood, and the house was presently surrounded with 
numbers of people. This in course obliged our young hero to 
decamp, to his inexpressible grief and mortification.



Chapter XXXIV. 
Miss C----r is married, much against her inclination, and 
almost by force, to Captain Faulkner. Her husband uses her in 
the most barbarous manner. She falls into a consumption, and 
dies. 

The unfortunate Miss C----r's hopes of delivery being thus 
frustrated, her lover, whom we shall call Mr Butler, fired 
with love and resentment, was resolved to support his 
pretensions by his sword; and as soon as he saw the Captain 
enter Mrs C----r's house the next morning, he sent him a card, 
desiring he would appoint a time and place, where he should 
wait on him that evening. The noble Captain, who was now of 
the Privy Council, showed this card to Mrs C----r, who 
instantly construed it into a challenge; and told the Captain, 
that this was the very fellow, whom her daughter was going to 
elope with the preceding night, and advised him, by all means, 
to decline meeting the ravishing, blood-thirsty rogue. These 
were really her expressions, and it is but just the reader 
should have them by way of instruction, and as a specimen of 
polite education. This explanation of Mr Butler's card threw 
the Captain into the utmost consternation. It is true, he had 
for some time wore a sword, but had never yet been called upon 
to use it; and, on due examination of himself, he discovered 
an utter aversion to cold iron. He was therefore very easily 
persuaded to follow Mrs C----r's advice in declining to meet 
Mr Butler, or even to send him any answer to his card, until 
the arrival of Miss Faulkner.

During these deliberations, Misss C----r was locked up in a 
dark closet, and a guard set over her; and about noon Miss 
Faulkner drove up to Mrs C----r's door in Lord Halifax's coach 
and six, with a splendid retinue of servantss and attendants; 
and being informed of the business of the night, and reading 
Mr Butler's card, she instantly declared, she would have that 
ravishing villain taken up by a secretary of state's warrant, 
and imprisoned for life, for daring to conspire, or threaten 
the death of her brother, who was then so immediately 
connected with the state; and accordingly set out for 
Whitehall for that purpose: but upon stating the affair to 
Lord Halifax, his Lordship was of opinion, that he could not 
with safety issue a warrant against Butler, as Captain F---- 
had not yet been sworn into the Privy Council. He therefore 
recommended a warrant from the civil magistrate, for 
apprehending Mr Butler. Before this warrant could be obtained, 
it was necessary, that the Captain should appear before a 
justice of the peace, and swear, that he was in dread and fear 
of his life, from the terrible menaces of this assassin, 
Butler; which, to the honour of his regimentals, longsword, 
and valiant cockade, he certainly and absolutely did do, and 
obtained a warrant against Mr Butler, who was taken thereon, 
and bound over in a recognizance of 5,000l. that he would not 
commit any assault on the magnanimous captain; and when the 
recognizance on the part of Mr Butler was entered into, the 
magistrate, as usual in such cases, recommended it to Mr 
Butler, to bind the Captain in a like security to keep the 
peace with him. Mr Butler told the justice, that he could not 
do it, and being asked his reason, he said, that as it could 
not be done without his swearing, that he was in dread and 
fear of the Captain, it was impossible he should do so without 
perjuring himself, for that he was not in dread or fear of 
anything like him; and giving the Captain a look of the 
highest contempt, left him at the justice's.

This point of honour being thus settled, it was resolved that 
no more time should be lost in the accomplishment of their 
design. Miss Faulkner therefore prevailed with Mrs C----r to 
take her daughter with her immediately into the country, and 
that the nuptials should be celebrated the very next night. 
The wretched Miss C----r was, accordingly released from her 
confinement, and by force put into Lord Halifax's coach, with 
the valiant Captain; and they set out directly, with a 
magnificent retinue, for B----y Park, where the next night the 
hero was put in possession of one of the finest girls in 
England with a fortune of 2,0000l.

It would shock humanity to read or describe the barbarities, 
that were practiced on this unfortunate young lady, to force 
her into the arms of this monster. Let it therefore suffice to 
say, that in less than a month they separated. Her aversion to 
hrm, every hour increased, and she justly treated him with 
abhorrence and contempt; which so provoked his brutal nature, 
that he beat, kicked, and abused her almost every hour: and as 
they returned to Mrs C----r's in some few days after their 
marriage, the whole neighbourhood was alarmed in the middle of 
the night with this distressed lady's cries of "Murder!" 
Several gentlemen forced into the house, and on entering her 
room, found her weltering in her blood, beat and bruised in 
the most shocking manner, and her fine hair, torn out by 
handfuls, strewed about the chamber. Her monster of a husband 
was treated with the utmost indignity and abuse by several of 
the spectators, particularly by one gentleman, who directly 
took his wife out of the house to his own, and the next day 
generously had her situation laid before the Lord Chancellor, 
who ordered her an immediate maintenance, suitable to her 
fortune, and stopped the noble Captain's receiving a single 
shilling belonging to her, until a further hearing.

Mrs C----r, when it was too late, saw the cruelty of her 
behaviour to her daughter. She immediately agreed to the 
separation, and went into the country with her, but the 
treatment she had received, made such an impression on her 
tender heart, and so affected her, that she fell into a deep 
consumption, and at the end of six months died; leaving her 
mother and the detested Captain to dispute her fortune; which, 
perhaps, they are, at this day, contending for in Chancery. It 
is possible, the gentle reader will wish, that neither of them 
may live to enjoy it.



Chapter XXXV. 
Miss Faulkner's views disappointed by this accident. She grows 
more rapacious. Mr Donaldson returns to England, and compels 
Lord Halifax to give him a considerable sum of money, and a 
more profitable place. Embarassment of Lord Halifax's affairs, 
and the decline of his character. The conclusion.

The death of Miss C----r, and the disappointment of receiving 
the 20,000l. which our heroine expected the Captain should 
pocket with her, were severe strokes both to her pride and 
political views. Lord Halifax, notwithstanding his high and 
lucrative employments, was in the most embarrassed 
circumstances; nor was it an uncommon thing to see an 
execution, with a parcel of ruffian bailiffs, lodged in his 
house, and his plate and furniture on the very point of a 
public sale. The greatest part of the 20,000l. was therefore 
intended to be lent his Lordship at interest. The  
disappointment fell heavy; for many of his Lordship's 
creditors, who were to have been silenced out of this sinking 
fund, became clamorous; and the pay of a captain was by no 
means equal to the appearance and expensive plan of life, 
which the brother was necessarily obliged to support during 
his courtship; and now that he was involved in a suit in 
Chancery, he was once more become an absolute dependant on the 
generosity and courtesy of his sister and Lord Halifax. The 
latter never much liked him, though he saw and received him, 
in compliment to his adored Miss Faulkner; but this lady, 
being still resolved to force his fortunes in the world, 
shared the Irish pension with him for some time, and supported 
his cause in Chancery, which rendered his circumstances 
tolerably easy.

Hitherto Miss Faulkner had acted with much caution and 
discretion in the course of Lord Halifax's administration; 
that is, she was not very exorbitant in the prices or 
conditions, on which she granted and procured several valuable 
and lucrative employments; but whether from necessity or 
avarice, we cannot determine (though inclined to think she was 
influenced by the former) she now played both an open and a 
desperate game. Her former generosity and prudence at once 
forsook her. There was no office, no employment in any one 
department, to be disposed of, but through her means and 
procurement; and on these she fixed her own price. Enormous 
sums were raised through this channel of negotiation, and 
where money was not to be had, bonds, annuities, and dividends 
of the profits and income of each employ were daily executed 
and secured, till at length her office became a public 
exchange, and her brokers were as well known as those at 
Jonathan's or Lloyd's.

During this noble administration, Mr Donaldson heard of the 
power and riches of his lady, and though in possession of a 
very genteel income abroad, he was resolved to share some of 
the spoils at home; and accordingly arrived in England, at a 
time when his presence was neither expected nor desired. After 
he had spent a few days in London, consulting with his 
friends, and inquiring into the real situation of his wife's 
finances and prerogative, he made her a formal visit at Lord 
Halifax's house in Great G---- Street. It is but reasonable to 
suppose, that his sudden appearance before his lady and Lord 
Halifax must have strangely alarmed and disconcerted them. His 
Lordship expressed both the greatest surprise and resentment, 
and demanded his reason for quitting his employ, without his 
knowledge and permission: to which Mr Donaldson replied, that 
the salary of his office was scarcely sufficient to support 
him, and that he could not reconcile it to himself to be 
banished from his native country, and all the other pleasures 
of life, for a bare maintenance; that he was well assured, 
Miss Faulkner had it in her power to bestow something 
considerable upon him, without hurting herself; and that his 
Lordship had it also in his power to promote him to a more 
agreeable and profitable station than that which he then 
enjoyed; and he concluded with some disagreeable insinuations, 
in case his terms were not immediately complied with.

Mr Donaldson was not only peremptory but exorbitant in his 
demands. Several stratagems were made use of to evade his 
pretensions, but he had sagacity enough to escape every trap 
that was laid for him; and as Lord Halifax now dreaded a 
separation from Miss Faulkner more than any other earthly 
curse, Mr Donaldson's demands were, at length, complied with. 
He received a considerable sum of money in hand, and a much 
more advantageous and honourable employ, than he was formerly 
possessed of, and immediately returned to the West Indies, 
where he has ever since remained, without interrupting the 
happiness of his lady and Lord Halifax. 

If we were at liberty to urge, that the favourable or 
unfavourable events, that happen to us in this life, are 
proportioned to our virtues or vices, it might be concluded, 
that these fashionable lovers were adequately mortified and 
punished for the mutual indulgence of criminal connection, by 
the sudden alteration both of their circumstances and 
reputation. Lord Halifax had been always esteemed a man of 
great abilities, integrity, and honour; and had formerly 
filled several considerable departments of the state, with the 
highest applause. But he had now near finished his political 
career. The rapaciousness of his mistress, and his indulgence, 
or connivance at the bare-faced depredations she daily 
committed, drew upon him the just and severe censures of the 
public; insomuch that he became both despised and detested, 
and his former reputation was now enveloped in the deep shade 
of his follies and vices. His necessities obliged him to act, 
in one of the most consequential employments under the crown, 
not agreeable to his own good sense and extensive abilities, 
but as the tool and slave of a person, the most obnoxious to 
the whole kingdom. He had no will, no power, but what he 
received from an odious favourite, who has since abandoned him 
to the public resentment, and the persecution of almost the 
whole nation; the consequence of which is likely to reduce him 
to beggary[see note *], as well as infamy. His distresses have 
forced him to take from his mistress all her ill-gotten 
treasures, and he now lives with her in the country, in 
obscurity, where they indulge their mutual passion, and their 
sole ambition is to provide some fortune for a daughter, the 
only pledge of their shameful connection. His Lordship is, 
however, under the strongest engagements to make Miss Faulkner 
Countess of Halifax, as soon as the death of Mr Donaldson can 
render such a union practicable.

*Note: The reader will perceive that the above paragraph was 
written before the decision of the cause between Mr Wilkes and 
the Earl of Halifax, where the damages awarded by the jury, 
fell so much short of public expectation, and where it 
appeared, that these damages, though so unconscionably small, 
were to be paid, not out of his Lordship's pocket, but out of 
the national treasure.



Supplement. 
Containing two letters on the conduct of Lord Halifax and Miss 
Faulkner.

The following anecdotes came to hand after that part of the 
memoir, with which thy are immediately connected, was printed 
off, and where, if they had been admitted at all into the body 
of the history, they ought properly to have been inserted. 
They are therefore here given by way of Supplement, nearly in 
the same words in which they were communicated to the 
publisher.

Mr Bingley, 
	AS you are about publishing the memoirs of a 
celebrated Lady, if you have any empty space left, you 
are heartily welcome to the following anecdotes, upon the 
truth of which you may safely depend.

"When Lord Halifax's seraglio was transported to Ireland, 
amongst the other appendages of his houshold, his 
favourite Sultana was accompanied by several ladies of 
easy virtue, who, being married, added no small sanction 
(as they thought) to the most profligate secret measures, 
and the most daring trespasses upon all public decency 
and decorum.

"Henry K--ne (a contented cuckold) now of Golden Square, 
architect, and first gentleman of the bedchamber to his 
Lordship, retained no small influence in the cabinet 
through like interest of his wife with the Sultana, as 
did also another of the bedchamber, whose name I have now 
forgot, through the interest of his wife with the same 
Sultana, for which he was rewarded with a sinecure petty 
government of 400l. per annum in some interior part of 
Ireland, which he now holds by deputation; and his 
Lordship not having then an immediate opportunity of 
providing for Mr K--ne, did, without the least scruple or 
shame, create a place for him, unheard of before, at the 
expense of the public, by making him Surveyor to Dublin 
Castle, &c. with the capacity of receiving in England, 
the salary annexed of 500l. per annum, without any 
obligation binding him to cross the herring pond, to 
superintend the duties of this nominal office[See note 
*]. These acts of munificence in his Lordship were 
followed by two others more gracious, though less 
meritorious, viz. He gave an employment (at the instance 
of the above-mentioned lady) to Mr Uchside Offley, Mrs K-
-ne's favourite, and her husband's journeyman, in a 
double capacity; and transformed her brother (by the 
power of his Lordship's magic wand) from a stone-mason, 
into a son of Mars, by complimenting him with a 
lieutenant's commission in the army; from which, (if not 
mortgaged) he now receives half-pay.

*Note: This occasioned a late spirited enqury in the 
House of Commons in Ireland, which made his commission 
shake, but did not overthrow it. 

"When his Lordship acted in one of the first offices of 
the state, Mrs D-l--n appointed the celebrated Mr S--rd, 
her secret broker, the infamy of whose character is too 
well known to stand in need of any illustration. This 
fellow had the audacity to bluster about from coffee-
house to coffee-house, in the face of open day, 
negotiating and transacting every piece of dirty 
business, that could bring the Sultana ten pounds, and 
twenty shillings to himself; and had the address to 
obtain, through her means, an ensigncy in the Royal 
Scotch, when commanded by Sir Henry Erskine, for a petit 
maitre son of Isis; and also a consulship for Captain 
Buckmaster, his son-in-law, which he now holds in one of 
the Barbary States. 
	I am, Sir, 
	Your humble servant, 
	CIVIS."


To Mr BINGLEY. 
	Dublin, January 2, 1770. 
	SIR, 
	I find by an advertisement in the newspapers, that 
you intend publishing the memoirs of Miss Faulkner, now 
Mrs Donaldson; and as I suppose you mean to give some 
account of her present keeper, Lord Halifax, the 
following anecdotes, I presume, will not be thought 
unworthy of a place in the history of that lady. Soon 
after his Lordship was preferred to the government of 
Ireland, Mrs Donaldson (who was then in England) was 
applied to by Mrs L----m (a very remarkable lady here) in 
favour of her husband. No sooner did his Lordship receive 
Mrs Donaldson's letter on this subject, than straight way 
Mr L----m was dubbed Governor of Ross Castle. Had he been 
an object of charity, his Lordship's bounty would have 
been well bestowed, but so far was this from being the 
case, that these people assume all the pride and parade 
of people of fashion, and yet could meanly condescend to 
beg from a creature, who, but a few years ago, was an 
inferior strolling actress in every sense of the word, 
and even now, in all her glory, has nothing more to boast 
of, than being the kept mistress of a man, who has made 
himself odious to the whole nation, by violating the 
rights of the British subject. But what is all this to 
his Lordship, his mistress, or their dependents? The 
government of Ross Castle has riveted Mr L----m his 
friend, and the wife and mistress are sworn sisters. They 
visit and re-visit, and Mrs L----m don't look upon Mrs 
Donaldson being an adulteress now, as any crime, because 
she's sure, if Donaldson were dead, his Lordship would 
make her an honest woman, though that, I confess, I very 
much doubt for (believe me Sir) Donaldson might be 
prevailed upon to sue for a divorce, if they came up to 
his price, nor would there be anything more extraordinary 
in his cuckolding his Lordship after marriage than 
before, as it is generally supposed he hath often done; 
for I have been informed, that his visits to his wife, 
when the lived in Manchester Buildings, were very 
frequent.

Lord Halifax was next applied to by Mrs Donaldson for 
(something, as she termed it) to a woman of a very 
extraordinary charmer, a Mrs Penelopy V--tr, a creature 
held in the lowest estimation upon the stage, which was 
her profession. She took the name of Miss Danvers, from 
her murdering Indiana in the Conscious Lovers. She has 
bulk enough to bear more being said, but her connections 
and abilities are too insignificant to merit any further 
notice. In short his Lordship granted her a pension of (I 
think) one hundred pounds per annum, which, with the 
pension that Mrs Donaldson has under a fictitious name, 
gave great and just cause to the people here to murmur. 
They even talked of abolishing all such pensions; which I 
hope they will one day or other have power and spirit 
enough to do. A government and two pensions, bestowed 
upon such worthless wretches, were deemed measures the 
more exceptionable, as there were many real objects of 
charity at that time in the kingdom. There were then, to 
my knowledge, clergymen's and officers' widows, who had 
no other subsistance, than what they could raise by 
benefit concerts every year. How amiable must his 
Lordship have appeared, had he appropriated the above 
emoluments to their use! Shame it is that two idle 
strollers, of the lowest class, should rob our distressed 
natives of what ought to be allotted for their support. 
As his Lordship dwells much upon his private feelings, 
these, as well as other acts of injustice, clearly show 
his total want of social virtue: else, the joy he must 
have felt at doing a really benevolent action, would have 
made him so happy for the day, that it would, in my mind, 
have doubled his pleasures for the night.

The next noble act he performed within my knowledge is as 
follows: There was a quartermaster in the fifth, or royal 
dragoons of Ireland, whose name was Paulfrey. This poor 
man went security for a gentleman, for (I think) 300 
pounds. The man dying soon after, the quartermaster was 
arrested and confined for the money, which it was not in 
his power to pay by any other means than the sale of his 
warrant, which was all he had on earth (at that time) to 
support himself, a wife and eight children. The poor 
fellow, well knowing his inability, contrived to make his 
escape. He flew to his regiment, which received and 
protected him. The Sheriff of the county made application 
to the Duke of Bedford (our then Lord Lieutenant) to 
order the officers to give the quartermaster up, but upon 
the worthy man, who was Lieutenant Colonel of the 
regiment at that time, hearing of the request made to his 
Grace, he immediately went and begged for mercy, which 
the Duke very humanely granted. The poor maun remained 
quiet for some time, but when the mighty Halifax came, he 
ordered him to be given up to the rage of his creditor. 
Happy had it been for some in England had his Lordship 
met the same fate. The Colonel, with his usual good-
nature, interfered again, and told the whole affair truly 
as it was, and earnestly begged for a certain time for 
the payment of the moneys; but no favour could be 
obtained. His Lordship had been applied to by a member of 
parliament, and the affair must be done.

The Colonel then ordered the man to town, and entertained 
him in his own house for at least six months, during 
which time his Lordship promised he would make some 
provision for him, provided his commands were complied 
with; nay even pledged his word and honour for it. The 
Colonel, who had no idea of any man forfeiting either, 
was happy. The warrant was sold (to great disadvantage) 
the debt paid, and the poor man little better than a 
beggar. Perhaps you are just going to bless his Lordship, 
thinking there's another government for him. But stop a 
little. He was poor, and could not follow the golden 
rule, nor was his wife honoured with the acquaintance of 
Mrs Donaldson, consequently he was not an object worthy 
his Lordship's notice. Soon after Lord Halifax got on the 
other side of the water, but left his word and honour 
behind, for I don't find he ever carried either the one 
or the other back with him. It was recommended to the 
quartermaster to sell them, but they were so blotted and 
stained, that not a single soul here would be seen to 
purchase them. In fine, they hung so heavy upon the man's 
hands, that he mustered up all the cash he could borrow 
from his friends, and set out for London to have the 
honour of laying them, with all duty and obedience, at 
the Earl's feet. But though he was there for two years 
(and in such distressed circumstances, that he must have 
perished, had it not been for his old friend the Colonel, 
who happened to be in England, and again assisted him, as 
he always thinks it incumbent upon him to help the 
distressed) and had been both at his Lordship's town and 
country house, yet could he never get a sight of him 
except in the street. In short, the Colonel was obliged 
to supply him with twenty guineas to bring him back to 
his family; and he brought his Lordship's word and honour 
back with him, and as he could not make a penny of them, 
they were hung up at the entrance of the castle, to show 
every nobleman (I had like to have said gentleman) that 
entertained the same principles, that they need not pawn 
their own word and honour, as they might have Lord 
Halifax's dog cheap.

But, Sir, I must farther show you how fond his Lordship 
was of preferring people of merit. There is one B----m, 
who originally was a cobbler in a little town they call 
Loughrea. He afterwards enlisted as a trooper, and being 
a sneaking artful fellow, got from one thing to another, 
till he became a sort of a riding-master; and when Lord 
Halifax came, he found the method of creeping into his 
and his nephew's good graces; for when ever Sir G---- 
rode, B----m would swear he was one of the best horsemen 
he had seen; nay, made him believe he was a demigod, and 
rode upon the clouds; but when he turned his back, would 
damn him, and say it was impossible for any master to 
make him a horseman. However this B----m has a son, a 
mighty insignificant fellow, and of a very indifferent 
character. As for example, he very frequently assists his 
father in beating and abusing his mother; nay, has often 
turned her out of doors. This I had from her own mouth, 
and I give it you for fact. I only mention this 
circumstance to show his and his father's merit.

Nevertheless, to the amazement of everybody, he got a 
Cornetcy in the regiment already mentioned, which is held 
in the highest esteem here. The story went then that his 
Lordship made him a present of it; but the story goes 
very different now. Five or six hundred pounds have been 
given upon such occasions before now, and though these 
people must have been pushed to the last extremity, to 
raise such a sum, yet if it was required, one would 
stretch a point upon such an occasion; and if a man has a 
nephew, and cash scarce, 'tis a very pretty sum (let me 
tell you) to warm one's fingers with on a winter's 
morning. This same Cornet, or (perhaps by this time) 
Lieutenant is so exceedingly clumsy and awkward, that he 
is a disgrace to the regiment, as most of the officers 
are very handsome fellows, and all not only gentlemen's 
sons, but really gentlemen themselves. How far such a 
son, of such a father, had pretensions to a commission in 
this regiment, I'll leave you to judge. I am told his 
merit consists chiefly in the theatrical way, as he is an 
excellent mimic, by which means he recommends himself to 
the corps. Though he has had no education, he sets up for 
a fine gentleman; but (as Mr Haladay, the clergyman, said 
to him) he had better study to make both ends meet, as 
his father had done before him; alluding to the cobbling 
business 
	I am, Sir, 
	Your most obedient servant, 
	An IRISHMAN. 

FINIS.



Fanny Davies (1786)

From Laura J. Rosenthal: Nightwalkers, Broadview Press, 
Peterborough, Ontario, Canada, 2008 and 
https://books.google.ie/books?id=m9VlAAAAcAAJ 



Title Page

An

AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE

Of

the Most Remarkable 
ADVENTURES,
and
CURIOUS INTRIGUES,
Exhibited in the Life of
Miss FANNY DAVIES,  
the Celebrated
MODERN AMAZON

By

Mr Thompson
(1786)



Frontispiece: Fanny Davies in prison

 



Chapter I. 
Introduction--Fanny's birth--Breeding--She is sent to 
Bridewell--Kept by Justice R--l--His Worship's covetousness--
Fanny withdraws from his miserable mansion--Goes to Ranelagh 
with her Mother--A young noble Lord beholds her charms, 
solicits her company at his country seat, and requests his 
steward to lay a plan to obtain his ardent wishes.

Both the natural and the moral world, are happily contrasted, 
not only designed to bestow the greater variety, but likewise 
the purer pleasure. The beauties of spring seem never so 
delightful, as when compared to the blighting blasts of 
winter. Were summer or autumn perpetual, as feigned of the 
golden age, the glory of the one, and the ripeness of the 
other, would be less esteemed.

However hard it is to trace the origin of evil, it is evident 
that it was introduced to display the greatest good. Without 
vice, virtue would be a sacred something, but ill understood, 
and little revered by mortals.

On a review of the historian's page, we presently discover a 
blazon of blemishes, as well as beauties, in the characters 
recorded. The poet's pen, and the painter's pencil, have also 
most aptly been employed in delineating the striking 
contrasts, agreeable to nature and observation. They dwell 
upon the frightful features of vice, to give a lustre to the 
comely countenance of virtue; they portray the path that leads 
down to destruction, that the traveller may recede from his 
pursuit, and point to the precipice, that he may beware in 
time.

At present we attempt to draw a picture of the human heart, in 
its depraved state, and display vice in its utmost deformity. 
The character of our piece is a young woman--and who is so 
capable of evil, as one of the softer sex, when completely 
vitiated. It is said that the sweetest wine makes the sourest 
vinegar. A virtuous woman is certainly the glory of the 
creation, the best boon bestowed by Heaven on man; a source of 
hope to her humble suitor, and a crown of happiness to her 
husband; but when a fair one becomes vicious, and gives a 
loose to the violence of her passions, she is but too apt to 
imitate with success, that malignant, infernal fiend, who, by 
his wiley ways, seduced our general mother to touch the 
forbidden fruit--

. . . Whose mortal taste, 
Brought death into the world, and all our woe. 
[Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 1, l. 2-3 --Ed.]

Frances Davies, the celebrated heroine of our history, was 
born in Southwark, a borough not the best regulated, though 
the biggest in Britain. Her father died when she was young, 
and her mother, who had once been in an eligible line of life, 
was obligated to take the tour of America soon after. Fanny 
would have been left to the wide world when six years old, had 
not a distant relation taken her up, and adopting her into the 
family, gave her a tolerable education, and put her apprentice 
to a black milliner, in the same borough.

Fanny, in the earliest stages of life, was initiated into the 
vulgar mysteries, by constantly attending the pawn-broker's 
office, and the gin-shop. In this way she acquired much art 
and cunning, and was even at ten years of age, able to outwit 
both Mr Cent per Cent and the Balderdasher, at the instance of 
her employer. Let parents in the lower walks of life, from 
this be duly admonished, and never suffer their children to 
learn that of which they themselves are ashamed; for in so 
doing, they not only show a bad example, but oblige them to 
run before them in the road to ruin.

So early in life did our heroine assimilate herself to the 
manners of the young wantons, with which the Borough abounds, 
and with them frequently paraded the streets at night, and 
grew acquainted with the little boys who ply at the corners of 
streets, and lodge in the dirty alleys of infamy. This part, 
however, she acted with so much address, that she was not even 
suspected for some time; but on the contrary, always appeared 
with a peculiar modesty and reserve, which were much favoured 
by the cast of her countenance, and her simple, but neat 
attire.

But one evening she was found by Baileys, the street officer, 
in company with several abandoned boys, who being well-known 
pickpockets, were secured, and, with Fanny, conducted to the 
New Bridewell, in St. George's Fields. In this sad situation, 
she was under the disagreeable necessity of sending for her 
new mistress, the milliner, who rescued her from captivity, 
and discovered the general complexion of her character.

She informed her mistress, but in a measure, the cause of her 
misfortune, and assured her, that when she was first carried 
before a certain magistrate, she beheld a celebrated vulgar 
preacher, esteemed a holy man by almost everybody, actually 
playing at cards with his worship. This atheist deacon, for he 
never was in priest's orders, has since disgraced his calling; 
so that the mask having been forced from the face of this 
hypocrite, we are saved the trouble of removing it.

On her return from prison, she was again taken before the 
above justice; her mistress attending on the occasion, 
received a most ardent rebuke from the curate, who had again 
been dipping into the history of the four kings, and met the 
menaces of his worship; to be executed in case she did not 
take more care of her apprentice. These threats and 
admonitions, came but with an ill grace from those gentlemen.

Fanny, before she was fourteen, was a very forward girl in 
stature, strength, and beauty, and began to attract the notice 
of young fellows bigger than boys. She still retained a modest 
deportment. To have looked on her fair face, rosy cheeks, 
coral lips, black eyes, ivory neck, slender waist, delicate 
arms, and beautiful hair, which hung down in luxurient 
tresses, yet decorated with decency, one would not have taken 
her for anything less than a masterpiece of nature; or a being 
not much lower than an angel. Her voice was sweet and 
melodious, but her words were few, and cautiously uttered in 
company. In a word, Fanny was the fairest of her sex in 
Southwark; but all was false and hollow. Thus situated, and 
endowed with every charm that could allure the beholder, was 
our fair heroine, when her mother returned from the Western 
world, after having suffered a long exile from her native 
land, to satisfy the sentence of the merciless stern law. The 
old gentlewoman, not readily finding honest employment, and 
but little inclined to live frugally, entered into partnership 
with a notorious thief-taker, and lived with him as his wife.

By this time the fame of Fanny had reached the ears of a 
certain libidinous old gentleman, and a justice of the peace, 
most famous for parsimony. Overtures were made to the mother, 
through the medium of the runner. An agreement was made. Fanny 
eloped from her mistress, and lived with that son of Gripus, 
of whom the world has recently heard much. Although his 
worship was a person worth near �100,000 yet he almost starved 
himself and the fair one. He fared but little better than the 
poorest peasant in the country; he denied himself the common 
necessaries of subsistence. His domestic animals died with 
hunger, and even the rats were obliged to run from under his 
inhospitable roof.

During a very hard winter, however, his worship's table was 
considerably enlarged; but the provision with which it was 
chiefly replenished, was fraudulently taken from the parish 
poor. This hopeful magistrate pretended to commiserate the 
distress of Fanny's mother. He sent for her to his house, and 
informed her that bread, coals, potatoes, and fish, were to be 
distributed to little house-keepers, or any person who could 
obtain tickets for that purpose, from any respectable 
character. He then proposed to give her such an order from 
time to time, providing she would promise to bring the several 
articles above specified to him, in order that he himself, and 
her fair amiable daughter, might have a moiety of the 
donation. The old gentlewoman readily acquiesced in his 
desire, and so not only fared well herself, but prolonged the 
stay of Fanny with a fellow who had not tasted a good meal for 
many days, except at an election, a parish feast, or a quarter 
sessions.

The severe weather was soon gone, and an unaccountable 
parsimony again prevailing, our heroine withdrew from the 
miserable caitiff, without receiving his worship's bounty. The 
mother tried to recover damages, but Gripus, though the most 
impotent wretch in the commission for the county, proved too 
strong an adversary on the occasion, for law or justice.

Fanny, now happily, as she thought, relieved from such 
confinement, began to give a greater scope to her love of 
pleasure, by visiting with her mother, the several places of 
public entertainment.

At Ranelagh the following summer, a young nobleman, of a large 
estate, beheld her charms with the most ardent emotion. His 
lordship soon introduced himself into her dear company, 
treated her, led her round the circle, walked with her about 
the gardens, and proposed to take her home to his country 
seat.

Fanny's modesty on the occasion, was remarkable, and even 
amazing. She talked steadfastly of honourable terms, and 
solemnly protested that his lordship, with all the arts 
peculiar to his sex, and within the line of his elevated 
station, should never prevail upon her constant mind; nor, in 
the most distant degree, induce her to swerve from the rigid 
rules of virtue.

His lordship, much chagrined in his mind, endeavoured to 
maintain his civil deportment, and resolved to persevere in 
pursuing a conquest, which the more would redound to his 
satisfaction, by its difficulty of being obtained. He opened 
his mind to his young steward, who attended him, and who 
promised his utmost assistance.

Accordingly this pimping parasite watched the motion of Fanny, 
as she withdrew from the Rotunda with her mother, and would 
have followed them all the way to Southwark, had not my lord's 
coachman stopped him short at Chelsea, and informed him that 
he was well acquainted with the old lady, and her fair 
daughter.

This fellow, named John Mathews, had been a prisoner in the 
King's Bench, for smuggling. On his emancipation, he resided 
in Mint Street, and became the president of a club, composed 
of characters the most heterogeneous that can be imagined. He 
was an odd character, but his master durst not part with him, 
for fear of certain discoveries. He often withdrew from his 
occupation, and was never completely joyous, but when mingling 
with the bawds of the Borough, or at the club which was held 
monthly, at the sign of the Justice, a notied low pot-house in 
the above street. All this he told the steward, and added, 
that Fanny was a member of the society, in which he had the 
honour to be chairman; and that he had so great an ascendancy 
over her mother, that he could force her to grant him any 
favour whatever.



Chapter II. 
The club of Mint Street described--Lord ----, and his steward 
disguised, carry away Fanny to a hotel in Covent Garden, and 
next to the country--Fanny dresses in men's apparel, and rides 
out a-hunting with her lord--She hears that her lover is under 
sentence of death--Procures him his pardon--A serious 
reflection.

The pander communicated his intelligence to the youthful lord, 
whose bosom burned with the keenest desire to obtain the fair 
Fanny to his arms. It was resolved that his lordship should 
attend the next club in disguise, the better to effect his 
design. The day was at no great distance, yet his lordship 
thought it an age.

Meanwhile Fanny's first lover, a boy in the Borough, whom she 
first met in Bridewell, having left off his filching, and 
taken to the predatory line, was committed to the New Gaol. Of 
this my lord was informed by Mathews, the coachman, which 
somewhat assuaged his lordship's deep distress, as he had now 
little to dread from so formidable a rival. Our heroine, 
however, frequently paid the young fellow a visit in prison, 
to soothe him amidst his misery. We forbear to mention the 
name of this unfortunate fellow, as his father lives in 
reputation, and is deservedly deemed an honest man. Through 
the kindness of Fanny, and other friends, he lived well in 
prison; indeed but few of those sons of injustice, who have 
been such for a long season, are suffered to subsist merely 
upon the pitiable allowance of one penny-worth of bread in 
twenty-four hours, as those are obliged to do, who, perhaps, 
for some little offence, for the first time, have been entered 
into the volume of a trading justice of the peace, and 
consigned to the care of a callous keeper.

The club night came. The president, at the fiat of his noble 
master, prepared an uncommon entertainment for the company. 
Hams, buttocks of beef, fowls, and plenty of wine, formed the 
plentiful repast. Exactly at eight o'clock the president 
mounted, and the various members were seated in order.

Homer, in his Iliad, has presented a very copious catalogue of 
the Grecian ships. Virgil has imitated the ancient bard, by 
enumerating his heroes. Milton has followed their examples, by 
introducing the infernal demons. But it is not our design in 
this genuine narrative, to give way to levity, else the 
ludicrous group, presented in this motley monthly meeting, 
would easily supply materials for the purpose.

Suffice it to say, the number was forty-five, besides 
strangers, gathered from the infamous dark lanes and alleys of 
Southwark, St. Giles's, Saltpetre Bank, Petticoat Lane, with 
the refuse of the markets. In this collection appeared 
swindlers, pimps, pick-pockets, bullies, housebreakers, bawds, 
whores, and every other species of foes to order, and friends 
of riot, which the prolific Borough, and the other places, 
could produce.

Supper was set on the table. The chairman said a short grace. 
The eager company fell on with quick dispatch, and with 
ravenous appetites devoured all the viands, before the arrival 
of the young lord and his trusty steward, who were clad in the 
rustic garbs of country swains.

The president having given previous notice of the coming of 
two strangers, they were received with a tumult of applause. 
The music immediately struck up, the table was withdrawn, and 
the dancing commenced.

The chairman, whose word was law, and whose decree was ever 
revered, pointed fair Fanny to the young lord, as a proper 
partner. She considered him as a plebeian son of the road, and 
readily gave him her hand. They danced amid the pleased 
multitude, and then withdrew to a room adjacent. There his 
lordship well improved his time, and gained Fanny's consent to 
take a coach. The steward followed, and they set off from the 
Borough, making the best of their way to a famed hotel in 
Covent Garden, where my lord and the fair one, spent the rest 
of the evening in mirth and wantonness.

The next morning his lordship arose before Fanny, retired from 
the chamber, and returned in a rich dress. She quickly 
recognized his person, and feigned an air of modesty, which 
she could but ill support. His lordship pressed her to attend 
him to his country mansion, and by the address of the steward, 
who now appeared in a genteel habit, she consented. Mathews 
also appeared, mounted the box, and drove them down to the 
country above an hundred miles.

There a pleasant park presented itself to our fair one. His 
lordship led her to the myrtle grove, and assured her that she 
was mistress of the place, and all the delightful landscape.

So said he, and forbore not glance, or toy, 
Of amorous intent; well understood 
Of Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. 
Her hand he seized; and to a shady bank, 
Thick over head with verdant roof imbowred, 
He led her nothing loth: flowers were the couch, 
Pansies, and violets, and asphodel, 
And hyacinth, earth's freshest softest lap. 
There they their fill of love, and love's disport 
Took largely; of their mutual guilt the seal, 
The solace of their sin: till dewy sleep 
Oppressed them, wearied with their amorous play. 
[Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 9. l. 1032-1045 ]

Fanny resided with his lordship all the summer, and frequently 
made little excursions into the neighbouring countries. 
Indeed, my lord was under a kind of necessity to look round 
about him for company, suitable to his new character, for none 
of the nobility and gentry, at least the female part of them, 
would go under his roof. The character of our heroine was soon 
blazoned abroad, and she could not even ride out on a party of 
pleasure, without meeting the derision and contempt of even 
the lowest ladies of those parts.

It was this general scorn, that induced Fanny to change her 
dress, and make her appearance into a masculine attire. She 
wore buckskin breeches, with all the habit suitable to a 
foxhunter; and learning to ride a spirited mare, could, 
without dread or hesitation, leap over a gate or a hedge.

During this period, she received advice from the metropolis, 
that her predatory lover was under sentence of death at 
Kingston. On this occasion she pressed her paramour to procure 
a pardon for the young fellow. His lordship, who still loved 
her to distraction, and could deny nothing that she requested, 
used his utmost interest in favour of the offender, and was 
successful enough to save his life, on condition of serving 
seven years on the River Thames, for the improvement of its 
navigation.

His lordship was so immoderately fond of Fanny, that he could 
not refrain from discovering the violence of his passion, in 
places of public resort. Many of his friends dreaded the 
consequence, and his relations began to imagine that they were 
actually joined in the hymenial covenant; but an affair, which 
had like to have proved of the most serious consequence to his 
lordship and his family, soon turned the current of his 
affection from his fair Fanny for ever, to run in a different 
channel.

And why, O noble youth, wilt thou thus stain an illustrious 
line of ancestry, by descending to the bought embraces of an 
artful young harlot? This moment she is meditating thy ruin, 
and thou, lulled in her lap, like Sampson in the lap of 
Delilah, art totally insensible of her deadly design. Arouse! 
Be no longer one of the silly-simple sons of sinful pleasures, 
but act the part of a man endowed with reason.

"My son, attend unto my wisdom, and bow thine ear to my 
understanding. For the lips of a strange woman, drop as the 
honey-comb, and her mouth is smoother than oil. But her end is 
bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two edged sword. She has cast 
down many wounded; yea, many strong men have been slain by 
her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers 
of death."-- Solomon <145>



Chapter III. 
Serious reflections on the insensibility of offenders--Two 
thieves admitted into the house by Miss Fanny--They are 
detected--The coachman's confession--He is sent for a soldier 
to the Savoy, with the thieves--Fanny is discarded--returns to 
London--His lordship, forsaking his folly, marries a virtuous 
lady--Fanny fails, in the Savoy, in her design of releasing 
her lover.

When we observe the flaming sword of justice waved over the 
wall, we say, this is the city's sure defence. It is the dread 
of the stern law, that deters the dark and dangerous villain 
from executing his dreadful design by day, and obliges him to 
defer his base purpose, till the curtains of the night are 
drawn around the peaceable dwellings of those whom he has 
devoted to destruction.

Had he never seen the deep deeds of darkness, discovered to 
the blaze of day? Knows he not, that ONE, to whom the darkness 
and the day are alike, with the keenest eye, beholds all his 
operations, and is privy to all his plots? Has he not seen his 
fellows in iniquity detected in the very act, when they 
thought no mortal was aware, and no GOD nigh? Has not this 
assassin himself, more than once, been taken in his 
craftiness, and confounded suddenly, in a moment, at midnight, 
when he supposed all were asleep? Yes, even this man, who was 
detected with plunder in his hand, dragged to a dungeon, 
brought to the bar, declared guilty, and condemned to die. 
This very ingrate, who was rescued from the ignominious tree, 
ransomed from destruction, is now mediating mischief against 
the very noble youth who saved him.

The respite made his escape from the New Gaol, with several 
others doomed to hard labour on the river, a few evenings 
before the day destined for their removal to Woolwich. Fanny's 
original lover, with another convict, equal in the most daring 
deeds, withdrew from London, to avoid the search of officers, 
and, by invitation of the fair one, retired to a small town in 
the vicinity of his lordship's mansion. There they met her 
private support, and waited to execute a plan which she had 
concerted.

Our fair one found means to disguise these miscreants in the 
proper apparel of her own sex, and introduced them one evening 
into the hall, to drink tea with her. My lord happened to be a 
little way from home, and none but the coachman being in the 
secret, the other servants took little notice of the strange 
visitants, when our heroine was showing them the several rooms 
in the house.

At night the supposed females, pretending to withdraw, walked 
with Miss round the garden; but instead of going out at the 
gate leading to the road, they concealed themselves till it 
was quite dark, and then were let in by Fanny, at the door 
fronting the shrubbery.

His lordship returned about nine o'clock, and having supped 
abroad, soon retired to his chamber, without the company of 
Fanny, who feigned illness. He soon went to bed, and was about 
to betake himself to rest, when a loud knocking at the outer 
gate, instantly alarmed him. His lordship getting up, and 
raising the sash, heard the cry of murder and thieves 
reverberated about the yard. He dressed himself, but before he 
could open the chamber door, he saw, by the light of the moon, 
two female figures, unfolding the doors of a closet in the 
chamber.

By this time the servants were alarmed, and all the family, 
excepting Miss Fanny and Mathews, stood on the stairs. Amongst 
them, my lord observed the master of an inn of the adjacent 
town, with a flambeaux in his hand, exclaiming, "are you safe 
my lord?"--They then all ran into the chamber, and there found 
the two supposed females, whom they secured. On searching 
them, they found two braces of pistols, some powder and balls, 
a bunch of pick-lock keys, two small hangers, and a letter, 
which, on inspection, proved to be the handwriting of the 
faithless Fanny.

The inn keeper now informed his lordship of the discovery. His 
wife, he said, had entertained a violent suspicion that her 
new lodgers were sharpers, from the time they first came to 
the house; but the recommendation of Miss Fanny, removed every 
obstacle. However, that morning she found a letter, which, 
though enigmatical enough, was yet to be understood to mean a 
dangerous plot against his lordship.

Here the inn-keeper showed the letter, which perfectly agreed 
in the handwriting, with that which they had found on the 
thieves, whom the landlord now well knew to be his lodgers. It 
intimated that there was much money, and many notes in the 
house, and hinted that Matthews, the coachman, was prepared to 
assist them, both in the execution of the plan, and in 
carrying them off to London in a post-chaise.

Fanny was now accosted in her chamber, and at first seemed 
greatly alarmed. The coachman was also secured, for he had not 
power to effect his escape in time; he voluntarily confessed 
the whole affair, and owned that the thieves were fully intent 
on murdering his lordship, or all the family, if opposed in 
their wicked attempt.

To be brief, his lordship, from a principle of humanity to the 
miscreants, but cruelty to the public, freely forgave Fanny 
the next morning, made her a present of her favourite mare, 
and some money, and bade her make the best of her way home, or 
as far from his presence as she pleased. The King at this 
time, much wanting men, my lord caused the two thieves to be 
impressed by the constables, and recommended Mathews also as a 
fit fellow to serve his Majesty. They were conducted to 
prison, and soon after to London, and lodged in the Savoy; 
whilst Fanny, equipping herself in her manly garb, pursued her 
way to the metropolis also, with greater swiftness than her 
lover, and favourite friends.

From this moment his lordship resolutely turned his mind to a 
virtuous course, and soon married an amiable lady, of a good 
family, fully determined to follow no more the high road to 
unhappiness, but to walk in that which is pointed out by true 
wisdom, "Whose ways are ways of pleasantness, and all whose 
paths are paths of peace."[Proverbs Ch. 3 v. 17-18--Ed.]

Here love his golden shafts employs; here lights 
His constant lamp; and waves his purple wings; 
Reigns here and revels; not in the bought smile 
Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared. 
[Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 4, l. 763-766 ]

It does not appear that our heroine attempted any robbery on 
the road, on her return to town, although she was ripe enough, 
for one of her age, to perform wonders in the way which she 
afterwards followed. Her clothes, and other articles of 
luggage, were sent by the waggon, so that she had made a 
tolerable harvest of her country jaunt.

It is very far from our design to exaggerate, much less to 
multiply her crimes. There is no need to add to the number, 
for during her present confinement in prison, she has boldly 
boasted of having performed more tricks in the swindling line, 
than would swell this narrative to a large volume. It is from 
her own free and voluntary account of them, that we have 
proceeded thus far; but what follows, has met the concurring 
testimony of others.

It was soon after her return to the Borough of Southwark, that 
she received a note from her lover, in the Savoy prison. 
Thither she immediately went, and found the other miscreant, 
and the coachman, in the same situation, every day expecting 
to be removed to Chatham Barracks, and from thence to be sent 
they knew not where.

Here our heroine formed a scheme to effect the escape of her 
favourite fellow, by dressing him in women's clothes; but the 
project, though well planned, was discovered by the turnkey, 
who took care to thwart the design, and to prevent a future 
attempt, loaded the lover with chains, and would not suffer 
Fanny again to enter within the gates of that gothic edifice.



Chapter IV. 
Fanny visits her lover at Chatham--She brings him off from on 
board the Canada--He is retaken--The various exploits of the 
fair one, during the dreadful riot, in 1780--In Westminster--
The Bishop--The chapels--In London, Newgate--The Borough--
Blackfriars Bridge--Fanny's adventure with a London linen-
draper, in Essex--Reflections, &c.

Extravagance and dissipation now predominated in the character 
of our amazon. She was soon reduced to a low situation in 
life, which cast her upon the town. Whenever she picked up 
people of a genteel appearance, she failed not to find out the 
contents of their fobs. She still maintained a decent 
deportment, and a semblance of modesty seemed congenial to her 
being. In point of dress, a little difference would have made 
her quite a Quaker. Her beauty was yet daily increasing with 
her cunning, but the simplicity of her manners could not fail 
to draw after her a number of admirers.

She visited her lover, and friends in captivity, at Chatham, 
and there smote the heart of the governor of that garrison. 
But that Hibernian military genius had already an amiable 
spouse, and also kept a fair mistress, so that he durst hardly 
discover his passion to our heroine, excepting when he found 
her in the old guard, amongst the impressed men.

It was her grand design to have insinuated herself into the 
captain's good graces, in order to find an opportunity of 
releasing her lover; but all her schemes and arts proved 
ineffectual, the first kept fair one ever found means to 
frustrate all her hopes, and to keep our heroine from too 
close a connection with her paramour.

The captives being removed from the Barracks, and put on board 
the Canada, bound for Nova Scotia, Fanny attended them, and 
found an opportunity, whilst they lay on Chatham river, to 
convey her lover, dressed in women's clothes, to the shore, in 
a boat which she procured for that purpose, and so travelled 
with him across the country, and reached the Borough, which 
was the centre of all their wishes, and out of whose boundary 
they were ever unhappy.

But all the travel and toil of our fair one, proved useless, 
for the young fellow quickly became a prey to the officers of 
justice, who found him and Fanny at a house of ill fame in 
Tooley Street, and lodging them both in the Compter that 
night, swore the next day, before a magistrate, to the 
identity of the young man, in the prospect of a reward; so he 
was committed to the New Gaol, in order to be tried for being 
found at large before the expiration of his time.

The next summer the great riot in London commenced. Lord 
George Gordon assembled a vast multitude of all sorts of 
people in St. George's Fields, and with them proceeded to 
Westminster, with a petition to parliament for rescinding the 
act in favour of Roman Catholics. During the violent commotion 
in Palace Yard, Fanny, and certain of her fellows at large, 
employed their time to no small advantage. Lord Mansfield that 
day was insulted; several other noblemen lost their watches, 
snuffboxes, and money. The Lord Chancellor's brother, the 
Bishop of Lincoln, being threatened by the banditti, leaped 
from his chariot on the opposite side to Fanny, who followed 
his lordship into the house in which he found an asylum. A 
committee of thirty was chosen in the mob, to pursue the 
fugitive prelate, and Fanny, who pretended to be his friend. 
His lordship slipped off his canonical attire, and put on a 
suit of crimson and gold, with a bag wig, which he borrowed 
from the hospitable owner of the retreat; and whilst he ran up 
to the top, and reached the leads over the House of Lords, in 
order to descend in a basket, like St. Paul from the walls of 
Damascus, Fanny packed up the prelatical garb, and cast the 
bundle from her window, to Patrick Madan, one of her 
coadjutors.<146>

Fanny proceeded the same evening to the chapel of the 
Sardinian ambassador, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and there, 
amidst the motley mob, whilst the chapel was in flames, 
employed her hand with great dexterity.

Nor did our heroine flinch from a testimony so glorious 
against popery, until the prisoners who were taken at the 
above chapel, and that of the Bavarian minister, and who were 
to have been tried in the Court of King's Bench, in 
Westminster, were liberated from Newgate, with all the rest of 
the prisoners, for she stood steadfastly upon the spot, till 
Mr Akerman's house was demolished, his rich furniture 
committed to the flames, and all the internal parts of the 
strong gaol, hitherto deemed invulnerable, laid in ashes.

The next day, June 7, 1780, Fanny found ample employ in her 
own Borough. Dressed in her masculine habit, our heroine 
mingled in the innumerable company, and missed no opportunity 
of fishing successively in the troubled water. That day, 
whilst the desperate miscreants on the Middlesex side, were 
opening the prisons, freeing the captives, burning the houses 
of Langdale, and drinking his liquors, the zealots of 
Southwark were not unemployed. New Bridewell, their old 
habitation, met the revenge of the rioters. The King's Bench 
prison was demolished, and all its inmates quickly 
emancipated. The Marshalsea, another seminary of Southwark for 
training up swindlers, was saved from the fire, but all the 
students were set at liberty. The New Gaol likewise was 
opened, and Fanny's first favourite came forth with an 
uncounted crowd, rattling their chains in triumph, cheered by 
the mob, for whose use the hogsheads of entire<147> were 
rolled into the street.

It has been affirmed that Fanny, the same evening, dressed in 
men's clothes, and wearing a blue cockade in her hat, mounted 
upon the top of a butt, made a motion for the demolition of 
the toll-gate at Blackfriars Bridge. Certain it is, however, 
that the mob proceeded to that place, and had almost gone 
further than the original design, when they were warmly 
charged by a military party, and many of the ringleaders in 
the riot fell in the midst of their career.

The soldiers next day having obtained a complete victory over 
the desperate banditti, many of the principal actors were 
taken, and lodged in those prisons which remained 
undemolished. Fanny, with many others, withdrew into the 
country, and remained, performing little exploits, till the 
law was in a degree satisfied, and many of the rioters had 
expired on a gibbet.

Fanny now visited Essex in her hunting dress, and became well 
acquainted with that country, before her return to town. 
Occasionally she dressed herself like a Quaker, and won the 
heart of a young linen draper of Cheapside, who was down in 
those parts on business.

She vouchsafed to give this rising genius her company, 
although he was a married man, but took an opportunity one 
night, to slip out of bed, equip herself in his clothes, and 
so, taking his horse from the stable, rode post-haste to the 
metropolis. The same morning, before the linen draper could 
reach town, Fanny, changing her apparel, repaired to the shop 
of the tradesman (for she had taken care to learn where he 
lived) and there delivered a message, as from the shop-keeper 
to his wife, and showing his gold watch, obtained fifty pounds 
in cash.

But our amazon did not rest in the completion of such 
projects, in conjunction with a gang of swindlers, who 
assisted her in several forgeries, but even went upon the 
road, and had courage enough to stop waggons, stage-coaches, 
and passengers. In fine, she soon grew the terror of the whole 
country around the metropolis, and managed her various 
maneuvers with so much address, art, and cunning, that she 
began to imagine herself quite invulnerable to the law, and 
secure against justice.

Such wretches triumph in their wickedness, and glory in their 
shame. Early initiated to the mysteries of iniquity, and long 
trained up in the paths of vice, they become insensible and 
incorrigible. The frequent awful examples of punishment which 
they behold, only makes them the more callous and case-
hardened. Used long to view vice though a false medium, they 
imagine that it is even amiable. Thus deceived, through the 
deceitfulness of sin, they go on, and seldom ever know when to 
recede; joining hand in hand with one another, in the pursuit 
of those pernicious courses, which naturally lead to 
destruction. The numerous escapes which they effect from 
meeting condign punishment, emboldens them to persevere, and 
"because sentence is not passed speedily, their hearts are set 
upon evil." (Ecclesiates Ch. 8 v. 11)



Chapter V. 
Comparisons--The Wife of Ninus, and Fanny--Queen Mary--Mrs 
Brownrig--Peter the Great--Fanny at Vauxhall, in a man's 
dress, meets the warm affection of an old citizen's young 
wife--Fanny's artifice--The lady's disappointment--Fanny robs 
a gentleman on the road--is taken--committed--cleared--She is 
picked up by a farmer.

Semiramis, the great foundress of Babylon, had she been 
brought up in the Borough, and received the tuition of Fanny 
Davies, perhaps would have pursued the same path to glory and 
fame. Queen Mary, of bloody memory, might have proved no 
better than Brownrig, if bred in the same low line of life. 
Nay, even Alexander the Great himself, as has often been said, 
would have been but a highwayman, or a house-breaker, if he 
had been brought up under profligate parents in the metropolis 
of England.

The love of fame appears principally to have prevailed in the 
breast of our heroine, for there the love of money had but 
little residence. But fame, of which she was so fond, was 
almost confined to but a few, from whom only she could claim 
applause, and these were prisoners. Such she ever gloried to 
support, succour, and inspire with her own spirit.

To effect these purposes, was the main pursuit of her mind, 
and the chief employ of every day. She even could condescend 
to roll a barrow along the streets, and substitute the cries 
of cherries, apples, or hot gingerbread, for the less pleasing 
strains of "No Popery!"

And did not even Peter the Great, the glory of the Russian 
empire, also condescend to the lowest employ, for the good of 
his subjects? Yes, Peter parted with his royal diadem, and 
deigned, at Deptford, to handle the mechanic's tool, and 
appearing as a mean common labourer, acquired an art which 
raised Russia to its present grandeur.

But why did Fanny thus humble herself? Reader, remember she 
was not actuated by an honest, industrious spirit. Frugality 
and felony, are as far removed as the poles of Heaven. It was 
to pry, with a keen observation, into the areas, to gaze on 
the shutters and doors, which she deemed vulnerable to her 
veteran tribe, to mark well the places that she could plunder, 
without the danger of detection and punishment. In short, as 
Satan is said to be never so successful as when he transforms 
himself into an angel of light, so our fair one, always 
appearing modest and unassuming, was the more able to 
insinuate herself into such situations as would best answer 
her purpose.

Fanny appeared to no small advantage, even in her masculine 
mien, for she seemed to be a very smart youth, deemed too 
young to be bearded. A lady of London, observing her in this 
attire, in the garden at Vauxhall, soon showed signs of 
attachment; but there was an old debilitated husband in the 
way, and that was an obstacle which she resolved to remove--
Signs of mutual affection were given on both sides. Matters 
were quickly matured; they made an assignation to meet the 
next day, at a tavern. They accordingly met, but the good man 
was at home, and the good woman was obliged to make an apology 
by a trusty chamber maid.

Our supposed youth, learning the cause of the disappointment, 
sent word to the lady that she might rest assured that the 
objection would be removed next Wednesday, when she hoped to 
be favoured with her company, about noon.

Fanny repaired to Guildhall, and took out a summons in the 
Court of Requests, for a debt charged on the husband. This was 
done easily enough, and without an oath, requiring only the 
name of the person summoned. Fanny was obliged, however, to 
serve it herself, and thus explaining the matter to the lady, 
obtained her promise to meet at the time appointed.

The old gentleman was surprised at such an unexpected writ, 
being conscious that he owed no money to the person whose name 
was inserted. But he was obliged to crawl up to the court on 
the specified day, and there remain for two or three hours. 
The lady was overjoyed on the occasion, as she was perfectly 
safe during her proposed pastime with her beloved youth, who 
had kindled such a violent fire in her breast, that all the 
water in the Thames hardly could have quenched.

To the tavern, therefore, she quickly went, with a handsome 
present in her purse, for her paramour, and an old family gold 
watch by her side. She met the swain, flew with eager rapture 
to his arms, drank a cheerful glass of wine, and raised higher 
and higher still, her sanguine expectation of unspeakable 
delight.

But O! the fickleness of fortune to the fair, as well as the 
fond wife of the sage apothecary! Alas! Poor old debilitated 
David, is waiting in vain in the hall, and his wanton wild (we 
cannot say virtuous) wife, is also to meet a sad 
disappointment!

The room door is fastened. A stately bed presents itself. 
Courtship is unnecessary on the occasion--The agreement is 
already made. The lady sits down on the couch. Her brilliant 
eyes emit wild-fire. All the cupids play on her countenance. 
Hah! A pistol! "Yes, madam, your money, or ----." "Mercy upon 
me, sir! Is this the return for my unfeigned affection?" 
"Hesitate not a moment, madam, I am no man for you. Do you 
suppose that I would make your husband a monster? I will not, 
I cannot do it!"

The lady was obliged to surrender her purse to Fanny, with her 
watch, and what else she chose to demand. The deceived wanton 
fell into a swoon, and our fair deceiver of woman, as well as 
man, embraced the opportunity of retiring from the tavern.

Soon after this, Fanny, mounted on a good gelding, rode to 
Barnet races, lost her money, robbed a gentleman on her return 
to town, was pursued, taken, carried before a magistrate, 
surrounded by a vast crowd of spectators, sent to New Prison, 
Clerkenwell; obliged to send for her friends. Her sex was 
discovered. She remained till the sessions, was removed to 
Newgate, but discharged the last day of the session, by 
proclamation, as the gentleman, though he preferred an 
indictment at Hicks's Hall, did not like to prosecute a poor 
weak woman, lest he should meet the contempt of the crowd, and 
the laugh of the lawyers.

Our fair one now was in a very distressed, deplorable 
condition, and more ready to beg the aid of her friends in 
captivity, than able to lend them that aid which she wished. 
She condescended to walk the Borough High Street with the 
abandoned girls; her beauty and modest demeanour proving 
favourable to her calling, as a lady of pleasure.

She did not long remain penniless; for one evening, as she 
stood at the gate of the White-Hart inn, an aged rustic rover 
tapped her on the shoulder, whispering in the country dialect, 
"My dear, will you drink a glass with me at the Boy's Cock?" 
Fanny, eying the athletic old farmer, turned round, gave him a 
smile, and, after drinking a glass of gin at the place 
proposed, walked with him toward a house much better suited to 
their purpose, and where they could take their fill of love 
till the morning.



Chapter VI. 
The story of the hop-planter--Fanny discovers his bank notes, 
and steals them whilst he is asleep--A riot ensues--The house 
shut up, &c.

The fond farmer was a hop-planter, of Sussex, and had just 
received seven fifty-pound Bank notes of Mr Dyson, of St. 
Margaret's Hill, for hops. He had a good wife at home, but she 
being as old as himself, about three score, he generally, as 
often as he came to town, indulged a leisure hour or two with 
any young fair one that pleased his eye.

But before he began his evening ramble, he took the prudent 
precaution to conceal the notes in the lining of his coat, 
placing them as near as possible to his heart, and sewing up 
the part that he had ripped open. The little loose money in 
his breeches pocket, he condemned to be spent and sported away 
in the manner which he thought would most conduce to his 
pastime.

Fanny was led by our adventurer, to Tooley Street, when she 
directed him to a notified house in Walnut-Tree Alley, nearly 
opposite the meeting-house of Mr Rippon. As our unequal pair 
entered the house, the congregation were singing psalms; but 
notes of a nature quite opposite were reverberated within, by 
the vermin of the stews.

What Daniel Defoe says, may very aptly be applied in this 
place:

Where ever GOD erects a house of prayer, 
The devil's sure to have a temple there; 
And 'twill be found, upon examination, 
The latter has the largest congregation. 
[Daniel Defoe, The True-born English Gentleman ]

The heart of the rustic almost revolted at the dismal scene in 
the great room, through which he passed with his fair one, who 
eagerly urged him on to a back apartment. There they drank and 
sported, till the farmer had spent all his cash but a few 
shillings. This he but little minded, as he was confident of 
the safety of his notes. Fanny, however, often observed him 
touching his left breast, as if to feel for something that 
much engrossed his attention. She had already used every art, 
felt in every pocket, and discovered no more than what she had 
obtained; but now began to think that she had missed the main 
mark.

This induced her to procrastinate the farmer's stay in the 
unhallowed house; and to entertain him, she opened the chamber 
door, and proposed that they should have a dance in the great 
room, amidst the groupe of thieves, pickpockets, bawds, and 
common prostitutes.

Still the rustic showed a wonderful sympathy for his left 
side, and Fanny was more and more convinced that there 
something of value was secreted.

She beckoned to an ugly fellow, who was a penny barber, whom 
she had kept company with in Bridewell, where he served half 
his apprenticeship. He was a fellow perfectly inimical to all 
order, and the staunch friend of riot. He possessed a horrible 
dark designing visage. The Death and Sin of Milton, could not 
be more monstrous. He trailed a wooden leg, for he had 
mortified the original, to keep him from the army, after he 
had found that the loss of his thumb, which he had cut off 
before, would not prevent him from going abroad. One of his 
eyes was totally darkened, by a blow which he received in the 
street, from a person whose pocket he had just picked, and who 
also marked his cheek with a terrible gash. The projection of 
his gnomon, which had been long on the wane by wenching, was 
diminished to a quarter of an inch. In brief, his whole aspect 
was inhuman and frightful.

Fanny whispered something in the ear of this miscreant, which 
the farmer could not hear, and immediately the dancing began. 
The rustic enjoyed the scene, called for another bowl, drank 
freely, fearless of his property, and so indulged a soft 
repose on an elbow chair.

Surely this was a dangerous situation for a stranger, 
surrounded with murderers, and every species of villains, 
which the infamous parts of Southwark could supply! In such a 
perilous place, how can a man hope? How can he pray for the 
protection of a kind Providence, previous to his slumber?

Fanny soon discovered the place where the farmer's strength 
lay, and having obtained the �350, quickly withdrew, leaving 
her lover to lament his loss and bewail his folly, as soon as 
he should awake and miss his notes.

-- So rose the Danite strong, 
Herculean Samson, from the harlot lap 
Of Philistean Delilah; and waked 
Shorn of his strength---- 
[Milton, Paradise Lost, Book. 9, l.1059-1061 ]

The moment the farmer was aroused, he felt his side, and found 
that he had been robbed of his notes. Again he felt, but to no 
purpose. He cast off his coat, searched all the lining, but 
all was lost. He ran into the great room in a most violent 
rage, and for some time acted the part of a man completely 
mad. The thieves and prostitutes rejoiced, and shouted aloud. 
The landlord demanded his reckoning with an imperious tone. 
The landlady shut the doors to keep out the mob, many of whom 
had already broke in. All this was vociferation, tumult, and 
wild uproar; so that when Mr Dyson came to the aid of his 
friend, the farmer, (for somebody had apprised him of the 
affair) he imagined at the first that chaos was come again, 
and all order banished for ever.

-- Behold the throne 
Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread 
Wide on the wasteful deep: with him enthroned, 
Sat sable vested night, eldest of things, 
The consort of his reign; and by them stood 
Orcus, and Hades, and the dreaded name 
Of Demogorgon, Rumor next, and Chance, 
And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled, 
And Discord, with a thousand various mouths. 
[Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 2, 959-67 ]

Another hop-merchant of the Borough, led by rumour to the 
place, with an air of authority, demanded peace; and 
attempting to break open the door, had a chamber utensil, with 
its full contents, thrown upon his head from the window above. 
However, his pericranium proved impregnable to the projectile; 
and if even that piece of a mill-stone, which the old Hebrew 
gentlewoman cast from an elevated tower, on the head of kind 
Abimelech, had fallen on the head of the hop-factor, it would 
have made but little impression. The fellow, by his 
vociferation, and unmeaning jargon, irritated the mob, who 
would have proceeded to violence, had not a magistrate, with a 
number of constables, come to the aid of the landlord, and the 
besieged banditti.

Fanny was not to be found. Several girls and thieves were 
taken into custody, examined, and discharged. The rustic 
advertised his loss in the papers, and the numbers of the 
notes were specified by Mr Dyson. But all could not bring them 
back to the owner, who, the next day, was obliged to return to 
his farm, to satisfy his wife by all the soothing strains that 
he was master of, and all the fair promises that he could 
please her with.

This favour of fortune, raised Fanny almost above mediocrity. 
Had she employed this so considerable a sum to advantage, her 
situation might have proved independent. But there is a worm 
at the root of every plant which is not reared in the garden 
of virtue. A curse was entailed on every scheme which she 
endeavoured to carry into execution, in consequence of this 
acquisition. Her riches, on the wings of prodigality, soon 
took their flight. The money, thus gotten by injustice, daily 
diminished, and within a little month, left not a wreck 
behind. This was in the autumn of the year 1783. The licence 
was immediately taken from the house, in which the robbery was 
perpetrated, and the bullies, swindlers, pimps, and 
prostitutes, who there carried on their riot, and concerted 
their deep designs, were obliged to abandon that infernal 
dwelling, since devoted to destruction. But in that 
neighbourhood, as well as in many other streets, lanes, and 
alleys, in Southward, it is always easy for such people to 
find a welcome reception. Would to Heaven that the magistrates 
of this place would arouse from their long lethargy, and 
vigorously exert those powers with which they are invested, in 
the removal of many more of those infamous haunts.

Fanny frequently applied to a register office for a place, and 
referring to a swindler for a good character, proved pretty 
successful, as she never stayed long in service, and seldom 
returned home without a considerable booty. She either caused 
the house where she lived to be plundered by her partners in 
guilt, or so managed the matter herself, as to strip the 
premises of plate, and other valuables, and afterwards elude 
the law, by every effort of art and cunning, which most 
depraved mind, aided by the advice of sharpers, could suggest.



Chapter VII. 
Justice R--l dies--Fanny is one of the chosen Virgins--The 
rich bachelor's adventure with the Sorceress and Fanny--He is 
stripped naked at Norwood, whilst his house at Camberwell is 
plundered--Fanny robs a young gentleman in Essex, lies with 
him in Southwark, and steals his breeches--She appears in the 
character of a horse-dealer in Essex, and robs a grazier of a 
large sum, in money and notes--She is taken, committed, tried, 
sentenced to die--respited for transportation.

In October 1784, Justice R--l, of libidinous and miserable 
memory, was obliged to leave his gods of gold, and give up his 
ungodly ghost. He had ordered in his will, that his body 
should be attended to the church by a number of pure virgins, 
dressed in unsullied white satin, to strew the way with 
flowers in the procession. Fanny was fixed upon as one of the 
immaculate maids of Southwark, and received the bounty, for 
she had once been the dear delight of that memorable miser.

Fanny, in her argent robes, appeared by far the fairest, and 
most modest of all the other virgins. As she dealt her odours 
around, she captivated the hearts of hundreds, on whom she 
deigned to look with her bewitching eyes. Such virgins as our 
heroine, and her fair companions, no doubt might have bent 
their flowery steps up to the temple, without dreading the 
dogs of Vulcan!

Immediately after this farcical funeral, Fanny was followed 
home by a rich old bachelor, who, having amassed a large 
fortune by fraud, had retired to Camberwell, to rest his 
enfeebled limbs after his fatigues in the wars of Venus, and 
service of vice. Fanny had left the Mint, and now lodged in a 
decent lodging on the road to Vauxhall. The chariot of her 
enamoured admirer, drove up to the door. He called aloud to 
the fair one, as she looked from the window, and prevailed on 
her to come down, and favour him with her company in the 
carriage to Camberwell.

The fair one resumed her usual shyness, and put on her assumed 
modesty. The debauchee found her invincible to every attack. 
His latent fire was re-kindled. He offered money, and made 
many fair promises, but his price proved much too low to 
accomplish his purpose, and so the treaty was broke off for 
that evening.

The blighted bachelor applied to an old procuress, an eminent 
bawd of the Borough, in order to call in her help on the 
occasion. He dressed the hag in the attire of a gypsy, and 
desired her to meet him the next morning, near Norwood, where 
she was to tell the fortune of Fanny, whom he appointed to 
meet him at that celebrated place of pretended prophecy.

The bawd proved unfaithful to her trust; for she failed not to 
apprise the fair one of the maneuver intended by her seducer. 
Fanny concerted measures accordingly; met her lover at the 
place appointed, got into the chariot, and attended him to the 
wood.

As they passed on, they met the pretended sorceress. The 
carriage was instantly stopped, the witch began her 
conjuration, and gradually drew the enflamed bachelor, with 
Fanny, into the wood, till they were a considerable way from 
the road.

Now was the golden opportunity of the doting lover, in the 
solitary shade. He laid the fair one on a mossy bank, whilst 
all the joys which he had anticipated, appeared within his 
immediate reach. The sorceress seemed all the while to sooth 
the fair one, and by spells and uncouth incantations, urged 
her to yield.

But just as happiness appearedjust as the bachelor's blood 
began to boil. In the critical juncture of affairs, in the 
very paroxism of passion, an athletic arm is projected from 
the thicket; a pistol is presented to his high heaving breast, 
by a frightful fellow of the Herculean breed, who, with a 
voice furious as that of Moloch, demanded his money, or his 
life!

This unexpected intrusion, quickly marred the play, and closed 
the scene before the act was finished. A terrible trembling 
seized the enamoured swain; a sudden shaking among his dry 
bones commenced.

He was about to feel in his pocket, to satisfy the dread 
demand, when the son of rapine bade him hold his hand, and 
immediately strip to the skin. He was obliged to comply, as he 
had no help within view. The Sorceress and Miss had withdrawn, 
and his coachman, unconscious of his master's misfortune, was 
gathering nuts at a great distance from the chariot.

In short, the bachelor was obliged to part with all the 
clothes which he wore, excepting his stockings and shirt; the 
robber, who had several accomplices near, packed up the 
clothes, and after having examined the breeches, and found a 
very considerable sum, threatened the lover with instant 
death, if he made the least noise, or attempted to pursue him. 
He lay still in deep confusion, speechless, and almost quite 
insensible, till at last his coachman discovered him in that 
naked posture. At length he put on his servant's greatcoat, 
reached the chariot, and was carried home to his house, which, 
the more to his mortification, he found stripped of all the 
plate, linen, and every portable article, through the artifice 
of Fanny and the bawd, who had employed other people of the 
gang for that purpose, and found means to entice the servant 
maid to a public house, on the opposite side of Camberwell 
Green, and there kept her in play till they had carried the 
plan into execution. The bachelor was too much confounded with 
shame, to publish his distress, but Fanny, during her 
confinement, has often made her fellow prisoners pleased with 
the adventure.

In the bachelor's suit, which was scarlet and gold, our amazon 
performed several deep and daring exploits in Essex, and at 
one time robbed a young gentleman of sixty pounds in money, 
with a gold repeating watch, worth forty or fifty more, which 
she sold to a Jew in Whitechapel, for ten guineas. He insisted 
upon having the watch at any rate, and talked highly of the 
Rotation Office,<148> in case of a refusal. She complied, as 
he had been a friend before, in taking off some bills and 
notes, which she could not otherwise dispose of.

The following part of this story is most remarkable. Fanny, in 
her fine white satin dress, used to stand in the Borough High 
Street, with one Nancy, the Quaker, a young woman whom she had 
enticed to her ruin. A few evenings after the above robbery, 
she saw the identical gentleman passing King's Head Court, and 
followed him through to Tooley Street. Nancy acted as her maid 
on the occasion. Fanny caught hold of the gentleman's arm, 
asked him to treat her with a glass, and at length persuaded 
him to accompany her to a noted tavern in the vicinity. The 
gentleman was perfectly pleased with her modest demeanor, and 
agreed to sleep with her that night. An elegant supper was 
prepared. Nancy waited on the couple, and saw them safe into 
the chamber of love. But after sweet meat, sometimes comes 
sour sauce. The gentleman in the morning missed his dear 
delight the moment he awaked, and his breeches in the bargain, 
which contained about thirty guineas, besides silver. She 
escaped from the chamber by jumping from the window, in which 
she was assisted by the fair Quaker.

But we hasten to the catastrophe of the piece. Our amazonian 
adventurous fair one, with several of her male auxiliaries, 
penetrated many parts of the country, and especially committed 
burglaries and highway robberies in Essex. One evening, Fanny 
being accidentally left alone, dressed in rustic garb, called 
at the sign of the Three Rabbits, in the road near Stratford 
and Ilford.

She introduced herself in the character of a horse-dealer, and 
told the people of the inn that she was going to London, and 
being rather benighted and unwell, requested that they would 
accommodate her with a lodging.

This being granted, she dropped into the company of a Mr 
Wrigglesworth, a country grazier, whom she, it is said, had in 
the course of that day, watched with great diligence.

The grazier was familiar, cheerful, communicative, and 
perfectly free in conversation, with our supposed horse-
dealer. They smoked their pipes over a tankard after supper. 
The chief topic was trade, taxes, and the ruin of poor old 
England. However, Fanny knew well how to turn the drift of the 
conversation. She learned from the grazier's talk, as well as 
from several circumstances which had before fallen under her 
observation, that he had been taking a large sum of money. 
Indeed, so very intimate were the two new companions grown 
that the farmer even specified the sum which he had in his 
bag. Her ardent breast now glowed, and anticipation assured 
her of success.

The strangers parted and retired to different rooms; but not 
far distant from each other. The grazier was much fatigued,--
said a short prayer,--perhaps none at all--fell asleep, and 
snored in concert with the people of the inn.

Dreadless of the least danger, the farmer desposited his 
breeches under his pillow. But, as the malign enemy of man, 
like a hungry hound, prowls about for his prey, without 
deviating from his design till he has gained his object, so 
Fanny rested not, till she had carried her resolves into 
effect.

She anxiously and warily watched, till all was safe. The doors 
of both chambers were but on the latch; she gained, therefore, 
an easy access to that of the grazier. She entered the room, 
approached his couch with a pistol in her hand. She gained the 
pillow, and dexterously drew the breeches from under his head.

The daring invader, having secured the contents in a canvas 
bag, hastened away from the house, and reached the metropolis 
before morning.

On inspection, the bag was found to contain the articles 
following: one hundred and fifty guineas, a bill of exchange 
for four hundred pounds, bank notes to the amount of seven 
hundred pounds; total one thousand two hundred and fifty two 
pounds ten shillings. The bank notes to Fanny were as good as 
cash; and she was so intimate with swindlers, that even the 
bill of exchange might have been turned into money, had she 
consulted her friends in that iniquitous line.

Exulting in the greatness of her booty, Fanny was even 
fascinated and off her guard, on viewing the smiles of 
fortune. She dressed, bought everything that she wanted, drank 
freely with her companions in prison; and, visiting a female 
friend in Newgate, made her a present of a guinea, gave her a 
pair of silver buckles, boasted of her late adventure, and 
even declared the several circumstances attending the robbery.

The woman, whom she thus entrusted with a secret so momentous, 
cautioned her against speaking so freely: but as soon as Fanny 
was gone, informed two of the runners of what she had heard. 
They were all ears on the occasion. The grazier had by this 
time advertised his loss, and offered a large reward. They 
knew the haunts of our heroine, and caught her in bed, at a 
house in New Court, near St. George's church, with all the 
property about her, but three hundred and fifty pounds, of 
which she refused to give any account, and persisted in that 
resolution to the last.

She was immediately carried over the water, taken before a 
magistrate, and, after several hearings, committed for trial 
at the next assizes for the county of Essex.

As Fanny was committed soon after the last summer assize, she 
was obliged to remain many months in prison previous to her 
trial. She now threw off the mask of modesty which she had 
hitherto worn with some dignity, and gave her life in 
captivity up to intemperance. The cash which she had artfully 
concealed from the officers, served to keep her during the 
tedious winter; but she squandered much of it away in riot, 
both in Newgate, and in Chelmsford Gaol; at the latter of 
which places, she was pleased to procure three rabbits, which 
she kept as a memorial of the house where she perpetrated the 
fact.

Her trial came on before Mr Justice Ashurst, on March 6th, 
1786, when Mr Wrigglesworth the grazier appeared, swore to the 
above notes, and the identity of the prisoner's person; as 
having been in her company at the above inn, on the evening of 
that night on which he had been robbed.

The people of the inn positively swore to her person also, 
although she was so disguised at the time in question; and the 
officers attending to prove, that the notes, and bill of 
exchange were in her custody when captured, the matter 
appeared exceeding plain to the jury, who found her guilty of 
the charge laid in the indictment.

The mother of the prisoner appeared in court much inebriated, 
and all that the rest of her friends urged in her favour, 
could have but little effect, after such substantial evidence, 
as was produced.

The judge proceeded to pass sentence of death upon the 
prisoner. His lordship observed, that as she had planned and 
executed the robbery with so much exactness and dexterity, it 
probably had not been her first offence. He said he was well 
assured that it was not, for she had been some time the terror 
of the country. His lordship earnestly exhorted her to make 
the best use of that little time which would be allotted her. 
A pardon was not to be expected, in a case of so heinous a 
nature; nor should she expect that her sex would protect her 
from the hand of justice on the occasion. His lordship 
concluded, by passing the sentence of the law in the usual 
form, as follows:

"You, Frances Davis, are to be taken back to the place from 
whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, 
there to be hanged by the neck until you are dead: And may God 
Almighty, of his infinite goodness, have mercy upon your 
soul."

From the manner in which his lordship prefaced the solemn 
sentence, few people were inclined to believe that she would 
be rescued from the jaws of death; but though an old offender, 
she is but young in years, and may reform a bad life abroad, 
when removed from temptation.

Mercy is the darling attribute of the great Supreme, and all 
the human race perpetually have need for forgiveness. A judge 
never imitates Him so much, as when employed in exercising the 
same glorious attribute of Mercy.

The quality of MERCY is not strained, 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from Heaven, 
Upon the place beneath. It twice is blessed; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes, 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown;  
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of Kings; 
But mercy is above the sceptre's sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; 
It is an attribute of God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's. 
When mercy seasons justice 
[Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, Act. IV. ]



Phoebe Phillips (1803)
https://books.google.ie/books?id=zRJlAAAAcAAJ



Title Page

THE 
Woman of the Town; 
OR,
AUTHENTIC MEMOIRS 
OF
PHEBE PHILLIPS,
WHO
At an early Age, left her Friends,
AND BECAME A
KEPT MISTRESS;
Delineating the various Adventures she met with in that 
Station, 
AND THE 
Delusive Schemes she afterwards practised
AS AN ABANDONED 
PROSTITUTE.
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LONDON. 
PRINTED AND SOLD BY 
DEAN AND MUNDAY, THREADNEEDLE Street.
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Price Six-pence.



Memoirs of Phoebe Phillips

My father was a very reputable tradesman in the city of 
London. He married a clergyman's daughter, who was remarkably 
handsome, and had an extremely good education, but not one 
shilling of fortune. As she had not only been brought up to 
dance, sing, and play, but visit, and be one of the first in 
every fashion or diversion, my father, who was one of the most 
indulgent husbands living, gave her the same liberty she had 
enjoyed before marriage; and as soon as I was old enough, I 
was allowed to take her for my pattern.

I was kept at boarding-school until fourteen years of age, and 
learnt there, from the conversation of my companions, in two 
or three months, things which would astonish my readers, if I 
were to relate them. Persons who never were within those 
seminaries, but on occasional visits, cannot conceive that 
girls, just entering into their teens, could be such minute 
natural philosophers, in ideas at least, as we were.

I grew very womanish I was told, and was proud of hearing it, 
as all girls are; and when I was but just fourteen, took the 
woman very much upon me, in behaving as I saw grown up ladies 
behave. My mother used to say, that nothing was so proper to 
bring any young person forward, as letting them see the world, 
and come early into company. I paid and received visits, and 
made parties among young persons of both sexes about my own 
age; and was frequently flattered by my parent, that a young 
person of my accomplishments and appearance might be certain, 
if possessing a common state of prudence and patience, of 
marrying a nobleman. Through these encomiums, a thousand and 
thousand dreams of grandeur rose on my mind; a coronet on my 
post-chariot, a flambeau blazing before my chair, and a title, 
with other vain ideas, made me fancy myself to be certainly 
formed for a woman of fashion, and I believed I should be so.

I went to York with my mother on a visit to a relation; and 
during the races, I appeared there the reigning toast. Among 
others, Lord L--n behaved to me in so particular a manner, and 
addressed me so tenderly, so respectfully, that I had no doubt 
but he was the nobleman who was to fulfil my parent's 
prediction.

That very person, however, that man of mighty honours, has 
since confessed to me, that the method of address which he 
then made use of, was with an intent to bring me to his lure 
the sooner, as he found I was ingenuous, and consequently 
unsuspecting; and that he knew women of sense, spirit, and 
good-nature, were sooner to be deceived under the mask of open 
friendship, than by any other artifice. Is not this now the 
very magnanimity of manhood?

While I was thus pleasing myself with my golden dream, word 
was sent us into the country, that my father had failed; that 
there was an execution in the house; that he himself was 
carried to jail; and that we had not a bed left to lie on. I 
cannot describe what I felt on this news. My mother went 
immediately to London, leaving me with our relation, confined 
to my bed delirious, occasioned by this sudden change of 
circumstances. However, by the advantage of youth, and an 
excellent constitution, I recovered in about a week; and 
confess, to my shame, that the distresses which my parents 
must suffer, were not so grievous to me as the reflection of 
what I must suffer, in not being able to show my face among 
those of my acquaintance again, of whom I used to take the 
lead in all parties.

I was inconsolable, especially when I perceived an alteration 
in the behaviour of every person in the house where I then 
was. Before I knew the misfortune of my family, I was treated 
like a queen; my look was a law; and everyone seemed by their 
eagerly watching what I wanted, to anticipate even my wishes 
by their ready attendance; but now the face and behaviour of 
everyone was altered; they passed by me without curtseying; if 
I asked any of them to walk out, they were engaged; their 
heads ached; they were afraid it would rain; they did not 
choose to go; and began to contradict me in everything I 
proposed.

In about a week after I had left my room, just as we had set 
down to dinner, I was mentioning some partridges, that I saw, 
when my relation with all that matronly consequence which 
proud gravity can put on, told me it was not proper for me now 
to think of such high living; that I should suit my ideas to 
my circumstances; and think, as I had nothing now left, that 
it was time for me to look out for something; and that truly I 
ought to see for some service, which would be better for me, 
than to remain a continual encumbrance on my friends.

I threw down my knife and fork, and rising almost choked from 
table, went out of the house into a long elm walk at the back 
gate, and there, walking backwards and forwards, strove to 
give vent to my uneasiness.

Let whatever would be the consequence, I was resolved never to 
go into that house again. "Service! Service!--Yes," (I said, 
as I talked to myself)--"perhaps I may find some people though 
at my service." Then my fancy was again in an uproar: I ran 
over the catalogue of my admirers, and was certain I could not 
want friends. I was determined; but I wish that both sexes 
would remember this plain piece of advice, and remember it 
practically, that, "they who resent injuries only equal their 
adversaries; while they who forgive them, always become 
superior."

While I was walking in the grove backwards and forwards, 
ruminating on my forlorn condition, a shepherd's boy came to 
me, and in his awkward manner, told me that a very fine man 
wanted to speak to me at father's. I did not understand the 
lad; but, after bringing me, by taking hold of my gown, to the 
end of the walk, and pointing over the stile to the cottage, 
in the door-way of which I saw a very well-dressed man 
standing, the boy cried, "Yon, yon, felle, all with fine 
clothes on, wants you madam, an please you." I sent the lad 
back, and bid him tell the person, I did not understand any 
such message, and that I would not go. "Then," says the 
rustic, "I'll uphold, madam, that he'll come tull you."

Before I had taken three turns more, the boy returned, and 
with him the person whom I had seen at a distance. When he 
came near enough for me to see his face, I knew him to have 
been an intimate friend of my father's for some years, and one 
who had always expressed a particular esteem for me. I cannot 
describe the surprise, nor the effect of that surprise, which 
I felt; but soon recovering, I considered, that perhaps, like 
my guardian angel, he was come to deliver me from my distress. 
I fancied his face told me so; and prospects of grandeur and 
pleasure began once more to fill my mind. But, fearful to 
discover myself by my looks, with downcast eyes, I begged to 
know what part of my behaviour had ever given him 
encouragement to treat me in so rough a manner, as to send for 
me; and by this time having recovered spirits enough, looking 
at him full in the face, I asked him, if he thought that my 
father's misfortunes had broken my spirit; or that, because I 
could not command as I used to do, I would be at any one's 
service who sent for me?

Bending one knee to the ground, he begged my pardon; vowed he 
would do anything he could for my happiness; and began to 
stammer like a schoolboy who is detected in a fib. He hoped I 
would excuse him; said, he had some reasons, which I should 
know hereafter, that prevented him from calling on me at my 
relation's house; that he came down on purpose, after he had 
heard where I was, and was acquainted with the affairs of my 
family, to make me an offer of any part of his fortune I chose 
to except; and concluded with conjuring me to believe, that 
the proposal proceeded merely from disinterestedness.

Then it was, that for some moments, I experienced the so 
seldom to be felt pleasure, the love which has gratitude and 
esteem for its parents. But in this I did not long indulge 
myself; although, from what he proffered, and the abjectness 
of my state, a thousand things all in his favour rose to my 
mind. My heart was at once his; and could he have forborne but 
for some minutes speaking over and over again his 
disinterestedness, I should have confessed my affection, and 
gloried in the acknowledgment; for as yet I did not know his 
sex. But he cooled my first ardour by his own folly; for he 
endeavoured so much to make me believe that his offers to me 
originated purely from disinterestedness, that I could not 
help suspecting them. However, having acquainted him with the 
ill-usage which I had received from the people at whose house 
I had been, and of my determination never to set foot in it 
again, I consented to let him send a post-chaise from 
Tadcaster for me. We parted with, as I supposed, equal happy 
hopes; I to be reinstated in my former splendour; and he, as I 
imagined, pleased with the prospect of my being his without 
the fatigue of matrimony.

I went to the shepherd's cottage, and sent for my clothes; 
soon after which, the chaise went to the door; when, without 
even the common ceremony of a farewell to my former 
acquaintance (for I could not bear to speak to any of the 
family,) I set forward. As soon as the boy whipped his horses 
on, my heart bounded with joy. I was now freed from the ill 
looks, dependence, and reproaches of the sordid wretches I had 
been with. I felt a sudden satisfaction at my alteration of 
place at least.

I knew my deliverer (as I called him) had a great estate; I 
therefore indulged myself in several golden dreams; and also 
in some thoughts which, I must own, were not the most 
innocent; because I resolved not (nay I scorned) to be 
ungrateful; and as this gentleman had set out upon so 
disinterested a plan, I determined to be as generous, and not 
even wear a look of reproach or resentment, nor be 
ungratefully coy. Gratitude took up all my thoughts; and I 
felt such an agitation of mind, that I was afraid I should 
hardly forbear throwing my arm about his neck, as he stood to 
receive me when I should alight from the post-chaise.

But extreme delicacy saved me; and what is very surprising, 
extreme delicacy on his side; for, when I came to Tadcaster, 
from whence he had sent the chaise, I found a note left for 
me, the purport of which was, "That, to treat a person of my 
breeding with that delicacy I deserved, the people where I had 
lived should not say I went from their house with any 
gentleman; and he therefore hoped I would forgive him, if he 
waited for me at Doncaster; where he should bespeak a supper, 
which he hoped I would honour with my company." His letter 
concluded with several protestations of love, sincerity, 
esteem, delicacy, and disinterestedness.

Although it was upon a mistaken principle, yet, as I had 
reconciled myself to the granting of this gentleman the last 
favour, I fed my vanity in considering the raptures he would 
be in, the homage he would pay me, and what an impression my 
alteration of dress would have on him; for, after we parted, I 
had taken some pains with myself; yet as I looked in the 
glass, a sigh escaped me, and for a moment I considered myself 
only as a decorated victim. But when I reflected that it was 
the sacrifice of virtue to generosity, I even applauded my 
conduct.

After I had read the above-mentioned letter, I bit my lips, 
and supposed I looked silly enough. I could not but own, his 
behaviour was polite, and all that, yet fancied he wanted 
spirit. Travelling to the next stage gave me still further 
time to reflect on (as I thought) his very singular behaviour. 
I began to think very indifferently of his intellects. My 
spirits subsided into a state of insensibility, and I stepped 
out of the post-chaise at Doncaster as cool as a stage-coach 
passenger; and gave him my hand with as little emotion as if 
we had been married twenty years.

We supped together; the common chit-chat during supper, and 
the applause I received for almost every word I spoke, hurried 
me once more into spirits. My deliverer took an opportunity to 
salute me; I was alarmed, and begged he would desist; he 
bowed, resumed his seat, begged my pardon, and again mentioned 
disinterestedness. I blushed; but it was with vexation. I 
could not answer him; I looked down; and self-reproach made me 
for some time hate myself.

He took hold of my hand, and raised it to his lips; but I 
begged him, since he had declared himself my disinterested 
friend, he would be what he pretended, and leave the reward to 
be determined by his deserts, and that he might be sure of my 
gratitude. How much are our sex sometimes beholden to the 
diffidence, irresolution, or want of understanding, among 
mankind? He immediately let go my hand, and vowed most 
solemnly henceforth to treat me as if I were his sister!

"Believe me, Madam," (he added,) "my actions shall always to 
you be addressed with the most becoming delicacy." He then 
begged to know my opinion of him, I was silent; but could not 
help hating him. Once more he told me his fortune was at my 
service, and poured a purse full of guineas into my lap. At 
that moment I could not think him so entirely shocking. "What 
must I do with this?" I asked him. "Put it up, I beg you, 
Madam. Stay, I am sorry to give you that trouble; let me put 
them into the purse again." He did so; and then, after many 
entreaties, I put the money into my pocket. After this, he 
begged once more to salute me. But I, looking graver than 
before, desired to know, if he imagined the present he had 
just made me had prevailed with me? or did he think I was to 
be bought? "No, Madam; the world's wealth cannot purchase you. 
I once more beg pardon. I am answered."

The landlady's entering prevented our further parley. The 
conversation became more general. But, in spite of my 
gallant's disinterestedness, I could perceive that he was, by 
all the schemes he could practise, endeavouring to make me 
drink a few glasses of wine; nay, he once or twice endeavoured 
to trick me into drinking a bumper; and appealed to our 
hostess, who sat down at our request, and who, good, kind, 
condescending soul, answered with an "O yes, sir, to be sure, 
sir; my lady, I dare say, won't refuse your honour--And 
indeed--But I beg pardon--yet our wine, as my lady Duchess 
told me, is the best upon the road; and really, Mem, I hope no 
offence, but you have not drank a glass sense supper." Neither 
will I, thought I; for now I could see through his wretched 
plot, and despised him heartily. He had not spirit, nor 
understanding, to win me with my senses about me; but rather 
chose to be indebted to senseless intoxication, for enjoyment, 
than generous inclination. O, Man! Man! I at this time 
wondered at his stupidity: but experience has since instructed 
me, that he was not jot less abandoned than the major part of 
his brethren.

I ordered the maid to show me to bed, but there I could not 
rest; and in the morning, reflecting on my own situation, on 
the condition to which my parents were reduced, and on the 
manifest intention of my lover, I resolved to come to an 
explanation at once with him; and determined, if he could be 
the means of reinstating my father, to yield myself entirely 
to his will. At the same time, resolving to let him know my 
determination immediately, I rung the bell, informed the 
chamber maid I would breakfast in bed, and told her to let the 
gentleman who supped with me last night know, that I should be 
glad of his company to breakfast with me.

After the tea-things were carried down, without much apology, 
I confessed my design to him, and he gave me his promise. 
Don't laugh at me, reader, or think that, young as I then was, 
and unhackneyed in the ways of life, I could be such an idiot 
as to rely on a man's promise. No; I had his promissory note 
for �500 before I would admit him to the least liberty.

We immediately came to London, and he hired me very genteel 
apartments near St. James's. The day after my arrival in town, 
I paid a visit to my disconsolate father in the Fleet, and 
made him an offer of all the money I had about me, which 
amounted to upwards of fifty guineas; but neither would he, 
nor my mother, receive a shilling of it, until they knew how I 
came by it. My blood was chilled at the refusal; I looked upon 
them with astonishment. I fell down on my knees, and confessed 
what I had committed; but, to palliate my offence, told them, 
it was done with an intention of having my father enlarged, 
and to set him up again in the world; and showed them the note 
for �500 which I offered them. Both, however, refused it; and 
at the same time refused any longer to acknowledge me for 
their daughter. I fell at their feet. They turned me out of 
their miserable lodging-room; and forbade me ever to see them 
again, unless I returned all my ill-acquired wealth.

O! how did their words pierce me, when they said, "That they 
could bear want and imprisonment, but they would never partake 
of the wages of prostitution!" I went home, determined to 
break off my criminal connection; to renounce dress, equipage, 
and every other sinful accumulation, by way of expiation, for 
what I had committed; to live with my parents as their 
servant; and to endure all the hardships such a state of 
servitude, in such a place, could bring on me. But when I 
arrived there, and looking round my apartment, saw everything 
in such elegance--such furniture, and all my own too--good 
heavens! was it possible, young, inexperienced, and vain as I 
was, I could persuade myself to quit them? And then, as I 
stood by the glass, though my eyes were red with crying, yet I 
could not help thinking it a pity that such a figure as I was, 
should do the drudgery of a scullion in a prison; and instead 
of the dress I then wore, to change it for a ragged gown, a 
dirty apron, and every other mark with which extreme poverty 
clothes its labourers. I was shocked at the thought; I could 
not bear it. No; I considered I could do my family more good 
(though unknown to them) by getting money, than by being their 
servant. I determined to lay by one half of all I was or 
should be worth towards reinstating them; and resolved on a 
scheme by which it might be done, and they not know that any 
pecuniary assistance came from my wages of prostitution. Thus 
I began to fortify my myself in my conduct. I imagined I was 
behaving praise worthily, and thought I could not be accounted 
criminal, since it was to serve my father and mother.

In like manner are we all self-fooled; we gloss over our guilt 
with virtue's varnish; all find excuses for their vices and 
follies. The man who, at a nation's expense, heaps up immense 
riches, and accumulates unwieldy estates, by setting the 
interest of his country to sale, that very man reconciles 
these transactions to himself, by saying, "I do these things 
for the good of my family." He who betrays the secrets of his 
friend to his patron, for which he gets some worthless 
sinecure, makes such behaviour easy to his mind, by telling 
himself, that "such things should not be hid." Yet, even in 
this life, I know it, and so do we all, that there is a time 
when nature, or the alarm of nature, remorse, will be heard, 
and when the multitude of wax-lights cannot dispel the inward 
gloom.

At that time, I was shocked at the thought of becoming a 
scullion; of leaving all the gaieties of life to become a poor 
drudge; but had I then known what I afterwards experienced, I 
should have been convinced, that the poor drudge does not 
labour half so much as a prostitute; and she, (the prostitute 
I mean,) is beneath the basest scullion; subject to every 
man's depravities; ever in alarms; in her best station but 
like a gilded coffin, all outside glare, filled with 
corruption; and in a state of poverty, the most abject and 
most despicable of all beings. 

I was maintained in the utmost splendour by my keeper; his 
vanity making him show me off (as he called it) in all the 
extravagance of the mode. But my friend, like several others 
of his sex, was dissatisfied with what he enjoyed, unless he 
could tell the whole world how happy he was; he had therefore 
every week private parties to sup with him at my apartments. 
There I was obliged to suffer him to treat me with all that 
fondling familiarity, that childish fooling, with which some 
new-married people expose themselves before company. I was at 
first ashamed of behaving so; but he soon made me so 
frequently repeat it, that this precious foolery became at 
first indifferent to me, then fatiguing, and at last 
loathsome. I dared not refuse him; though such fulsome 
behaviour made me sick, I was obliged to practise it. What 
could I do? I could not bear the thoughts of living less 
elegant. Pride, cursed pride, the affectation to appear fine, 
is the ruin of both sexes. To indulge ourselves in 
unwarrantable luxuries, to gratify that mean, false passion, 
we women submit to slaveries incredible; and like the 
worthless time-serving flatterer, we sacrifice our minds to 
the bribery of prostitution.

I dreaded every appointment which this man made. I knew what a 
night I had to go through. I have felt my heart sink when he 
has begun with "Phoebe, I shall have company tonight at your 
home." No truant-school boy could be more dejected after 
conviction. I reflected that, spaniel-like, I must play over 
all the common tricks before company, of fondling and fooling.

All the company which I kept of my own sex were ladies of the 
same profession, and in high keeping; and as the phrase is, 
were happy women. But how strangely do we confound together 
two such contradictory terms happiness and prostitution! 
Everyone of these ladies had, as I found, a gentleman or two 
whom they used to meet privately, and from whom they used to 
receive very handsome presents. This, I thought at first 
dangerous, and told them so. They stared at me when I informed 
them that I never had wronged my friend, either out of 
inclination or interest, and easily persuaded me to become one 
of their party.

The next morning, when my keeper, or friend, (which is the 
more fashionable word,) had left me, I was told a lady desired 
to speak to me. On her entering the room, I never was before 
so much prejudiced in favour of any person at first sight. She 
seemed to be a woman of about fifty; tall, straight, and 
genteel; her complexion was clear, and her eyes glistened with 
sensibility. In her address I thought too I could perceive the 
woman of distinction; for her deportment bore an ease and 
dignity that was truly amiable.

After some previous compliments and apologies, she informed 
me, that having been very genteelly brought up, but most 
unfortunately married, necessity had forced her to comply so 
far with the depravity of the times, as to keep a private 
assembly-room, where the politest gentlemen in England, and 
they only, were admitted; and where a select party of ladies 
met to play at cards, dance country-dances, or kill an hour in 
any other agreeable amusement. 

I was not a little astonished, when I found that this lady was 
neither more nor less than a downright procuress; yet there 
was something in her manner, so entertaining, that I begged 
she would let me know how I could be any ways serviceable to 
her, as I had already conceived a friendship for her.

I dined with her that day in St. James's Place. At dinner 
there was an elegant side-board of plate. She had also a 
servant waiting in livery; and after the cloth was taken away, 
and there was no other company, she thus opened herself to 
me:--

"You see, my dear, the manner in which my house is furnished, 
and the neighbourhood in which I live. You seem to have a mind 
susceptible of the most powerful sensations: I beg, therefore, 
you will allow me to give you my advice, which is, that, 
knowing your present admirer to have another lady in keeping, 
I, on your part, would have no further intercourse with him, 
but accept the protection of a rich old count, who has long 
admired your charms; and who, I am sure, will spare no expense 
to render you happy."

This piece of intelligence increased my former dislike to my 
first paramour, I easily became a dupe to her interest, and 
agreed to be introduced to a second: previous to which, I 
secured to myself what valuables I considered I had a right 
to, and left him a note, stating my dissatisfaction and 
resolution of not seeing him again, which was no unwelcome 
news to him.

My new and gouty gallant expressed himself to be uncommonly 
pleased with my company; thought no expense too much for me; 
made me refuse all our male visitors; and became so 
intolerably fond of me that I was almost distracted, I hated 
him, however, because he was fulsome. I despised him for the 
indelicacy of his manners; or, as he called it his taste; and 
his jealousy was almost insupportable.

I lived in luxury, it is true, but did not enjoy one hour's 
satisfaction: for never was a man more liberal to his mistress 
than my elderly lover was to me; but never did woman do less 
to deserve his bounty than I did. But my indifference, 
perhaps, kept his affection alive; for men are odd creatures, 
even in their appetites. His jealousy, however, distracted me. 
I was obliged to be continually at home, as his coming was 
uncertain; and was therefore no more than a fine-dressed 
prisoner. Unless I went out with him, or to meet him, I had 
not the liberty to stir, except to the milliner's; and then an 
old servant he had, used to attend me there and back again. I 
sighed for freedom; I wanted to be less glaring and more 
happy. I envied every woman, even in a coarse apron. Comparing 
my cooped-up condition with hers, I considered myself to be no 
more than a slave; like a miser's gold, locked up from 
everybody, but one man to feast himself with.

It is true, my wishes were prevented by the profuseness of his 
presents; yet those presents could never tempt me to make him 
any affectionate, any grateful return; because I used to 
recollect how dearly I earned every sum of money I received, 
every trinket he gave me.

At last, however, the time was at hand, when I was to repent 
of my behaviour. For it happened, that going to the 
milliner's, to order something fashionable, as I stepped out 
of my chariot, my foot slipped, and, in spite of my footman's 
immediate assistance, I must have fallen, had not a gentleman 
at that instant passing by, caught me in his arms, and carried 
me into the shop. After I had sat down, he addressed me very 
agreeably on my escape, made some whimsical remarks upon the 
accident, and congratulated himself on the lucky part he bore 
in my deliverance with so much humour and spirit, that his 
conversation charmed me. Unperceived by him, I now and then 
looked at his figure. It was amiable: his look sensible, and 
his address delicately tender. I loved him, really loved him. 
He was, in short, the first man that ever possessed my 
inclinations. Many indeed, have been made to believe I loved 
them: and they believed it, because they used to ask me to 
tell them so. "Do you love me, my dear girl?" What a question 
is that! like some guests when they enter a tavern, asking the 
master, if he has any good wine in the house. What answer can 
such a person expect, either from lady or vintner, but, "To be 
sure, sir, you need not doubt it; upon my honour, sir."

I stayed at the milliner's as long as I conveniently could; 
and, in the course of conversation, I found my favourite was 
but that day arrived in London; that he only came to town from 
motives of curiosity; and that he put up in Holborn. All that 
night, with my keeper by my side, I lay awake thinking on this 
young fellow. It was impossible for me to sleep; for as 
Macbeth says, "He had murdered sleep." I appeal to any woman 
who has been in the like situation, who has loved one man, and 
has had another whom she detested lolloping alongside of her, 
what a comfortable time she must have before breakfast.

A letter told the stranger to expect me at his inn in the 
afternoon; and in less than ten days from that visit, we 
landed together at Calais; I having previously converted all 
my plate, furniture, &c. into cash, which in three years was 
all expended. But then I pleased myself, and that is all which 
the greatest can pretend to. I had long been a slave to 
others' pleasures; I now resolved to be free for my own. It is 
true, I paid dear for the resolution; I ruined myself by it. 
What then? Throughout my whole life, I never once thought it 
worth my while to reflect on the consequences of what I 
intended to do; it was sufficient for me that I liked the 
scheme, and that determined me to pursue it.

On returning with my lover from our tour, the last guinea we 
had in the world was changed on the day we landed in England; 
and yet both of us were as full of spirits, as if we had been 
going to take possession of �10,000 a year. While satisfaction 
stays at home, it always saves the heart from aching. Thus it 
was with us; we possessed a great deal; we were rich in each 
other's arms; as to anything else, it was not worth sighing 
for. As we were at dinner, however, the next day, my lover 
fell down speechless, and expired instantaneously. Then I 
became inconsolable. After his death, misfortunes hundred-fold 
stared me in the face. I fell violently ill the next day; kept 
my room above a month; and, on my recovery, found that the 
woman who had been hired for my nurse, had robbed me of 
everything I possessed.

With much difficulty I arrived in London, without any other 
dependence than my person for my maintenance; and such were my 
circumstances, I could not set that off in any saleable light. 
And in a most forlorn condition, I took a back garret in one 
of the streets near the Seven Dials.

Vice is not only callous to remorse, but also to shame; for 
notwithstanding the misery to which I was reduced, I never 
really repented; that is, with true contrition. My sighs were 
like those of a strict gamester; I was mad at my misfortunes, 
but never intended to leave off my former practices. I grieved 
for my change of circumstances, but it was a grief which 
proceeded from pride; not an affliction from the horrors of a 
mis-spent life, but chagrin occasioned by my knowing that I 
was deprived of the means of making the same figure in town as 
formerly.

I now commenced common street-walker; but, as if it were 
ordained that misery should be made more wretched, the first 
evening I took my stand in Fleet Street to look out for a 
fare, I was driven from street to street by women of my own 
profession, who swore I should not enter their beats until I 
had paid my footing. Not having a single farthing, I knew not 
what to do. One of them snatched the only handkerchief I had 
in the world off my neck: while another pulled off my hat, and 
kept it. I had been the whole day making these two pieces of 
finery up; and after washing them, and smoothing them myself, 
in hopes by such baits to tempt somebody to enable me to 
purchase a meal's meat for the next day, having not broke my 
fast that day, I turned out. What then must be my despair to 
find myself even deprived of the hope of being in a condition 
to get sixpence to preserve myself from famishing! At this 
instant, a woman's voice called out from some distance, "Bess, 
Bess, the constables are coming!" My persecutors fled from me 
immediately, and left me bare headed and bare-necked. My hair 
was very long, of a very good colour, and the complexion both 
of my face and neck clear, and without any artifice to set it 
off. I could not, even if I had chosen it, have paid for a 
sixpenny-worth of rouge. In that figure, I stood disconsolate, 
like Jane Shore, as I supposed she appeared when she set out 
to do penance. Before I had time to consider what I should do, 
I was seized by two men, who laid hold of me by the arms and 
shoulders, saying "So, Madam; what! you have a mind to be 
taken, it seems? What, you stayed here to see what we were 
about, did you? Ah; what, you would not skulk off when the 
rest did, though you knew we were coming; ah! I suppose you 
had a mind to turn spy; but we will take care." I replied, 
"Indeed, gentlemen,--" They would not, however, suffer me to 
go on; and one of them interrupting me, very surlily made 
answer, "Don't you know who we are? you shall be sent to 
Bridewell, hussy!" I now fell down on my knees, and begged 
them, for God's sake, to have pity upon me. I confessed to 
them that I came from home, indeed with an intent to offer 
myself to anybody who would give me anything; but that I had 
not eaten all that day; that that was my first night of going 
out; that I was quite a stranger; and that some other women 
had pulled my handkerchief and hat off, and run away with them 
for my footing, as they called it. 

One of the men immediately said to the other, "I fancy this is 
a green-horn; let us take her to the lamp, and look what sort 
of a face she has got." On this, they hauled me to a light; 
and one of them stood staring in my face, while I, with 
dishevelled hair, naked neck, and tears dropping down my 
cheeks, stood in dreadful expectation of my sentence. One of 
my sisters in sin, as I suppose, came by, and told the other 
officer she wanted to speak with him. As soon as he went with 
the woman, the other, who had been looking at me all that 
time, told me I should not go to Bridewell; but he would see 
me safe to my lodgings, and give me something to eat and 
drink. I never went to any of my own elegant furnished 
apartments with a tithe of that transport with which I now 
went back to my miserable garret. It was to me an elysium to 
be saved from Bridewell, and to be told that I should have 
something to eat and drink.

I pity those of large possessions who never have been happy 
enough to be in distress; they can't enjoy, it is impossible. 
I dare insist on it: they can't enjoy half that satisfaction, 
nor half that true relish for any of life's conveniences, 
which those have, who, after seeing misery, have been 
reinstated in affluence.

I supped with my new acquaintance, and grew in spirits. Next 
day he took me to a better lodging; and after the 
neighbourhood were all at rest, he used to visit me, But the 
account my new paramour gave me of the actions in which he had 
been concerned, so shocked and disgusted me, that I could not 
bear to cohabit any longer with him; I was determined to 
starve first.

I now had some clothes; not fine, indeed, but whole, plain, 
and clean, and in which next morning I went to a register-
office to enquire for a place. When I applied to the register-
office for a service, I was recommended to no less a person 
for a mistress than Mrs J----, who had, as I afterwards found, 
most of the clerks or masters of these offices in fee to 
recommend her proper servants.

I guessed for what intent I was hired, although I was retained 
as a chamber-maid; but as I found my mistress had all the 
becoming hypocrisy necessary for a procuress, I resolved to 
play the same game, and show I could dissemble as well in my 
place. She never suspected my having been upon the town, and 
took more than ordinary pains to persuade me to give my 
company to some of her best customers; promising me great 
things, and praising the life of a kept mistress, and how much 
it was preferable to that of a servant. But I knew too well 
that a Woman of the Town was the worst, the lowest, the basest 
of slaves, condemned to do the most ignominious drudgery. 
However I suffered myself at last to be overcome, and 
consented to admit a gentleman to sup with me.

And now, reader, behold me in that most miserable situation of 
a prostitute in a common brothel; and if any part of a 
strumpet's life is more wretched, more pitiable than another, 
sure it is that. But, that the reader may the better judge of 
our condition, it is proper to give him the following 
information;--

When an old hackneyed strumpet has been enabled to escape the 
fatalities incident to her profession, such as perishing 
infected in hospitals, dying in a prison, famishing in a 
cellar in the outskirts of the town, or surviving 
transportation; too haggard themselves to gain any business by 
their own persons, they immediately commence agents for 
others. From the experience of a series of years, being 
acquainted with all the vices incident to both sexes, and 
having minds prepared to perpetrate any enormity, they apply 
to some person who is called a Wine and Brandy Merchant, (one, 
perhaps, of equal principle with themselves,) who immediately 
puts them into a ready-furnished house in the environs of 
Covent Garden, and lays them in a stock of liquor. Being thus 
freighted, they are themselves to look out for the rest of 
their cargo, and enquire for three or four ladies to board and 
lodge with them. Now there are three ways of gaining lodgers.

The first is, that when some worthless fellow has, upon 
specious pretences, decoyed an inexperienced beauty from her 
friends, he hurries her to town, takes her to one of these 
brothels, revels with her there until he is sated, and then 
acquainting the mistress of the house with his intention, 
quits the ruined victim for ever. This news is brought her by 
the procuress. The deluded girl most commonly falls into fits, 
and for three or four days is in a delirium. When she 
recovers, she is persuaded to see company, as it is called, 
being tempted with promises, or terrified with threats; and I 
have known several reputable tradesmen's daughters perish for 
want in a prison, thrown in by sham actions by the bawds in 
whose houses they have been left, because they would not 
consent to be public prostitutes.

One day or other, perhaps, the hand of authority may think it 
worthwhile to stop the rapid progress of such bare-fronted 
vice. I, although too long an actress in such ignominious 
scenes, detest the vile, the scandalous practices, even to 
this hour, that are carried on in these places, and which, to 
the disgrace of the police, are increasing annually within the 
precincts of Covent Garden.

The boarders in these houses are obliged to sit up every 
morning (unless particularly employed) until four or five 
o'clock, for the good of the house, to drink with any 
straggling bucks that may reel in at any of the early morning 
hours. With them they are obliged to sit down, drink, and bear 
whatever behaviour these drunken visitants are pleased to use; 
and at last, if they be in luck, put to bed to some fellow who 
has swallowed too many bumpers to suffer himself to be 
sensible of the wretchedness he must inevitably endure from a 
most impure connection.

In this situation I stayed for some time; but as I had been 
already too much among mankind to entertain the most generous 
opinion of them, I only suffered myself to be won where I 
thought there was the greatest appearance of profit, and the 
least of danger. I had several friends, to each of whom I 
pretended esteem; for fondness, I found with them, was too 
stale a bait to catch them. They were persons who, as they 
told me, had seen the world, knew both man and womankind, 
loved to please themselves; but were not to be taken in, they 
said, by a girl's flattery. These were a set of persons of 
good fortune; who had, according to the phrase, run through 
the town; and valued themselves upon their experience, their 
wit, their discernment, and fortitude of mind. They liked me, 
because they told me I had less cunning about me than many 
others of my profession, and was above being mercenary; but I 
used to laugh at them egregiously when they left me, I found 
these men of wit and wisdom, as they called themselves, to be 
my choicest dupes; I always allowed them to be everything they 
thought themselves, and then I made just what I pleased of 
them.

Were I to recapitulate every acquaintance's behaviour, the 
relation would be odious, nay detestable; but thus far I may 
be allowed to defend our sex, that we never should behave so 
passionless, so inconstant, to those who pay us, did not their 
manner make us loathe them. Only let us consider: half a dozen 
men come into one of the Covent Garden taverns, and after they 
think proper to sit down and be silent, a party of ladies are 
introduced, dressed as well as their circumstances can afford, 
like Indian idols, glittering with bugles<149>, about their 
necks and in their ears. The conversation that ensues between 
these male and female groups is noisy, obscene, foolish, or 
impertinent. It generally terminates in a quarrel among the 
men; or else some of the women, who perhaps have not broken 
their fast that day; and yet will drink bumpers to show the 
strength of their heads, and soundness of their constitutions, 
and are soon intoxicated. They are then set together by the 
ears. This makes fine fun for the bucks, who nobly and man-
like stand by, and see three or four poor prostitutes pull one 
another's clothes to pieces, and with diabolical uproar exult 
in wretchedness being made more miserable.

When I left Mrs J----'s, I set up for myself in a snug way. I 
hired a very convenient house in the city, with a back door 
that opened into a church-yard; and there I received company, 
but extremely private. Many and many a good grave customer 
have I had step in after he had been at evening-lecture. But 
it is an old saying, that if you can but once make the world 
believe you are good, you have no occasion to be so. This I 
used to see verified by my customers, who I took care should 
be very responsible people, masters of families, and who were 
looked upon to be some of the most religious and most virtuous 
men in the city.

As to their virtue, if the meaning of that term was to be 
confined to chastity, they were strictly virtuous through the 
impotency of age or bodily infirmities; but as libidinous in 
their minds as drunken satyrs. Faugh! I can hardly forbear 
spitting at their memories, when I reflect on the old goatish 
dotards--their vanities--their lusts--their meanness; and, 
what seems a paradox, their prodigalities; for though they 
would spare no expense upon the woman who would gratify them 
in their loathsome desires, yet would they be pleased, if they 
could pay half a guinea short in their reckoning.

In both these despicable tastes did I indulge them. I suffered 
my person to be at their service now and then, and would often 
cast up a reckoning of nine or ten shillings short. At this 
they would chuckle; and I have seen their spectacles totter 
upon their pinched-in noses, as they have giggled inwardly at 
my mistake, as they thought, which they never would tell me 
of, but paid the bill immediately.

I had another gallant, who was in the commission of the peace, 
and a very severe man against strumpets and street-walkers. 
When he visited me (which was generally upon a Sunday evening, 
at his return from the evening lecture, which he used to go to 
at the church close to which my house stood, for the 
convenience of stealing in at my back-door--to so good a 
purpose did he dedicate his religion), he would repeat the 
speeches that he had made at sessions, or vestry, or hall; and 
I was obliged to hear all his harangues against the 
licentiousness of the age, and the debaucheries, the vices and 
rebellious principles of the nation; that it was a shame the 
English should have any liberty, since they only made use of 
it to fly in their superiors' faces; that nobody but rich 
folks could be great folks; and nobody but such great folks 
could be judges of anything. Then he talked to me about 
economy, and how proper it was at this juncture to set about a 
reformation of manners; that passive obedience was what ought 
to be inculcated among all ranks of people.

God help me! I was indeed forced with him to show passive 
obedience which I detested; but he made me liberal presents, 
and therefore it was worth my while once a week, I thought, to 
endure him for an hour. 

I had a third gallant, who gave me five guineas, besides 
bringing me some pretty presents at every turn, who used to 
visit me twice a week, only to comb out my head of hair. It 
was very long, and of a very bright auburn colour; and thus 
would he sit employing himself for an hour, and then take his 
leave. This man was one of the richest in 'Change Alley; but 
of so unfeeling a temper, that he suffered his only son to 
perish in a prison, because the young man had married an 
unproportioned young lady, of extraordinary merit, without the 
old fellow's consent. I could, if I dared, mention some names, 
who now hold their heads very high, and are greatly stared at, 
who owe all their advancement to their meanness; and if they 
had not been the most vile, would never have been what they 
now are.

Business began to increase so fast, that I was obliged to look 
out for a lady to assist me. I visited a particular and tried 
friend, with whom I got acquainted at Mrs J----'s, and told 
her my scheme of bringing her to be a partner with me; she was 
overjoyed at the proposal, and next day came to live with me. 
She was shorter than myself, but exquisitely beautiful, and we 
used to walk out together regularly every afternoon.

During my residence in this house, I admitted no young fellows 
to visit me; no man under forty stepped over my threshold as a 
guest. I knew the danger of suffering youth to indulge 
themselves in any licentiousness; they were proud of making a 
parade of it; while, on the contrary, I had a staid, demure 
set of old impotent gallants, who, although they were as 
wicked as it was possible for vice to contrive, yet wore such 
a ceremonious sanctity, and were reputed such good, pious, and 
chaste men, that they were as much afraid of being discovered 
as I could be.

But what astonished me most was, that these old fellows (who 
were looked upon as wise men among one another, and whose 
names I sometimes read in the newspapers, as being concerned 
in works of consequence, or as being elected to consider about 
affairs of importance,) I ever found to be men of weak 
intellects, persons of uneven, very uneven minds, and that the 
sense which they had was greatly overbalanced by folly and 
impotent passions.

In this snug manner, and with good management, I continued a 
long time, insomuch that I increased my assistants to the 
number of three, and frequently, on particular nights, was 
obliged to send for others. But no establishment, however 
prudent or otherwise, can always last. I was to be disturbed, 
and that without any fault of mine. The accident which 
occasioned it was quite unforeseen, therefore the surprise was 
the greater.

An elderly, and when sober, very discreet tradesman, a grocer 
in the neighbourhood, who used occasionally to visit me, 
happened to come one evening just after leaving the precinct 
meeting, where he had made very free with the juice of the 
grape; and, after remaining some time, retired to his home. In 
the middle of the night, he returned, and making a great noise 
at the door, with a posse of constables and officers, insisted 
upon entrance, which I did not dare refuse them, knowing, if I 
did, they could make me answer for the consequences. They came 
in, and after three hours' fruitless search, retired without 
the object for which they came, which was the old grocer's 
watch, that it seems, he missed soon after his arrival at 
home. His state of intoxication was the cause of his taking 
this rash way of seeking redress; for, his wife was at the 
bottom of the business; and missing his watch, which was a 
family gold one, he confessed where he had been. This was the 
cause of the search. I heard no more of the matter, until the 
afternoon of the next day, when an old porter, who had had 
some jobs from my house, came, and informed me, the officers 
were just then coming to apprehend me. I had not received this 
information a minute, before I perceived them coming; so 
huddling on my shawl, I made a precipitate retreat through the 
church-yard at the back of my house. I got through 
unperceived, as I thought, by any; but, by the time I had 
reached Islington Road, turning my head back, I plainly 
discovered two men following. and looking very sharp after me. 
I quickened my pace; and seeing an out-house open, I got in, 
as I thought, unperceived by them; but they soon discovered my 
retreat, and, without further ceremony, handed me out, saying, 
I must go with them. I obeyed their mandate; and they brought 
me to Hatton Garden, where, after a short examination, I was 
sent to Newgate. My confinement was but of a short duration; 
for just as I was preparing for my third examination, a 
discharge came down to me, the watch being found in a 
necessary, and restored to the owner.

This affair made more noise than I wished it should in the 
neighbourhood, and induced me to retire into the country; for 
if I were before tired of London and London ways, I was now 
perfectly sick of them, through this prosecution; therefore I 
determined to break off all my connections and dependencies. I 
had acquired a large sum of money, and was resolved no longer 
to bear capriciousness. My house I let to my partner; and my 
jewels, plate, and other such superfluities, I sold by 
auction. I had found out a place in the country much to my 
satisfaction, and there I was determined honestly to spend the 
remainder of my days; and as hitherto I had been careful of my 
person, I thought it was time for me to consider of what was 
hereafter to happen.

Accordingly, as soon as I had settled my affairs, I set out 
for Devonshire attended only by a female servant, whose 
fidelity I had often experienced. All the way on the road, I 
reflected with rapture on the alteration of my condition. The 
fields looked so lovely, so sweet smelt the air, the birds 
sung out so musically, that all seemed Paradise around me.

I was recommended to board in a clergyman's house in the 
Southams. I passed for the widow of an officer in the army; 
was treated with the utmost respect; and in a few weeks I 
perceived a remarkable alteration in myself for the better. My 
spirits and my appetite were mended; my colour came once more 
to my cheeks, I could hardly believe I was the same person, 
who but so lately had looked so pale, so relaxed, so void of 
appetite, without any spirits but what the fictitious help of 
liquor afforded me.

But the life I lived of ease and innocence began to be too 
easy for me. I began to talk of London to my servant, as we 
used to walk out together; was wont to say, that I wondered 
what our old friends were doing in town and used to wish I 
could see them, and not be seen, just for half an hour or so; 
though I declared I never intended to live in London again. As 
the assizes were to be held soon at Exeter, I desired my 
landlord would write, and secure lodgings for me there during 
the week. I appeared at the assembly, and was complimented 
very much, not only upon my person, but my taste in dress. The 
vicar, with whom I lodged in the Southams, had recommended me 
to dance with a young gentleman of his acquaintance, whose 
estate lay near the vicar's residence. This west country 
esquire had five hundred pounds per annum, was a passable man 
to figure, and seemed to have a great share of good nature, 
and some understanding, yet nothing either in mind or person 
striking. Notwithstanding this, I had been so long rusticated 
from anything like address and gaiety, that I was peculiarly 
pleased at the assiduities of my partner: nay, the exercise, 
the music, the warmth of the room, the sipping of negus now 
and then, the pressing of palms and other like auxiliaries, 
which happen on a night's country-dancing, quite exhilarated 
my heart; and as soon as he saw me home, he took his leave of 
me; but in the afternoon, he called to enquire after my 
health. I was still in bed, reflecting on what was likely to 
happen; on hearing his name, I desired he would stay, and 
huddling on my clothes, went down to him. Before I entered the 
parlour, he made the vicar my landlord, his confidant, and 
begged his recommendation to me, that I would accept him as a 
husband. When the vicar told me this, and at the same time 
gave me a good character of a person whom I already thought so 
favourable of, I replied, that, "I did not know--I should see-
-I could not tell--I was very happy in my single state--
however, I could not say"--and such evasive, maiden-like 
answers. But as he that day obtained my consent to visit me, 
he soon after obtained my consent to be married; though, 
before that ceremony passed between us, I honestly discovered 
to him my former situation and way of life. He was charmed 
with my sincerity; and the very next day succeeding the 
discovery of myself, we were married, when I once more gave up 
all thoughts of London. I had received him as my husband, 
because I thought him to be a man whom I could like; but I 
soon began to esteem him; and he was fond of me beyond 
description. I doted upon him; my whole delight was in him. I 
was the girl of his affection; he was the man of my heart. He 
married a prostitute, one whom he knew to be so; yet he 
tenderly loved me; my gratitude to him, therefore was 
unbounded.

The following winter I was obliged to come to London on 
account of my money; all which I generally (some persons may 
say foolishly) gave to my husband. But the most knowing 
persons, they say, are one time or other the most simply taken 
in. When we came to London, and I had settled everything to my 
satisfaction. I had not even a wish left for curiosity; my 
husband was everything to me, I everything to him. But little 
did I know either of us; for this dear husband, my lord and 
master, to whom I had made a present of upwards of five 
thousand pounds, and of a person, he was often pleased to say, 
superior to all the fortunes in the world; whose look was 
enough to make me fly to serve him, and prevent his even 
mentioning what he wanted; yet this very spouse, when he had 
been only a week in town, picked up a girl in the Strand; and 
the correspondence continued with such fondness on his side 
that he took her into keeping: and told me he liked London so 
well, he did not intend to leave it for the winter season.

I soon discovered his haunts; and one day, about three in the 
afternoon, surprised him and his lady together. Would not any 
one suppose I should rave, fall upon the woman, raise the 
neighbourhood, and do every other outrageous action; I scorned 
to expose either my husband or myself, any more than what my 
first bursting into the room might occasion. The curtains were 
undrawn, and no window-shutters to the sashes. They both 
started upright at my entrance; and the girl seemed startled 
as at the sight of a bailiff, while he could not stir, but sat 
like a person struck with a blast; and the use of his limbs, 
even the power of motion in his face, was taken from him. All 
in a rage as I was, I own, the ugliness of the girl's person, 
and her gallant's dastardly appearance, made part of my fury 
subside into contempt; so that I gained spirits sufficient to 
seat myself; then looking at the unhappy girl, desired her not 
to be frightened; told her that I knew it was not her fault; 
that I pitied her; that I knew too much of the miseries of her 
profession to blame her for accepting of a man who would 
maintain her.

What happened afterwards for some time, I cannot relate; I was 
insensible. Overcome by the different stifled passions of 
resentment, disappointment, pride, all at once striving to 
master me, it was too much for me; I sunk down in a swoon. I 
was taken home, put to bed, and a fever ensued, which was 
attended with a miscarriage. I was for some time given over; 
but resolution, I think, more than medicine, recovered me. My 
husband (with reverence let me mention so dignified a title) 
thought proper only to enquire after my health, but never 
chose to appear in my sight; and when he found my health re-
established, went over with his lady to Jamaica to a brother 
he had there, who had lived many years upon that island.

Villain and fool as the fellow was on whom I had so rashly 
bestowed myself, yet I must do him the justice to say, that he 
did not take my fortune with him: he left above two thirds of 
it; and having sold it all out of the stocks, and taking bank 
bills for the money, leaving only five hundred pounds for 
himself, he sent me the bank notes for the residue in a packet 
by my servant maid; and also a deed, wherein he made over the 
Devonshire estate to me, as it was left to him in such a 
manner that he could dispose of it to whomsoever he pleased. 
He at the same time wrote a letter to the clergyman in the 
Southams, wherein he corroborated the powers he had given me, 
and at the same time laid the blame of his misconduct entirely 
upon himself; nay, like a malefactor, confessed he was 
infatuated, and did not know what he did. In one part of the 
letter, he observed to the vicar, "That his wife ought to 
remember what she had formerly been herself." Had he been near 
me at the instant I read that line, I should have spit in his 
face. The first part of this letter had won me over almost to 
forgive him; but the meanness of betraying and reproaching me, 
rekindled my resentment.

I returned into Devonshire, and lived upon my estate, without 
breaking in upon my ready money in the stocks, but left it 
there to accumulate. I saw no company for the first six months 
after I had returned home, except my acquaintance the vicar.

One day Mr Dernly (which was the vicar's name with whom I had 
lived) calling to see me, and the conversation happening to 
turn on the ill-usage I had received from my husband, he 
begged to know what my husband meant by his innuendo in the 
letter to him, of what I had been formerly. I was in one of 
those communicative moods, which, perhaps, reader you may have 
at times been seized with, (the pleasure of speaking about 
yourself) I related to him the most material transactions of 
my life; as I had always from his deportment from the manner 
in which he had brought up his family, and from the very 
particular and respectful manner in which he always behaved to 
me, thought no inquietude could happen to me from his knowing 
what I had been formerly. No inquietude indeed, of consequence 
did happen from it, but I lost a friend, a sincere friend by 
it, and gained--a lover--a fulsome admirer--a gallant turned 
of fifty--a father of children. Clergymen are liable to be 
tempted as well as laymen: though I never suspected he would 
ever assume the man of gallantry with me; but finding him a 
real hypocrite, I was determined to break off the connection, 
which I immediately did, and set off for London the next day, 
in spite of all his entreaties to the contrary.

When I came to London, my first business was to enquire after 
my husband, that most grateful of all men. Poor creature! the 
lady with whom he had eloped to Jamaica had left him for a 
richer lover. That, and, I believe, some reflections on the 
manner in which he had used me, preyed upon his mind, so that 
he pined away by degrees. The death of his elder brother, 
which happened in about seven months after he arrived there, 
made him worth upwards of ten thousand pounds; but this could 
not make him easy. All his cry was, that he would come and die 
in England, bring me his fortune, and beg my forgiveness; all 
which happened as he desired. He found out where I lived. At 
first sight of him, my resentment vanished; and for the 
remainder of his life, which was not above four months, I 
convinced him that I had entirely forgotten his former errors.

After his death, I once more retired to my Devonshire estate, 
where I now employ myself in works of charity; and have at 
last found, that, in spite of all our fantastic dreams of joy, 
either from wit, splendour, intrigue, homage, or any other 
incidental epicurean luxury, there is no permanent pleasure, 
no solid happiness, that can be felt, except that which arises 
from the satisfaction of doing good.

THE END.



Anne Catley (1789)

Anon. The , celebrated singing performer of the last century, 
including an account of her introduction to public life, her 
professional engagements in London and Dublin, and her various 
adventures and intrigues London, 1888. 
https://archive.org/details/cu31924022419968/page/n6 



Title Page

THE LIFE OF
Miss
ANNE Catley
CELEBRATED
SINGING PERFORMER OF THE LAST CENTURY
INCLUDING AN
ACCOUNT OF HER Introduction 
TO PUBLIC LIFE
HER 
PROFESSIONAL ENGAGEMENTS 
IN LONDON AND DUBLIN
AND
Her Various Adventures and Intrigues
WITH WELL-KNOWN MEN OF QUALITY 
AND WEALTH.

CAREFULLY COMPILED AND EDITED FROM THE BEST AND MOST 
AUTHENTIC RECORDS EXTANT.
LONDON. 
1888.



Frontispiece: Portrait of Anne Catley
 
 
Taken at the age of Thirty



Memoir of Miss Anne Catley

Anne Catley, the subject of the following Memoir, was one of 
the most celebrated actresses of the latter half of the last 
century. Her personal beauty, her high vocal abilities, and 
her connection with certain well-known personages of the upper 
class, acquired for her a notoriety that was certainly 
distinguished, if not altogether enviable.

Various writers having expressed themselves very differently 
as to this lady's character, it will be interesting to gather 
together and present in a consecutive narrative such authentic 
facts as are procurable.

An author living at the time she flourished speaks of her as 
"at present justly the most celebrated for her musical powers 
the British Theatre ever boasted," and says, "she is the 
daughter of a hackney coachman who lived near Tower Hill." All 
accounts of her seem agreed about this, and that she was born 
in the year 1745, as the writer says, "like a bright orient 
gem, when removed from the dark bowels of the earth, emerging 
from an obscure and gloomy alley in the neighbourhood of Tower 
Hill. Her father," he says, "if he could not boast of luxury 
himself, most essentially contributed to the enjoyment of it 
in others. His courses were generally above the vulgar level, 
for he was in short, and in plain English, neither more nor 
less than a gentleman's coachman." As to the particular 
occupation of the mother, opinion is much divided, but the 
most prevalent is that she was an humble washerwoman, and 
earned small sums in that way by keeping clean the officers 
upon the Tower duty.

In her infancy the little Nancy displayed charms which 
attracted the attention of every beholder. Her complexion was 
as fair as alabaster, her eyes sparkling; she had vermilion 
lips, and nothing could equal the bloom which adorned her 
cheeks. In a word, Nature seemed in forming her to have meant 
to show the world an abridgment of all human perfection. Not 
to dwell, however, too long on a subject which can afford our 
readers but little pleasure besides a first perusal, we shall 
proceed to relate the remarkable events of her younger years, 
observing only that her beauty increased with her age.

Her education was such as persons who move in the same sphere 
of life with her parents usually bestow on their children. She 
imbibed the first rudiments of reading in a charity school. 
She passed her youth in childish amusements peculiar to that 
age, and in the company of her equals; whom, whether male or 
female she strove to excel in the noble arts of spinning a 
top, playing at marbles, running down Tower Hill, jumping over 
posts, &c.

She had reached her fourteenth year, when, as she was sitting 
one day in an alehouse, among her companions, she was desired 
to sing a song. A draught of beer soon gained her compliance, 
and a gentleman well known in the musical world happening to 
pass by the door at that instant, was so much attracted by the 
angelic though untutored melody of the little Catley that he 
stopped to hear her song out. When she had done he went into 
the house, sat down, and with the bribe of a few halfpence 
prevailed on her to repeat it, and when she had finished he 
went away without saying anything to her at that time.

He immediately enquired in the neighbourhood where her parents 
lived, and what business they followed; of which particulars 
being informed, he went to them, told them how much he admired 
their daughter's musical talents, and offered to take her 
under his tuition, and perfect her in an art for which nature 
had so well qualified her.

Her father and mother, overjoyed at a proposal which seemed so 
advantageous to their child, readily consented. Accordingly, 
she removed next day to the house of her patron, Mr Bates, who 
put her to school very remote from the haunts of her former 
companions.

Here she remained some time, wholly employed in learning to 
read and write. After she was taken from school she applied 
herself with so much assiduity to acquire a competent 
knowledge of music, that at the end of two years she was 
capable of occupying a distinguished position in a London 
orchestra.

While living in the neighbourhood of the Tower, she became an 
object very much admired, and by the credulity of her 
unsuspecting parents was permitted to expose her budding 
beauties, and, as we have seen, her melodious cadences, in the 
commonest places of resort in that district. She was yet too 
young for serious love affairs, but the military heroes of the 
locality had their eyes upon her, as beasts of prey watch 
their destined victims until they arrive at a proper time and 
place to spring upon them. They were all, however, 
disappointed; Nan, before she arrived at her second teen, 
listened to the love-lore of a young linen draper in the 
Minories, and in a very short time returned his passion with 
equal ardour.

And now that charming voice for which she afterwards became so 
justly celebrated began to increase in strength and melody; 
insomuch that, at the recommendation of some friends, Mr Bates 
gladly accepted her as an apprentice by indenture, with a 
penalty of �200 for the father in case of misconduct.

Upon attaining proficiency she made her first appearance in 
public at Vauxhall in the summer of 1762; and on the 8th of 
October in the same year she appeared for the first time on 
the stage at Covent Garden, in the character of the Pastoral 
Nymph in Comus, and gained uncommon applause.

Bates and Catley, however, soon found they could not agree. 
She had discovered a mortal dislike to her master, and her 
conduct became most irregular. It was in vain he solicited and 
threatened--at one time he declared that he would turn her out 
of doors and sue her father for the �200--in vain also were 
her father's entreaties, her conduct became so irritating that 
at last Bates agreed to allow her �25 a year for her board and 
lodging, and take her salary to himself. This arrangement, 
however, did not long continue.

The succeeding year she became an object of public attention 
from a very remarkable circumstance. Sir Francis Blake 
Delaval, one of the most notorious and abandoned characters of 
the times, being charmed with her beauty, and understanding 
that the master and his fair apprentice could not agree, 
resolved on releasing her entirely from the coercion of Bates, 
and making her his mistress. Accordingly, it was agreed that 
Sir Francis should pay Bates the penalty of the father's bond, 
and also give him �200 more in lieu of what she might earn for 
him by the engagement that he had made for her with the 
managers of Covent Garden Theatre and Marylebone Gardens. In 
this purpose Mr Fraine an attorney, was ordered to draw up a 
proper transfer of her indentures from Bates to Sir Francis, 
and she and her mother were removed into lodgings, where she 
lived publicly with Sir Francis, was attended by his servants, 
and rode out with him every day.

The attorney, having made the father a party to the articles, 
waited on him to have his signature and seal. Mr Catley lived 
at this time with the very respectable Mr Barclay, of 
Cheapside, and, having got possession of the articles, 
consulted his master on the nature of them.

The honest Quaker, shocked at the wickedness of transferring a 
girl by legal process, for the purpose of prostitution, 
advised with his lawyer, who laid a case before Counsel, and 
the ensuing term two motions were made in the Court of King's 
Bench on these articles: the first of these motions was for 
Habeas Corpus, directed to Sir Francis Blake Delaval, to bring 
the body of Anne Catley into court; and the second was for a 
rule to show cause why an information should not be filed 
against Sir Francis Blake Delaval, Bates the Master, and 
Fraine the Attorney, for a conspiracy to prostitute Anne 
Catley, under the forms of law. On the following day, Catley, 
in consequence of the Habeas Corpus, appeared in Court, 
accompanied by Sir Francis, and was discharged out of his 
custody. The affidavits for the prosecutor were read, and a 
day was fixed for cause to be shown. On the young lady's 
release, her father attempted to seize her, and carry her off 
by force. Sir Fletcher Norton, Counsel for Sir Francis, 
immediately complained to the Court, and the violent conduct 
of the father was severely reprimanded by the Chief Justice, 
Earl Mansfield, who observed, that though the girl was not of 
legal age, she was at full discretion; and the question being 
put, whether she would return with her father, or Sir Francis, 
she declared her attachment to the latter, put her hand under 
his arm, and making a curtsey to the Judges, and another to 
the Bar, walked with him out of Westminster Hall to his 
carriage, which waited at the gate, and carried them home.

On cause being shown, the Court were clearly of opinion that 
the information should be granted. Lord Mansfield observed, 
that the Court of King's Bench was custos morum<150> of the 
country; and had authority, especially where the offence was 
mixed with conspiracy, to punish everything contra bonas 
mores.<151> He called the money given by Sir Francis to Bates, 
premium prostitutionis,<152>, and cited the case of Sir 
Richard Sedley, in the reign of Charles II., to support it.

The consequence of this information against Sir Francis, 
Bates, and Fraine, was a trial, and all the defendants being 
found guilty by the Jury, were severely fined; the whole 
expense of which, together with the costs to a very 
considerable amount, fell upon Sir Francis.

The story of her conquest of Sir F. B. D. is told as follows, 
in a pamphlet published during her lifetime and professing to 
contain many curious anecdotes never before published. She is 
thus described on the title page-

Queen of Song, of Dance, of Sports, 
You scarce will meet her like again.

Singing at Marylebone Gardens, her beauty, joined to her 
superior excellence in singing, could not fail of creating her 
a great number of admirers. Among the rest of her numerous 
votaries, Sir F. B. D. obtained the preference. He took her 
home with him in his chariot one night from the gardens.

She was not ignorant of the conquest her charms had made, and 
was resolved to make the utmost advantage of it. The Knight 
who loved her to desperation, on their arrival at his house, 
asked her on what terms she would consent to live with him. 
She heartily replied, that the happiness of being loved by him 
was, in her opinion, a sufficient reward for any favours that 
she could bestow. Pleased with this answer, he presented her 
with a diamond ring which he took from his finger, worth a 
hundred guineas, as an earnest of what he intended to do in 
the future.

Her conversation during supper was witty, spirited and 
enlivening; she sung him several songs, all of which were on 
the subject of love and omitting nothing that she thought 
likely to increase his passion for her, the evening was passed 
in the most agreeable manner imaginable.

The next day he sent for his coachmaker, and ordered him to 
make for her a very elegant equipage. He fixed her in genteel 
lodgings at two guineas per week, and assigned her an 
allowance of five guineas.

Our heroine seemed now arrived at the pinnacle of her glory, 
her inamorato was too fond to deny her anything she asked him. 
She also, on her part resolved to give him every satisfaction 
in her power, and accordingly requested the favour of him to 
accompany her to a house near Hampstead, prepared by her 
appointment, to partake of an entertainment she had provided. 
She forgot nothing that might make everything agreeable to 
him; the most delicate viands and the choicest wines were 
served up with a degree of elegance, which plainly showed that 
the mistress of the feast was no novice in the art of doing 
the honours of the table with propriety. All the time they sat 
at table, two bands of music composed of the most celebrated 
vocal and instrumental performers, played and sung. The knight 
was in raptures, but his fair flame desired him to forbear 
being so lavish in his thanks till after supper, when she 
hoped to present him with a scene that would be more deserving 
of them.

Miss Catley made a short meal, and retired somewhat abruptly. 
This behaviour surprised her lover, and he waited the issue of 
the event with impatience. When the things were removed she 
sent a servant to desire Sir F. to walk into a large hall 
below stairs, where a theatre appeared, representing a forest 
at a distance, with a beautiful valley stretching out towards 
it. Fields and orchards seemed in full bloom; the rivulets 
wandered along, and their banks were decked with woodbines and 
roses.

Here our heroine, who had only retired to dress, appeared as 
Celia asleep; three shepherds came slowly forward, the music 
playing, and one of them sung as follows--

Soft advances let us make 
Towards my lovely enemy; 
Let us, let us not awake
Her sleeping cruelty.

Then all three sang the following trio--

Sleep on, and take that sweet repose, 
Ye bright victorious eyes, 
Which the hard law that you impose 
To other hearts denies.

STREPHON.

Silence, ye birds, ye zephyrs, peace, 
Let all a sacred silence keep; 
Ye purling streams, your murmurs cease, 
For 'tis Celia that's asleep.

TRIO.

Sleep on, and take the sweet repose, 
Ye bright victorious eyes,
Which the hard law that you impose 
To other hearts denies.

This was sung admirably well; and when the shepherds had done, 
several shepherdesses came out of the wood. They advanced to 
the sleeping beauty in graceful measure, as the music played, 
and when they came to the bank of flowers she reclined on, one 
of them sang, incomparably fine, these words----
Come, Celia with your charms, 
Come view the innocent delights, 
To which, with smiles and open arms, 
Our peaceful wilderness invites.

Here seek no grandeur of a Court, 
Love's alone our harmless sport: 
Love crowns the night, love crowns the day,
And love's the burthen of the lay.

Here Celia awakened, and, singing, said to Strephon, who stood 
gazing on and admiring the wonders of her face,

O what cruelty you show, 
To follow me where'er I go!

STREPHON.

Whom would you have me, fair, pursue, 
But she, alas! I love--but you?

CELIA.

What is it, shepherd, that you mean?

STREPHON.

Fair shepherdess, I mean to die; 
Die at your feet and end my pain, 
Since at your feet I sigh.

CELIA.

Hence, Strephon, hence, I fear that I shall prove 
Pity within my breast transformed to love.

STREPHON.

Or from pity or from love 
It is graceful to be tender! 
Shepherdess, enough you've strove, 
To his flame you must surrender. 
Or from pity or from love, 
It is graceful to be tender.

CELIA.

Too long I've been, too long, severe, 
Your ardent vows have treated ill; 
Here, take my heart, here, Strephon, here, 
Of just revenge here take your fill.

STREPHON.

O heavens! O shepherds! O Celia, why 
Transport me thus? If joy can kill, I die.

DAMON.

This prize is worthy of thy fidelity; 
Thus blest, who but must envy thee!

This scene of a comedy ballet was finely performed and 
beautifully improved by the conclusion taken from 
Shakespeare's Tempest; that is, when the shepherds had done, 
Juno, Iris and Ceres appeared, descending in a machine of 
clouds, to bless this pair, and sung their blessings on them. 
Iris called the Naiads of the winding brooks, by command of 
Juno, summoned the sun-burnt sicklemen to put their rye-straw 
hats on and encounter those other nymphs in country footing. 
The nymphs and reapers appeared in a moment properly habited, 
and concluded the scene with a graceful dance.

In this manner the time passed away till midnight, the next 
day was passed in much the same manner, and he stayed with her 
about a week, and she every day entertained him with some new 
species of diversion. At the end of that time he took his 
leave, and gave her fresh tokens of his affection.

A writer in the "History of the English Theatre" (1789) says, 
"To the man of her choice she was faithful, loving and 
submissive." This opinion is certainly not borne out by facts, 
and another writer of her times says, "Though of a sprightly 
disposition and apparently of a volatile spirit, she never 
lost sight of her own interest." Sir Francis had possession of 
her person, but was never master of her heart, and there is no 
doubt, but that even while she resided with him, and appeared 
in public as his mistress, she privately engaged in intrigues 
with others for pecuniary consideration. A diamond to her was 
as inestimable an argument as to Madame Sc-l-e-g. It won her 
last favour as effectually as it gains the old German's 
interest. Her passions were strong, but she was totally 
destitute of sentiment and delicacy, and always gratified her 
appetite with a view to her interests as well as to her taste; 
being attached to the whole sex without harbouring a 
particular fondness for any particular individual, she 
measured love by profit, and enjoyed indulgence without the 
least relish for mental satisfaction.

Macklin was the person who first discovered her talents for 
the stage, and she cultivated them under his tuition with 
assiduity and success; for notwithstanding she pleased most 
when least natural and most outr�, yet there was great 
capability in her mind; she could assume chaste acting, and 
executed many characters of difficulty with critical justice.

Time, possession, and infidelity--the capricious girl having 
confessed to an improper intimacy with no less a personage 
than the Duke of York himself, whom she declared to be the 
father of her third child, adding with her native pleasantry, 
a hope that he might be wiser than his father--having at last 
cooled the passion of Sir Francis, he effected an emancipation 
from the fascinating chains of his mistress, who, by the 
advice of her venerable instructor, the father of the stage, 
made a trip to Ireland.

It is evident that while she was making her most fervent 
protestations of affection for Sir F., she could not confine 
her desires to him alone, but among other adventures listened 
to the overtures made her by a rich Portuguese Jew merchant. 
Her amour with him seemed to be founded more on interest, than 
any other motive, and was as follows.

She had been kept by Sir F. about a twelvemonth, when 
returning home in a hackney chair from a visit pretty late in 
the evening, a foot-pad presented a pistol to the foremost 
man, commanding him in the usual phrase to stand. A voice at 
that instant cried out, "Hold villain, on your life I charge 
you hold! dare to repeat your insolence, and this moment shall 
be your last." The robber obeyed, and a gentleman, richly 
dressed, having ordered the chairman to carry the lady home, 
escorted her thither himself.

As soon as she arrived at the door of her own house he handed 
her out of the chair, and being struck with her beauty he 
asked permission to pay her a visit, which she readily 
complied with.

He then respectfully took his leave and went home, ruminating 
all the way on the pleasure he was likely to reap from this 
happy encounter.

Before we proceed any further in the relation of this 
adventure, it will not be amiss to give the best account we 
could learn of this new adorer of our heroine. He was a native 
of Lisbon, his name, Miguel Diaz Fernandes; he was very rich, 
and a widower. He had no children, and was about fifty years 
old. As to his person, he was tall and meagre, of a sallow 
complexion, and had something rather forbidding in his 
countenance. Having given this description of him, we shall 
resume the thread of the story.

As soon as he went home he retired to bed, but could not 
sleep. He lay awake the whole night, ruminating on what had 
passed; he arose early in the morning, and despatched his 
servant with the following billet to Miss Catley.

"Divine creature! 
	I am dying for love of you, and unless you take pity 
on me, and condescend to receive this declaration of my 
passion favourably, I must inevitably fall a victim to 
the ardent flame with which I am fired. I have sixty 
thousand pounds, besides a large estate in Portugal, 
which I here offer to make you sole mistress of. Deign 
therefore to give me permission to hope I am not 
disagreeable to you. My servant will deliver your answer 
to me. 
	I am, charming miss, 
	Your sincere admirer, 
	M. D. FERNANDES."

To this passionate epistle our heroine, when she had perused 
it, thought proper to send the following answer:

"Sir, 
	Your behaviour last night convinces me that you are 
a man of honour and a gentleman. As such I shall always 
esteem you. I know not how to look on you in any other 
light at present. An interview perhaps may determine me 
more in your favour. But oh! I fear to trust my too 
credulous heart. You have therefore leave to visit me at 
my own house this afternoon, at six o'clock. Pray come 
alone. 
	Yours, 
	ANNE Catley."

The merchant's heart was filled with joy at the receipt of 
this favourable answer, and he waited with the utmost 
impatience for the happy hour which was to make him the most 
blest of all mankind. Time seemed to move with leaden wings, 
but at length the wished-for moment came, when he mounted his 
chariot, which soon conveyed him to the abode of his charmer.

Being arrived at her house, she received him with an air of 
affected modesty, which, though it did not utterly discourage 
him, yet easily made him perceive that his success would cost 
him some pains. He was somewhat puzzled at the singularity of 
her behaviour, which was easy without betraying too much 
freedom. He was as anxious to turn the conversation on the 
topic of love as she seemed studious to avoid it. At length, 
after having, as she thought, thoroughly sifted her 
inamorato's inclination, she appeared all at once to comply 
with his wishes, and in order to give him the most exalted 
opinion of her virtue, invented the following tale-

"I am, sir," said she, "the daughter of an Irish gentleman, a 
merchant, a native of Dublin, who, dying whilst I was very 
young, left me to the care of my mother, who was at that time 
about five-and-twenty years old. I was his only daughter, and 
he was so excessively fond of me that I was indulged in every 
reasonable wish my little heart could form; I was sensibly 
afflicted at his death, and used to mingle my tears with those 
of my mother, who bewailed, his loss in the most affectionate 
manner imaginable. This fond parent did not survive my father 
above three months, and left me an orphan, with �10,000 to my 
portion, to the guardianship of a rich old uncle, who, when I 
had attained the proper age, endeavoured by threats and 
promises to force me to give my hand to his son, a dissolute 
youth, who had already deceived several young women by 
promising them marriage, only with a view to ruin them more 
easily. Finding me averse to his will, he forcibly kept from 
me the writings of my estate, and I, for want of friends, 
being unable to recover them, he gave them to his son, who in 
about two years squandered away all my fortune in 
extravagancies, and left me, a wretched being, reduced to the 
cruel necessity of earning my bread by the labour of my hands.

Having received an education suitable to the large fortune I 
was born to possess, I was unacquainted with, as well as 
incapable of undertaking, any laborious employment. The place, 
therefore, of governess to a young lady of quality, which 
fortunately happened at that time to be vacant, seemed the 
best adapted to my abilities. I applied four years in the 
family, where I gave such satisfaction that the lady's son, 
who, unknown to the whole family, had entertained a passion 
for me, obtained his mother's leave to marry me. As he had a 
great deal of good sense and virtue, and was very agreeable in 
his person, I married him. We did not live together above two 
years before he died, leaving a beautiful daughter, and me 
mistress of a large fortune. My patroness dying soon after, I 
came over to England, together with my daughter, where I live 
retired, busied only in the care of my Charlotte's education."

The merchant, who had listened with the greatest attention to 
this account which Miss Catley gave of herself, admired her 
great virtue, wisdom and prudence. It gave him infinite 
pleasure to find she was not married, and he could not help 
expressing his joy to her on that account. He then proceeded 
to make a formal declaration of his love, but how much was be 
chagrined, when this lady of pretended virtue, told him she 
was determined never to marry a second time, and therefore 
begged him to relinquish all thoughts of wedlock, as she had 
made a vow to remain single during the rest of her life. She 
told him that she should always rank him among her friends, 
and therefore begged he would honour her so far as to place 
her among the number of his. He politely thanked her and 
begged to see her daughter. This request our heroine expected 
he would make, and had accordingly procured a little girl 
about seven years old, who was to pass as her daughter. She 
rang the bell and ordered the maid to bring the child, and 
presently after, a beautiful girl about seven years old, 
richly dressed, entered the room. The supposed mother 
presented her to Fernandes, who after having caressed her, 
begged leave of Miss Catley to present her with what he called 
an earnest of his future good intentions towards her. Saying 
this, he put a pearl necklace into her hands and a pair of ear 
rings mounted in gold, with diamond drops. These were 
delivered immediately to our heroine, who civilly thanked the 
gentleman for his ingenious present. After having drunk tea, 
he desired permission to retire, which having obtained, he 
went home, where we will leave him awhile to acquaint the 
reader with the reasons of Miss Catley's acting in the manner 
above related.

She always held it a duty incumbent on her to get all she 
could, without rendering herself too cheap; she therefore 
always made it a rule to make her lovers pay exorbitantly for 
the smallest favours, and she was never known to complete 
anyone's happiness till she had gratified her passion for 
money. This mode of conduct, which she ever most religiously 
observed, has long since convinced the world, that, as 
Peachum's daughter in the Beggar's Opera says, "She knows as 
well how to make the most of her man as any woman." But in the 
present case she had other motives, though all had the same 
tendency, i.e. interest, for behaving as she did. She was now 
in keeping by Sir F. B. D., who rewarded her supposed 
constancy with too much liberality to suffer her to give him 
the least room to suspect her capable of being guilty of a 
breach of it.

On the other hand she seemed coy to her new lover, first, to 
prove the extent of his passion; secondly, to raise in him a 
higher esteem for her; and thirdly, to invent a scheme to 
prevent her two lovers from coming to the knowledge of her 
intimacy with either.

We will now return to Fernandes, who by this time was arrived 
at his own house. He went to bed much chagrined, but could not 
get a wink of sleep during the whole night. He lamented his 
unhappy fate in having met with so cruel a fair one. Having 
passed a sleepless night, in the morning he sent a servant 
with the following billet.

"Cruel Charmer! 
	How shall I find words to express the ardour of my 
passion for you, and lament the hardness of your heart in 
thus treating your humble slave! Unless you relieve my 
pain, I shall inevitably fall a sacrifice to your beauty. 
I shall ever offer the incense of the purest praise of 
you at the altar of love. On your answer depends my life. 
If you continue to be cruel, I shall soon put an end to a 
wretched life. I am yours, 
	M. D. FERNANDES."

To this passionate epistle our heroine returned the following 
answer.

"Sir, 
	I am not so cruel in my disposition as you imagine. 
I consent to alleviate your pain. I expect you this 
evening at my house. Come alone at seven o'clock. 
	P.S--Let this be a profound secret. 
	A. C----Y.

Fernandes received this letter with joy, he kissed it a 
thousand times, and waiting with the utmost impatience for the 
appointed hour, which had no sooner come than he flew at once 
to meet his charmer whom he found in perfect readiness to meet 
him; when he took his leave he was so satisfied with the 
reception that had been accorded him that he presented her 
with a note of a hundred pounds.

Whether Fernandes was not altogether quite as agreeable to 
Miss C----y as could have been expected, or whether for other 
more cogent reasons, she did not judge it prudent to encourage 
a renewal of his visits, cannot be ascertained. It is however 
certain that she never gave him the pleasure of her company 
after.

She continued to revel for a considerable time in all the 
pleasures which gallantry and dissipation afford, happy in the 
enjoyment of the affectionate indulgence shown by her knight, 
till the golden stream of felicity was, for a short interval, 
turned into another channel, different from that in which it 
had so long run. This unexpected stroke of temporary 
unhappiness was occasioned by her father's taking upon him to 
vindicate the supposed injury done to his daughter's character 
by certain of these intimacies. He accordingly entered a 
process against Sir F. B. D., as principal agent, and also 
against B., the organist, for being an accomplice in the 
affair. The cause was tried at Westminster in 1764, when, it 
appearing to the judges that the knight's intimacy with our 
heroine was entirely with her own consent, and that Mr B. 
could not in any manner be considered as an abettor or aider 
to the transaction, her indentures having been previously 
cancelled, her father, who doubtless expected to have gained 
considerably by the lawsuit, had the mortification to hear the 
jury pronounce a verdict for the defendant with costs of suit; 
which, as they were considerable, and out of the plaintiff's 
power to pay, the knight generously discharged.

This affair being thus settled, our heroine resumed her former 
gaiety, and shone with greater splendour than before at all 
places of polite resort. Her lover grew fonder of her every 
day, giving her frequent marks of his esteem. During the 
course of their intimacy, which lasted two years, two children 
were born, who both died in their infancy. They did not 
continue long together afterwards, an event happening which 
caused a final separation between them. It was as follows:

Miss C----y had been one evening at Vauxhall in company with 
some ladies, from which place, filled with wine, a vice she 
was sometimes guilty of, she went with the rest of her company 
to W--th--by's, a well-known house of questionable repute, 
where she passed the night in mirth and jollity. Unluckily, 
Sir F. B. D. came there also, to pass an idle hour or two, and 
the waiter by mistake showed him into an apartment where our 
heroine was in company with a young attorney's clerk. The 
indignant knight, fired with rage, turned on his heel and 
departed. The next morning she returned home, where she found 
her lover, who awaited her arrival. He reproached her for her 
baseness, as he termed it, towards him, and giving her a bank-
note of �50 desired her to take another lodging immediately. 
Miss C----y, finding that all endeavours to please him were in 
vain, retorted his upbraidings on himself, and even went so 
far as to make herself merry at his expense.

It must not be supposed by the reader that the fault was all 
on one side, a mistake very often made with regard to affairs 
of this particular nature. In order therefore to do justice to 
all parties and that the true position of things may be 
understood it is necessary to insert the following.

Sir Francis Blake Delaval was a gentleman of high and 
respectable family, being son to a baronet and related nearly 
by blood and affinity to several of the nobility. His person 
was elegant, his face handsome, his manners polished, his 
education liberal, his conversation sprightly and pleasing. 
Few ever possessed so many of those qualities which fascinate 
the ladies, and few ever succeeded better in obtaining their 
favours by humbling their proud hearts. When very young this 
gentleman dissipated his patrimony on women and play, till at 
last his finances being reduced to the lowest ebb, necessity 
forced him to relieve them by fortune hunting, a resource 
truly despicable.

The object fixed upon as the means of repairing his shattered 
fortune, was Lady Isabella Pawlet, daughter to the Earl of 
Thanet. This lady possessed a very considerable fortune, with 
a very plain person and face, and a character somewhat 
questionable according to evidence said to be given by Foote, 
though unstained by any actual charges.

The truth is, Lady Isabella Pawlet (or Paulet) had a penchant 
for the humorist, and if he had not been restrained from 
matrimony, by having previously entered into the indissoluble 
noose of Hymen, there is scarcely a doubt that he would have 
refused the acceptance of a considerable fortune on any terms; 
but this being impossible, he resolved to come in for a share, 
and fixed upon Delaval, with whom he had long lived on terms 
of intimacy, as a proper instrument.

Lady Isabella was a dupe to superstition. The old gipsy woman 
at Norwood, whom she frequently visited, stood higher in her 
estimation than Boyle or Newton, and she put more confidence 
in the presages of an astrologer whd resided up four pairs of 
stairs in the Old Bailey, than was ever placed in Copernicus.

Foote having informed his friend Delaval of the lady's foible, 
they came to an agreement, by which the former was to have an 
annuity of five hundred pounds a year, and the principal to 
enjoy the remainder of the lady's fortune.

A maidservant was bribed to betray her lady, and the 
conspirators having received information from her of a 
particular day when her ladyship was to consult a celebrated 
conjuror, to whom, at that time, several women of the first 
fashion paid frequent visits, to this imposing rascal, Delaval 
and his friend Foote immediately repaired, and having secured 
his services by a few guineas, informed him of several of the 
most remarkable incidents in Lady Isabella's life, the 
conjuror at the same time taking an exact survey of Delaval's 
face and figure for a purpose which shall appear presently.

Lady Isabella soon after arrived, accompanied by her 
treacherous attendant, who by a sign previously agreed upon, 
informed the impostor who his visitor was.

The answers given to the interrogatories of her ladyship, and 
to the prepared questions occasionally slipped in by her 
cunning abigail, left no doubt on her mind of the conjuror's 
extraordinary and supernatural powers, and of course brought 
forward the material enquiry respecting marriage, which is 
generally the great end of all such applications.

The impostor now pretended to consult a planetary system that 
lay before him on his table. Having deliberately taken of a 
pair of large spectacles and turned up his eyes towards 
Heaven, he muttered over the names given to the signs of the 
zodiac and fixed stars,--he drew a number of circles and lines 
with white lead upon black paper, and at last with a grave 
face described the person and features of Delaval.

Lady Isabella, delighted at the description of her intended 
cara sposa, rewarded the conjuror liberally, and would now 
have retired, but her well-instructed companion, pretending a 
tender interest in the future fortune of her mistress, urged 
for further information, particularly as to the time when and 
the place where her lover was to be seen. The wizard answered 
that he could certainly communicate such information, but must 
first consult his familiar spirit in an adjacent room, and 
immediately retired to Delaval and Foote, who sat in another 
room, where having waited a few minutes in consultation, he 
returned to the women, and found Lady Isabella almost maddened 
with anxious expectation. He told her that the gentleman to 
whom the fates had destined her hand would be walking the next 
day at twelve o'clock by the side of the canal in the Green 
Park, but cautioned her not to speak first, as that would 
break the charm, and having received another fee for his 
pleasing news, Lady Isabella returned home in rapture.

The description of the charming man described by the conjuror 
had taken possession of this unfortunate lady's brain; she 
could not eat during the day, nor sleep during the night. The 
morning sun, on rising, found her at her toilette, culling 
ornaments, painting, washing, and perfuming; and she 
involuntarily rambled to the place of appointment an hour 
before the time. During this hour this infatuated dupe to 
imposition kept her eyes rivetted on the park gate, and every 
time it opened trembled from head to foot with anxious 
expectation. Her repeater at last struck twelve, and at that 
instant Delaval appeared, dressed in every point exactly as 
the conjuror had described.

The sudden appearance of the gentleman extorted the 
ejaculation of "O heavens!" from the lady, which was followed 
with "Lord preserve us!" from the maid; but Delaval continued 
to pass and repass them several times without turning his eyes 
towards the seat, which was indeed a necessary precaution, as 
he was ready to burst into loud laughter every instant. At 
last, looking full at Lady Isabella, he bowed respectfully, 
and, she returning the salute, he walked towards her, and 
commenced a conversation.

The surprise of the lady having by degrees subsided, she 
discovered on recovering her senses that the stranger held her 
hand; she reluctantly drew it from him, at the same time 
heaving a deep sigh, which he returned with all the softness 
of sympathetic tenderness. Before they parted an assignation 
was made for a future meeting at the same place, and the swain 
took leave with an affected warmth of passion and respect that 
totally threw the lady off her guard, and expelled from her 
mind all considerations but those of romantic love.

Delaval, on separating, flew to inform Foote of his success, 
and then retired to indulge in tender conversation with a 
favourite in King's Place. Lady Isabella locked herself within 
her chamber, there to contemplate with rapture the conquest 
she had made, or rather, indeed, on the lover, who, in her 
opinion, Heaven in its bounty had created for her specially. 
The more she thought the more she became enamoured, and the 
second meeting totally overturned every idea that prudence 
suggested. Delaval

"----Could impart 
The loosest wishes to the chastest heart." 
[Lord Rochester, An Allusion to the tenth Satire of the 
First Book of Horace, l. 65-66. ]

And Lady Isabella was now at an age when the heart is tender, 
though not over young. She was approaching towards that grand 
climacteric which brings despair to maidens, and having long 
regretted her situation she was resolved not to lose the 
present opportunity of doing all within her power for the good 
of her generation, and to remove from herself that most horrid 
of all horrid epithets to a woman's ear--an old maid.

The marriage, therefore, was soon celebrated, much to the 
satisfaction of the bride; but Sir Francis felt himself rather 
uneasy on the occasion, which, however, he attempted to put 
off with a laugh, and having been asked how he could think of 
marrying so ordinary a woman, answered "I married her for 
weight and paid nothing for fashion."

Had Lady Isabella been a Venus in beauty, and endowed with the 
wisdom of Pallas, she would have found her charms of body and 
mind unequal to fix the heart of Delaval, ever on search for 
variety, and never satisfied with any single object. But in 
truth her ladyship was destitute not only of personal charms 
but of mental allurements--her conversation was as plain as 
her face.

A young lady named Roche lived at this time under the 
protection of a near female relative to Delaval, and was 
supposed by many to be a natural daughter to one of the 
family. In the leading astray of this girl he soon succeeded. 
Her mind was weak, her constitution meretricious, and instead 
of retreating from him, and repelling his overtures, she met 
his affections with ardour, and lived with him as his mistress 
for a considerable time--indeed it was a doubtful point which 
of the two was most in the wrong.

This inconstancy on the part of Delaval naturally excited 
resentment in the lady. Female pride could not patiently 
submit to so gross an insult. She saw her fortune bestowed 
upon a courtesan; she felt that the husband to whom she had 
administered the means of indulging his pleasures affronted 
her by publicly appearing and living with his mistress, and 
privately treating her, his wife, with neglect, and even 
contempt that evinced disgust. This roused her to revenge. She 
upbraided her husband with bitterness, he answered with 
cutting coolness, and in the height of one of their disputes 
discovered the secret of the conjuror.

Lady Isabella consulted her friends on this occasion and they 
brought in the aid of the law. A case was drawn and a suit of 
divorce was determined on, upon the grounds that Delaval had 
committed adultery with Miss Roche. Of the truth of this 
charge there could not be a doubt, but Lady Isabella failed in 
the proof. The witnesses gave evidence of the parties having 
rode out together, having dined together, having lodged in the 
same house together, but they failed in legally proving the 
offence on the ground of which she sought relief and release 
from her marriage contract.

Delaval thinking he had no offence to make, resolved upon 
obviating the effect of his wife's complaint, which if 
established would have materially injured his fortune, and 
therefore he set up a charge of recrimination.

This charge states that a person named Craig took a woman with 
him to Haddock's, at Charing Cross, on the evening of a day 
when Delaval had invited some company to meet him at the 
Cardigan's Head Tavern, Charing Cross, among whom was the late 
Mr Robert Quaime. To this company he communicated that he had 
long believed his wife to be inconstant, and had received 
information that she was to be that night at Haddock's with a 
man who went by the name of Brown, that he intended to be 
convinced of the truth, and requested that the company would 
go to the house with him in order to see if they could detect 
her in the act. One Dupree was then despatched to Haddock's, 
and soon sent back a messenger to inform Delaval that his wife 
was arrived. The company then went to the place, when Dupree 
opened the door of a room where Lady Isabella was said to be, 
and where they saw a man and woman, the latter of whom one of 
the witnesses swore was Lady Isabella, but in this he was not 
corroborated by any of the other witnesses.

It was also deposed that her ladyship passed by the name of 
Brown and met Craig, who also assumed that name, at a lodging 
in Beaufort Buildings, where they passed for man and wife; but 
the general opinion was, that the whole of the evidence 
against Lady Isabella was fabricated and false and that her 
witnesses had been tampered with and suborned. This suit in 
the commons of course terminated all connubial connection 
between Delaval and his wife, nor did his intimacy with Miss 
Roche continue much longer.

As there is something particular and interesting in the story 
of this lady, though it is not immediately connected with the 
memoirs of Nan, yet the reader will find entertainment from 
the perusal.

Sir Henry Echlin an Irish baronet, who possessed a very 
considerable estate at Rush, near Dublin, having seen Miss 
Roche became enamoured of her beauty, and indeed it must be 
allowed her charms were attractive.

Sir Henry was a young man of very weak intellect in worldly 
matters, extremely dissipated, naturally extravagant and 
totally devoid of foresight.

He had been a dupe to gamblers, money lenders, bullying 
captains, the keepers of low houses, &c., and yet he was a man 
of liberal education, elegant address and master of all the 
polite languages. Probably he winked at the faux-pas imputed 
by public report to Miss Roche, who conducted herself with 
such cunning that his addresses terminated in a marriage.

Sir Henry soon after this happy event returned to his native 
country, accompanied by his lady and a gentleman who lived 
with him as a confidential friend. On this journey Lady 
Echlin, who delighted in variety, was improperly intimate with 
the friend of her husband, making him dupe to her own 
disgrace, and he was the only person of a large company who 
travelled with them, who did not see the gross conduct of his 
wife.

Soon after their arrival in Ireland this intrigue came glaring 
in his face, and had he permitted his wife to live with him 
every boy would have hooted him--no legal steps however were 
taken in consequence of her conduct, but they separated by 
mutual consent; Sir Henry remaining at his country seat, and 
his lady removing to elegant lodgings in Capel Street, Dublin.

In this situation Lady Echlin gave way completely to that 
immoral disposition and habit that had long characterised her, 
and among other degrading connections formed one with the son 
of an attorney, a stupid creature destitute of every quality 
that was not merely animal. Another and another soon 
succeeded--man was her object, sensuality her pursuit--"every 
rank fool went down." A conduct so obnoxious, so foreign to 
the delicacy of her sex, soon reduced her to a state of 
contempt. Wherever she appeared the women retreated, and even 
the men were ashamed to show her countenance in public. This 
marked, yet just punishment of her offences, rendered Dublin a 
solitude--she found herself without society, and daily 
experienced insult, to avoid which she made a trip to London. 
This was only changing the scene. In London her pursuits were 
the same as in Dublin, and it is generally believed that in a 
few years after she died miserably in the garret of a wretched 
lodging house in one of the alleys of Drury Lane.

The pursuits of Sir Henry were not more reputable than those 
of his lady; his house exhibited a scene of continued 
revelling, debauchery and extravagance--mortgage followed 
mortgage--foreclosures produced sales, till at last the 
unhappy baronet was obliged to fly his country and was so 
reduced in circumstances, that he officiated at Paris in the 
degrading situation of a waiter. Afterwards, however, he 
emerged from that degenerate situation, and received a 
trifling pension for the performance of secret services.

After Miss Catley's quarrel with Sir Francis, and their 
separation, she removed to a milliner's shop in 
Tavistockstreet, Covent Garden, which situation was the more 
agreeable to her, as being highly convenient for the business 
she carried on. It must however be remarked that this fall 
from greatness was highly disgusting to a person of our 
heroine's disposition. She was naturally fond of splendour, 
and having been accustomed to parade the streets in her 
chariot could hardly support the thought of walking on foot. 
Being a woman of spirit her change of circumstance did not 
affect her so much as it would have done others. She resolved 
to cast her eye about for another lover to supply the place of 
her former one.

A female performer no sooner starts in a line like this, if 
she is only tolerably handsome and has any degree of merit in 
her profession, than she has a number of professed admirers. 
It is the ambition of every pretty fellow to aim at being the 
happy man, and an artful girl acquainted with the wiles of her 
class, in such a situation, cannot fail of attracting a great 
many lovers. Our heroine's talents and beauty were so superior 
to most contemporaries in her profession, that the reader need 
not be surprised to find her particularly distinguished; and 
that the number of her admirers were in proportion. She had 
indeed many, both in England and Ireland, as will be seen in 
the course of this work. We may venture to assert, that there 
never perhaps was a more sincere devotee to the goddess of 
love than this lady, nor one who has made a better use of the 
vast sums she has acquired in her profession, in which she has 
not only the greatest share of pleasure, but has also reaped 
immense profits. She was engaged at Covent Garden Theatre at 
this time, where her salary indeed was but moderate, but 
which, however, united to the returns of her other business, 
placed her in a state of affluence. Add to this what she 
gained by singing at private concerts during the winter 
season, and her lucrative appointment at Marylebone Gardens in 
the summer time, then under the direction of that arch-priest 
of Salinus, Tom L---- of intriguing memory.

As we have stated, soon after her quarrel with Delaval, Anne, 
acting under advice she respected, made a trip to Ireland. Her 
reception in the "land of saints," fully answered her most 
sanguine expectations; she drew overflowing audiences, who 
applauded her to "the very echo," and raised considerable sums 
for herself and the manager. In Dublin, however, a 
circumstance occurred which for a time considerably damped her 
spirits, and mortified her pride. Nan was not an only child; 
she had a sister named Mary, whom she took into the family, 
for the purpose of superintending two children, one of whom 
she taught to call Sir Francis Delaval father, the other she 
honoured with royal blood, named him Edward, and gave him for 
a sire his Royal Highness the late Duke of York.

It must be acknowledged by Nan's best friends that she did not 
behave affectionately to her sister Poll. The girl was kept at 
a distance, treated as a servant, and, as Nan's disposition 
often broke out with all the unbounded virulence of a vulgar 
termagant, the poor creature suffered not only from the abuse 
of her tongue, which was pointed and poisoned like that of an 
asp, but also from the violence of her fists, and sharpness of 
her nails, which she could exercise with such agility and 
effect that a black eye, or bloody nose and cheeks were 
frequently the consequence.

This ill usage, which was almost daily repeated, determined 
poor Poll to quit her sister. She had a good voice, though 
uncultivated, a small, neat, smart person, and good eyes; but 
the smallpox had ravaged the charms of her face, which, 
however, displayed the lily and the rose, so that she was 
desirable, though not beautiful, and had many admirers. One of 
these laid close siege to Poll, who for a considerable time 
rejected his addresses. Wearied out, however, at last, by the 
repeated ill-usage of her tyrannical sister, who rendered home 
a hell, she flew to the protection of her lover.

The rage of Nan on this occasion is not easily described; 
cups, saucers, every article at hand, flew about the house; 
she felt for the honour of her family, and a violent fit of 
hysterics was the consequence. Recovering from this paroxysm 
of rage and pride, she became calm and vindictive; and having 
relieved her oppressed mind by a shower of tears, and a 
torrent of abuse against the cause of her grief, made a 
positive vow never to see or relieve her runaway sister, which 
vow she kept most religiously.

Poll's charms, as has been already hinted at, were not very 
fascinating, and her lover soon became disgusted with his 
mistress, whom he one day caught intriguing with a student of 
Dublin College, and of course dismissed her on this positive 
proof of unfaithfulness.

Poll's new lover, the collegian, though rich in learning was 
poor in purse; but he was young and agreeable, qualities of 
high estimation with every female, and which had such effect 
upon this lady that, notwithstanding several overtures had 
been made, she rejected them all, and for near six months 
lived, or rather starved, in fidelity with the man of letters. 
"Love," says the old proverb, "flies out of the window when 
poverty enters the door." The adage, however, was not 
illustrated by the conduct of Poll, who, for a considerable 
time after poverty had taken possession of her apartment, 
worked to supply the wants of her favourite swain. The student 
was seized with a severe illness, which, baffling all the 
efforts of the physicians, assumed the form of a decline, and 
in the end caused his death. Poll, too, was laid up in 
hospital for a considerable time, but ultimately recovered; 
and, having a tolerable voice, and a name which would make an 
attractive figure in a country playbill, got an engagement in 
a strolling company, from which time fame has neglected to 
report the incidents of her life.

In Ireland it is certain that Nan had many intrigues, in most 
of which she acted with caution and prudence. Such as had 
merely pleasure in view were mostly confined to the gentlemen 
of the sock and buskin; with the great, profit was always her 
object, and secrecy a part of the condition she imposed upon 
her lovers. Being herself independent of the world, and freed 
from every species of control, her amours offered no variety 
of incident. By this means, and the profits of her profession, 
Nan's finances increased considerably, and she prudently 
secured and increased them, always living much below her 
income. There never was a greater favourite in Dublin, nor 
indeed a more deserving one, for on every opportunity she 
obliged the public, and by them was constantly rewarded at her 
benefits.

She was perhaps the only woman leading such a life that ever 
received countenance on the stage from the modest women of 
Ireland; but they looked upon her as an eccentric character, 
making proper allowances for her early habits, and imputed her 
failings more to early misfortune than to vice.

At this time the reverend Dean Bailey was a principal 
superintendent to most of the public charities, and it having 
been determined that a concert should be performed for the 
benefit of the lying-in hospital, the dean, who was 
particularly attentive to this charity, took upon him to 
engage Catley to sing at the concert, and wrote her a card to 
the following purport. "Dean Bailey's compliments to Miss 
Catley, and requests to know when she can give him a night at 
the lying-in hospital, and her terms." On this card Nan put a 
jocular interpretation, and returned for answer, "Miss Catley 
presents her compliments to the Reverend Dean Bailey; for 
three nights to come she is engaged to particular friends, but 
on the fourth will be at his service." This produced a laugh 
against the Dean, but in the end served the charity, for which 
Nan sung gratis.

The world has often heard of Lord R---- who some years ago was 
tried at the Quarter Sessions at Dublin, upon a charge, which 
if true, would have been the most disgraceful to him, as it is 
disgusting and shocking to mankind. The manners of this 
nobleman abounded with peculiarities. He was tall and bony in 
person, yet effeminate in every action; with a skin tawny as a 
mulatto, and a beard thick, strong and black as that of a 
Swiss; he affected the delicacy and nervous sensations of a 
sickly girl. Some ill demon put it into his lordship's head to 
have an affair with Miss Catley; probably for the purpose of 
lessening the effect of several evil suspicions which then 
flew about, materially to the injury of his character, in 
respect to the affection of his passions.

The noble lord had not at this time attained the considerable 
estates which he afterwards inherited from his father; and 
which might have accounted for the economic plan by which he 
approached Miss Catley, if it was not known that even then he 
abounded in wealth, and that parsimony was among his faults. 
He waited on Nan one evening soon after she had returned from 
performing Captain Flash in the Farce of Miss in her Teens, in 
which character, the appearance being masculine, for Nan was 
then an excellent breeches figure, she had struck his eye, and 
raised ideas very difficult for persons of his lordship's 
taste to suppress.

Nan on her return had sat down to prepare supper for a few 
theatrical friends whom she intended to treat with a roast 
duck, and having recently parted with her servant, was 
officiating as cook at her chamber fire, where the duck hung 
pendant from a string.

His lordship having been announced by the landlady, was 
ordered to be ushered in. In a few complimentary excuses, he 
apologised for so abrupt a visit, declared his passion was 
pure and disinterested and regretted in very pointed terms 
that so fine a shape should be concealed by petticoats. Nan 
received his address with affected complaisance and 
satisfaction; swore that had she expected the pleasure of his 
lordship's company, he should not have found her in 
dishabille, and pressed him to do her the honour of picking 
the breast of the bird that was then roasting. Nothing could 
be more agreeable to his lordship's disposition than this 
invitation. He praised Catley for her economy in doing her own 
business, and then he praised the duck. She turned the string, 
he handed the dredging box--never was lord more happy, till in 
the midst of his culinary offices, a knocking at the door gave 
an alarm. Nan was then in lodgings, with the exclusive 
privilege of monopolizing the hall door to her own use. "It 
must be some person for me," said Nan, "for heaven's sake, my 
lord, turn the duck while I run to the door." His lordship 
obeyed and placing himself upon a little stool, which Nan had 
occupied by the fire-side, commenced his new profession of 
cook with extraordinary satisfaction and adroitness.

Nan's theatrical friends, for it was they who were at the 
door, having been conducted into the drawing room, where the 
cloth was laid, she welcomed them with an assurance that the 
supper she had provided was not only good but had been dressed 
by one of the first cooks in Europe, and opening the door 
suddenly introduced the astonished lord to their wondering 
eyes.

"Take care cooky," said Nan "if the duck be burned, I shall 
certainly discharge you from your place."

The degenerate nobleman felt to the very soul the contemptible 
situation to which his passion for a fine figure had reduced 
him. He arose from the stool overwhelmed with confusion; his 
dress was brown velvet embroidered with gold, point ruffles 
and a bag, at his side hung a sword and elegant knot, in his 
hand he held a basting ladle dropping butter.

Fancy may easily paint his lordship's figure on her tablets; 
but to give the true delineation and contour of humour to the 
eye, requires the execution of a Hogarth or a Bunbury. It was 
nature metamorphosed, by the workings of shame and surprise, 
into the most extravagant contortions of caricature. Nor were 
the painters, the engravers, or the poets idle on the subject; 
his lordship was sketched in aquafortis, stuck up in every 
print shop and lampooned in every newspaper.

Another adventure which took place nearly at the same period 
as the foregoing, does equal credit to Nan's humour and 
understanding. She had long been an object of attention to an 
old and dissipated rake following the wine business, by whom 
she had been very much annoyed. This fellow in appearance and 
mind was the perfect representative of a satyr, he was 
completely worn out with debauchery and dissipation, yet, 
notwithstanding his ugliness and debility, was inflated with 
vanity to an enormous extent and imputed to the influence of 
his address, person, and conversation the success and 
attachments which resulted solely from the power of his money, 
or rather indeed the money of his creditors, which he 
squandered in a most shameful manner, though husband to an 
amiable wife and father of several children.

Nan having repelled all his efforts successfully, he resolved 
to attack her gratitude by paying tribute to her avarice, and 
for this purpose sent a billet-doux requesting an appointment 
to supper and with it a large hamper of champagne, assuring 
her that the cellar it came from was at her service, and 
afforded as great a variety as France, Spain, Portugal, or 
Italy could supply. The wine was received, and a verbal 
message of thanks returned, but the very same evening it was 
sent back to the merchant's house with a card directed to his 
wife informing her of the fact.

At supper the wife declared she had a longing for champagne 
and must have a glass. The husband stared and railed at her 
extravagance. "But I will treat you, my dear," said the wife, 
"you may see I have received a present," on which she put 
Catley's note into his hands. It is easy to conceive the 
domestic quarrel that ensued, and the person here alluded to 
has for years back lived in London in the most indigent 
circumstances.

It has already been observed that Miss Catley was avaricious, 
yet she had her favourites who succeeded in duping her even 
out of her money, as for instance in the case of Major F--m--
g. Her connection with this man, who was aide-de-camp to the 
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland when she resided in that kingdom, 
was by no means advantageous. The major was penurious, not 
only from disposition but necessity, and Nan shared with him 
not only her favours but her purse. With Captain C----e, who 
succeeded the major, she was equally infatuated, and yet never 
did nature produce a stronger contrast between two men. F----
g, was tall, strong, and manly. Clarke was not above the 
middle size, weak and effeminate, he patched and painted like 
a woman, and, in appearance, bore a stronger resemblance to a 
eunuch than to a man. Yet to this insect was Catley attached; 
on this insect she bestowed considerable sums, though she used 
frequently, and even in his presence, to rally her own choice, 
declaring that he was in no respect suited to a woman of 
spirit and gallantry.

From the fascinating spell with which this petit maitre 
trammelled the affections of Nan she was freed by the 
exorcisms of General Lascelles, then only a captain in the 
army.

One very peculiar attachment she formed was to Mr P----, and 
this deserves to be noticed among the various oddities of the 
age. He was possessed of near three hundred pounds a year, of 
which he did not save a farthing though a bachelor, and a 
parsimonious man to all outward appearance. He was neither a 
patriot nor a ministerial advocate. His sentiments in politics 
indeed he had never revealed, but from the tenor of his whole 
conduct he seemed not to care a farthing which courtier 
enjoyed the post of prime minister. It was extremely difficult 
to form a just idea of his sentiments upon any subject 
whatever, as he seldom spoke unless it was to ask for the 
necessaries of life.

He took up his lodgings at an inn in the city in which he 
resided several years. For the first six months he frequently 
went to a very noted and genteel public-house, being a great 
admirer of fine ale, but having an utter aversion to the 
trouble of dress, and having a particular attachment to one 
shirt for a number of weeks, it was hinted to him by the 
master of the house how necessary it would be to clean himself 
if he proposed resorting thither, as the other gentlemen were 
offended at his appearance.

Mr P---- was affronted at this insinuation, and showed his 
resentment by never going thither afterwards, for considering 
his shirt as the nearest thing to him in the world he resolved 
not to part with it as long as it would stick by him. For this 
reason he was confined to his hotel, where he admitted no one 
into his room, making his own bed, if ever it was made, and 
doing everything for himself. For fear of being robbed, 
imitating thereby the French poet, who threw his money among 
his faggots, Mr P--upon the receipt of a sum used to give it a 
jerk under the bed, and as long as he could find a single 
guinea without trouble, he never thought of a clean shirt or 
the bank. He was, however, once, unfortunately, reduced to his 
last moidore, and arrived at the ne plus ultra of filth and 
rags, and must have been reduced to the mortifying necessity 
of changing his linen, pulling up the heels of his shoes 
thereby to conceal the holes in his stockings, which were at 
that time very conspicuous, in order to repair to the bank to 
receive his last half-year's interest, which always lay 
dormant till he was in the greatest distress.

Mr P---- was not without vices. Though ostentation and 
ambition were not among the number, he was a great votary of 
Bacchus, to whom he devoted not only his nights and days but 
also his fortune. Loquacity he contemned, reason he despised, 
dress he set at naught, women he was once passionately fond 
of, but at the time we are speaking of, they, Miss Catley 
excepted, had no charms. But his jolly god was his constant 
friend and advocate, with him alone he used to confer, and he 
seemed resolved to live and die in such celestial company. He 
once obtained a temporary relief from a disagreeable necessity 
of going out, through the industry of an army of moths who had 
eaten the lining of an old waistcoat in which were concealed 
near thirty guineas and which was going to be thrown upon the 
dunghill.

With this charming Adonis did our heroine pass away now and 
then a leisure hour, and she would probably have liked him 
well enough had he been cleanly. Neatness of dress she always 
admired, no wonder then if his excessive passion for 
slovenliness disgusted her, and obliged her to quit the 
society of such a man to enjoy the more refined delights that 
resulted from the engaging conversation of Lord B----t, with 
whom she had at this time contracted a close intimacy, and who 
gratified every wish she could form with the greatest 
generosity. He had seen her perform on the stage, was charmed 
with her and took her home in his chariot, hired an elegant 
house for her and maintained her in the greatest splendour.

Of all the connections formed by Miss Catley, perhaps the one 
that ultimately exercised the greatest and most beneficial 
influence over her life was that with the General Lascelles 
already briefly alluded to; indeed, when her relationship with 
this gentleman was settled by her marriage, it seemed to mark 
the real turning point of her life. It appears that the 
gallant officer, who in 1768 was promoted to the rank of a 
lieutenant-colonel of dragoons, went over to Ireland about 
that date to join his regiment which lay in the city of 
Dublin. Miss Catley had been in that metropolis three years, 
in consequence of her having made an engagement with Mr Mossop 
to perform at the theatre, and where she had been received 
with almost universal and justly merited applause, 
particularly as a vocal, performer. It may easily be supposed 
that she was no less than a reigning toast in that great city, 
where the queen of love held as extensive an empire as in the 
English metropolis. Colonel Lascelles went to the play one 
evening, and having seen our heroine perform the part of 
Rosetta, was smitten with love of her. He accordingly soon got 
introduced to her behind the scenes, and the great politeness, 
refined sense, and unwearied assiduity to please her, joined 
to his personal recommendations, which were the strongest 
imaginable and sufficient to have captivated a heart less 
susceptible of love than Miss C----y's, distinguished him from 
the herd of her admirers, and she almost as speedily convinced 
the world how greatly she was prejudiced in his favour by the 
partiality she testified for him, in consenting to live with 
him, preferably to any other of her lovers. Before entering at 
any length upon this connection, which leads to the closing 
scenes of her life, there are two or three other matters 
necessary to be narrated in order to make the story complete.

One of her most conspicuous intrigues was with a silk mercer, 
Mr S----t, who lived near Fleet Street. The manner of their 
first acquaintance was truly romantic, as follows:-

She was going home one evening from the play, and, it being 
moonlight and a frost, she chose to walk rather than ride in a 
chair. As she was crossing over the end of James Street, she 
perceived a young man before her, who by his appearance seemed 
to be very well in his circumstances. Being now entirely 
destitute of a keeper, she determined to throw out a lure to 
attract his notice. She accordingly had scarcely reached the 
opposite footpath when, pretending to stumble, she caught hold 
of the skirt of his coat in order to save herself. He 
immediately stretched out his hand to raise her up, and begged 
to have the honour of being permitted to wait on her to her 
lodgings. The kind fair one, overjoyed at this opportunity 
which fortune had thrown in her way, consented, though with 
some seeming reluctance. Having escorted her home, he took his 
leave of her in the politest manner imaginable, and begged she 
would not think him guilty of too much presumption on her 
goodness if he should take the liberty of enquiring after her 
health. She gave him a suitable answer and they parted.

The smitten silk-man paid her a visit the next day about 
twelve o'clock and was received with much decorum. She did not 
offer to impose on him a well invented tale, as she had done 
on the Jew merchant. Her appearance, everything about her, the 
very house she lived in proclaimed her a lady of easy virtue. 
Such a one her new acquaintance wished her to be, and he made 
no scruple of making her an advantageous proposal that very 
hour, which she thought proper to accept, and from that day 
commenced an intimacy between them.

He was a man who had seen more of the world than the 
generality of people in his sphere of life are supposed to do. 
He had fine parts well cultivated by a good education, and a 
large share of experience of mankind. He was of a generous 
disposition, and susceptible of the most tender passions, 
particularly that which the little god Cupid inspires. No 
wonder therefore if Miss Catley appeared so charming in his 
eyes. His heart had imbibed a passion, which nothing, to all 
appearance, could ever eradicate. Unfortunately he was married 
to a very virtuous and beautiful woman, who had brought him 
two fine children, a boy and a girl.

Notwithstanding all his allurements to love his own family 
alone, he became so infatuated with the charms of his new 
mistress, that forgetful of the ties of nature, he attached 
himself entirely to her.

The better to carry on this intrigue, 'twas agreed between 
them, that our heroine should become a customer of the shop, 
and as such, frequently go thither under pretence of buying 
goods: but in reality to take off all suspicion of any 
criminal intercourse between them. The mercer took his leave, 
slipping a �20 note into her hands, and she promised to go 
next day to his house to look at some new fashioned silks that 
were just made up purposely for the spring wear.

She did not fail to go the next forenoon according to the 
appointment with Mr S----t, and was introduced into the 
parlour behind the shop, by his wife, who not knowing her 
character, treated her with all the good manners she was 
mistress of. After having looked over a large quantity of 
different patterns, she ordered some of those which she liked 
best to be sent home to her lodgings, and was about to take 
her leave which she was prevented from doing by the mercer and 
his wife, who both pressed her in the most obliging manner 
imaginable, to stay and drink tea with them. She consented 
after much entreaty; which being over, she went away, her 
lover slipping a note into her hand at parting.

Eager to know the contents of the billet, as soon as she 
reached her lodgings, she opened it and read the following 
words.

"Dear Charmer, 
The infinite pleasure your sweet company gave me this 
afternoon has by far overpaid me for the trifling things 
you had out of my shop; I therefore beg of you to accept 
of them as a token of my love. My wife is immoderately 
fond of you and wishes for the pleasure of seeing you 
often. By compliance with her request, you will oblige me 
beyond expression, as you thereby afford me an 
opportunity of enjoying the sweets of your angelic 
conversation. I am, loveliest of your sex, 
	Your sincere admirer 
	W. S----t."

Two days after Miss Catley received a visit from the enamoured 
mercer, wbo brought her a present of a beautiful set of 
Dresden china, and some of the finest tea that could be 
purchased. They made themselves very merry at his wife's 
credulity and passed the time in a most agreeable manner till 
it was time for him, that he might not give Mrs S----t any 
cause of suspicion, to return home, which he did with the 
utmost reluctance.

Their intrigue did not (happily for the mercer) last above six 
months. During this short period, our heroine had cost him 
about five hundred pounds in presents of different kinds, 
including her weekly allowance of five guineas. An accident, 
however, happened, which terminated their guilty intercourse, 
occasioned by the mercer's being arrested for a large sum, and 
was as follows.

The reader need not be told that it is no uncommon thing for 
men in a large and extensive way of trade to be obliged to 
give very long credit, and that they sometimes meet with heavy 
losses. This was exactly the case of Mr S----t, who, in making 
up great payments, had offered several notes and bills which 
be had received as money, and by the drawers he was forced 
either to take up himself, or be liable to be sent to prison 
for the sum of two thousand pounds, which was demanded of him 
at that time, and being unable to answer it, he was arrested 
and carried to the King's Bench, to the no small grief of his 
affectionate wife and family.

Our heroine who was totally ignorant of the affair, 
accidentally called at his shop the very day this misfortune 
happened, and, seeing Mrs S----t in tears, earnestly desired 
to know the cause of her grief. The mercer's wife told her and 
Miss Catley cried out "O my dear Mr S----t!" She could say no 
more, but swooned. Mrs S----t, astonished at her behaviour, as 
soon as she was a little recovered asked her what had caused 
such an emotion, but our heroine, unable to answer her 
question properly, only replied, "that the compassion she felt 
for Mr S----t on this melancholy occasion had caused her 
present illness." Having said this, she desired a chair might 
be called, into which she got and was carried home 
immediately.

Mrs S----t went to her husband directly, and related to him 
every circumstance of Miss Catley's behaviour. Her narration 
filled him with the utmost confusion, from which being 
somewhat recovered, he threw himself on his knees before her, 
and gave her a circumstantial account of the infamous 
connection that had so long subsisted between him and the 
object of his lawless flame.

He was often interrupted by sighs and tears during the 
melancholy relation of his former vices. His wife wept 
bitterly over his past misconduct, but at the same time was 
greatly comforted at the signs he gave of the most genuine 
repentance. Heaven itself was also pleased to approve his 
reformation and to reward it.

He that day received a letter, acquainting him that his elder 
brother was dead in Bengal, and left him master of a very 
ample fortune, and the same post which brought him this 
welcome news, brought him also bills of exchange payable at 
sight to the amount of upwards of �30,000.

He was immediately released from confinement, and returned 
home to his own house. He left off trade as soon as he 
conveniently could, and bought a large estate in the country, 
to which place he removed his family, where he now lives in 
the sweet society of his virtuous wife and amiable offspring; 
he adoring the kind interposition of providence, which had 
thus miraculously snatched him from inevitable ruin, and she 
blessing his return to goodness, and offering up her daily 
prayers at the throne of grace for the prolongation of his 
life.

We now proceed to the relation of an adventure which she had 
with an old gentleman, a widower, who lived at Epsom, for the 
better understanding of which it will be proper to speak in 
this place, first, of her amour with his son, who was at that 
time a student in the University of Oxford. This young 
gentleman, after the example of most of the Oxonians, being 
tired of the vigorous discipline of the college, would, at 
certain intervals, make little excursions to London, in order 
to unbend his mind by partaking of the amusements that great 
metropolis afforded. In one of these journeys chance directed 
him to the theatre, where our heroine's voice so enchanted him 
that as soon as the play was over he enquired who she was and 
where she lived, and paid her a visit next morning.

Miss Catley was struck at the first sight with his genteel 
mien and address, and, considering him as a pretty fellow with 
whom she could pass away her leisure hours agreeably, she 
leaped into his embraces without the least hesitation. They 
saw each other frequently during his stay in London, which 
lasted about a fortnight, and on parting he presented her with 
a purse of gold.

The reader will please to take notice that he went by the name 
of Halifaxs, though his real name was B----te.

To return to her intrigue with the old gentleman. She had been 
to Epsom to see an acquaintance, a lady who had retired on an 
easy fortune to the village already mentioned, where her 
remains of beauty had wrought so powerfully on the affections 
of a barrister-at-law that he had married her.

Old Mr B----te used to visit at the house, and had frequent 
opportunities of seeing our heroine there. He was struck with 
her charms, perceiving which she resolved to try what effect 
her voice would have on him. She knew he was rich, and would 
therefore have gladly drawn him in for a husband. Accordingly, 
one afternoon, when he went to the house of Mrs M----, he 
found her playing on the harpsichord and singing an Italian 
air. Highly delighted with the melody of her pipe, he desired 
her to repeat her song, which request she as obligingly 
complied with.

When she had done he passed the highest praises on her musical 
talents, and expressed a desire that she would undertake to 
teach his daughter, a girl of about fourteen years of age, to 
sing. Nan, who desired above all things an opportunity of 
introducing herself into his house, readily consented, 
promising to attend the young lady as often as business or 
pleasure should draw her into the country. She was as good as 
her word, and after the time of her visit to her friend at 
Epsom had expired she constantly went thither three times a 
week from London.

She found means to steal so far into the good graces of the 
whole family that the old gentleman's esteem for her ripened 
by degrees into a confirmed passion. He was, however, willing 
to try her some time longer before he made a formal 
declaration of love. She continued to do all in her power to 
please him, and was so punctual in her assiduities that he 
could no longer resist the impulse of his heart, which, with 
uninterrupted emotions, incited him in the strongest manner 
possible to make a formal profession of his flame. He did so, 
and had the happiness, as he esteemed it, to find that his 
suit met with a favourable reception. Our heroine could not 
have refused so advantageous an offer without being guilty of 
the greatest folly imaginable. But that she might reap as much 
profit as ever she could from this union she told him that, 
previous to her giving him her hand in marriage, she insisted 
on his signing a paper, properly drawn up by an attorney, to 
screen her from any insults which might be offered her by his 
children, in case she should survive him, after his decease. 
This he readily agreed to, and the conditions were as follows:

First, that he should settle a thousand pounds on her, to be 
paid within one month after his funeral, and one hundred 
pounds a year during her natural life.

Secondly, that he should settle the like annuity on every one 
of the children she might have by him, to be paid them also 
during the term of their natural lives.

Thirdly, that previous to their marriage he should vest a sum 
or sums sufficient to produce the aforesaid annuities in any 
of the public funds, or lend the same on mortgages, on lands 
or houses, or on eligible securities, for the payment of them.

Fourthly, that in case of failure in any of the said 
conditions the marriage shall he null and void, and she shall 
be at liberty to marry again.

These conditions, however extravagant they may appear to the 
reader, he readily complied with, and the writings were 
accordingly drawn up with all convenient expedition, and 
signed by him in the presence of several witnesses. 
Preparations were now made for the nuptials with all 
imaginable haste, a new equipage was bespoke, an additional 
train of servants was hired, the wedding clothes were ordered, 
the ring was bought, the license was procured, and everything 
seemed to concur in making our heroine the happiest of women, 
when an accident intervened which put an end to her 
approaching felicity. The old gentleman wrote a letter to his 
son, acquainting him with his intended wedding, and demanding 
to see him immediately. The young student hastened to London 
directly on the receipt of his father's epistle, and arrived 
at his house the very next day.

As soon as he came he was introduced to his intended mother-
in-law, but who can describe the amazement which appeared in 
their countenances when they saw each other! Old Mr B----te, 
surprised at this extraordinary behaviour, hastily enquired 
into the reason of it. His son for some time could not utter a 
word, but at length, resuming his courage, he fell on his 
knees and spoke as follows:

"Your pardon, honoured sir, for what I am going to acquaint 
you with. About two months since, unknown to you or any of my 
friends, I left the college and took a journey to London. In 
the course of my rambles I made acquaintance with this 
infamous woman, whom, to the eternal disgrace of your family, 
you are going to raise to the dignity of being your wife. I 
have seen my folly, and promise in the sincerest manner 
possible never to be guilty of the like again, provided you 
have the goodness to pardon this slip of youth; and I flatter 
myself that which has been the happy means of rescuing my 
family from dishonour will contribute somewhat towards 
effecting a reconciliation with you."

His father kept a profound silence all the while he was 
talking, and for some minutes after. When he had done speaking 
he made him a sign to follow him into his closet, when having 
shut the door, he ordered him to relate in the most 
circumstantial manner possible the whole series of his 
adventures with Miss Catley. Young B----te obeyed; and his 
father forgave him, overjoyed at this lucky discovery. He then 
returned to the parlour where he left our heroine, and told 
her that he had been happy in finding out what sort of a woman 
she was, before it was too late, and therefore desired her to 
go away immediately. She did not hesitate to comply with his 
request, and mounted a chaise which conveyed her to her 
lodgings in town.

The following may be cited as an example of that 
avariciousness of spirit which has been said to have 
distinguished this woman. In 1771, soon after her return to 
England, a singing performer belonging to Covent Garden 
Theatre, Mr D--l--my, had obtained permission from the Lord 
Chamberlain to have a play acted for his benefit at the 
Haymarket play-house. Thinking our heroine's appearance might 
be a means of drawing a crowded audience, he waited on Miss 
Catley to be informed on what terms she would represent her 
celebrated character of Rosetta. She demanded the sum of forty 
guineas, but was told that ber price was too extravagant. She 
answered she would not play for less money. He expostulated in 
the strongest terms with her on the exorbitancy of her 
demands, and succeeded so far as to obtain a promise from her 
of playing for twenty. He issued his tickets, and caused bills 
to be printed in which was her name. The time now drew near 
for the fulfilling her engagement, when she gave a signal 
proof of her avarice; the night before the representation, she 
sent him a card acquainting him that she was taken suddenly 
ill, and could not possibly perform the next evening. He 
plainly discovered the meaning of the message and went to her. 
He represented the great inconveniency a disappointment of 
this nature would subject him to, and entreated her in the 
warmest manner to oblige him with her appearance on the 
promised night. She at last told him that unless he would give 
her thirty guineas, she would not perform. He complied and 
lost by his benefit.

Her engagement at Covent Garden Theatre, the ensuing season, 
was purely accidental. Mrs Pinto had given notice to the 
managers that she would not renew her engagement for any 
longer time, as they refused to come to her terms, i.e. twenty 
guineas per week. They were therefore at a loss to find a 
proper woman to supply her place, and accordingly cast their 
eyes on our heroine; Mr C----n was deputed by his colleagues 
to treat with her, and easily complied with her demands of 
fifteen guineas per week. She appeared soon after in public, 
and for the two first nights brought amazing great houses. But 
the company after this time began to decrease, and she 
received a second visit from Mr C----n, who acquainted her 
that he, unknown to his brother managers, had agreed to give 
her her price, but that as the success had not answered their 
expectations, they could not think of paying her so 
extravagant a salary. To this harangue she returned the 
following answer. "Sir, I thought you were the sole acting 
manager, or else your law-suit has been decided to very little 
purpose; however, my engagements were with you, and I expect 
you will fulfil them."

Saying this, she turned out of the room, singing the air of 
the last new birthday minuet.

She had long desired to be connected with Mr Th--l--w the S--
l--tor G--r--l, but was disappointed; that gentleman, being 
already provided with a favourite, did not choose to enter 
into an intimacy with her. He, however, paid her some 
occasional visits, which would have paved the way to a further 
correspondence, had he not, unfortunately for her, found her 
one morning, when he went to her lodgings, with a silk 
mercer's clerk, who occasionally visited her. Their intimacy 
accordingly broke off; and he never visited her any more.

To return to Colonel Lascelles: We have already observed that 
his fortune was but small, too small for the complexion of his 
unbounded wishes. Notwithstanding the disagreeable, as well as 
involuntary indigence to which he was often reduced, he always 
found means to render himself agreeable to the fair sex, to 
whom he was so lavish in his adorations, by his genteel air 
and engaging deportment, which was ever such as could not fail 
to captivate the hearts of all those with whom he conversed, 
particularly such as, unmindful of the more refined and 
superior excellent interior accomplishments, are attached in a 
more peculiar manner to those of the outside. His connection 
with our heroine had, besides her transcendent charms, another 
more potent object. I mean her immense profits, of which he 
longed to become a sharer. There was no other way of gaining 
this point than by professing himself her avowed admirer, 
which, we have already seen, he did in a most effectual 
manner.

It has been already remarked that to the most engaging person 
were added the most insinuating arts. We shall not therefore 
enter into a further detail of his beauties, for such they 
appeared in the eyes of every female beholder, but proceed to 
the relation of matters of greater consequence. Though they 
always lived in a state of the strictest unity and love, yet 
their close connection, like that of matrimony, how sweet 
soever it may be, was sometimes embittered by little 
bickerings arising from the mutual jealousy they entertained 
of each other; thus it happened that the sweetness of their 
intimacy, which would otherwise have been very insipid, was 
tempered to such a degree by the acrimony of their 
differences, that their intimacy became the most agreeable 
imaginable. It was like the acid, of which a proper quantity 
being infused in the composition of what is generally known by 
the name of punch, renders that liquor agreeable to the taste 
and grateful to the palate.

It cannot but be agreeable to our readers to mention a few of 
the trifling disputes which often happened between this loving 
pair; we shall therefore in order to gratify their wish, 
relate a few, though we must beg to be excused if, like Vellum 
in the comedy of The Drummer, or the Haunted House, we confine 
ourselves to three only.

The first which we find standing on record is one which 
occurred in consequence of her keeping a genteel footman, whom 
our officer considered as a rival to his happiness. The affair 
was as follows. Our heroine was without a manservant; several 
were recommended to her, amongst whom was a young fellow of 
very genteel mien and address; he was about eighteen, tall, 
handsome, and extremely well made. He had not been many months 
in town, and was an utter stranger to the manners of it. This 
simplicity gained him the approbation of Miss Catley, who 
never appeared so well pleased as when she was attended and 
served by him. His obliging manner and the address with which 
he executed her commands, had made so great an impression on 
her, that she could no longer resist the temptation, and 
actually entertained a passion of the softest kind for him. 
She was so unguarded as not to be able to help betraying it in 
her looks, and often, while he was waiting at table, could not 
help casting affectionate glances towards him.

This behaviour, though it was the effect of pure accident, was 
taken notice of by her lover, whose jealousy immediately 
taking fire, caused him to upbraid her in the strongest manner 
for her infidelity. This gave rise to a violent quarrel which 
lasted several days, during which time they did not see or 
speak to each other.

During this interval both parties were equally uneasy, and 
longed for a reconciliation, though neither made the smallest 
advance towards an accommodation.

Our heroine was the first to offer terms of peace. It was 
easily produced by the immediate discharge of the footman. 
Miss Catley however, out of regard, provided for him in a very 
decent manner till she could put him in another place, which 
she found an opportunity of doing in a very short time.

The next source of uneasiness which arose between this loving 
pair, was owing to the restless temper of Miss Catley, who 
having been one day to a noted milliner's in the Strand, to 
buy some rich laces, besides other goods furnished by those 
people, made use of in the article of dress, accidentally met 
her dear inamorato at the same place. Finding him in deep 
discourse with one of the young women behind the counter, she 
in her turn grew jealous, and was for a considerable time 
implacable in her resentment, which she took every opportunity 
of showing. The lovers at length being heartily tired of 
living in this state of indifference, resolved to be 
reconciled, which was very easily brought to pass.

The third quarrel we shall mention owed its origin to the 
following accident. Miss C----y had once returned a very 
humorous answer to a billet-doux which was sent her one 
evening while she was performing at the theatre. Her lover was 
in the green room when she received it, and mistaking the 
contents of her answer, imagined she had given him an 
assignation. This occasioned a great altercation between them, 
which was succeeded by a mutual silence on each side, which 
lasted for above a month, although they saw each other and ate 
at the same table every day. Their reconciliation was brought 
about as follows. She, one day while they were at table, 
having eyed him attentively for some time, burst out into a 
loud fit of laughter, which he observing, put on a look which 
but too plainly showed the great displeasure he conceived at 
her behaviour. He still however maintained a profound silence, 
which she obliged him to break by extending her hands and 
speaking to him in these words: "My dear colonel, you are 
certainly very little versed in the ways of women, or you 
would be convinced that they are actuated principally by whim 
and caprice. You are therefore not to wonder at their actions, 
nor easily to take umbrage at what may at first sight appear a 
levity in their conduct. You were present when I received a 
note from the Earl of H----, and you saw me write an answer to 
it, which I should have shown you had I the least suspicion of 
your being jealous. To show you how little reason you have for 
this odd behaviour, I do assure you, and call heaven to 
witness, that I did not return any other answer to him than an 
order to admit one into the boxes, which plainly evinces how 
averse I was to any connection with him." He could contain no 
longer, but throwing his arms round about her neck, vowed 
eternal fidelity and love.

Thus did these two lovers re-assume their intercourse with 
greater ardour than before, and this peace, which indeed 
proved only temporary, lasted about six mouths. Another 
unhappy accident occasioned a breach, which was as follows.

Her lover had for some time been confined to his bed by a 
violent fit of the gout, a disease he was very much subject 
to, and on his recovery had removed to country lodgings at 
Kensington, where our heroine visited him as often as she 
conveniently could find an opportunity. She went thither one 
day, having no employment at the theatre, to see him. She 
entered the apartment, but was surprised that she did not 
according to her expectation meet with him at home. She was 
not a little amazed to see several letters on his table, the 
superscriptions of which appeared to be written in a woman's 
band. As they were opened her curiosity induced her to take up 
one, in which she read as follows:

"My dear, 
	I would have waited on you this evening, but was 
hindered by a female friend, who with irresistible force 
obliged me to accompany her to the play. I was on thorns 
during the whole time of the representation, and could 
not in consequence of the uneasiness which I suffered 
receive the least pleasure from what I was obliged to be 
present at. I hope, however, to-morrow to enjoy the 
pleasure of your agreeable company, to which, as you may 
be well convinced from the tenor of my whole behaviour 
hitherto, I shall fly, borne on the swiftest wings of 
love, to participate. 
	Yours eternally, N----."

This letter produced such an effect as is easy for the reader 
to guess. She left the house in a rage, vowed never to see him 
more, and every one of her actions showed how much she took 
this seeming inconstancy of his to heart. She returned home in 
such agitation of spirits that she fell into fits almost 
instantaneously on entering her own house, and it was several 
days before she was entirely recovered. She could not by any 
means be prevailed on to repeat her visits to Kensington, to 
which place she did not once return during the whole time the 
Colonel remained there. When he came to town she loaded him 
with the keenest reproaches, and was not reconciled to him for 
several weeks. In vain did he assert his innocency, the letter 
she had seen was an incontestable proof of his guilt, and this 
quarrel must have necessarily terminated in a final 
separation, had not a friend of his, dining one day at the 
house of our heroine solved the riddle, by declaring it to be 
a letter he had received from his mistress and which he had 
sent to the Colonel for his perusal. This declaration produced 
the desired effect, and a reconciliation presently took place.

Not to tire the reader with a repetition of these domestic 
feuds and uneasiness, we shall only mention one more, and then 
proceed to the relation of matters of greater importance. It 
happened in the following manner. Our heroine having one 
evening appeared in the character of a virgin in a dramatic 
poem lately introduced on the stage, called Elfrida, had given 
so much pleasure and satisfaction to the Right Honourable Earl 
of D----, as great an admirer of, as he is a connoisseur in, 
the art of music, that his lordship could not help 
complimenting her, a few days after, with a ticket for the 
Pantheon. She went thither in the habit of a shepherdess, and 
on this occasion had taken care not to omit anything that 
might be the least addition to her native beauty. The Colonel 
accompanied her thither, dressed in a domino, and though a man 
of his polite breeding might be easily supposed to be 
thoroughly acquainted with such freedoms as the liberty of a 
place of that sort affords, yet he could not forbear suffering 
his troublesome jealous spirit to reign predominant in his 
breast on this occasion. Observing that our heroine, imitating 
the other masks, appeared more gay than ordinary, he was 
highly offended, and took notice of it afterwards in terms 
which were highly disagreeable to her. She resented this 
behaviour very much, and refused to have anything to do with 
him for several weeks, though he lodged at the same house with 
her. At length, being unable to support this cessation of arms 
in the cause of love, he acknowledged his error, asked her 
pardon, and they became as cordial friends as before.

We may here relate an adventure which happened to our heroine 
during the time of her connection with a young wine merchant 
near Crutched Friars. He had seen her in the piazza and had 
ordered his footman, who attended him, to watch her home, and 
bring him word where she lived. Having received the necessary 
information, he repaired the next day to her lodgings and was 
well received by Miss Catley, who was struck at the engaging 
appearance which he made, and after about an hour's 
conversation they agreed to see each other at an appointed 
place as often as opportunity offered. Love, ever on the 
watch, soon prompted one, and our heroine frequently made 
excursions to White Conduit House, and they passed their 
leisure hours in the most tender endearments. This lasted 
about three years, during which period Miss Catley found means 
to ingratiate herself into his good graces so far, that at the 
end of it, she found herself about fifteen hundred pounds in 
pocket, the fruits of this agreeable intrigue. The adventure 
would have probably lasted much longer, had she not been 
discovered by her inamorato when she least expected it, in a 
private t�te-�-t�te with one of the drawers belonging to a 
noted place of resort in the gardens. This caused a rupture 
between her and her gallant, and his animosity against her was 
so great that no persuasion could ever induce him to consent 
to a reconciliation with her.

The rest of our story is connected with an entirely new aspect 
of this singular woman's life, with the period dating from her 
marriage with the Colonel Lascelles. For several years she had 
lived with him merely as his mistress, during which time 
several children were born. Then her former levity gave way to 
domestic decorum, and her faults were only to be found in a 
retrospective view of her life. This behaviour raised such a 
disinterested and generous affection in the heart of her 
friend, that he resolved to bestow upon her the highest reward 
in his power, and actually made her his wife.

Nan would not be outdone in generosity; before she accepted 
the hand of the Colonel (for he was a Colonel when he married 
her) she insisted that certain preliminary articles should be 
ratified. The principal of these were, that her fortune should 
go to her children, that she should continue to play while her 
health permitted her, and that the marriage should be kept 
secret till she retired from the stage.

She did not however long continue in a public line, after she 
became a wife; the ensuing season she engaged with the manager 
of Covent Garden Theatre, and it proved the last of her 
appearances. Her voice was then considerably weakened, and her 
vivacity evidently diminished She attempted the character of 
MacHeath, in the Beggars' Opera, but she was then nothing 
better than the shadow and echo of what she had been, and her 
exertions to please only excited the pity, not the 
approbation, of the audience.

After leaving the stage she took up her abode at Ealing in 
Middlesex, and was much respected by the better sort of people 
in the neighbourhood, and beloved by the poor, to whom she 
became a beneficent friend. She died in this retirement, in 
the 44th year of her age, and was buried in Ealing Church, 
with every mark of attention and respect that a husband could 
possibly show to a wife whom he tenderly loved.

Her disease was a consumption, to which she had been inclined 
from her youth, and which probably was accelerated by her 
early indulgencies in dissipation, and great exertion of voice 
which injured her lungs. She bore its progress with 
resignation, and died in that most enviable of all states, at 
peace with the world, and in strong hopes of eternal bliss.

Miss Catley had great capabilities for an actress, and 
notwithstanding her vivacious appearance would have succeeded 
not only in comedy, but tragedy, had she made them her study; 
but her voice was so exquisite, she had no occasion for 
further aid. Its native strains exceeded the vocal powers of 
all who went before her, yet she often evinced a deficiency of 
judgment.

Rosetta in Love in a Village, and Euphrosyne in Comus, were 
her best performances. In the latter it may not be going too 
far to assert she never was equalled, particularly in the song 
of "The wanton god that pierces hearts," which she gave in a 
characteristic style of levity, that left all competition at a 
distance. And in the former, her singing was truly exquisite 
and replete with native humour. Soon after the affair with 
Lord R---- and the roast duck, which has been stated, that 
nobleman came into the stage-box whilst she was singing "The 
wanton god," and when she came to the line "No squeamish fop 
shall spoil my rest," she turned full upon his lordship with a 
look of archness, so pointed and so marked with contempt, that 
the mortified nobleman rose from his seat and left her to 
enjoy the thundering plaudits of the audience, which were 
given in peals accompanied by bursts of laughter.

In The Maid of the Mill she often performed Patty, and not 
without pathos, and when Mrs Abingdon was in Ireland, during 
the late Mr Mossop's management, Catley often performed in a 
style of the highest spirit and humour Captain Flash, in 
contrast to the other lady's Fribble, which was also 
excellent. Catley was not vain, for though she took every 
possible pains to set off her person and face to advantage 
when she appeared in juvenile parts, yet, as the 
representative of old Dorcas in Thomas and Sally, she was 
equally attentive to appear ancient.

Catley was not beautiful but pleasing. Her face was oval, her 
features petite, and her eyes small; her forehead being 
remarkably high, she always wore her dark hair, which was thin 
and lank, cut down upon it like a fan, and this at last became 
a general fashion under the denomination of Catlified hair, 
and as it gives a peculiar archness to the countenance, 
remained in vogue for years among the lower classes of those 
ladies who stroll the streets.

Catley was remarkably thin, her bones small, her skin brown, 
and all covered over with freckles, yet her tout ensemble was 
pleasing, when she was made up and on the stage.

Much has been said of Miss Catley's wit, by those who have 
mistaken her talent; her bon mots were those of broad and 
vulgar humour, they were deficient in that polish, sharpness 
and neatness, which produce the genuine brightness of 
conversation, her points were not those of raillery, but of 
railing, they came out gross, as if issuing from a cellar in 
St. Giles's, or, which was the fact, as if they had received 
their original impression in a garret near the Tower.

A retrospect of Miss Catley's life when compared with that of 
the celebrated Nell Gwynn, exhibits many incidents of strong 
similitude. Nell was born of obscure parents, so was Nan. Nell 
was born in a cellar in the Coal-yard, Drury Lane; Nan was 
born in a garret in a wretched alley near Tower-hill. Nell, 
when first taken notice of, sold oranges, and resorted to 
public houses. Nan, when young, sang in alehouses for hire. 
Nell when almost a child was decoyed from the path of virtue 
by a merchant; Nan suffered similarly soon after entering her 
teens, at the hands of a linen draper. Nell was remarkable for 
smartness of conversation, so was Nan. Nell was an actress in 
great vogue, so was Nan. To Nell, lords and dukes paid their 
addresses, so they did to Nan. Nell was the mistress of a 
King, Nan that of a prince of the blood royal.

"This shows that sultans, emperors, and kings, 
When blood boils high will stoop to meanest things."

Nell was of a gay frolicsome disposition, so was Nan; of Nell 
many droll passages have been reported, so of Nan, but in 
respect to both ladies, some of their sayings should be 
suppressed as being too loose for the public ear.

Nell's air was free and degag�e, so was the carriage of Nan. 
Nell had spirit and pleasantry, so had Nan. She had professed 
more charity and generosity than most women of her situation 
in life, so did Nan, and here an instance may be given, which 
illustrates this part of our heroine's character Mr Linton, a 
musician belonging to Covent Garden Theatre, having been 
inhumanly murdered by footpads, Mr Harris the manager, gave 
his widow and children a free benefit. A short time previous 
to the benefit night, Nan went to a masquerade in the 
character of an orange girl, with several dozen box tickets in 
her basket, these she disposed of among the company for a very 
considerable sum over their usual price, which with ten 
guineas added by herself, she sent the next day to the 
unfortunate family.

As in their lives, so in their deaths, there was a strong 
similarity between Nell Gwynne and Ann Catley, except that 
Nell lived to be much older than Nan. But she certainly died 
with a moral and religious mind, or Dr. Tenison, afterwards 
Archbishop of Canterbury, would not have preached her funeral 
sermon. And this was the opinion of Queen Mary, who, when the 
Earl of Jersey urged the circumstance to prevent the doctor's 
preferment to the diocese of Lincoln, answered, "It was a sign 
that this unfortunate woman died penitent, for if I can read a 
man's heart through his looks, had she not made a truly pious 
and christian end, the doctor would never have been induced to 
speak well of her." Just such an end did Catley make, dying in 
charity with the world, and in lamenting that the early parts 
of her life had not been equally virtuous and honourable with 
her latter days.

A writer in the History of the English Stage says, "Her 
goodness of heart and benignity of disposition appear in many 
charitable works which would have done honour to more high-
born dames; her wanderings cannot be called errors, but 
misfortunes, the common result of a bad education. Though she 
came into the world without reputation, she left it with a 
good character, a sufficient proof that all her levities 
proceeded from inexperience and not from natural depravity."

The following eulogium was paid to her memory in the public 
prints:

"She was the favourite of Thalia, the favourite of the 
Town, and the favourite of Fortune.

Her theatrical representations will be remembered as long 
as the fame exists of the poets that portrayed them. The 
discussion of her professional merit should be the 
subject of a volume; we shall therefore only add, that 
her voice and manner were, perhaps, never equalled in the 
same style. Her person all but equalled her 
accomplishments, and nearly to her death she was the 
centre of attraction.

Beauty is a captivating siren, and to resist her 
enchantments man must possess something more or something 
less than the usual portion of humanity. The allurements 
a theatrical life holds out to lovely women, admit the 
same observation, and justify the application with 
tenfold force. All that can be said is, Alas poor human 
nature! She possessed many virtues, and the greatest of 
all--humanity. The generous hand often lightened the 
heavy heart. Feelingly alive by nature to every 
impression of sensibility, this amiable virtue 
accompanied her elevation to rank and riches, and joined 
others that adorn the first stations in society, and 
which alone make them respectable. She was the good 
mother, the chaste wife and accomplished woman. Prudery 
certainly formed no part of her character, but where is 
the prude that ever owned half her merit! Her openness, 
goodness, knowledge and generosity, added to her personal 
accomplishments, rendered her an acquisition of which the 
worthiest might be proud. This morality of players, like 
that of princes, is exempt from the precision of vulgar 
rules."

Documents Relating to Miss Anne Catley

Inscription 
Engraved on a tree at George Stainforth, Esq's., in 
Hertfordshire, formerly the cottage of Anne Catley.
Catley, the once famed Siren of the stage, 
Melodious heroine of a former age, 
Her labours o'er, here fixed her glad retreat; 
These her loved fields, and this her faverite seat. 
Hither at early dawn she bent her way, 
To mark the progress of the new mown hay; 
Partook the toil, joined gaily in the throng, 
And often cheered the rustics with a song; 
Nor with a song alone, her liberal heart 
In all their little sorrows bore a part, 
And as they simply told their tale of grief, 
Her head gave counsel and her hand relief. 
Let not the wedded dame who wanders here, 
Disdain o'er Catley's turf to shed a tear; 
Nor the fond virgin, sheltered by this tree, 
Withhold the drop of sensibility. 
What though stern Hymen may no sanction give 
In nature's tenderest page the tear shall live; 
An anxious parent, to her offspring just, 
True to her promise, sacred to her trust; 
Firm in her friendship, faithful in her love,-- 
Who will the mourned remembrance disapprove?
===========================

Obituary Notice of Anne Catley


The celebrated Anne Catley, formerly a member of Covent Garden 
Theatre, died the beginning of this season (Oct. 14, 1789), at 
General Lascelles' house, near Brentford, to whom it is said 
she was married.

This lady was a striking example of what merit can do, unaided 
by birth or interest. She was born in 1745, in an alley, near 
Tower Hill,--"of parentage obscure,"--her father being a 
hackney coachman (afterwards the keeper of a public house near 
Norwood), and her mother a washerwoman. Her extraordinary 
vocal abilities soon discovered themselves, for at the early 
age of ten years she sung at public houses in her father's 
neighbourhood, and for the officers on duty at the tower; her 
situation of course exposed her to seduction--but who that 
considers her then helpless condition of life, will not curse 
the seducer, and pity the seduced!

Her musical talents soon spread their own fame; and one Bates, 
a musician, who lived in the west end of the town, entered 
into an article with her father and took her apprentice; but 
Bates and Catley could not agree, and the former, it is said, 
was once so provoked as to threaten to turn her out of doors, 
and sue her father for �200, the penalty of the bond executed 
when she was bound.

Her first appearance was at Vauxhall, in the summer of 1762, 
and on the 8th of October in the same year she appeared for 
the first time on the stage at Covent Garden, in the character 
of the Pastoral Nymph, in Comus.

The succeeding year she became the object of public attention 
from a very remarkable circumstance: Sir Francis Blake 
Delaval, being smitten with her beauty, and understanding that 
the master and fair apprentice could not agree, resolved on 
releasing her entirely from the coercion of Mr Bates, and 
making her his mistress. Accordingly it was agreed that Sir 
Francis should pay Bates the penalty of the father's bond, and 
also give him two hundred pounds more in lieu of what she 
might earn for him, by the engagement he had made for her with 
the managers of Covent Garden Theatre and Marylebone Gardens. 
For this purpose Mr Fraine, an attorney, was ordered to draw 
up a proper transfer of her indentures from Bates to Sir 
Francis; and she and her mother were removed into lodgings, 
where she lived publicly with Sir Francis, was attended by his 
servants, and rode out with him every day.

The attorney having made the father a party to the articles, 
waited on him to have his signature and seal. Mr Catley lived 
at this time with the very respectable Mr Barclay, of 
Cheapside, as private coachman, and having got possession of 
the articles, consulted his master on the nature of them. The 
honest Quaker, shocked at the wickedness of transferring a 
girl, by legal process, for the purpose of prostitution, 
advised with his lawyer, who laid a case before counsel, and 
the ensuing term two motions were made to the court founded on 
these articles.

The first of these motions was for a habeas corpus, directed 
to Sir Francis Blake Delaval, to bring the body of Anne Catley 
into court. The second was for a rule to show cause why an 
information should not be granted against Sir Francis Blake 
Delaval, Bates the master, and Fraine the attorney, for a 
conspiracy to prostitute Anne Catley, under the forms of law.

On the ensuing day, our heroine, in consequence of the habeas 
corpus, appeared in court, accompanied by Sir Francis, and was 
then discharged out of his custody; the affidavits for the 
prosecutor were read, and a day was fixed for cause to be 
shown. On the lady's release, her father attempted to seize 
her and carry her off by force. Sir Fletcher Norton, counsel 
for Sir Francis, immediately complained to the court, and the 
violent conduct of the father was very severely reprimanded by 
the Chief Justice, Earl Mansfield, who observed that, though 
the girl was not of legal age, she was at full years of 
discretion; and the question being put, whether she would 
return with her father or Sir Francis, she declared her 
attachment to the latter, put her hand under his arm, and 
making a curtsey to the Judges, and another to the bar, walked 
with him out of Westminster Hall, to his carriage, which 
waited at the gate, and carried them home.

On cause being shown, the court was clearly of opinion that 
the information should be granted. Lord Mansfield observed 
that the court of King's Bench was custos morum of the 
country, and had authority, especially where the offence was 
mixed with conspiracy, to punish everything contra bonos 
mores. He called the premium given by Sir Francis to Bates 
premium prostitutionis, and cited the case of Sir Richard 
Sedley in the reign of Charles II. to prove it.

The consequence of this information against Sir Francis, 
Bates, and Fraine was a trial, and all the defendants being 
found guilty by the jury, were severally fined, the whole 
expense of which (with the costs to a very considerable 
amount) fell upon Sir Francis.

After this she sung at Marylebone Gardens, and became a pupil 
of Mr Macklin, who procured her an engagement at Dublin from 
Mossop, where she met with great success and brought crowded 
houses. Many anecdotes are related of her while on her visit 
to Dublin; the following are the most remarkable. A merchant, 
with a wife and family, having been smitten by her charms, 
sent her a billet-doux requesting an appointment to supper, 
and accompanied his request with a large hamper of champagne. 
Catley returned the wine untouched, with a direction to the 
amorous trader's spouse, enclosing his note under a cover. At 
supper the wife declared she had a longing for champagne, and 
must have a glass; the husband reprobated such extravagance. 
"But I will treat you, my dear," said the wife, "you may see I 
have received a present," on which she put Catley's note into 
his hands. It is easy to conceive the domestic quarrel that 
ensued, and the person here alluded to has for years back 
lived in London in the most indigent circumstances.

When Dean Bailey was a principal superintendent to the public 
charities of Dublin, it was determined by the governors that a 
concert should be performed for the benefit of the Lying-in-
Hospital, whereupon the Dean took it upon him to engage Catley 
as a singer, and wrote her a card requesting that she would 
give him a night, and mention when she should be disengaged. 
The answer was that Miss Catley was specially engaged for a 
week, but after that time, as the Dean was a charitable man, 
she would give him a night gratis. Our heroine kept her word, 
to the great emolument of the hospital, and told the story, 
which produced a general laugh against the ecclesiastic.

She paid another visit to Dublin during Ryder's management, 
when her Juno, in The Golden Pippin, was highly applauded, and 
her song of "Push about the Jorum" universally encored. 
Perhaps the manner of performing burlettas there, where the 
recitative is generally spoken as dialogue, afforded her a 
greater opportunity of displaying that peculiar vivacity which 
scorned all bounds, except those of decorum.

In 1770 she appeared again at Covent Garden, and continued to 
perform a stated number of nights for many succeeding years, 
much to her own and the manager's advantage. In 1773, she sung 
at the oratorios at Covent Garden, by which she added to her 
fortune more than her fame, for her natural vivacity was not 
well suited to the solemnity of such performances, and had to 
contend with the more chastised deportment of Mr Sheridan at 
the rival theatre. Being always attentive to economy, in a 
course of years she had amassed a considerable fortune, and 
when her attractions failed, she was enabled to retire to 
independence. Her last performance was in 1784.

Her goodness of heart and benignity of disposition appear in 
many charitable works, which would have done honour to more 
high-born dames; her wanderings cannot be called errors, but 
misfortunes, the common result of a bad education. Though she 
came into the world without reputation, she left it with a 
good character, a sufficient proof that all her levities 
proceeded from inexperience, and not from natural depravity.

Though she was no wit, she possessed a considerable share of 
humour, several bon mots, however, have been made for her, 
such as she would be ashamed to utter, for good nature and 
decency were inseparable companions of her mirth. To the man 
of her choice she was faithful, loving, and submissive, though 
on the stage the best Juno that ever boxed a Jupiter.

Miss Catley as MacHeath. 
To the Printer of the Town and Country Magazine.

Sir, 
	The different Metamorphoses which the Beggars' Opera has 
lately undergone, clearly prove that burlesque and ridicule 
may be carried too far. It is more than probable that Mr 
Colman took his idea of transposing the characters from males 
to females, and vice versa, from the success Mrs Kennedy had 
met with in "MacHeath;" the thought, however, appeared novel, 
and it succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations. The 
managers of Covent Garden Theatre, unwilling to be outdone in 
invention, judged, that in representing all the characters by 
females they would improve upon Mr Colman's thought, and Miss 
Catley was chosen, at a very extravagant salary, to perform 
MacHeath; but her greatest admirers must own, that she neither 
looked, dressed, or spoke the character, so as to convey the 
idea of a bold, enterprising gentleman highwayman. For what 
cause is best known to herself, she never changed her dress, 
but appeared in boots the whole time, as if she were just come 
off the road; whereas MacHeath always dressed previous to his 
going to Marylebone, as it is to be supposed he was there to 
meet some of the politest company about town, to whom he would 
take every precaution of not giving the slightest suspicion of 
his being a highwayman. The consequence was natural, and, as 
might be expected, the town was nauseated with the same 
unnatural hodge-podge, though dressed different ways, and they 
repaired to another table that was better served.

In a word Miss Catley has been fairly foiled at her own 
weapons. She judged that by brazening out the part she was 
sure of success; whilst Mrs Cargill, by studying nature, and 
pursuing the intention of the poet, not only succeeded in the 
same character beyond her friends' most sanguine expectations, 
but, it is said, that she looked so much "the youth in a cart 
who has the air of a lord," that she made some conquests 
amongst her own sex, who were unapprised of the deception. 
	THEATRICUS.

O'Keeffe and Miss Catley.

O'Keeffe says "The first time of my venturing into a theatre 
after the ill success of my 'Banditti,' Miss Catley accosted 
me from a front now of the lower boxes, loud enough, as I was 
many rows back, to be heard by all and everybody, 'So, 
O'Keeffe you had a piece damned the other night I'm glad of 
it--the devil mend you for writing an Opera without bringing 
me into it. '

A few minutes after she had thus accosted me, Leoni entered 
the box, with a lady leaning on his arm--Miss Catley catching 
his eye, called out, 'How do you do Leoni? I hear you're 
married--is that your wife! bid her stand up till I see her.' 
Leoni, abashed, whispered the lady, who, with good humoured 
compliance stood up--Catley after surveying her a little, 
said, 'Ha very well indeed--I like your choice.' The audience 
around seemed more diverted with this scene in the boxes than 
that on the stage, as Miss Catley and her oddities were well 
known to all."

Death of Miss Catley

The family of Catley coming from Yorkshire, I am reminded of 
the decease of a favourite of that name, the celebrated Anne 
Catley, whom I could only know, when a visible decline was 
sapping the vital power that bore her once triumphantly above 
all humorous singers.

Miss Catley, was, I think, married to General Lascelles, and 
left a large family by him, four sons and four daughters--
however her will was signed Anne Catley, and was written 
entirely in her own hand. The good sense that she 
unquestionably possessed, appears eminently in the final 
settlement of her property. She makes General Francis 
Lascelles sole executor, and bequeaths him ten pounds for a 
mourning ring. The eldest of her four daughters at the time of 
her decease, was to have her wearing apparel, watch, trinkets, 
&c., as a distinction--in all other respects, the four sons 
and four daughters were to have equal shares at the age of 
twenty-one years; and, until then, their shares were to be 
invested in the funds, and considered, as to the interest, 
applicable to their education. She had bought the house in 
which she died, at Ealing for the daughters, and, as far as a 
provident parent could do, established them respectably. The 
probate called her property �5,000, but this was far from 
being the whole of it.

There was in her personal character a good deal of the 
careless boldness of Woffington; like her too she was 
extremely handsome, and her eye and mouth had a peculiar 
expression of archness. She aimed at an almost manly frankness 
of speech, and acted as one superior to censure when she 
raised the wonder of prudery. Catley had an understanding too 
sound to indicate the indiscretions of her youth; but her 
follies did not long survive that period, and she amply atoned 
in her maturity for the scandal she had excited formerly in 
society. There was a graceful propriety in her domestic 
concerns. She was never profuse, and could therefore be 
liberal in all her arrangements. In her youth she had been 
acquainted with difficulties, and the lesson was ever present 
to her mind. Her ear was always open to the unhappy, and her 
hand was enabled, by economy, to spare no scanty relief to 
strangers, without invading the provision she had destined for 
her family. In the great relations of life as a daughter, 
wife, mother, and friend, she was, in principle, steady and 
exemplary.

Her complaint, a pulmonary consumption, had wasted her to a 
shade, and it had lingered beyond the usual term of that 
baneful, yet flattering pest. She was but forty-four at the 
time of her decease. There were many points of similarity 
between Mrs Jordan and Miss Catley; not that the former ever 
possessed the nerve or the prudence of the latter.

Life of Mrs Jordan, 
BOADEN.

FINIS.



Book III 
Fictional Ladies




The Harlot's Progress by William Hogarth (1732)

Sources:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Harlot%27s_Progress-- the engravings and prose descriptions
Facsimile of The Lure of Venus; or, A Harlot's Progress: A heroicomical poem by "Joseph Gay" (Pen-name of John Breval) -- The poetry



Plate 1 
Moll's Arrival in London
 

The protagonist, Moll Hackabout, has arrived in London's 
Cheapside. Moll carries scissors and a pincushion hanging on 
her arm, suggesting that she sought employment as a 
seamstress. Instead, she is being inspected by the pox-ridden 
Elizabeth Needham, a notorious procuress and brothel-keeper, 
who wants to secure Moll for prostitution. The notorious rake 
Colonel Francis Charteris and his pimp, John Gourlay, look on, 
also interested in Moll. The two stand in front of a decaying 
building, symbolic of their moral bankruptcy. Charteris 
fondles himself in expectation. 

Londoners ignore the scene, and even a mounted clergyman 
ignores her predicament, just as he ignores the fact of his 
horse knocking over a pile of pans. 

Moll appears to have been deceived by the possibility of 
legitimate employment. A goose in Moll's luggage is addressed 
to "My lofing cosen in Tems Stret in London": suggesting that 
she has been misled; this "cousin" might have been a recruiter 
or a paid-off dupe of the bawdy keepers. Moll is dressed in 
white, in contrast to those around her, illustrating her 
innocence and naivet�. The dead goose in or near Moll's 
luggage, similarly white, foreshadows Moll's death as a result 
of her gullibility. 

I find the calling of a bawd, to be a strange,
A wise and subtle calling, and for none,
But staid, discreet and understanding people.
	VALENTINIAN

The various scenes of vicious loves I sing,
Aid me ye Gods, and imp my tender wing,
A harlot's progress briefly to relate,
Her youth, her beauty and her hapless fate;
How youth and age, by turns, her favours share
The clown, the cit, the dull, the debonair,
How fops and beaux her early dupes are made
With the fleet cassock, and the smart cockade
And how she showers her gifts abundant down,
On the remotest regions of the town.
And thou, my god of verse, my lays inspire
And warm my breast with thy celestial fire,
This female Proteus in all shapes to trace,
And paint the wiles of that seducing race
But first, her birth and parentage rehearse,
Neither unworthy the sublimest verse,
No titles did her family adorn,
Nor by her house, were shields of armour borne,
No coach, nor gout, her predecessors knew,
Nor gaped for ribbons red, or Garters blue.
The ne'er engaged in philosophic doubts,
Nor once concerned themselves in Church disputes;
With them, all monarchs equal right maintained,
And James and Nassau with like justice reigned.
Scorning the tinsel glory of the Court,
None of her sisters e'er was fortune's sport,
Nor lay a sire of hers, or brother slain
In Naseby's field, or Blenheim's fatal plain.
The clime which gave our noted heroine birth,
Was Yorkshire, once renowned throughout the earth,
For horses and for arms. A cottage raw,
With walls of mud, and thatched above with straw,
Had long the seat of her forefathers been,
Who ne'er the pomp of palaces had seen,
But lived at ease, and no vexations knew,
Such as torment the less discerning few,
Who daily at the gates of great ones wait
And barter happiness for empty state.
Thus had they flourished in that lonely place,
From the Plantagenet to Brunswick's race
Unenvied, undisturbed, no pride arose,
Nor ever dared to trouble their repose,
To his glad sons each sire conveyed his trade,
The daughters all their mother's will obeyed,
Happy they lived, as in Saturnian times,
When peace and plenty filled Hesperian climes.
But see the slippery state of human things!
What mighty change wild ambition brings!
One of the daughters, famed for female arts,
Such as the rural neighbourhood imparts,
Surveyed her father's cottage with disdain,
And viewed with scornful eyes each amorous swain.
No joyous scenes her haughty taste could please,
Nor even the squire or parson give her ease,
Strange dreams of grandeur filled her gaudy head,
And now, all hopes of country pleasures fled,
She thus her father greets�"Of sires the best,
Grant (I beseech thee) your daughter's last request,
That I may hence to London be conveyed,
Beneath our ample waggon's canvas shade,
Or mounted on a pack-horse, to explore,
For me, what favours Fortune has in store."
She said. When straight her sire indignant grown,
Viewed her with rage, and cursed the vicious town:
Warned her of mischief, and each artful snare
Laid for the innocent, unguarded fair
But all his words were lost�unmoved she stood
And her request in stronger terms renewed.
Her father yields, at last, o'erwhelmed with fears,
And her kind mother sheds prophetic tears:
Her brother, too, and all her sisters strove
Such steady resolution to remove,
But still in vain. Nor prayers nor tears prevail,
Her doom's decreed, and all entreaties fail.
The waggon now, our northern nymph ascends
And takes a solemn farewell of her friends
But whate'er happened on the tedious way,
As where they baited, where each night they lay,
With other accidents, a hundred more,
Shall all be passed in deepest silence o'er
One thing howe'er I must not quite forget,
A half-starved curate on a scurvy tit
Whose knees were callous, and whose bones were bare,
With a long course of fasting, and of prayer,
Close by the waggon's side jogged up to town,
Of his most reverend sire, to beg a boon
But though true prayer and fasting may engage
Heaven on thy side, in this degenerate age
Yet Church preferments chiefly are bestowed
On the rich drones, the lazy and the proud.
Then pray and fast, and want your patron's will,
Return you must, and act the curate still.
The town, from Highgate, now our heroine views
And her short journey to the Bell pursues,
Where, in the yard, ere she approached the rooms,
Up straight, a venerable matron comes,
Of size unwieldy, with a waddling pace,
Frosted her locks, and patched and primed her face,
Her front deep furrowed, and her eyes on flame,
Like cats by night, and BENTLEY was her name.
This load of lust, this lump of deadly sin,
First chucks the harmless maid beneath her chin,
Then like another Shipton, soon displays,
What shall befall her in the later days.
"Fret not, my fair," said she, "though now come forth,
From the bleak regions of the barren North
Nor think, that (parents and relations left)
You're here of kindred or of friends bereft
New friends, new kindred, you in us shall see,
And knights and Lords shall your relations be.
Of all you goods we'll take a special care,
Your trunks, your boxes and your country ware.
Your loafing cozen shall her goose receive
And you, with us, in state and splendour live.
That plain straw hat, and gown of homespun grey,
Shall soon be changed for garments rich and gay,
One these fair fingers, used the threads to twine,
Rubies shall glow, and costly brilliants shine.
Yours shall be all, that youth or beauty craves,
While beaux by thousands owe themselves your slaves."
Thus spoke the fiend infernal, and betrayed
By her deluding tongue, the harmless maid
Who ne'er suspecting fraud, to ruin run,
Swallowed the specious bait, and was undone.
Behind the beldam's back FRANCISCO* plied,
With his known pander, and the quarry eyed,
Monsters! Who scarce of men deserve the name
Strangers alike to honesty and shame.
A noted pair, the master and the man,
Who use all arts the virtuous to trepan.
This, a sly satyr, swelled with lawless rage,
And lewd in spite of impotence and age,
And that, a servile wretch, whose study lies
To spring the game, and bear his lord the prize
But stay, my Muse, nor now the theme prolong,
The sequel well deserves thy future song.

* Colonel Charteris, with his trusty man John Gourlay.


Plate 2 
Moll is now a kept woman, the mistress of a wealthy merchant 
 

Moll is now the mistress of a wealthy Jewish merchant, as is 
confirmed by the Old Testament paintings in the background 
which have been considered to be prophetic of how the merchant 
will treat Moll in between this plate and the third plate. She 
has numerous affectations of dress and accompaniment, as she 
keeps a West Indian serving boy and a monkey. The boy and the 
young female servant, as well as the monkey, may be provided 
by the businessman. The presence of the servant, the monkey 
and the mahogany table of tea things all suggest a colonial 
source for the merchant's wealth. She has jars of cosmetics, a 
mask from masquerades, and her apartment is decorated with 
paintings illustrating her sexually promiscuous and morally 
precarious state. She pushes over a table to distract the 
merchant's attention as a second lover tiptoes out. 

The insolence of prostitutes in keeping,
Exceeds the haughty Sultan of the East

Now was our heroine from the inn conveyed
A harmless, innocent, unthinking maid,
By that sly pandress to her known abode
Of lewdness, and of lust, the beaten road.
Howe'er her trade she still a secret kept,
Till the fair prize had thrice securely slept
Beneath her roof, but when Aurora's ray
Shot forth, and showed the fourth enlivening day
She thus her guest bespoke: "Young damsel, know
That to your native modesty I owe
My best endeavours. Mine shall be the care
For you, a proper station to prepare,
Freely to live in pleasure, and at ease,
Unshocked by hazards, in the arms of peace.
No more your side the distaff shall disgrace
Nor the swift wheel resume its wonted place.
No more these hands their former toils shall try;
Nor cumbrous burden on your shoulders lie,
Your cares are past, your slavery at an end,
Mark but my dictates, and my steps attend."
Then to Francesco's house she led the way
Where the old lecher close in ambush lay
Impatient, fixed the trembling fair to seize
Rank as a goat, dissolved in sloth and ease
Whose boundless flame, nor youth nor age escapes,
Famed for gross whoredoms, and renowned for rapes.
With wanton leer, he eyed the harmless maid,
And to the bawd her stated price conveyed,
Who knew full well, that an unbridled lust,
Like other lawless games, admits no trust.
No longer now our battered Beldam stands,
But leaves her charge in Don Francisco's hands
And hastes away some future prize to find,
For gold flowed in, and she was always kind.
Meanwhile the C��l called his females round,
And swore by Earth and Hell, whoe'er was found
That durst the stranger's least command dispute
She dear should pay, his will was absolute.
All promised this, and no concern was seen,
For each she-servant had a sovereign been,
Swayed in her turn, and easily could portend
That ere a month was past, her reign should end.
Now did Francesco use his utmost skill
To bend the stubborn fair one to his will
Fond looks and frowns alternately he tried,
And protestations, vows, and oaths applied
To gain his ends, but she his arts defied.
Gold then he proffered, and with gold prevailed
For gold has conquered, when a godhead failed.
The fort thus won, she triumphed for a while,
And seemed to sway her sovereign with a smile,
Pleased, in her arms he spent each amorous night,
Melted in bliss, and revelled in delight;
But ah! Such luscious scenes the lover cloy,
And slow repentance follows short-lived joy.
Her kind caresses now no lore can charm,
Nor all her arts his icy bosom warm.
Sated at length he flies her fond embrace,
With cold indifference views her beauteous face;
Strips her of all his former bounty gave,
And treats his late-loved mistress as his slave.
Yet this was no ways strange, for hundreds more
Had felt like measure from his hands before.
What she should do in this disastrous place
She next resolves, and mourns her hapless place
Raves, frets, and weeps, and tears her lovely hair,
And seems quite lost in sorrow and despair.
A thousand thoughts torment her anxious breast,
Rack her poor heart, and rob her of her rest;
This way and that she roves from room to room,
But finds no refuge from impending doom
Mean time to court her base seducer goes,
And gives her some short space for cool repose,
She then a sister in affliction calls
Who long had lain immured within these walls
In whom she placed a confidence sincere
"Betty, says she, since fate has thrown us here
Let's lay some artful scheme ourselves to free,
From this vile sink of lust and infamy
This C��l, wretch detested, vile, and lewd,
This matchless monster of ingratitude,
Has stripped and plundered me,��for which I swear
Revenge ere long, or it shall cost me dear."
Betty replied, "Let all your sorrows cease,
Your case and mine exactly of a piece,
The villain promised, canted, swore and lied,
And bribed and coaxed, and dressed me like a bride,
Was fond a while, but soon his flame expired,
And now he loathes what he before admired.
I too was robbed, forsaken, and undone,
And scarce durst call my very soul my own;
But since you've vowed revenge, let you and I
To gain our freedom, and this tyrant leave,
(For men are born to ruin and deceive)
Then lend an ear��you're not, I hope, so nice,
As tremble at the very thoughts of vice,
Nor would stick out, so you your ends attain,
To act the pleasing transports o'er again."
"Revenge," the stranger cried, "is now my aim,
Which I'll attempt, though I pursue the game,
Through all degrees, and orders, and bow down
To every trade, and every sect in town."
"Bravely resolved, and like a heroine spoke,"
Says Betty, "to cast off this galling yoke,
A thought has come this minute in my head,
A Jew I know, that's generous and well-bred;
Rich as a Lord or Minister of State,
Who soon will snap at such a tempting bait.
Your shape, your face, your speech, your air invite,
Thither forthwith I'll wing my hasty flight,
Tell him strange stories of your suffering past,
And how to London you escaped at last,
Dressed like a servant, from your guardian's care,
Who thought to match you to a booby heir,
Though your estate, in Yorkshire, might command
A spouse, the best, and richest in the land.
All this I'll swear, to perfect our design,
Let us but both in the same story join."
Betty run on apace: her nimble tongue,
Like others of her sex, was loosely hung;
Till Miss, impatient, made this short reply:
"Prithee, make haste, be gone, hence quickly fly;
I long to see this Jew, fly, never start,
Bring but good news, and I shall act my part."
Away she flew, as swift as eastern wind,
The son of circumcision straight to find,
Nor missed her aim, for just from 'Change returned,
He with the thoughts of a new mistress burned
And scarce took time to hear her moving tale
(So much does artful eloquence prevail)
When, some preliminary terms agreed,
Back the courier's despatched with utmost speed,
To fetch her lady��Betty run amain,
And quickly reached Francesco's house again
With the glad tidings did her mistress greet,
And urged a most precipitate retreat,
Before the Don's return��Howe'er, she thought,
To rob the robber, was no mighty fault
This both resolved, they rifle and remove,
With bag and baggage, to their new-found love,
Who met them at the door with court-like airs,
And led his nymph directly up the stairs
Flattered her vanity, and soothed her pride,
And used a thousand moving arts beside,
To win her to his will, but all in vain,
A good round sum must now the favour gain,
And as her lover's rich, he well may spare
Or gold, or diamonds, to adorn the Fair.
Now, Muse, the costly furniture survey,
Which graced his chamber, modish, neat and gay.
Portrayed beneath a Gourd, there Jonah sate,
Expecting Nineveh's approaching fate.
King David there, his antic gambol played,
When back the Ark from Ashdod was conveyed.
Below, hung Woolfson's head, and Clare's above.
Here stood a table, there, the field of love,
In beauteous order everything was seen
And now his charmer treated like a queen
A month or two, in high profuseness spent.
But ah! Such happiness was only lent,
She soon proved false, and to her lasting shame
Hired a base wretch to quench her wanton flame.
Her keeper, this with indignation see,
And taxed her close one morning at her tea
She scarce denied the charge, but boldly swore,
That John, and Harry, Tom, and fifty more,
Should share her favours, and support her pride,
Ere she would be to such a coxcomb tied.
Insulted thus, he hardly could contain�
When madam snapped her fingers in disdain,
With one sly kick the tea table o'erthrows,
And the whole floor with slaughtered china strows.
So much this scene her black attendant feared,
That even his woolly locks with horror stared,
But Betty, and her spark the sequel knew
And wisely with some moveables withdrew
For well she guessed, what ills soe'er attend,
A well-lined purse is a substantial friend.
Enraged at last, the sprightly Levite raved,
Her mean gallant in roughest terms bestaved,
Called her the vilest jilt, the worst of whores,
Then, in a moment, turned her out of doors.


Plate 3  
Moll has gone from kept woman to common prostitute 
 

Moll has gone from kept woman to common prostitute. Her maid 
is now old and syphilitic, and Henry Fielding, in Tom Jones 
(2:3), would say that the maid looks like his character of Mrs 
Partridge. Her bed is her only major piece of furniture, and 
the cat poses to suggest Moll's new posture. The witch hat and 
birch rods on the wall suggest either black magic, or more 
importantly that prostitution is the devil's work. Her heroes 
are on the wall: MacHeath from The Beggar's Opera and Henry 
Sacheverell, and two cures for syphilis are above them. The 
wig box of highwayman James Dalton (hanged on 11 May 1730) is 
stored over her bed, suggesting a romantic dalliance with the 
criminal. The magistrate, Sir John Gonson, with three armed 
bailiffs, is coming through the door on the right side of the 
frame to arrest Moll for her activities. Moll is showing off a 
new watch (perhaps a present from Dalton, perhaps stolen from 
another lover) and exposing her left breast. Gonson, however, 
is fixed upon the witch's hat and 'broom' or the periwig 
hanging from the wall above Moll's bed. 

The composition satirically resembles that of an Annunciation, 
i.e. the announcement by the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary 
that she would conceive and become the mother of Jesus, the 
Son of God, as recorded in the Gospel of Luke 1:26--39. 

In Drury's haunts, our late elated dame
Exposes both her poverty and shame

Discarded thus, our heroine chanced to meet
Her gay gallant, and Betty, in the street,
Whence hastening to a tavern, they prepare
New stratagems, and form a future war,
The fair one vows vengeance against the race
Both Jew and Gentile, for her late disgrace,
And swears that peers, and porters, high and low,
Shall own her charms, and at her altar bow.
To compass this, like Cumae's frantic maid,
She summons all the Furies to her aid,
The gods of earth, of Hell, of seas, and skies,
So high, at once, her restless passions rise
And when, some time, she sauntered up and down,
In a convenient quarter of the town,
At length she fixes, and impatient grows,
To fleece the fops, and gull the brainless beaux,
To make her name throughout the place renowned,
And raise large contributions all around.
Then with choice silks, and Mechlin laces dressed
Of Jew, and Christian spoils once possessed,
A while she flaunted, and each fleeting day,
In joyous scenes passed pleasantly away,
Courtiers and cits her early dupes were made,
And Lords and lawyers joined to make her trade.
The Church, the ball, the playhouse, and the Park,
By turns she viewed, where many an amorous spark
Gazed on her face, and sought the prize to gain
And few who managed right, sought her in vain.
But still her substance to some favourite went,
For what she lightly earned, she loosely spent,
When Dalton*, wretch of infamous renown,
Hugged her a while, and held her as his own
Told her of honour's lies, and love sincere
Till laws relentless robbed her of her dear,
Whose wig box still she keeps to look upon,
In pious memory of the man that's gone.
Muse, cease awhile thy progress to puruse,
And deign her chamber furniture to view.
But ah! Her fates are crossed, her times accursed
Her second lodgings are not like the first.
A bed there was indeed, but such a one
As she before had never lain upon.
A broken punchbowl on a table stood
With sundry implements of tin and wood,
Pots, pints and pipes lay scattered round the room,
Some from the ale-house, from the gin-shop some
At her bed's head a matted chair was placed,
With a large basin, and a bottle graced,
The first for water used, for light the last,
For through the neck full many a candle passed;
Strange signs of poverty, but sages say,
That wealth has wings, and swiftly flies away.
Her modish hat aloft, and cloak below
Hung on the chair, no mighty moral show
That birch was useful, ancient fathers held,
To lay the headstrong member which rebelled,
But now for different ends our females praise it,
And swear, found flogging is the way to raise it.
Two heads beneath the shattered windows hung,
Sacheverel's and Macheath's, remain unsung,
Both doctors in their way, both high renowned,
The merits like, and with like honours crowned,
Vast plunderers both, and excellently paired,
Who nor for country, nor for Conference cared.
This, a lay-brother, famed for whores and wine,
And that, a robber of the race divine,
This, for our coin, set up a bold pretence,
That, for our laws, our liberties, and sense.
But stay, my Muse, nor farther push the joke,
Lest you the Church's wrath provoke;
The sequel tell, for while fat Grace and she
Were full engaged one morning at their tea
Where their tea-table was a plain joint-stool
A pat of butter, and a halfpenny roll
Their humble fare, the butter thither sent
On title-page from Pastoral Letter rent.
As madam in her dishabille surveyed,
A watch, her mighty industry had made;
And squabby Grace, abridged of half her nose,
Slow, from her seat, to fill the teapot rose,
Sir John**, and all his Myrmidons appeared,
With clubs and staves equipped, a numerous herd,
The surly knight intrepid led the van,
But stopping short, her curious form to scan,
The beauties of her air, her face, and shape,
Did on his zeal well-nigh commit a rape
Softened his rage, and almost drew him in,
To fall a victim to the pleasing sin,
Till reassembling all his scattered powers,
"Courage, my boys!" he cried, "The fort is ours
Ne'er fear to make your regular approach,
See here the signs of yester-night's debauch.
And thou, vile siren, these delusive charms,
No more shall tempt fresh lovers to thy arms,
No more in vice shalt thou triumphant reign,
Nor make the public loss thy private gain.
The due rewards of wantonness to receive,
And for thy former follies learn to grieve."
This said, his stern attendants seized the pair,
Deaf to their cries, relentless to their prayer,
And speedily to Bridewell both conveyed,
To teach their tender hands a tougher trade.
* James Dalton, the street robber, lately executed
** Gonson


Plate 4 
Moll beats hemp in Bridewell Prison 
 

Moll is in Bridewell Prison. She beats hemp for hangman's 
nooses, while the jailer threatens her and points to the task. 
Fielding would write that Thwackum, one of Tom Jones's 
sadistic tutors, looked precisely like the jailer (Tom Jones 
3:6). The jailer's wife steals clothes from Moll, winking at 
theft. The prisoners go from left to right in order of 
decreasing wealth. Moll is standing next to a gentleman, a 
card-sharp whose extra playing card has fallen out, and who 
has brought his dog with him. The inmates are in no way being 
reformed, despite the ironic engraving on the left above the 
occupied stocks, reading "Better to Work/ than Stand thus." 
The person suffering in the stocks apparently refused to work. 

Next is a woman, a child who may suffer from Down syndrome 
(belonging to the sharper, probably), and finally a pregnant 
African woman who presumably "pleaded her belly" when brought 
to trial, as pregnant women could not be executed or 
transported. A prison graffito shows John Gonson hanging from 
the gallows. Moll's servant smiles as Moll's clothes are 
stolen, and the servant appears to be wearing Moll's shoes. 

�� Unsanctified by priests,
Behold the punishment of lawless love

Maria (for that name the last she chose)
Ere a base crew disturbed her calm repose
Who could, but now, in peaceful progress stray,
From place to place, and this, or that survey
Her ease enjoy, and lie in bed till noon,
And what she pleased, to do, or leave undone,
Doomed to confinement now, and labour hard,
From all the pleasing sweets of life debarred,
In Bridewell, at the monstrous hemp-block stands
And wields the ponderous mallet in her hands.
The keeper, tyrant of tremendous force,
Stranger to pity and to soft remorse,
Still exercises his despotic sway
On young and old, who tread that hapless way,
Thrice wretched mortals, whom disastrous fate,
Has e'er enclosed with that massy gate;
Stern are his looks, and boundless is his rage,
And no respect he bears to sex or age
But all who loiter, certainly receive
The smartest discipline his lash can give,
Across their shoulders. His ill-boding eyes,
He throws around, and soon the stranger spies,
And thus accosts her "These brocaded clothes,
(Sure bait for empty fops, and powdered beaus,)
Ill suit your state �� Madam, don't think to waste
Your present time, as you have done the past,
When you in lewdness took your first career,
For idleness finds no indulgence here;
Exert your strength, and all your muscles strain
Bridewell's a different place from Drury Lane,
But if hard work, and homely fare, displease,
One long inured to luxury and ease,
View well this weapon, its just weight discern
And soon from thence your future conduct learn.
If flogging fails, these awful stocks survey,
Behind your back, and dare to disobey
That lazy rascal Mark, whose rebel hands
Are there fast fixed, and dread my just commands.
Howe'er, if these should insufficient prove,
To warn or fright you from a life you love,
The whipping-post more prevalent than both
To cure a wretch of indolence and sloth."



Plate 5 
Moll dying of syphilis 
 

Moll is now dying of syphilis. Dr. Richard Rock on the left 
(black hair) and Dr. Jean Misaubin on the right (white hair) 
argue over their medical methods, which appear to be a choice 
of bleeding (Rock) and cupping (Misaubin). A woman, possibly 
Moll's bawd and possibly the landlady, rifles Moll's 
possessions for what she wishes to take away. 

Meanwhile, Moll's maid tries to stop the looting and arguing. 
Moll's son sits by the fire, possibly addled by his mother's 
venereal disease. He is picking lice or fleas out of his hair. 
The only hint as to the apartment's owner is a Passover cake 
used as a fly-trap, implying that her former keeper is paying 
for her in her last days and ironically indicating that Moll 
will, unlike the Israelites, not be spared. Several opiates 
("anodynes") and "cures" litter the floor. Moll's clothes seem 
to reach down for her as if they were ghosts drawing her to 
the afterlife. 

No wicked whores shall have good luck,
Who follow their own wills,
But purged shall be to skin and bone
With mercury and pills.
�� Pope's version of 1st Psalm

Say, pitying muse, how direful are the pains,
Which vicious pleasure in its womb contains!
On her short joys what various woes attend,
What miseries hasten young Maria's end!
Grant me the comforts which from virtue spring
Pure are her raptures, for they have no sting.
They glad the mind, and (as the morning dew
Cheers the green herbs,) remain forever new
Her peace is lasting, and the bliss sincere;
Sweet in reflection, and to memory dear:
Not such the scenes, that follow boundless lust
All are betrayed, who to its flattery trust.
Deluding sense! What do thy votaries gain?
A moment's pleasure, and an age of pain.
Maria wept when in the dismal jail,
Nor wept in vain: e'en there her tears prevail,
And purchase her release: but scarce was she
From Bridewell's painful drudgery set free,
E'er strange disorder her fair frame invade;
Her charms decay, the boasted roses fade
On her pale cheek, and now a lingering fire,
Not such as used to warm her loose desire,
Mars her fair form, and taints her beauteous skin
With many an ulcer foul: sharp pains within
Rack every joint, and torture every bone,
What heart untouched, could hear her piteous moan.
Sure, strictest virtue might let fall a tear,
And wish the pangs of folly less severe.
Each heavy day was witness to her cries,
Each night redoubled her dire agonies.
"Ah! Grace," said she, "would I had never seen
This wicked town, then happy had I been:
Wanton ambition led my thoughts away,
And made me, foolish, from my parents stray.
Or had I been some honest poor man's bride,
I'd lived in comfort, and with honour died
No infamy had then disgraced my name,
Nor vile disease consumed my tender frame
My father's counsel, and my mother's tears,
Are now remembered, and increase my fears."
"With patience," Grace replied, "your pains endure:
Nor doubt the doctors can your illness cure.
What if your case should make you be laid down
So have been half the ladies of the town.
I'll hire a nurse experienced in the art,
And ne'er myself from your dear side depart.
But dangerous is delay: if you're agreed,
I'll fetch the doctor here with utmost speed."
Maria yields, and soon the quack is brought,
With countenance of weight, and seeming thought,
He boasts what mighty cures his pills have done;
What myriads he has saved; ne'er died but one,
Of all the thousands who implored his aid;
Nor had he perished, but he disobeyed
His salutary rules. "Then banish fear,
A month or two," says he, "will make you clear
As is a new-born babe: again the rose
Shall grace your cheek, and captivate the beaus.
A gentle salivation will remove
Your racking pains, and make you fit for love."
Maria full of promised health, prepares
For all his skill can do, or ignorance dares.
And now, my muse, purvey th'afflicted fair,
In flannel wrapped, and seated in her chair:
While mercury exerts its conquering force,
And to salival glands directs its course.
Noble specific! Glorious is thy use,
'Tis thou alone canst trace the poisonous juice:
Thy powers the latent ruin can expel,
To its most hidden source, and ordered well,
Thy subtle parts the inmost frame pervade,
And sinking nature feels thy sovereign aid.
By thee refined, the blood revives again,
And new-born health flows fresh in every vein.
But other scenes arise; when untaught hands
Profane thy powers, O ever murderous bands!
What wide destruction your vile trade does spread:
What numbers can suffice to count your dead.
To fame for ever be your names unknown,
Or with contempt read in your bills alone
Whose gilded frauds the easy crowd elude
With promised life and constant health renewed.
The wretched and the weak the bait receive,
For ignorance is aptest to believe.
Officious Grace thought all his boasting true
Then fetched another of the butchering crew.
And now the sun had set; the sad tenth day,
Since first the fair became their helpless prey,
When both the sages in Maria's room,
Attend their medicines, and her hapless doom.
Ill-boding symptoms crowd upon the sight,
A ghastful scene, and full of wild affright.
Grace scared, with squalling roused the doughty pair
In musings deep; when hasty from his chair
The meagre quack,* whose aid was last implored
Astonished rose, and 'gainst his brother roared.
Rising, his foot Maria's stool threw down,
When the Scheme Practical of cheap renown,
Her daily study, fell upon the ground,
With shattered cups, and ink-glasses around.
Loud raged the doctor' ire; "'Tis done," he cried,
"You've killed the girl, if ever woman died
You boast arcanas that will still prevail,
E'en my electuary I fear will fail:
To such distress is she reduced, alas!
Ye gods, what wretches for physicians pass?
The Don returned, with grave contemptuous leer,
"You blame my medicines, sure you only jeer.
Though dire convulsions every nerve load strain,
This phial holds what soon would case her pain,
What wondrous cures can this my nostrum do,
Such nor Hippocrates nor Galen knew,
Learning's all cant; the college I despise,
This is my own; disease before it flies:
Vanquished in every shape; by this my name,
Shall swell the volume of immortal fame.
Your fears the danger make; but grant it were
As your own ignorance great, I'd not despair,
With this one vital draught to cure the fair.
Whilst thus in senseless noise they spent their breath,
Maria sunk into the arms of death.
How changed that beauteous face, how swoln the tongue,
Whose siren music caught the gay and young.
Lost are the charms which raised the world to lust
What art thou all, vile putrefying dust,
Shocking to sight! Such ghastly scenes attend
On vicious ways, such is their wretched end.
Amidst the hurry and confused alarm,
Caused by her death, while yet her flesh was warm,
The Drury nurse her old advantage makes;
Rifles her trunk, and thence her treasure takes.
Her fan, her mask, her garments new and old,
Whate'er her hands can grasp, or apron hold.
While by the fire Maria's harmless boy
The lusty product of her guilty joy,
Was placed, a piece of roasting meat to turn
Lest its scorched sides irregularly burn
One hand the string, one did his head engage
Mindless of mamma's fate, or doctor's rage
The wooden mantle-piece above was graced,
With pots and phials in due order placed,
High overhead were shifts and stockings strung,
Here stood a bed-pan, there a clyster hung
Never did art a better help produce,
Of application odd, but noblest use.
* Dr. M�sa�n.


Plate 6 
Moll's wake 
 

In the final plate, Moll is dead, and all of the scavengers 
are present at her wake. A note on the coffin lid shows that 
she died aged 23 on 2 September 1731. The parson spills his 
brandy as he has his hand up the skirt of the girl next to 
him, and she appears pleased. A woman who has placed drinks on 
Moll's coffin looks on in disapproval. Moll's son plays 
ignorantly. Moll's son is innocent, but he sits playing with 
his top underneath his mother's body, unable to understand 
(and figuratively fated to death himself). 

Moll's madam drunkenly mourns on the right with a ghastly 
grinning jug of "Nants" (brandy). She is the only one who is 
upset at the treatment of the dead girl, whose coffin is being 
used as a tavern bar. A "mourning" girl (another prostitute) 
steals the undertaker's handkerchief. Another prostitute shows 
her injured finger to her fellow whore, while a woman adjusts 
her appearance in a mirror in the background, even though she 
shows a syphilitic sore on her forehead. The house holding the 
coffin has an ironic coat of arms on the wall displaying a 
chevron with three spigots, reminiscent of the "spill" of the 
parson, the flowing alcohol, and the expiration of Moll. The 
white hat hanging on the wall by the coat of arms is the one 
Moll wore in the first plate, referring back to the beginning 
of her end. 

--to the Coffin, from the Cradle,
'Tis all a Wish and all a Ladle.
	� PRIOR.

Still deign, my muse, thy progress to pursue,
And the last scene Maria's funeral view.
Ill-fated nymph, by vanity betrayed,
And unto vice an easy victim made.
By flattery's gilded bait; but ah! How rare,
How hard not to be vain, and yet be fair!
O beauty, fatal good; whose power disarms
The wise and great; how dangerous are thy charms
To rash unguarded youth: what snares attend
The hapless maid, who has no other friend 
The prude may censure safe her own form,
Whose hostile aspect wants the power to warm 
But sure thy martyrs claim a pitying tear;
As soon the rose might flourish all the year 
Untouched, as beauty without wisdom's aid
Escape the wiles by man's deep cunning laid 
The harmless nymph; untaught in every fraud,
Hears the gay spark her powerful charm applaud;
Joys, at the sound, and by his vows is won,
Nor deems the tempter false till she's undone 
O tyrant custom! How unjust thy laws,
To brand the injured fair, and spare the cause.
Seducing man, him free from censure leave
With guile unpunished, others to deceive.
Such was Maria's fate! Such Chloe's too!
Who leaning, stands to take a last fad view,
Of her departed friend; to whom the used
To tell her sorrows, when by rakes abused 
When awed by bullies, or in watch-house pent,
For giving ill-formed words too free a vent:
With hands up-lifted, O! What change she cries,
Pale are those lovely cheeks, and closed those eyes 
Whose pleasing fires did every youth enflame;
Whose lightning darkened love where'er it came 
How marred that beauteous skin, whose lily white,
Filled every eye with wonder and delight 
Unhappy nymph! Thee did I dearly love,
Ne'er shall thy image from my heart remove.
O cruel death! Couldst not thou find a prey,
Who sought thy dart, and cursed thy dull delay.
But thou must strike my friend, in whom was seen
Each tempting grace, and fair as beauty's queen.
By all the brave was her loved converse sought.
To her the rich and great their offerings brought.
How sweet she sung; ne'er shall my soul forget
Her charming voice and entertaining wit,
When last together we regaled with tea,
How full of mirth, how pleased, how brisk was the.
Heart-breaking thought! To be cut off so soon,
In blooming youth, 'ere life had reached its noon,
Thus pensive Chloe mourns Maria's fate,
Nor thinks how shortly 'twill be her own state.
Soon will that lovely form, that charming face,
To wasting illness yield each tempting grace.
Those beauteous breads white as the new fallen snow,
Whose swelling tides with love's soft ardour glow:
By other fires consumed shall loon decay,
And leave to death an uncontested prey.
Six sisters more, to Venus, votaries all,
Invited came, 'twas theirs to hold the pall.
With Phyllis famed for prettiness and parts,
For smart intrigue, and all seducing arts.
There Bentley* too was seen, with forehead broke,
Some ruined fair gave the too gentle stroke.
Fouled deformity, vile sink of sin,
Who for th'unwary spreads her fatal gin.
Monster accursed, incarnate fiend, whose food
Is slaughtered innocence, and virgins' blood.
She first the raw, unthinking, nymph betrayed,
Then triumphed in the conquest she had made.
Now o'er her corpse the guileful harpy cants,
And wrings her hands, but still remembers Nants,
Which by her side the e'er was wont to place,
To ease her sorrows, and her griefs efface.
The hateful basilisk with hideous squall,
Does for her Polly, her lost Polly bawl.
Together Martha and Eliza stood,
In converse deep, with each her mourning hood:
And as they gazed upon the breathless clay;
Each strove a tributary tear to pay.
"Ah!" Martha cried, "how oft we've spent the nights,
In joyous scenes and amorous delights.
But Christ for sinners died; no doubt but she
Will by his merits live; or how shall we
Expect to see the glorious face of God,
Who long the paths of wickedness have trod."
"'Tis true," returned Eliza, "God is good,
And Christ has bought us with his precious blood,
Or we had all been lost: come let us drink,
Nor on such melancholy subjects think."
Thus they by education far misled,
Nor own heaven's kindness, nor its justice dread.
Young Dorothy, a vain aspiring lass,
Had placed herself before th'instructing glass;
To fix each patch in most becoming place,
And add to native charms a killing grace.
Here mournful Isabella wipes her eye,
And o'er Maria cries, or seems to cry.
To Sue the biscuit hands, and both prepare,
With soul-reviving wine to heal their care.
A blade who did the funeral supply,
Whose friends oblige him, only when they die.
As Sally's gloves, his trembling hands drew on,
Gazed on her charms till his fond heart was gone
With eyes up-lifted, in a loving mood,
Th'enamoured fool her graceful features viewed.
"O nature's master-piece!" he cried, "O fair,
O charming creature, O beyond compare,
Beauty's perfection, I with thee could live
In all the joys that love and life can give.
But soon will he repent each amorous leer,
And load with curses his bewitching dear.
Sally, who ne'er forgot to play her part,
Regarded more his pocket than his heart.
From thence his handkerchief the slily took,
While with an artful and ensnaring look,
She him amused with talk about her glove,
Or smart reproaches for his ill-timed love.
Maria's offspring on a stool was placed,
With all the pageantry of sorrow graced:
No grief his thoughtless innocence annoyed,
A castle-top his busy hands employed.
To Phyllis next turn thy all watchful eye,
Observing Muse, and a new scene descry:
A son of Levi, destitute of grace,
Touched with her air, and gazing on her face,
For amorous reasons to himself best known,
Had placed her on a chair next to his own:
Nor weeping sisters round, nor corpse before,
Could cool his fire, or damp his new amour.
Strange scene in modern times! In former days
When holy ignorance held reason's place,
Priests might uncensured quench their wanton flame,
And no dull layman dare his lord to blame.
To such a height was ghastly bondage brought,
By Jesuit arts they governed every thought:
By fears of that to come, this world they gained,
And o'er the servile mind despotic reigned.
Their baleful tyranny all limits broke,
Or still the hood-winked world had felt their yoke.
Still did their empire hold, and they were thought
Heaven's high ambassadors, till better taught
By their low earthly views, th'astonished crowd
Found 'twas to idols, like themselves, they bowed.
Thence firm discernment rose, thence men began
To lay the priest aside and view the man.
Sweet source of liberty! Blest dawn of light,
That freed the mind from bigotry's black night.
Garbs change not men, and maugre cleric wrath,
Or bold pretence of dignity of cloth,
Devised to awe the superstitious throng,
To goodness only reverence does belong.
But cease, my muse, thy wanderings to pursue
And of our Levite take a stricter view,
Who close by Phyllis sat. One hand did hold
The trembling glass; but, never be it told
Where t'other was engaged. His eyes grew dim,
Nor saw the wine o'erflow the crystal brim,
Sly Grace, who served the sprightly nectar round,
Guessed where his hand might be, and grimly frowned.
At other times 'twould not have raised her ire;
But decency, she thought did here require
A conduct less impure: and in a priest,
'Twas bad as fornication at the least.
Regardless, he, of Grace's frowns, or aught
That might induce the mind to serious though,
Commences lover, and to Phyllis sues
As ardently as for parochial dues:
Praises her face, her shape, her comely mien,
Protests his love, and hints at charms unseen.
Arch Phyllis smiled, "Fie sir, you spill the wine,
Is this employment worthy a divine?
Cease your lascivious airs; your cloth should be
Examples to such ignorant things as we.
Strait from your head there foolish freaks remove,
Is this a time, at funerals, to make love?"
"My dear," he cried, "thou fairest of the fair,
Love will atone for all; your censures spare,
Such charms as yours bid every doubt depart;
Despise confinement, and engross the heart.
The reverence due to our black cloth I know,
And what to our sacred character I owe.
But still be witness every day and hour,
We too are nature's sons, and feel her power."
"I find it," Phyllis, with a sneer replied,
"I thought your sacred vestments did but hide
The natural man: and when you'd seem a saint,
It ever brought to mind a fable quaint,
Which Aesop of a dronish creature tells,
And in his stories sage instructions dwells.
This creature filled with pride, long studied, how
To make his brethren to his honour bow.
Mean in himself, incapable of aught
That could create the least admiring thought.
At length by chance a lion's skin he found,
And joyous wrapped the noble booty round.
His homely body then with lordly mien,
He strutted forth, but ah! His ears were seen.
Your pardon, sir, I would not think all such
Who wear the sacred cloth, nor blame too much;
To some is due a venerable name,
Whose hallowed breast burn with a purer flame."
Thus wanton Phyllis lashed the Levite's lust
With bitter sarcasms, and reproaches just.
A while he showed resentment, and complained
Of mean reflections, and his order stained
With scandal false! Then cried he'd her confute,
In proper place, and end the long dispute.
Phyllis agreed; and what they after did,
Or where they met, is from my knowledge hid.
Maria's funeral now required his care;
But cease, my muse aught further to declare:
As, o'er what grave now hovers her pale shade
Or who her low emblazoned 'scutcheon made
Three spigots, in three faucets placed, rehearse;
Arms worthy harlots, but too mean for verse
*Mother Bentley, a noted bawd.


Anti-Pamela by Eliza Heywood (1742)
Haywood, Eliza. Anti-Pamela; or, Feigned Innocence Detected 
(1742).
https://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/haywood/pamela/pamela.
html



Title Page

ANTI-PAMELA; 
 
OR, 
Feign'd Innocence detected; 
 
In a SERIES of 
SYRENA's ADVENTURES.
A NARRATIVE which has really its Foundation in Truth and 
Nature; and at the same time that it entertains, by a vast 
variety of surprising Incidents, arms against a partial 
Credulity, by showing the Mischiefs that frequently arise from 
a too sudden Admiration.

--------------------------------------------------------------
--------------
Published as a necessary Caution to all Young Gentlemen.
--------------------------------------------------------------
------------
Fatally fair they are, and in their Smiles 
The Graces, little Loves, and young Desires 
inhabit; 
But all that gaze upon them are undone; 
For they are false, luxurious in their 
Appetites, 
And all the Heaven they hope for is Variety. 
One Lover to another still succeeds; 
Another, and another after that, 
And the last Food is welcome as the former; 
Till having lov'd his Hour out, he gives his 
Place, 
And mingles with the Herd that went before him.
ROWE'S Fair Penitent.
--------------------------------------------------------------
------------
LONDON: 
Printed for J. Huggonson, in Sword-and-Buckler-Court, 
over against the Crown-Tavern on Ludgate-Hill. 
M.DCC.XLII.



Chapter I.

Syrena was a girl, who even in her cradle gave the promise of 
being one of the completest beauties of the age: as her years 
increased, and her features grew more settled, her loveliness 
increased in proportion; but what was most to be admired in 
her was, that the innocence which is inseparable from infancy, 
and which is so charming, even in the plainest children, never 
forsook her countenance; but continued to dwell in every 
little turn and gesture long after she came to maturity, and 
had been guilty of things, which one would think should have 
given her the boldest and most audacious air.

Her mother, though in very mean circumstances, when she was 
born, flattered herself with great things, from the growing 
beauties of her sweet babe; and though she had other children, 
this alone engrossed her whole attention: I say her mother, 
for her father, at least him, whom the law would have obliged 
to own her, died soon after she came into the world; and was 
incapable of receiving any share either in the profits or 
disgrace of our little Syrena's future conduct.

Being therefore left entirely to the care of a parent, who had 
been a woman of intrigue in her youth, was far from repenting 
what she had done; and one of the most subtle mistresses in 
the art of decoying that ever was; the girl was not out of her 
bib and apron, before she instructed her in lessons, which she 
had the wicked satisfaction to find, her pupil knew not only 
how to observe, but also to improve.

She had not reached her thirteenth year, before she excelled 
the most experienced actresses on the stage, in a lively 
assuming all the different passions that find entrance in a 
female mind. Her young heart affected with imaginary accidents 
(such as her mother, from time to time, suggested to her might 
possibly happen) gave her whole frame agitations adapted to 
the occasion, her colour would come and go, her eyes sparkle, 
grow languid, or overflow with tears, her bosom heave, her 
limbs tremble; she would fall into faintings, or appear 
transported, and as it were out of herself; and all this so 
natural, that had the whole college of physicians been 
present, they could not have imagined it otherwise than real.

Thus was she trained up to deceive and betray all those whom 
her beauty should allure; but she had not so soon as she 
wished an opportunity of discovering how well she should 
behave, when what had yet only been ideal, should come to be 
real matter of fact; for being very little of her age, the men 
took no farther notice of her, than to say she was an 
exceeding pretty miss--a very fine girl--that she'd soon be a 
delicate creature, and such like compliments, that were 
nothing to the purpose at present.

About this time several of her mother's relations, as she had 
some that lived well, and in good repute, knowing the 
indigence of their condition, and that they were obliged 
frequently to have recourse to them, for even the common 
necessaries of life; began to ask what was intended to be done 
with Syrena, for the other children were all taken away by the 
friends of one side or the other; to which finding no 
determinate answer, they advised the mother, to put her to a 
milliner or mantua-maker, though the latter they seemed to 
think most proper; not only because there required no stock to 
set up with, when her apprenticeship should be expired; but 
because also they thought that in that business, having to 
deal only with persons of her own sex, she would be exempt 
from those temptations her youth and beauty might expose her 
to in the millinery way. One of these gentlewomen was so good, 
as to promise she would give fifteen or twenty pounds with her 
to a mistress she should approve. The mother durst not refuse 
so kind an offer, and assured her generous kinswoman she would 
enquire about it; but as this was not the manner in which she 
desired to dispose of Syrena, she still found excuses to evade 
the matter, and pretended she could not hear of any fit place.

As there seemed no room to suspect the truth of what she said, 
or that a parent would not be glad her child should be in a 
way of getting a handsome living; this truly honest and worthy 
friend, took upon herself the trouble of looking out for a 
mistress, and in a short time was informed of one who had very 
great business, and was a woman of a sober and unblemished 
character. The mother of Syrena had no objections to make, the 
terms between them was soon agreed upon, and the girl was to 
go one month upon trial; after which the indenture was to be 
made, and the money paid by the good gentlewoman, who had 
taken all this pains, out of a conscientious regard for the 
preservation of a young creature, who she thought deserved it; 
and who might otherwise be drawn into those snares, too often 
laid for youth and innocence; especially where there is an 
indigence of circumstances, and which a much better education 
than could be expected than poor Syrena had been blessed with, 
is not always a sufficient guard against.

Syrena, who had always been soothed with the hopes of living 
grand, either by marriage, or a settlement from some man of 
condition, could not endure the apprehension of sitting all 
day to run seams; nor was her mother better pleased at this 
putting her girl out of fortune's way, as she called it; but 
as she resolved it should not be for any continuance, she was 
the more easy, and made the other so too. Care was to be taken 
however not to disoblige their benefactress, and they both 
affected the highest gratitude to her, and satisfaction in 
what, indeed, was most irksome to them.

Here one cannot forbear reflecting, how shocking it is, when 
those who should point out the paths of virtue, give a wrong 
bent to the young and unformed mind, and turn the pliant 
disposition to desires unworthy of it; but more especially so 
in parents, who seem ordained by heaven and nature, to instil 
the first principles for the future happiness of those to whom 
they have given being; and though we cannot suppose there are 
many, who like the mother of Syrena, breed their children up 
with no other intent than to make them the slaves of vice, yet 
if we look into the world, and consider the number of 
unfortunate women (as they justly call themselves) I believe 
we shall find the miseries these poor creatures undergo, and 
frequently involve others in, less owing to their own 
inclinations, than to the too great indulgence and false 
tenderness of their parents, who flattering themselves that by 
breeding them like gentlewomen, and setting them forth to the 
utmost of their abilities, and often beyond, they shall be 
able to make their fortune by marriage, give them ideas no way 
to their advantage. What compassion is due to a mother, who 
having no portion to give her daughter, shall fill her head 
with notions of quality; give half a crown for the cutting her 
hair, when perhaps half the money must serve the whole family 
for a dinner; make her wear gloves, night and day, and scarce 
suffer her to wash a tea-cup for fear of spoiling her hands; 
when such one, I say, shall cry out "My daughter is undone," 
and exclaim against the cruel man that has robbed her of her 
child; who can avoid accusing her as the first seducer of the 
girl's virtue, by flattering that pride and vanity in her 
nature, which without some extraordinary providence, indeed, 
must render her an easy prey to the first temptation that 
offered itself. But as this is an observation, that must occur 
to every thinking person, I ought to beg my reader's pardon 
for the digression, and return.

The day prefixed for the departure of Syrena, the good-natured 
kinswoman came and took her up in a hackney-coach with her 
mother, who it was thought proper should go with her, and a 
trunk with a few clothes in it; which the other looking over, 
told her, it should be better filled if she was a good girl, 
and behaved herself well. "I hope madam," answered the young 
dissembler, "I shall never do anything to forfeit the favour 
of so kind, so generous a relation; and if I could be capable 
of any pride, it would be to carry myself so, that the 
mistress I am going to, should give you such a character of 
me, as would convince you I am not unworthy of your favours. 
This speech, accompanied with a thousand modest graces, so 
charmed the person it was addressed to, that she took her in 
her arms, and said, "I have not the least doubt about me, that 
you will deserve much more encouragement than is in my power 
to give; but," added she, "you may be assured I will do all I 
can." Many such like expressions of kindness on the one side, 
and gratitude on the other, passed between them till they got 
to the end of their little journey, where they were very 
handsomely received and entertained by Syrena's intended 
mistress; and our young hypocrite so well acted her part, 
affecting to be highly pleased with the place and person she 
was to be with, and testifying no farther regret at parting 
from her mother, than just so much as served to show her duty 
and affection, that she was looked upon as a prodigy of 
sweetness and prudence.

Thus was she entered on a new stage of life; but in what 
manner she was used, and her behaviour in it, can be no way so 
well represented, as by her own letters to her mother; the 
first of which was wrote three days after their separation.

Thursday afternoon.

Dear mamma, 
	Though my mistress has promised I shall go to see you 
next Sunday, if the weather proves fair, I could not forbear 
writing to let you know how I go on. I assure you all here are 
very kind to me in their way. I lie with my mistress's sister, 
and breakfast and dine with them; for they say they see 
something in me that deserves better treatment than any they 
have had before; but all this don't make me easy. I could not 
live as they do for the world; and I believe I shall find it a 
hard matter to stay my month out, they are such an old-
fashioned sanctified family. Ah, mamma, what a difference 
between this and home! We rise every morning at eight o'clock, 
have but one hour allowed for breakfast, and then to work, the 
same for dinner, and then to work again; no tea in the 
afternoon, unless company comes, and then at night, my master 
who has a place in the stamp-office, comes home about nine; he 
and my mistress and her sister sit down to eat a bit; after 
that, I and the maid, and an old woman that has been a nurse 
in the family, are called into prayers, and so to bed. This 
they call a sober regular life--my stars! Defend me from such 
formal ways! I am quite sick of them already. I pretend, 
however, to be mighty well pleased, and do everything they bid 
me with a great deal of cheerfulness, but it goes so against 
the grain, that I know I can't do so long. Therefore, dear 
mamma, remember your promise, and contrive some way to get me 
as soon as you can out of this bondage, who am, 
	Your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. They don't know of my writing, so I have no compliments 
to send you.

Monday morning.

Dear mamma, 
	I fretted myself almost sick that I could not come to you 
yesterday; but you saw it rained incessantly. Indeed I long to 
see you; and the more, because an adventure has happened to 
me, which I don't know but may come to something, if I manage 
right. I'll tell you exactly how it was, and then you will be 
the better able to advise me. You must know, Mrs Martin, my 
mistress's sister, and I, lie in a dark closet, within the 
dining-room; so I go there as soon as I am up, to comb my head 
and put on my cap in the great glass; but I am always in such 
a hurry to get my things on before my master and mistress 
comes down, that I never minded who observed me. I was 
observed however, and all my motions watched, from the first 
day I came it seems, as you shall hear. Last Friday some silk 
[thread] being wanting for our business, and the maid sent out 
another way, my mistress bade me step for it: I asked if she 
had any particular place where she bought. "Yes," said she, 
"but that's too far off: for I generally buy a large quantity 
together of a wholesale dealer in the city, so you may go to 
the haberdasher's at the corner of the street, and get a 
quarter of an ounce for the present, but be sure you match the 
colour;" with these words she gave me a bit of the damask, and 
I said no more, but went on my errand. The shop was very full 
of people when I came in, and among them a fine gentleman with 
a laced hat and cockade, looking over some white stockings, so 
I was obliged to wait till most of them were dispatched. All 
the time I could see the gentleman had his eye upon me, and 
when all were gone besides ourselves and the gentlewoman 
behind the counter; "How do you do, my pretty neighbour?" said 
he. "Very well thank you, sir," answered I, blushing and 
curtsying, as you bid me when any stranger spoke to me, "but I 
han't the honour to know you. " "For that matter," cried he, 
"the honour would be wholly on my side, if you had found 
anything in me to take notice of; but I assure you I lodge 
just over against you. I was at my window when you came out of 
a hackney-coach, accompanied by two grave gentlewomen, who I 
suppose were your relations; I saw too much of you then, not 
to wish to see more; and I can tell you the pleasure of 
looking on you, while you are setting those pretty locks of 
yours in order, has made me an early riser." As he spoke these 
words, he took hold of my hair as it hung down on my neck, on 
which I frowned, and snatched away my head. "I did not know 
that I had any over-lookers," said I, "but since I have, shall 
be more careful for the future;" then I turned to the woman of 
the shop, and desired she would make haste to weigh me the 
silk, for I could not stay. "Nay, my sweet miss," said he," 
you must not be angry. I mean no harm to you. I have only a 
small favour to beg of you, which you must not refuse me." 
"All the favours I can grant" answered I, "must be small 
indeed." "What I have to ask is such," said he, "it is no more 
than to choose a pair of stockings; I am obliged to make a 
present of a pair to a young relation in the country, and 
would have your fancy;--pray let us see some of your best 
women's silk stockings," added he, to the woman; "Yes sir," 
cried she, and immediately turned to reach a parcel down. "I 
have no judgment, upon my word, sir," answered I, a little 
peevishly, "so pray madam let me have the silk." "No, no, I 
bar that," cried he, "first come, first served, you know miss 
is the rule; and as I was here before you, I insist on having 
my stockings before you have your silk." I said nothing, but 
pretended to be mighty uneasy, though in my heart I was well 
enough pleased. Well! The stockings were brought, and he would 
have me choose; so I picked out a pair of white with pink 
clocks, for there was none with silver. He made me a 
compliment on the genteelness of my fancy; and having paid for 
them, and two pair of fine thread for himself, "Now, miss," 
said he, "you must accept of what you have made choice of, and 
put them into my hand with a squeeze, that made my fingers 
ache for an hour after. I was very much surprised I confess, 
not expecting any such thing, but I threw them down on the 
counter, and told him, I never took any presents from 
gentlemen: he attempted to force them upon me again and again, 
but I would not take them all he could do; and there was a 
great scuffle between us. At last finding I was resolute, he 
put them with the others into his pocket, and went out of the 
shop very much out of humour. After he was gone, the woman of 
the shop began to banter me, and told me, I had made a 
conquest; but I seemed to think nothing of it, and went away 
as soon as I had got my silk. I prevented my mistress from 
asking why I stayed so long, by telling her, the shop was so 
full of customers, that I could not get served, at which she 
seemed not at all surprised. When I began to consider on what 
had passed; I thought I had been a little too rough in the 
latter part of my behaviour; for though I did not repent my 
having refused the stockings (though indeed they were very 
pretty) yet I did, that I had not done it with more 
complaisance. I verily believed he loved me; but then, as it 
was a passion of so late a date, it might want a little hope 
to give it strength; and though it was necessary I should seem 
coy, yet it should have been such a coyness, as might give him 
room to fancy I might at last be won; and so have drawn him in 
by degrees, till it was not in his power to go back. These 
reflections kept me awake all night, and when morning came, I 
dressed me at the usual place; but that I might not seem too 
forward, I put the window-shutters ajar, so that I could see 
him through the crack, without his distinguishing me. I was 
glad to find he was at his post, because it looked as if he 
had not given over all thoughts of me; I wanted to show myself 
to him too, but could not tell how to do it, without making 
him think I did it on purpose. At last I bethought me of our 
cutting-room, which is over the dining-room. I ran up there, 
and finding the window open, stood some time; but he not 
expecting me so high, never lifted up his eyes; so I took a 
bottle with some mint growing in it, and threw it into the 
street; the clash made him look up; he seemed pleased to find 
there what he had so long been looking for in another place, 
and kissed his hand with a great deal of gallantry and 
tenderness; I seemed confused, but made a bow, and soon after 
retired. I saw him no more that day, but yesterday and this 
morning we have exchanged glances several times through the 
glass. Dear mamma, I am impatient to know if I have behaved 
hitherto as I should, and how I shall proceed for the future; 
for I am certain by all his ways he loves me, and that 
something may be made of him, for he must be rich; he goes as 
fine as any lord, and has a man that waits upon him: so pray 
write your mind with all speed, and send it by old Sarah; but 
don't let her give it me before any of the family, for fear 
they should expect me to show it them; but she may come as 
with a compliment from you to them, and to know how I do: so 
dear mamma, no more at present, but that I am 
Your most dutiful daughter, 
Syrena Tricksy.

Monday afternoon.

Dear mamma, 
	As I was coming from putting my letter to you, into the 
post-house; who should I see in the middle of our street, but 
my lover, (for I think I may venture to call him so now) 
talking to another fine gentleman. I found he saw me, and it 
presently came into my head to make trial of his love; so 
instead of going home, I turned down a little court, I don't 
know the name of it, but it goes into Covent Garden, and 
walked slow. I had not gone many paces before I heard somebody 
come very fast behind me, I did not doubt but it was my 
gentleman; and so indeed it proved; for having overtaken me, 
"So my little cruel dear," said he, taking hold of my 
shoulder, have I caught you abroad once more. I pretended a 
great fright and confusion, and desired him to take his hand 
away; "Not without you'll tell me where you are going, and 
permit me to accompany you," said he. "Lord, sir," cried I, 
trembling, "I am only going to--to--" "Where my dear?" again 
demanded he. "Only to Covent Garden," answered I, "for a 
little fruit." "Well, said he, and where's the mighty business 
if I go and buy a little fruit too." I begged he would not, 
told him we should be taken notice of, and said all I could, 
but he swore he would go with me, and go with me he did. When 
we came among the stalls he would needs fill my pockets with 
the best the market afforded; I would have paid for them, but 
he would not let me, and I thought it would be carrying the 
thing too far, to make a bustle in that public place; so I 
thanked him, and was going to take my leave. "No," said he, 
"since opportunities of speaking to you are so scarce, I am 
resolved you shan't quit me now, till you have heard what I 
have to say;" and with these words took hold of my hand, and 
attempted to pull me into the tavern, at the end of the 
piazza. I was frighted now in good earnest; and snatching my 
hand away with more strength than could be expected from me; 
"What do you mean, sir," said I, "what do you take me for?" 
"For everything that's charming." answered he "By heaven! I 
would rather die than offer anything should give you cause of 
offence; therefore, dear angel, oblige me so far, as to go in 
for one quarter of an hour only." "Not for a minute," cried I, 
"I would not set my foot in a nasty tavern for the world." 
"Fie, fie," said he, "I shall suspect you for a little prude 
if you talk at this rate," and looked I thought as if he took 
me to be silly. "I don't care what you suspect me for, 
answered I," and turned away as if I was going home; but he 
came after me, and begged that since I would not go into a 
tavern, I would take a little walk with him in the church-
yard, just to let him tell me something. This I was not averse 
to in my mind, for I longed to hear what he had to say, and so 
after some seeming reluctance I complied. dear mamma, 'tis 
impossible for me to repeat the fine things he said to me, and 
much more to express the tenderness with which he spoke them. 
He swore that his intentions were perfectly honourable, that 
his heart told him the first moment he saw my face, that I was 
the person that must make him happy or miserable for ever, 
that he could not live without me, and that if he had millions 
he would lay them at my feet; and sighed at every word as if 
his heart were breaking. I replied very little to all this, 
and seemed to think him not in earnest; but then he swore a 
thousand oaths, and offered to give me any proof I asked, 
though 'twere his life. Indeed mamma, I never read more moving 
things in a play, but I did not seem to believe him for all 
that, and was for hurrying away; but he would not let me go 
till I had promised to meet him on Wednesday at the same 
place. So pray let me have your advice before then, whither I 
shall keep my word or not, and how I shall behave, for I am 
quite at a loss. Let old Sarah come by all means. I am, 
	Dear mamma, 
	your most dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

The answer to these two letters came to her on Wednesday 
morning by old Sarah, as she had desired, and contained as 
follows.

Wednesday morning.

Dear child, 
	I received your letters, and am very much surprised to 
find you have gone so far in a love intrigue, in so short a 
time: I perceive nothing, however, to condemn in your 
behaviour hitherto. Your refusal of the stockings, your giving 
him an opportunity to speak to you a second time, and the 
confusion you affected were all perfectly right; but I am a 
little angry that you so readily believe what he says, and 
seem assured of his affection. I doubt not, but he likes you, 
but my girl there is a wide difference between love and 
liking; the chief aim of the one is to make the beloved object 
happy: that of the other, only to gratify itself. now your 
business is by an artful management to bring this liking up to 
love, and then it will be in your power to do with him as you 
please. but after all, I am afraid he is not worth taking much 
pains about. If he be only an officer, as I guess by his 
cockade, 'tis not in his power to make you any settlement as a 
mistress; and as a wife; when children come, what is a 
commission! or what a pension to the widow, left perhaps in an 
advanced age, when 'tis out of one's power to mend one's 
fortune any way. No, child! 'Tis your business to make hay 
while the sun shines, for when youth and beauty are no more--
farewell hope! I could wish notwithstanding you knew his name, 
and what family he is of. He may be born to an estate, and if 
so, his passion must be cultivated. it won't therefore be 
improper to give him the meeting to-night, but continue your 
shyness; yet so as to give him some little encouragement too, 
that you may the easier get out of him what he is; for there 
is no advising you how to proceed till we know that. be sure 
you write me a full account of what passes between you, on 
Thursday morning; and if you come on Sunday, shall then give 
you instructions suitable to the occasion. I hope you do not 
stand in need of any caution against indulging a secret 
inclination for him; for if it once comes to that you are 
ruined! No woman ever made her fortune by the man she had a 
sincere value for. Depend upon it, in a little time you will 
see finer gentlemen than he, be he as fine as he will. Let 
your own interest be your only aim, think of nothing, but how 
to be fine yourself; and by keeping in that mind you will be 
happy, and also make so, 
	Your affectionate mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

P.S. I charge you not to be prevailed upon to go into any 
house with him. I don't like his asking you to go into the 
tavern.

Syrena was rejoiced to find by this, that her mother approved 
of her keeping the assignation, and had before prepared an 
excuse to her mistress for going out. Her lover had detained 
her so long on Monday, that she was obliged to say when she 
came home, that in stepping out to buy a few apples, she had 
met with a relation who was very glad to see her, and to hear 
she was so well put out; and added, that she had bid her come 
to see her on Wednesday in the afternoon, for she had 
something to make her a present of. "Well," said Mrs Martin, 
to whom all this was spoke; I'll prevail on my sister to give 
you leave, for 'tis pity you should lose anything for not 
going for it." The good gentlewoman performed her promise, 
little suspecting the truth, and Syrena put a handsome Paris 
cap in her pocket, which at her return, she pretended had been 
given her by her cousin; but in what manner she had in reality 
been engaged, she gave her mother a faithful account of, the 
next morning, in these words.

Thursday morning.

Dear mamma, 
	Having your permission I went at the appointed time, 
which was four o'clock, to the church-yard. My gentleman was 
there before me, and his eyes sparkled with joy as soon as he 
saw me coming: he ran to meet me; "My dear angel," said he, 
"the place we are in will not permit me to throw myself at 
your feet, as I ought to do, to thank you for this favour; but 
be assured, my heart is more your slave than ever by this 
goodness." "Sir, I have been taught," answered I, "that to be 
guilty of a breach of promise, is the worst thing almost that 
a person can be guilty of, so have always been careful to 
avoid that fault with everybody." "But may I not hope," 
returned he, "that you make some distinction between me and 
others, and that I owe this blessing to something more than 
merely a punctilio of honour." "I wish, sir," said I, "that I 
have not given you too much cause to think so; for as the 
promise I made you was upon a sort of compulsion, I might have 
dispensed with it". This I spoke, mamma, in a more tender air 
than ever I had done before; in hopes by seeming open and 
unguarded to him, he might in reality be so to me; and indeed 
it answered my expectation, for on my representing the hazard 
I run in my reputation, for meeting by appointment with a 
gentleman, who was a perfect stranger to me, he readily told 
me his name was Vardine, that he was of French extraction, and 
his parents among those who quitted their estates and country 
for the sake of religion; and that they being dead, a person 
of quality, but who he did not mention, had been so good to 
procure him a commission in the army: he concluded this 
narrative of himself with telling me, he expected to be 
preferred, for at present he was only a lieutenant; and that 
if I could once be brought to love him, he would make me a 
happy woman. I thought of you then, mamma, and how lucky it 
was for me, that I had not set my heart upon him. I took no 
notice however of the baulk it was to me, but seemed very 
civil and obliging. He pressed me again to go and take a glass 
of wine with him, but I absolutely refused that; however, 
being afraid somebody might happen to come through the church-
yard that might know me, we crossed, at my request, the 
garden, and struck down Southampton Street, and so into the 
Savoy, where we walked about an hour: he all the time 
entertaining me with praises of my beauty, and the impression 
it had made on him. Indeed I stayed with him more to accustom 
myself to hear fine things said to me, and to practice an 
agreeable manner of receiving them, than anything else; for as 
you say, mamma, he is neither fit to make either husband or 
gallant to one in my circumstances; so I am resolved to think 
no more on him. I am a little vexed though now, that I did not 
take the stockings, for as there is nothing to be done with 
him, 'twould have been clear gains; but I did not know then, 
his fine clothes deceived me; and methinks I am sorry he has 
not an estate, for he has wit at will, and I am sure loves me 
to distraction; and so you would say, if you heard him as I 
have done. But that's nothing to the purpose, let him love on. 
I shall trouble my head no more about him, but wait with 
patience till something offers more to my advantage. He would 
fain have exacted another promise to meet him again; but I 
told him it was not in my power, if even I had an inclination, 
I was much so confined; and if ever he had an opportunity of 
speaking to me again, it must be chance that gave it him. he 
complained bitterly of my cruelty; but I was not to be 
persuaded, and left him as much mortified as the account he 
had given me of himself had made me. I shall see you on 
Sunday, and if anything should happen before, then, shall not 
fail to let you know it. Till then I am, 
	Dear mamma, 
	your dutiful, but disappointed daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Hitherto Syrena had disguised nothing either of her behaviour 
or sentiments from her mother; but a very little time made her 
alter her conduct in that point, and practice on her some of 
those lessons of deceit, she had so well instructed her in. 
Friday in the afternoon, as she was sitting at work, old Sarah 
came in: she was surprised to see her, and asked hastily if 
her mamma was well. "Yes, miss," said Sarah, "very well; but 
hearing me say, I was coming this way, she desired me to call 
and give you her blessing, with these three yards and a half 
of dimitty; she says, if your mistress will be so good to cut 
it out, and give you leave to run it up at a leisure time, it 
will serve you in a morning to comb your head and wash in, and 
save your other clothes;" as she delivered this message, she 
gave her the bundle, and at the same time slipped a letter 
into her hand unperceived by anybody. The mistress who was 
present, said Mrs Tricksy was a very good mother; and she 
might be sure, the girl should find time to make her gown very 
soon. Sarah then told her, they hoped to see her on Sunday, 
which the other promised, and the old emissary went away.

Syrena could not imagine the reason of her mother's writing 
again, when she expected to see her so soon, and as she 
thought had no farther advice to give her, concerning the 
lieutenant; being full of impatience to see what it contained, 
she soon made a pretence for going out of the room, and read 
these lines.

Friday noon.

Dear child, 
	Though I hope to see you on Sunday, I could not refrain 
giving you some remonstrance, which every hour's delay of, may 
render less effectual. I have not slept all night for thinking 
on some passages in your letter. Ah, Syrena!--Syrena! I am 
afraid you like this poor idle fellow, more than it may be you 
are yet sensible of yourself. Why else are you sorry he has 
not an estate? If he has not an estate others have, that, 
perhaps, may find you as agreeable as he has done. you have a 
very great opinion too of his wit, and of his love; suppose 
you are not mistaken, he is only the more dangerous, and you 
ought the less to trust yourself with him. I charge you, 
therefore, to shun him henceforward. Be as industrious to 
avoid all opportunities of seeing him, as 'tis probable he 
will be in seeking them. You already believe all the fine 
things (as you call them) that he says to you; and knowing by 
experience, how susceptible the heart is at your years, I 
tremble lest all the counsel I have given you, should not be 
sufficient to guard you from the temptation. Don't think 
child, that I want to lay you under any unreasonable 
restraints. No, if we were rich and above censure, I should be 
far from putting any curb to nature; but as all our hopes 
depend on your making your fortune, either by marriage or a 
settlement equal to it, you must be extremely cautious of your 
character till that point is gained, and when once it is, you 
may freely indulge your inclinations with this, or any other 
man. you see, I do not, like most parents, want to deprive you 
of the pleasures of life; I would only have you first attain, 
that which alone can give them a true relish; for love in rags 
Syrena, is a most despicable thing. Therefore, I once more lay 
my commands upon you, to speak no more to this paltry Vardine; 
and to endeavour with all your might, to conquer whatever 
sentiments you may be possessed of in his favour, which is all 
that can restore peace of mind to her, who is at present, 
	Your most discontented mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

P.S. Come as early as you can on Sunday.

Syrena was not very well pleased at the contents of this 
letter: she thought there was no occasion for this caution; 
and that she had said enough to convince her mother, that she 
had no regard for anything in competition with her interest. 
"Why then," said she, "must I be debarred from speaking to a 
man that loves me? A little conversation with him sometimes 
would certainly instruct me better how to behave to the sex, 
than a thousand lessons; besides, I might get some small 
presents from him; but she will needs have it that I am in 
love, forsooth! Not I, indeed, I did not care if he was hanged 
for that matter; but there is something pleasingly amusing, in 
being addressed by a man that admires one, and can talk well. 
In the insipid life I lead here, 'tis necessary I should have 
some diversion to keep up my spirits. she owns my conduct has 
been perfectly right hitherto, why then should it not be so 
still? Why must I run away whenever I see him, as if I were 
afraid he would devour me? Indeed, I shan't make myself such a 
fool. If fortune or his own endeavours throw him in my way, I 
shall hear what he has to say, and it may be manage, so as to 
get something of him, poor as she thinks him."

Thus did vanity, self-conceit and avarice, tempt her to 
despise the admonitions of her crafty mother, and make her 
resolve to act henceforward of herself.

When Sunday morning came, as she stood drawing on her gloves 
at the window, she saw him at his ready dressed; she presently 
imagined he was ready so early, for no other reason than to 
watch her going abroad; but she had not indulged herself with 
this idea above three minutes, before it was entirely dashed: 
he took up his hat and cane and went out of doors, without so 
much as looking up. "Ha!," cried she in a pet, "is it so, you 
are strangely altered methinks. mamma need not have been so 
fearful. The coldness of my behaviour last time, has certainly 
made him resolve to give over all thoughts of me."

So instead of thinking she had been too kind, she was 
beginning to repent of not having been kind enough; and in the 
room of avoiding her man, was fearful of nothing so much, as 
not being pursued by him. In this ill-humour she went out of 
her mistress's house; but was no sooner in the street than she 
perceived the person who had occasioned it, at the corner of 
that court, where he had once before overtaken her. Her heart 
bounded with joy at the sight of him, not doubting if he stood 
there for any other purpose, than to observe which way she 
went. She deceived not herself in this; he soon came up with 
her, and accosted her with more gallantry than ever. She 
pretended to be greatly alarmed at seeing him; entreated he 
would leave her, and told him she had suffered enough already 
by the little acquaintance she had with him. "Somebody," said 
she, "saw us together in the church-yard, and told my mamma, 
who is so angry, that she vows she won't own me as her child, 
if ever I speak to you again". "Your mamma," answered he, "is 
ignorant of the respect I have for you. Besides, all old 
people have odd notions in their heads--but, my charmer," 
continued he," this might have been avoided if you had 
complied with my request, and gone into a tavern." "O! That 
might have been worse," cried she. "Much better for us both," 
said he; "at least if I am not the object of your aversion; 
for you would have been convinced of the sincerity of my 
passion, and I should have been happy in your being so; but 
I'll warrant," added he, "the same scrupulous modesty that 
made you refuse me then, will not suffer you now to accept of 
a coach where you are going." "Not for the world," replied she 
hastily, "I am going to my mamma, who expects me; and if she 
should send anybody to meet me (as 'tis likely she may, for 
she is violently suspicious since she heard that story) I 
should be undone; so pray, sir, don't go any farther with me." 
He seemed to believe what she said; but swore that whatever 
was the consequence he would not quit her, till she promised 
to meet him in the afternoon. "O dear!" cried she, "then we 
may be seen again." "No, said he, "I'll be in the Birdcage 
Walk in St. James's Park, about four o'clock, and if you'll 
come we'll strike up into the fields behind Buckingham House, 
where we may be private enough." "Well," said she, "I like 
this better than going into a tavern, and if I can get away 
from mamma, I will do thus much to oblige you." He called this 
but a half assurance, nor would leave her till she protested 
in the most solemn manner, that she would be at the place he 
mentioned. Had he known her mind, he might have spared himself 
the trouble of exacting a vow from her, for the fear of losing 
the first lover she ever had, rendered her in so complying a 
humour, that she was ready to grant almost anything to secure 
him.

The reception she had from her mother, was such as she 
expected from her letter; but by telling part of the truth, 
she so cunningly concealed the rest, that artful as the person 
she had to deal with, was, there remained not the least 
suspicion in her breast. "The foolish fellow watched me out," 
said she, "but I gave him such looks, as I believe put half 
what he intended to say to me, out of his head; but yet he 
would come with me, and talk his stuff, so I told him we had 
been seen together in the church-yard, and you had been made 
acquainted with it, and were very angry; and for my own part I 
did not like to be followed about, and did not know what he 
meant by it; but whatever designs he had upon me, he should 
find himself disappointed; that I could neither like him nor 
love him, nor desired to be loved by him, and a great deal 
more to the same purpose. And at last he said; he had been a 
fool to trouble himself about me, that I was a proud, pert 
minx, and so went strutting away highly affronted. I dare say, 
mamma, I am quite rid of him now, and I hope you will be so of 
all your fears for me." Mrs Tricksy was perfectly well 
satisfied with this account, and after a little ridicule on 
the folly of women, who suffer themselves to be seduced by 
fine speeches only, they fell into other conversation, such as 
the affairs of the family Syrena was in, and the methods that 
were to be taken for her coming away at the month's end; till 
the young gipsy remembering her assignation, said "What a sad 
thing it is to be confined, mamma, now I have not seen you for 
almost for a fortnight, and must not stay with you but a small 
part of the day." "How so child," cried the mother? "Why," 
said the other, "my mistress dines abroad on an engagement 
made long ago, and poor Mrs Martin is almost dead with the 
headache, so she begged I would come home soon, for 'tis our 
maid's Sunday to go out, and she should be alone." "I thought 
you had an old nurse in the house," said Mrs Tricksy. "Yes," 
answered Syrena, "but she has been these two days with her 
grandson who has the smallpox." "Well then," returned the 
mother, "I would not have you do anything to disoblige Mrs 
Martin, or any of them, because they may give you a bad word 
to your cousin. You shall go as soon as dinner is over." When 
the time grew near, Syrena played loath to depart to the life, 
and seemed ready to whimper, but her mother forced her away; 
and she departed laughing in her sleeve, and applauding her 
own ingenuity in outwitting so penetrating a judgment.

Vardine was in the park before the hour prefixed, and Syrena 
scarce exceeded it; the afternoon being gloomy, there was but 
little company, especially on that side, so they chose to 
entertain each other there, rather than walk farther; but this 
was no sooner agreed upon, than there fell so violent a 
shower, that had it continued, the trees under which they 
stood for shelter, would not have defended them from being 
wet.

Happily however for them, and all that were abroad, the sky 
cleared up, yet not enough to give any prospect of a fair 
evening, so he could not desire her to stay, without showing 
he had little regard of her health; they walked pretty fast 
till they came to Spring Garden, when it began to rain again: 
he called a coach, but there was none in hearing, and they 
were obliged to stand up in a tavern entry, though when she 
ran in, she knew it not for such; and when she did, would have 
quitted it, though all the doors beside being shut, she saw no 
other refuge from the storm. Nothing could have happened more 
lucky for Vardine's designs: he had now a very plausible 
pretence for persuading her to go into a room. "It would be a 
piece of strange affectation," said he, "to choose to stand in 
a place where we are exposed to the view of everybody; (and 
you see how many people pass) rather than go with a man who 
loves you, and whose every action you may command." With such 
like arguments she was at last prevailed upon, and he ordered 
some wine to be made hot with spice and sugar. After they had 
drank a glass or two, "Now," said he, "where is the mighty 
business of going into a tavern? Is it not better sitting here 
than strolling the streets, as if no house would receive us?" 
"'Twould be more comfortable indeed," answered she, "if it 
were not for the scandal." "There is no scandal in it," cried 
he; "beside, who need know it, unless we tell it ourselves, 
for the drawers here are as secret as confessors." "That may 
be," said she, in a sort of childish tone; "but methinks I am 
ashamed to know I am here myself." "That's for want of knowing 
the world, my dear," replied he. "In such weather as this the 
veriest puritan would have made no scruple. Did not Dido, 
though a great queen, run into a cave with a wandering soldier 
to avoid a storm." "Great folks may do anything," said she, 
"but pray what is that story?" "I'll tell you anon, my dear," 
answered he, "but first pray ease me of this luggage. I have 
had your stockings in my pocket all day, and now I desire 
you'll take charge on them yourself." With these words he laid 
them on the table before her. "My stockings," said she, 
"indeed they are none of mine; and I won't have them." "But 
you shall, and you must," replied he, "you chose them, and 
they are bought and paid for;--but maybe you think they won't 
fit. I should know that, because they may be changed. I can 
tell in a moment, by grasping your pretty leg." Here he made 
an offer of doing as he said, but she resisted with all her 
strength, crying out at the same time, "Hold! Hold! I will 
have them--they will fit;" and glad enough she was to take 
them, though in reality a little frightened at the manner in 
which he forced them upon her. He found she trembled, and 
would not alarm her modesty too much at once, so drawing back 
his hand, "Don't be under any apprehensions my sweet 
innocence," said he; "upon my soul I mean no hurt to you, and 
did this only to oblige you to accept my little present." 
"Well, I'll believe you this time," answered she, "but pray 
don't offer such freedoms any more, for if you do, I'll never 
speak to you again." He then made her drink another glass of 
wine in token of forgiveness; and that being followed by 
several others, her young brain unaccustomed to such an 
increase of heat, began to grow confused, and she lost all 
memory of the place, or danger she was in: he plied her all 
the time with protestations of love, and sometimes by way of 
parenthesis gave her a kiss, which he had the satisfaction to 
find she less and less resisted.

How ought, therefore, the fair sex to beware of indulging even 
the very temptation of a vice, which I am sorry to say is at 
present too prevalent among them. I need not say I mean that 
of drinking, which indeed opens the way to all others; the 
example before us of a girl trained up in precepts directly 
opposite, to giving way to any tender inclinations, and taught 
that the only thing she had to avoid, was the bestowing any 
favours but where interest directed; now, by the mere force of 
liquor, betrayed to yield to the impulse of nature, and resign 
that jewel, on which all her hopes of living great in the 
world depended, to a person from whom she could have no 
expectations, and for whom what she felt could not justly be 
called love; this, I say, may be a warning to all of what 
principles and station whatever; since there are dangers 
arising from this pernicious custom, as well in the closet as 
in the street, though perhaps of a different nature.

The young officer perceiving the ground he gained, did not 
fail pursuing the attack, and bombarded her so fast with 
speeches out of plays, tender pressures, kisses, and the more 
intoxicating juice of the grape, that at length the town was 
wholly his. The momentary rapture over, the power of 
reflection returned to this unhappy ruined girl; she 
reproached him and herself; she wept; she exclaimed;--but it 
was now too late. He said a good many fond things to her, but 
he made a jest of her complaints; "Why, my dear," cried he, 
"you desired to know the story of Dido and �neas, and I have 
more than told it to you, for I have acted it to the life." "O 
wicked! Wicked man!" cried she, and sobbed most bitterly. He 
then endeavoured all he could to set her mind at ease: he made 
a thousand vows of everlasting constancy, and that when his 
affairs were once settled, he would make her his wife; at last 
she grew a little more composed; and it being now dark, began 
to think what excuse she should make at home for being out so 
late; her ready invention soon supplied her with one, and a 
coach being called, he set her down at the end of the street, 
after having made her promise to meet him again the first 
opportunity, which she was to let him know by a sign from the 
window.

The good people at home were very much frighted at her staying 
so late, for it was near nine, and as much rejoiced to see her 
safe returned: she told them, that being just coming away, the 
rain obliged her to stay; and that afterwards a person who 
happened to dine that day with a lodger in the same house, 
offered to set her down if she would stay her time; "So madam, 
said she, "I accepted her favour, as it was a bad evening; and 
hope you would not be offended." "Not in the least," answered 
her mistress, "I am very glad it happened so."

As Syrena had a share of understanding uncommon for her years, 
she could not recollect what had passed between her and 
Vardine, without a great deal of uneasiness; but her vivacity 
and strength of spirits soon threw it off. She considered that 
as it was past recall, to hurt her eyes and complexion, by 
crying and fretting, would increase not diminish her 
misfortune; and therefore resolved to be entirely secret in 
the matter, and get as much as she could from him, in 
recompense for what he had robbed her of. How she should 
contrive any future meetings with him, was now the chief 
employment of her thoughts; but though she racked invention to 
the utmost pitch, she could not hit on anything that had not 
some danger of discovery. She saw her lover the next morning 
at his window as usual, but had no sign to make but a 
melancholy shaking her head, accompanied with a look that told 
him, it was not owing to her inclinations, that they had not a 
nearer intercourse. The next day it was the same, and probably 
would have continued so till Sunday, had not fortune 
befriended her endeavours.

A gown being in hand, Syrena was ordered to go to the lady's 
house for silver lace to trim it. What would she not have 
given to have known this in the morning,--but it was now too 
late. Vardine was abroad, and she knew not where to send to 
him. It came into her head however as she was in the street, 
not to go, but to walk about a little, and return home, 
pretending the lady had not bought the trimming, and had bid 
her come for it the next day at three in the afternoon: this 
was feasible enough, and passed current with people that had 
not the least suspicion of her conduct.

Possession had not so far abated the fervour of her gallant's 
affections, but that he attended the window as before, and she 
had the opportunity of making him know he might see her in the 
afternoon; which was done by pointing to the street, and 
holding up three fingers, in signification that three o'clock 
was the time. He expressed his satisfaction by a thousand 
tender gestures; but she was obliged to leave him in the midst 
of them, fancying she heard somebody coming upstairs. She had 
indeed more than ordinary reason now for being cautious, not 
only because guilt naturally makes people so, but also, 
because his standing so much at the window had been taken 
notice of: the maid told her one day as she was washing her 
hands in the kitchen, that she was sure she had got a 
sweetheart since she came. "A sweetheart!" said Syrena. "What 
do you mean, Margaret?" "I mean as I say," answered Margaret; 
"the gentleman that lodges over the way is as surely in love 
with you, as I am alive." "I never go to the door or into the 
parlour in a morning, but I see him staring at our windows, as 
if he'd lose his eyes; and it must be for you, for there's no 
other young body in the house;" "Why not yourself," said 
Syrena, "you are not old." "No, no, I am not so vain," cried 
Margaret; "but if I were, he takes care to undeceive me; for 
the minute he sees me he pops his head in." Syrena laughed, 
and the maid being called, there passed no more between them; 
but this served her as a good warning to be circumspect; for 
she very well knew that if her conversation with him were once 
but so much as suspected, it would break the neck of her 
designs every way.

When it grew near three Syrena reminded her mistress, that it 
was the time for her to go; and received the praise her 
supposed diligence seemed to deserve. Vardine was at the usual 
corner, and having a coach in waiting at the end of the 
street, they both stepped into it, and drove immediately to 
the same tavern they had been in before.

The pains she took for this interview may very well be taken 
for the effect of love, as indeed it was; but not of the man, 
though something belonging to him. She had seen a very genteel 
snuff-box in his hand of pinchbeck's metal, which she mistook 
for gold: this box had run in her head ever since Sunday; and 
she languished with impatience for an opportunity, which she 
hoped would make her mistress of it.

She was not deceived in the complaisance of her lover, though 
she was in the value of the thing she had set her heart upon; 
for by praising and looking earnestly on it, she so artfully 
insinuated she had a mind to it, that he soon made her a 
present of it. They passed about an hour together, in the 
manner persons usually do, who see each other on the terms 
they did; and parted with a promise of meeting at the same 
place at four o'clock, as she came from her mother's next 
Sunday. After which she went on the business she was sent, and 
was dispatched time enough not to make her mistress think she 
loitered; though, to excuse her stay, she pretended she had 
waited a good while before the lady could be spoke with.

She had now nothing to think on, but what she should wheedle 
him out of next: he had no ring on his finger, no laced 
ruffles, or anything fit for her to ask. She therefore 
contrived a stratagem to get a small sum of money from him 
(for she did not imagine he could spare a large one) and 
executed it in this manner.

When she came to the tavern, where he was ready to receive 
her, she put on so wild confused a countenance, as made him, 
when about to take her in his arms, start back and ask if she 
were not well. "Yes," said she, "I am well enough in health--
but the saddest accident--O that I had been sick, or dead, or 
anything, so that I had not come out this day!" Then she threw 
herself into a chair, and burst into tears. He pressed her 
very endearingly to tell him the occasion; but all the answer 
she gave him was, "O! I must never look my mamma in the face 
again. O! I am undone--I durst not go home--I cannot tell what 
to say, that will pacify my mistress--sure I am the most 
unfortunate creature in the world." "What, my dear," said he, 
"nothing concerning me, I hope, is discovered?" "No," replied 
she sobbing, "but I'll tell you the whole business. You must 
know, continued she, that my mamma, borrowed five guineas of 
my mistress, upon a very great exigence: she gave her a note 
for it, and a time was prefixed for the payment; it became due 
yesterday, and my mamma having the money ready, desired the 
note might be sent by me, as I was to come this day. O! 
Unhappy day that it is to me, I'm sure." "Here she feigned as 
if she could not speak again; but then seeming to recover a 
little, "in short, said she, "I carried the note, my mamma 
gave the money to me, and I put it into my purse, where I had 
a few pieces of silver of my own; but they are all gone 
together. Either some rogue has picked my pocket, or I have 
pulled out the purse with my handkerchief." "An ugly accident 
indeed, my dear," replied he gravely, "but might have happened 
to anybody. You must even tell the truth." "O! cried she, 
"'tis a sign you don't know their tempers; they would tear me 
in pieces. My mistress would think it a trick between mamma 
and me, because I carried the note; and mamma beside would be 
obliged to pay. O! What shall I do? I'll never go home again, 
unless I have the money." She run on in this manner for a good 
while, without his offering to interrupt her; which she had 
cunning enough to look on as no good omen of success; and 
finding she must speak more plain, "O! If you loved me half so 
well as I do you," said she, "you would not see me fret so; 
you'd give me or lend me such a trifle." "I protest, child," 
replied he, "I have not so much about me." "Well," said she, 
"you may leave me at the corner of our street while you fetch 
it." "That I would willingly do," returned he, "but if you 
must know, I am not at present master of so much." "But you 
can borrow it," cried she; "Nor can I borrow it anywhere that 
I know of," answered he; "I never asked such a favour of 
anybody but our agent, and he happens to be out of town; so 
you had better own the truth." "I dare not," said she, and you 
only persuade me to run the risk of it, because you don't care 
to part with your money." "Upon my soul," answered he, "I have 
it not; see here," continued he, pulling out his purse, and 
throwing two guineas on the table; "this is my whole stock, 
besides a little silver in my pockets." "But you have a gold 
watch," returned she, "and anybody--the very people of this 
house, I'll warrant you, would lend you five pounds upon it 
till your agent comes to town." "Excuse me, my dear," replied 
he somewhat haughtily, "I never pawn, nor can I part with my 
watch on any consideration; we in the army are obliged to 
observe time." "Well," cried she, sobbing again, "I see that I 
am miserable. You have ruined me, and now neither love nor 
pity me." "That's unkind, "said he, "I would serve you if it 
were in my power, but this you ask is not. If these two 
pieces," added he, would make your mistress easy--" "Give them 
to me," interrupted she, "I'll tell her, mamma received but 
half what she expected, and could send no more than two, but 
she should have the other three some day this week; but then 
you must be sure to get them for me." He would fain have 
persuaded her to have told the accident; he said he could not 
be assured of receiving money so soon, and would be loath to 
disappoint her. In fine, they had many arguments, he to keep, 
and she to get the two guineas. At length he found himself 
forced in a manner to recede, and she pocketed the two pieces. 
"Well," said she, "I'll tell my mistress, that I forgot to 
bring back the note; but, my dear, dear Vardine, don't fail to 
procure me the other three by Tuesday." "I can't promise it so 
soon as then," replied he, you must say Thursday or Friday" 
"Ay, let it be Friday," since she found she could do no 
better, she urged it no farther, and began to grow more 
cheerful, but the young officer could not so readily dissipate 
his gloom: he was not quite satisfied with the story she told 
him, and began to fear his little mistress would become too 
expensive to him. He concealed his sentiments, however, as 
well as he was able, and when the close of day reminded them 
of parting, ordered a coach, and set her down at the same 
place where he had taken her up. As she took her leave, 
"Remember Friday, and the three guineas," said she, "I shall 
look for you at the corner of the court, about ten in the 
morning, and if you fail, will never speak to you again." "And 
if I do, child," answered he, "I'll never venture to look thee 
in the face again."

Now did Syrena glory in the power of her beauty and invention, 
she thought it impossible for mankind to refuse her anything; 
and though it was with difficulty she had gained her point 
with Vardine, she imputed it only to the scantiness of his 
fortune; and did not doubt but to find articles to get greater 
sums of him, though he even sold his commission to raise them 
for her: but her triumph lasted not long. Friday morning 
Syrena happening to come into the dining-room, before the maid 
had quite finished putting it in order, "O miss!" cried she, 
"you have lost your admirer" "I did not know I ever had any," 
answered Syrena; "but what do you mean, Margaret?" "Why," said 
she, "the gentleman that I told you of over the way, that used 
to stare up so." Syrena's heart fluttered at these words, and 
in the present confusion, she cried hastily, "Well, what of 
him?" "He has left our neighbourhood," replied Margaret; "as I 
was washing our steps about an hour ago, I saw a hackney coach 
at the door with a portmanteau and other luggage before it, 
and presently in stepped the beau, and cried, 'Drive away 
coachman.'" "Pish!" said Syrena, "thou art always troubling 
one with some stuff or other; what was the fellow to us, I 
wonder." She said no more, nor, indeed, was she able, nor to 
stay any longer in the room, without discovering her disorder. 
She ran upstairs, though she knew not why, she doubted not the 
truth of what the maid had said. She saw the window open, but 
no lover appear. She sat down, pondering on this adventure, at 
last recollected herself. "Well," said she, "a thousand 
accidents may have obliged him to quit his lodging, but that 
does not follow, that he must therefore quit me." He will 
certainly be at the place he promised at the appointed time. I 
will at least make myself easy till then."

Soon as she heard the clock strike ten she ran out, pretending 
she had broke her lace, and must go to buy another; but no 
Vardine could she see. She stayed a few minutes walking about 
the court, flattering herself still with the hope that he 
would come; but instead of him, a sort of ill-looked fellow 
came up to her, and asked if her name was not Syrena Tricksy, 
and on her saying it was, gave her a letter, which she hastily 
opening, found in it these few, and little pleasing lines.

"Dear girl, 
	"Our regiment is ordered to the west, and thence, I 
believe, to Ireland: I was too lately apprised of it to 
take my leave of you--make yourself as easy as you can--
when I come back I shall with pleasure renew my 
acquaintance with you, 
	"Yours, &c. 
	"J. Vardine.

"P.S. I am sorry I could not comply with your request."

Rage did not so far bereave her of her senses, but that she 
asked the fellow a great many questions, but he either could 
not or would not answer anything to the purpose; and all she 
could get from him was, that the letter was given him by a 
gentleman at a coffee-house, who ordered him to wait in that 
court till she came, and deliver it to her.

It must be confessed, this action of Vardine's was cruel and 
ungrateful. What must have become of the undone and forsaken 
Syrena, had she been possessed of that softness and tenderness 
which some are; but as she was capable of loving in reality 
nothing but herself, and carried on a correspondence with him 
merely on a mercenary view, she was not much to be pitied. The 
mortification of her pride and avarice, however, gave her 
agonies which she before had no notion of; and made her the 
more easily counterfeit an indisposition, which was the 
pretence agreed on between her and her mother, for her going 
home at the month's end; and it is certain, she grew so thin 
and pale, that the mistress herself imagined that sitting so 
close to her work had prejudiced her health. She had the good-
nature to offer her the advice of a physician, but could not 
help agreeing with everybody who were consulted about it, that 
it was most proper she should be with her mother, as best 
acquainted with her constitution. In fine, home she was 
brought, nor could that kinswoman who had recommended her, 
take it amiss, when she saw how ill she looked; a violent pain 
in her head and stomach was the complaint; and it seemed 
reasonable to believe, that stooping forward to her work, had 
occasioned it. There was again some talk of putting her to a 
milliner, which was indeed what Mrs Tricksy aimed at; but the 
reasons before alleged against that business, being now 
repeated, stopped her mouth; and nothing seemed now so proper 
for her, as to wait upon a lady. All the relations in general 
approved of this, and promised to enquire among their 
acquaintance for a place for her.

In the meantime Syrena was so far from recovering her former 
colour and vivacity, that she looked worse and worse; and had 
sometimes such sick fits, that her mother began to be afraid 
she had counterfeited a disorder so well, as to bring it upon 
her in good earnest: but her penetration did not permit her to 
continue long in the dark as to the cause. She soon 
discovered, that a too near conversation with a man had made 
the alteration; and not doubting but it was Vardine, accused 
her in such plain and positive terms, that the girl had not 
courage to deny it. She searched her trunk, and found the 
stockings, snuff-box, and two guineas, with the letter, which 
not only let her into the whole mystery of her undoing, but 
her being forsaken also. It would be tiresome to repeat the 
exclamations she made, or the reproaches poor Syrena was 
obliged to bear; 'tis sufficient to say, that the first fury 
of her resentment over reason resumed its place, and as what 
was past could not be recalled, all that could be done, was to 
endeavour to alleviate the misfortune as much as possible: to 
that end, she prepared a strong potion, which the girl very 
willing drank, and being so timely given, had the desired 
effect, and caused an abortion, to the great joy of both 
mother and daughter. After all was over, and Syrena pretty 
well recovered, Mrs Tricksy could not forbear renewing her 
upbraidings; but the other confessing herself to blame, and 
professing her future conduct should retrieve all, at length 
mollified her passion; and the more so, because though she had 
suffered herself to be beguiled by that young officer, yet her 
management of him afterwards showed the instructions given her 
had not been thrown away; and that she had both a genius and 
inclination to make the most of her men, and now an 
opportunity offered to prove her abilities that way.


Chapter II.

She was recommended to the service of an old lady, who wanted 
one chiefly to attend her in her chamber, and read to her till 
she fell asleep. Such an employment would have afforded little 
hope of advancing Syrena in the manner she had desired, had it 
not been for the family the old gentlewoman was in; which 
consisted of her daughter, who was married to a baronet, and 
their son, a fine young gentleman of about twenty-two. This 
last article rendered the place extremely acceptable, and our 
young deceiver being introduced to the ladies, her feigned 
innocence immediately gained their favour; and she was 
received into the house, with the promise of being used very 
kindly. The second day after her coming, she wrote to her 
mother as full an account of the family, as she was able to 
give in so short a time.

Friday.

Dear mamma, 
	How happy would some young women think themselves to be 
in my place, I have so little to do, and am so much respected 
by the inferior servants, that I can scarce think I am a 
servant myself. It is not required of me to rise till nine or 
ten o'clock, and then I go into my lady's room, enquire after 
her health, and give her her chocolate, which is ready made 
and brought up by the upper house-maid: after this, I am my 
own mistress till about one, when she rises, and I help her on 
with her clothes, and see her no more till about eleven, which 
is the time she generally goes to bed. I sit down and read to 
her till she falls asleep, and this completes the work of the 
day. Her daughter's woman has ten times more fatigue than I, 
though her ladyship is reckoned very good too; but I heard by 
the by that she is horribly jealous of Sir Thomas; and that 
makes her a little cross sometimes to those about her; so I am 
glad I have nothing to do with her. I lie with Mrs Mary her 
chambermaid, who is a mighty good-natured creature, and likes 
me prodigiously; it was she gave me the hint about Sir Thomas, 
and bid me avoid him as much as I could; for, says she, "If he 
should take any notice of you, my lady would never rest till 
you were out of the house; and her mother is so fond of her, 
that she would part from anybody rather than give her a 
minute's uneasiness; and I can tell you he loves a girl in a 
corner." So I find, mamma, I must take care of my behaviour; 
as for the young gentleman, I never saw him till this morning 
as I was coming upstairs. I assure you he is not at all 
handsome. You need not fear I shall lose my heart. He did not 
speak a word, but stared at me when I stopped to let him pass, 
and I made him a curtsy, so how things will happen I can't 
tell; but if anything material occurs, you may be sure of 
being immediately acquainted with it, by 
	Dear mamma, 
	your most obedient daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. Just as I had finished the above, my lady's bell rung; so 
not having time to seal it then, I have the opportunity to 
tell you, that as I was crossing the passage, I saw the young 
gentleman again, coming out of his father's closet; I made him 
another curtsy, and blushed, and I thought he looked a little 
red too, but did not speak a word. I hope soon to have more to 
acquaint you with.
Monday.

Dear mamma, 
	I longed to see you yesterday, but did not think it would 
look well to ask to go out the very first Sunday I came. So I 
write to inform you, what has happened since my last. On 
Saturday morning, as I was in a room joining to my lady's 
chamber, tacking a pair of three-double ruffles on her sleeves 
(for she goes as fine and as gay as her daughter, though she 
is so very old) Mr L---- came through to pay his duty to his 
grandmother, as it seems he does every morning, though I never 
happened to be in the way before. He took no notice of me as 
he went, but when he came back, "So my pretty lass, said he, 
you wait upon my grandmother, I think?" "Yes, sir," replied I, 
rising and curtsying, "I am so happy" "I hope you'll have 
cause to think yourself so," returned he, "she is a very good 
mistress, and you look as if you would deserve her favours." 
This was all that passed, and he went directly downstairs. Now 
whether he had any meaning in what he said I can't tell, but I 
could not help thinking it a lucky omen, that the first thing 
he said to me should be, that he hoped I should have cause to 
think myself happy. I should think myself happy indeed, if I 
could get a husband with such an estate as he will have. O, 
what splendour does my Lady L---- live in! How everybody 
worships her; though I must not set my heart too much upon it, 
for fear of a disappointment. But I have something more to 
tell you still, mamma. Yesterday in the afternoon my lady, and 
Sir Thomas and his lady, and Mr L---- went all out a visiting. 
So it being an idle time, Mrs Brown, Lady L----'s woman, and 
the chambermaid and I were got all together over a pot of 
coffee in the back-parlour; and though I believe none of us 
are silly enough to give any credit to what one may fancy is 
to be seen in throwing the grounds, yet to amuse ourselves we 
tossed the cups, as they call it, and were telling one another 
our fortunes, when, to our great surprise, in comes Mr L----: 
we were so busy, that we never heard him, till he was just 
upon us. It seems some of the under-maids happened to be 
standing at the door, and he came in without knocking. He 
found what we were at, and fell a-laughing most prodigiously; 
but the confusion we were all in is not to be expressed. "Nay, 
nay," said he, "I won't disturb you; and since I have caught 
you, am resolved to make one among you; come, which of you is 
the artist?" "I believe, sir," replied Mrs Brown, who had the 
most courage, our skill is pretty equal; though I think Mary 
is rather the best at invention" "Then Mary shall be my 
conjurer," said he; and with these words turned down a cup. 
Poor Mrs Mary was sadly ashamed, and begged his honour would 
excuse her; but he would needs carry on the jest, and forced 
her to take the cup. "Well then,"said she, "here is a great 
house, and a fine lady at the gate, that seems to expect a 
visit from your honour;" and a great deal more such stuff she 
run on with. He laughed again, and said, "As you observed Mrs 
Brown, I find Mary is a great visionary; but she has not 
happened to hit upon my humour. I don't regard fine ladies; 
beauty and innocence have more charms for me than grandeur." 
He looked full at me as he spoke these last words: "then, I 
thank you for my fortune, however, Mary," continued he; "and I 
think I ought to pay for it." With this he gave us every one a 
kiss, beginning with Mrs Brown, and ending with me. But 
indeed, mamma, I am very much mistaken, if there was not a 
great deal of difference between his manner of saluting them 
and me; he seemed, I thought, only to touch their lips, but 
pressed mine so hard that he made them smart. After this, 
"Well," said he, "I won't stay to be a restraint upon you; 
pray pursue your diversion," and so went upstairs.

This accident is very trifling, but everything must have a 
beginning; and therefore I thought fit to let you know it, as 
you shall most faithfully all that happens to, my dear mamma, 
	Your most dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Wednesday.

Dear mamma, 
	I am not half so easy as when I wrote to you last. I am 
afraid, I have made a conquest in the wrong place. I find what 
Mrs Mary told me is true. Sir Thomas can't be content with his 
own lady, though she is allowed to be one of the finest women 
in the kingdom, and is not old now; for they say, she was a 
perfect girl when Mr L---- was born: well, if I were a woman 
of fortune, I'd marry none of them; but I'll tell you, mamma, 
Lady L---- went with some company to the play on Monday; after 
she was gone, Sir Thomas came up into my lady's room, and 
stayed about an hour, and drank wine and eat some jelly with 
her, which I served, as it being in her chamber; when he took 
his leave I was ordered to light him down; I did so, and when 
we came to the door of his study, he took hold of my hand and 
pulled me in: I was so confounded, not expecting any such 
thing from him, who had never before seemed to look at me, 
that I had not power to make any resistance. "Pretty Mrs 
Syrena," said he, "I would not have given you this trouble; 
but for an opportunity to tell you how much I am charmed with 
your person and behaviour." In speaking this he clapped the 
door, but did not lock it. "I beg your honour would not talk 
so to me," answered I, endeavouring to get from him; but he 
held me fast, and in spite of all I could do, forced a hundred 
kisses from me. The more I struggled, the closer he pressed me 
to him; and I don't know how far the old goat might have 
proceeded, if I had not protested, I would cry out and alarm 
the house: he then desisted; but still held me with one hand, 
and with the other took five guineas out of his pocket, and 
would have put them down my bosom; "Say nothing to anybody," 
cried he, "and I'll be a friend to you." "Sir," said I, 
resolutely, "I desire no friendship, but what I shall 
endeavour to merit by my honesty; and as I am Madam S----'s 
servant, shall take no presents from any of her relations, 
without acquainting her with it." "You are young," cried he, 
"and don't know the world yet." "Nor do I desire to be 
informed of it by such means," replied I; and giving a sudden 
spring got loose, and ran upstairs. I thought that I had 
thrown all the pieces down, that he attempted to put into my 
bosom; but when I came to unlace me, I found one guinea had 
slipped in unknown to me. Indeed, I was a little tempted to 
keep it, as believing he would not miss it, in the hurry of 
spirits he seemed to have been; but then again I thought that 
if he did, it would look like an encouragement: so it came 
into my head to make a merit to the ladies of restoring it, 
and at the time show him, that any future attempts he should 
think to make upon me would be in vain. When I went into my 
lady's chamber in the morning; "Madam," said I, "after I had 
read you to sleep last night, I saw this guinea lying on the 
carpet, so I took it up, fearing it might be lost, when the 
carpet was taken up to be shook. I suppose you happened to 
drop it." "No," answered she, "I never carry money loose in my 
pocket. I believe, my son in pulling out some papers, might 
let it fall." "I beg then, madam," said I, "you will be so 
good to return it to him." "No," replied she, "you shall do it 
yourself. When we go to dinner, I'll send for you into the 
parlour." she did so, and having told Sir Thomas, what I had 
said concerning the guinea; I went to him, and made him a low 
curtsy, offering it to him."No, Mrs Syrena," said he, "pray 
keep it yourself, as a reward for your honesty." I humbly 
thanked his honour, and went away; but as I went out of the 
room, I heard Lady L---- say, "Sir Thomas, I am glad you have 
given it to her;" and the butler told me afterwards, that they 
all were full of my praises. Sir Thomas himself, I find is not 
disobliged at this action, for as I went through the dining-
room this morning, to ask how Lady L---- had slept, she being 
a little ill with the headache last night, he was sitting at 
the window, and as soon as he saw me, he rose, and in a low 
voice, said, "I see you have a discretion above your years. I 
will offer nothing that shall alarm you; but I must have a 
moment's discourse with you soon." I was vexed he was there, 
and only answered, "I beg your honour will not think on't," 
and so left him. As to Mr L----, I have not seen him since 
Sunday, but at table when I carried in the guinea, and once in 
my lady's chamber; so I can form no judgment, how far I am in 
his good graces, any farther than my last made mention of. It 
is very unlucky that his father likes me; but I shall shun him 
as much as I can, without being taken notice on by the family. 
I am afraid I shan't be able to see you next Sunday neither, 
for my lady talks of taking physic; but I am not certain yet, 
and shall write to you again before then, for I have time 
enough, if I have but an agreeable subject. I am, 
	Dear mamma, 
	Your most dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Thursday evening.

Dear mamma, 
	Strange adventures have happened since yesterday morning; 
but don't be alarmed for the consequence of them, in all 
probability will turn out highly to advantage, one way or 
another. But I will not keep you in suspense. As soon as 
dinner was over, the coach was ordered, and my lady and Lady 
L----, and Mrs Brown went among the shops as they call it, 
that is to make all the tradesmen in their way pull down their 
goods; tell them what lady bought of such a pattern, and what 
of such a one; in fine to hear news, and buy pennyworths if 
they meet with any. But this is nothing to my purpose. After 
they were gone, I went up into my lady's room, to lay her 
night-things ready, as I always did, against she undressed, 
and was a humming a new tune to myself, little thinking 
anybody was behind me, when turning about, I saw Sir Thomas 
just coming into the chamber; I was very much startled, but 
had not time to speak, before he said Mrs Syrena, "I have a 
favour to beg of you." "In anything I can, and ought to do, I 
shall obey your honour," answered I. "It is only to mend a 
hole in my stocking, that is just now broke," returned he; and 
then looking round the room, "I see you are alone," cried he: 
these words frighted me very much, and I would have given 
anything to have been out of the chamber, or that somebody had 
come up; but he knew well enough the under-servants were all 
at dinner; and he had left Mrs Mary busy in her lady's room, 
or else he would not have ventured to come into me in that 
manner. He saw I was uneasy, and to dissipate my fears. "Don't 
be under apprehensions," said he, "I shall do you no hurt; you 
don't think I would ravish you sure." "I hope, sir," answered 
I, "you would not harbour any thoughts of ruining a poor girl, 
who has nothing but her good character to depend upon." "No 
child," said he, "your character can run no risk with a man, 
who would not forfeit his own; and it is on this head, I want 
to talk with you." He then told me, that he liked and loved me 
above any woman he had ever seen; that if I would consent to 
be his, he would put it out, even of his own power to use me 
ill, by making me a handsome settlement. All which offers I 
rejected with (I think, I may say without vanity) a well-
affected virtuous pride. I told him, I preferred my honesty in 
rags, to all the splendour in the world, when it must be the 
purchase of vice and infamy; and desired he would desist 
making me any such offers; for as I looked upon it as a crime 
even to listen to them, I must be obliged to leave the house. 
"Well," said he, "I will endeavour to conquer myself, if I am 
able. but, how is it possible," continued he, sighing, and 
looking full in my face, "when I see those eyes." "Then I must 
hide them," cried I, turning away. "No," resumed he, "I must 
not, cannot lose the pleasure of seeing you, cruel girl as you 
are; but still I hope, you will one day be kinder, yes you 
will, you must," continued he, catching hold of both hands, 
and pressing them between his; then perceiving I began to 
tremble again, "Why are you so alarmed," added he? "Though 
opportunities are so scarce, that perhaps, I was a little too 
precipitate in seizing the first; yet you see I now behave to 
you in a different manner." "Everything that has a tendency to 
corrupt my innocence," said I, "is alike alarming; and I again 
protest, I will not stay in a house where I cannot be secure." 
"Well, Mrs Syrena," replied he, letting go my hands, "you 
judge my intentions with too much severity. I assure you, that 
the short time you have been in my family, has made an 
impression on me, that would not suffer me to injure you. Only 
think on what I have said, and command anything in my power." 
With these words he kissed me, and left the room. I presently 
locked the door to prevent his return; and was sitting down to 
consider how I should behave in this affair, when the closet-
door behind me opened, and out came Mr L----. Never was 
surprise equal to mine, of seeing him there: I had not 
presence enough of mind to forbear shrieking, which I am since 
heartily glad, nobody heard. "Hush!" cried he, "or you'll 
bring my father back again." "For heaven's sake, sir," said I, 
"what brought you into that closet?" "Not curiosity, upon my 
word," answered he, "for I little expected the scene I have 
been witness of; but whatever motive induced me to conceal 
myself here, you ought not to be dissatisfied, since by it I 
have proved your virtue and prudence equal to your beauty." "I 
beseech you, sir," said I, "don't rally a poor silly girl, who 
has nothing to boast of, but the resolution of keeping herself 
honest." "No, Mrs Syrena," replied he, "I never was more 
serious in my life than I am this moment; I was less so, I 
confess when I went into that closet, but my father's 
behaviour has been such a surprise upon me that--" He was 
going to say something, but a sudden thought made him break 
off, and after a little pause, "But sure," resumed he, "you do 
not in earnest intend to quit my grandmother?" "I should think 
it the greatest blessing of life," answered I, "to continue in 
the service of so good a lady; but the persecutions I am like 
to receive from Sir Thomas, are of a nature I neither can or 
ought to bear, for any consideration." "I am sorry to say," 
returned he, "that amorous addresses are not very becoming in 
a man of fifty to a girl of your years; but if ever it should 
be discovered, 'tis his own, not your character, would suffer 
by it; you may depend, that whatever his inclinations are, he 
has too much honour to make use of force to gain you; and if 
you should leave us, you can go into no family, but where 
those eyes of yours will lay you under the same temptations 
you receive from him." On this I hung down my head, and kept 
looking on the ground to avoid seeing how he looked when he 
spoke. "Don't be ashamed," pursued he, taking me by the hand, 
"I tell you nothing but truth; so, pretty Mrs Syrena, you must 
not think of going out of the house, at least yet a while." 
"If I could be safe," said I, "nothing could give me greater 
pleasure than to continue here, but--" "You shall be safe, 
interrupted he, come, dry those lovely eyes" (for I was just 
then squeezing out some tears) "I had something to say to you, 
but will take another opportunity, and leave you now to 
compose yourself." He concluded with giving me a kiss, 
accompanied with a most tender pressure of my hand, and then 
went out of the chamber; but had not been gone above three 
steps, before he returned. "I believe," said he, "you are too 
discreet and good-natured to expose my father's folly?" "I 
should be very sorry," answered I, "to do anything that might 
create uneasiness in a family, for the greatest part of whom I 
have the most perfect love and veneration." "Those of us who 
enjoy that are happy," cried he, and methought his eyes struck 
fire as he spoke these words; but he went on, I have one thing 
more to desire of you, and that is, that you will let me know 
from time to time what solicitations you receive from my 
father; my advice may be of some service to you; and such a 
mark of your confidence highly obliging to me." "Sir," replied 
I, "though such a confidence to a person of a different sex, 
must cover me with the utmost confusion; yet you seem too 
good, and too full of pity to me, for me to refuse." "You 
cannot have too great an opinion of my good-will towards you," 
said he, "and so you shall find." Here he took me in his arms, 
and gave me three or four hearty kisses, though with all the 
modesty in the world, and then ran downstairs.

Now, mamma, what can I think of all this, but that he 
concealed himself in the closet for no other purpose, than to 
attempt me in the manner Sir Thomas has done; but that my 
resolute behaviour to the father, made a convert of the son; 
and turned the inclinations he felt for me, into others of a 
more respectful nature. I would be loath to flatter myself too 
far, but I think I am right; time will discover. This morning, 
after he came down from breakfast, as he always does, with Sir 
Thomas and his lady in their chamber, he tarried walking 
backwards and forwards in the great parlour, for, I believe, 
three hours; and every time I passed him, as I was obliged to 
do very often, there being no other way from my lady's room, 
he gave me looks which told me, he had the kindest thoughts of 
me; and once, nobody being in sight, came to me and kissed me, 
with these words, "Dear Mrs Syrena be easy." He dined abroad 
today with Sir Thomas, so I have seen neither of them since; 
but I don't doubt now, but I shall have matter sufficient to 
employ my pen to you very often. Dear mamma, with good success 
to, 
	Your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Friday morning.

Dear mamma, 
	I am now eased of the suspense I was in when I wrote to 
you yesterday: Mr L---- has broke his mind to me, I'll tell 
you in what manner. Thursday being what they call my lady's 
visiting day, there was a vast deal of company; but I had 
nothing to do with them, for Mrs Brown and the chambermaid 
attend in a little room within the drawing-room, as the groom 
of the chambers and butler do in one without; so having nobody 
to converse with, I sat in my own lady's room, meditating on 
my affairs. I think I mentioned in my former, that the two 
gentlemen dined abroad. Sir Thomas, after he had quitted his 
company, it seems, went to the play, but Mr L---- came home. 
He did not stay five minutes in the drawing room, but knowing 
how the family were engaged, and expecting to find me where he 
did, came directly up. I rose to pay my respects to him, but 
he made me sit down immediately, and placing himself near me, 
"I desire," said he, "that there may be no distance observed 
between us when we are alone, and could wish our circumstances 
would admit of an equality in public, but fortune is not 
always just to merit." I was about to make him some compliment 
in return, but he prevented me by going on. "I have a great 
deal to say to you Mrs Syrena," pursued he, "but if you desire 
I should be a sincere friend to you, you must be sincere to me 
in answering a few questions I shall ask." "I should be 
altogether unworthy of the honour you do me, sir," replied I, 
"if I should make any attempt to impose on your belief; I say 
an attempt, for being bred up in a perfect abhorrence of 
lying, and all kind of deceit, I should go about the practice 
of it in so awkward a manner, that a very little share of 
judgment would be sufficient to detect me. But, sir," 
continued I, "thank heaven, I yet am conscious of nothing I 
would wish to conceal from the knowledge of anybody!" (There, 
I think, I followed your instructions to a nicety, mamma.) "I 
dare answer for you to myself," said he,"that you have been 
guilty of nothing that can be called a crime; but love is not 
so; and my sweet Syrena, have you never yet seen the man happy 
enough to make an impression on you?" "Never, indeed, sir," 
replied I, "nor do I boast it as a virtue; because till the 
dreadful declaration made by Sir Thomas, I never heard the 
sound of love from any man in the world." "Well," resumed he, 
"and was it owing, examine well your heart before you answer, 
to a detestation of his offers, or a dislike to his person and 
years, that made you so resolutely repulse him?" "To a 
detestation of his offers," said I, "for I considered nothing 
farther." "Then," cried he, "you would equally hate any other 
should address you on the same score?" "I think so," answered 
I; "but, sir, I beseech you question me no farther. I know my 
heart at present, but know not what it may be hereafter. I 
have heard of women, that have an hundred times my 
understanding, and yet made a false step, as they call it. 
'Tis heaven alone must keep me, and by depending on that only 
guard, I hope to be secure." "Well, but there is no harm," 
said he, "in indulging a tenderness, for a generous faithful 
lover." "No, sir," replied I, "not when his designs are 
virtuous and honourable." "The world," cried he, "is not well 
agreed about the true signification of those words, virtuous 
and honourable; but for my part, I think that what tends to 
make the happiness of the beloved object is both virtuous and 
honourable; but, we'll leave the definition to the casuists: I 
have one thing more, my charming Syrena, to be informed of, 
and then I have done. Suppose," continued he, "I loved you, 
and loved you with a passion, which it was utterly impossible 
for me to subdue, must I for that reason, be the object of 
your aversion?" (I expected this, so had prepared myself for 
it, as you will find mamma. ) "Heaven forbid," cried I, "that 
I should ever be brought into so terrible dilemma. I know what 
I ought to do, but--" (here I seemed to falter in my speech) 
"but I beseech you, sir, do not talk in this manner to  a poor 
silly creature, that knows not how to answer you." "Dear 
lovely innocence!" cried he, pulling me to him, and kissing me 
an hundred times, "I believe in spite of all my struggling, I 
do love you," pursued he; the very first minute I saw you, I 
loved you. But your wit, your prudence, your unaffected 
modesty, has made me now almost adore you." Here, he began to 
kiss me again with more vehemence than before, and I could not 
get leave to speak for a good while; at last bursting from 
him, and pretending to weep, "Ah, sir!" said I, "if you loved 
me, you would not use me in this manner." "By heaven, I do," 
said he, "and to prove it will --," here he stopped, and then, 
"will do almost anything." I was going to reply, but heard 
somebody coming upstairs; it was the groom of the chambers for 
a sheet of gilt paper out of my lady's escritiore, for one of 
the company to write a song; he seemed surprised to find Mr L-
--- with me, as was he at his coming up; but to take off all 
suspicion, "I came a begging too," said he, "for a stick of 
wax; I happening to be out, and I know my grandmother is a 
great clerk, but Mrs Syrena tells me there is none, have you 
any in your charge, for I want to seal some letters?" "I think 
I have, sir," answered the other, where shall I bring it your 
honour? "Into my chamber," said Mr L----, and went with him 
downstairs. I have not seen him since, nor indeed was there 
any opportunity, for the company taking leave soon after, they 
went to supper; and he is not stirring yet. A thousand to one 
but this day will produce something more; if it does, I'll 
write tomorrow, for my lady persists in her design of taking 
physic, and I can't come out on Sunday. If you find anything 
amiss in my management, let me know it by old Sarah, for I 
would not have you trust the penny post; but if I have behaved 
according to your mind, defer writing till a more material 
occasion, for I would not have anybody come after me too 
often. I am, dear mamma, as ever, 
	Your most obedient daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. I had forgot to tell you that Mr Groves, the groom of the 
chambers, has been vastly diligent to oblige me ever since I 
came into the house; and I am afraid guesses somewhat by 
seeing Mr L---- in the chamber with me last night, for this 
morning he looks very sullen, and did not speak to me as he 
used to do.

Monday morning.

Dear mamma, 
	Friday passed over, without anything happening worth 
acquainting you with; though both Sir Thomas and his son were 
at home the greatest part of the day; not that I believe it 
owing to the inclinations of either; but that the presence of 
the one was a hindrance to the other, in any design they might 
have of speaking to me. On Saturday morning I saw Mr L---- in 
my lady's chamber; as he went out, I happened to be pretty 
near the door, and he took the opportunity of snatching a kiss 
from me behind a great screen, that stands to shelter that 
part of the room where my lady sits from the air. This was all 
the place would give him leave to do, but he afterwards 
watched my coming downstairs, and said he, "That impertinent 
fellow (meaning Groves) interrupted our conversation the other 
night, before I had told you half what I had to say; my father 
will be engaged for the whole evening, and the ladies are to 
be at the assembly; don't be frightened if I conceal myself 
again in the same closet, nor shun the place because you know 
I shall be there." I had no opportunity of making any answer, 
if I had been prepared for one, which indeed I was not, he 
took me so unawares; for the moment he left off speaking, he 
turned upon his heel, fell a singing an Italian air, and went 
upstairs. Indeed, mamma, I was very uneasy at this. I thought 
to be there would have too much the air of an assignation; and 
not to be there when I knew he was waiting for me, would be an 
affront, not befitting one of my station to one of his, and 
might turn the love he had for me into hate; so I resolved on 
the former, but how to carry myself, so as that my complying 
should not give too much encouragement, employed my thoughts 
the whole day: but I might have saved myself that trouble, if 
I could have guessed what would happen. Sir Thomas went out at 
four o'clock, and the chariot was ordered for the ladies at 
seven; as soon as they were gone, Mrs Brown comes jumping into 
the parlour, where Mrs Mary and I were talking of some silly 
stuff or another; "So," said she, "now we have the house to 
ourselves for one while: Mr L---- is gone out, is he not?" 
pursued she, to Mrs Mary; "I believe a good while since," 
answered she, "for I saw him with his hat on presently after 
Sir Thomas went, and his man is snoring on the dresser below." 
"Well then, we'll enjoy ourselves," cried the other, "I'll 
treat you two with a bottle of French and a Seville orange, 
and then we'll have a pot of tea: what say you, Mrs Syrena?" 
"I thank you, madam," answered I, but I have so much business 
to do--" "O you are greatly employed, you would make one 
believe," cried Mrs Brown, "but we'll have you for all your 
excuses." "Well then," said I, "I will only put my lady's 
things in order, and come down." With that I ran upstairs in a 
great hurry, not doubting but my lover was at his appointment; 
as indeed he was; for pretending he was going out when they 
rose from table, he took his hat and went into his chamber, 
where locking himself in till the ladies were gone, he slipped 
up the back-stairs, and so into the closet. When I came into 
the chamber, after he had peeped through the key-hole, that he 
might not be mistaken in the person, he opened the door, and 
catching me in his arms, "Dear girl," said he, "what pains do 
I take for a moment's pleasure, and that too I fear you grudge 
me; but with your leave, my dear, I'll shut the door for fear 
of Mr Groves," added he, with a smile, and immediately bolted 
it. "O, sir," cried I, "I shall be soon obliged to open it, if 
I make any stay here." I then told him of Mrs Brown's 
invitation, and how I had promised to go down; on which he 
gave her two or three hearty curses; he had not time to utter 
much more, for Mrs Mary came up, and finding the door 
fastened, cried, "Hey-day! What have you bolted yourself in; 
open the door, Mrs Syrena, Mrs Brown sent me for you." On this 
Mr L---- was compelled to return to his concealment, and I let 
in the intruder. "Come," said she, "what are you doing?" "I 
was going," answered I, "to pin up a head for my lady." 
"Pish," returned the other, "you know she does not go out 
tomorrow; therefore you may let it alone till another time; 
come, come, Mrs Brown is making the bishop herself, and 'tis 
ready by now." "I'll follow you in a moment," said I. "No, 
no," cried she, "I'll have you go with me; come, who knows but 
the young squire may surprise us as he did over the coffee." 
"If I thought so," answered I, "you should have none of my 
company, for I never was so much ashamed in my life." "There's 
no danger," said she, and pulled me along with her; when we 
came into my Lady L----'s dressing-room, for it was there Mrs 
Brown made this regale, "you are so fond of mewing yourself up 
in that chamber above," said she to me, "that one would 
imagine you met a sweetheart there." I believe, mamma, that in 
spite of all the lessons you gave me to the contrary, I could 
not quite overcome my confusion at these words; but putting on 
as composed a look as I could, if nobody thought no more of 
sweethearts than I do, answered I, "The parsons would have 
little business--" "O! One may have a sweetheart," resumed she 
laughing, "without having any occasion for a parson." "Ay," 
cried I; "for my part I always thought entertaining a 
sweetheart, was in order to make a husband of him." "That's as 
it falls out," said she, "for there are sweethearts of 
different kinds." She seemed, methought, to speak this with a 
sort of malicious sneer, and what I have since heard, 
convinces me I was not mistaken. I took no notice, however, 
but laughed as they did, and we were very merry over our 
bishop. At last, I can't remember for my life how she 
introduced it, but she cried all on a sudden, "So, Mrs Syrena, 
you would have us think you never had a lover yet." "I don't 
care what anybody thinks," answered I, "but sure if I had one, 
we should see one another sometimes, and all the house knows, 
that since I have been here, I have never been once abroad, 
nor has any man or woman either come to visit me." "Yes," said 
Mrs Brown, "to my certain knowledge you have had a visitor, I 
won't say a lover." "Me!" cried I, in some astonishment.  
"Yes, you, for all your demure looks, resumed she, pray was 
not Mr L---- once with you in your lady's chamber?" Here, 
mamma, I had enough to do to contain myself; but I believe I 
behaved pretty tolerably; "Mr L----," said I, "yes, he came up 
one evening for a stick of wax, but what of that?" "Nay, 
nothing, answered she, but I had a mind to banter you a 
little." She said no more, but I perceived by this that Groves 
had been tattling, and also, that there was some suspicion 
that the stick of wax was but a pretence. I resolved therefore 
to consent to no more concealments in the closet, for fear of 
a discovery, which would infallibly ruin all our projects. 
When Mrs Mary and I were in bed, she told me as a great 
secret, that both Mr Groves and Mrs Brown imagined Mr L---- 
had a more than ordinary liking to me; but said she, "She has 
told my lady nothing of it yet, nor won't, I heard her say, 
till she had found all out, and I fancy she made the treat on 
purpose to try if she could pump you out of anything; so, Mrs 
Syrena, as I wish you well from my heart, I would advise you 
to take care, if there be anything in it; for Mrs Brown is a 
very good woman, but a little prying, and loves to meddle--you 
understand me." "I do," answered I, "and thank you for your 
caution, though I assure you there is no need of it, Mr L---- 
never changed ten words with me in his life." "I am glad of 
it," said she, "for what designs can such a gentleman as he 
have upon one of us, but to ruin us." "Very true," replied I; 
she again conjured me to secrecy, which I as firmly promised, 
and that put an end to our discourse; but I was so nettled, 
that I did not sleep all night. Yesterday I did not stir out 
of my lady's chamber the whole day, not even to dinner, for 
she made me eat a bit of boiled chicken with her: and Mrs 
Mary, and one or other of the house-maids, brought up and 
carried down everything that was wanted; among other things. 
Mrs Brown told me on Saturday, that there was a talk of going 
out of town this week: my lady also mentioned something of it 
to me herself; but on what day, or who of the family are to 
go, I know not as yet; but am very sure I shall be one, 
whoever is left behind, for my lady likes nothing but what I 
do for her. If their resolution holds of going this week, I 
shall ask to come and take my leave of you; but I suppose you 
will hear from me before that, who am, dear mamma, 
	Your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Wednesday afternoon.

Dear mamma, 
	Sunday being fixed for our country journey, I send this 
to acquaint you, that I hope to be with you on Friday, for to-
morrow my lady dresses early to go out, and on Saturday we 
shall all be busy packing up; but I mentioned Friday to my 
lady, who has promised I shall have the whole day to myself. 
Nothing worthy of writing has happened since my last, except 
that seeing Mr L---- in the parlour, waiting for a chair to go 
out, I ventured to run to him, and acquainted him with what 
Mrs Brown had said to me, and the hints given me by the 
chambermaid. He bit his lips all the time I was speaking, and 
seemed very much out of humour; I know not whether at me or 
the news I told him; for just as he was about to reply, we 
heard somebody coming, and he cried, "Curse on it, there's no 
speaking in this house," and I ran as fast as I could into the 
back-parlour, and so downstairs; the person who gave us this 
interruption was Sir Thomas, as I afterwards found, for my 
lady's bell ringing, I was obliged to return, and saw him 
talking to his son as I passed the door. If (as they say) 
difficulties increase inclination, both father and son meet 
with enough in their designs on me, to make them grow violent 
at last. But, dear mamma, I hope we shall have opportunity on 
Friday to talk over all our affairs, and consult what future 
measures are proper to be taken by 
	Your most obedient daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Saturday morning, eight o'clock.

Dear mamma, 
	You little think by what means I was prevented waiting on 
you yesterday, as I intended, and how greatly your poor 
daughter stood in need of all the admonitions you have given 
her, to defend the hope of making her fortune in this family, 
from being totally destroyed at once. but you shall have the 
whole history of what has befallen me since my last. My lady 
being abroad on Thursday, I was afraid Mr L---- would take the 
advantage of her absence, to slip again into that dangerous 
closet; and as I was resolved not to venture holding any more 
discourses with him in that place, kept as much as I could 
below stairs; but in avoiding him, I fell into Sir Thomas's 
way, who seeing me pass by the parlour-door, boldly called me 
to him, under pretence of asking, whether my lady took me down 
into the country or not; though to be sure he knew well 
enough. He asked me the question loud enough to be heard into 
the next room, if anybody had been there; but then, with the 
same breath, said in a low voice, "My charmer, 'tis an age 
since I have touched these dear lips," and kissed me 
violently. I resisted with all my strength; "Still unkind!" 
returned he, "but I don't wonder at it; you don't yet know the 
good I intend for you; but when we get into the country, I 
shall have more time to show--" He could say no more, for Mr 
L---- came into the room; and I could perceive by his 
countenance, was not very well pleased at finding me with his 
father. As I was going away, "Don't forget, Mrs Syrena," said 
Sir Thomas, very gravely, which I suppose was to make Mr L---- 
imagine he had been speaking to me on some affairs of the 
family: my lady came home in the evening, and went directly 
into the drawing-room, which was very full of company; I kept 
with Mrs Brown the whole time, and did not go up till I knew 
my lady was near coming to bed. Not but I longed to hear what 
Mr L---- had to say to me, and believed he waited for me, but 
durst not run the risk of meeting him there, after what had 
been said to me. I reflected on what Sir Thomas had hinted, 
that in the country there would be more opportunities; and if 
so, did not doubt but his son would make his advantage of 
them, therefore was determined his designs upon me, whatever 
they were, should stand still till then. But he was too 
cunning for me; though as things have happened, I think 'tis 
better for me that he was so, now I know his mind. yesterday 
morning I went into my lady's chamber, to know if she had any 
commands for me before I went out, for she had given me leave 
the night before. She told me she had not, and I might have 
the whole day to myself. Mr L---- was with her, and I left him 
there when I went to my own room to put on another gown: he 
hardly looked toward me, and I found he was angry. While I was 
dressing, Mrs Mary came up for something, and I prayed her to 
send one of the men for a coach, which she promised, and when 
I came down I found one at the door; so in I stepped, full of 
joy to think I should have so much time with you; but I was 
not two streets beyond the square, when the coach stopped; I 
looked out to see if anything was in the way, and the meantime 
the door on the other side was opened, and in comes Mr L----; 
never was surprise equal to mine at being served this trick. 
"O! Sir," cried I, why do you do this? He made me no answer, 
but called to the coachman to drive to Blackheath, and 
immediately drew up the window. I expected nothing less now 
than to meet a second Vardine, and begged, and prayed and 
would have thrown myself upon my knees to him in the coach; 
"No," Syrena, said he, "I have you now, and will not part with 
you, till I have told you all my sentiments concerning you, 
and know how far yours are influenced in my favour. I waited 
for you in my grandmother's closet three hours yesterday, but 
you took care to avoid me, though I found you had not the same 
caution with regard to Sir Thomas." I then repeated to him the 
true reason that made me act in that manner, and also what Sir 
Thomas had said to me, which put him into a better humour; but 
all I could say would not prevail upon him to go out of the 
coach, or let me do so; the fears of what might happen, and 
the vexation of my disappointment of seeing you, made me burst 
into real tears. He endeavoured to compose me as much as 
possible, protesting he would offer nothing I should not 
approve of; and indeed during the whole time of our little 
journey, he attempted no greater freedoms than a kiss. As soon 
as he found I seemed a little better satisfied, "My dear 
Syrena," said he, I need not tell you that I love you; the 
pains I have taken to gain even a moment's sight of you, is 
the greatest proof of it that can be given; but there are 
others not in my power to give, which perhaps you would think 
more convincing: "I mean," continued he, "making you the offer 
of a settlement for life, and a handsome provision for any 
children that might be the consequence of our intimacy; this, 
Sir Thomas can do for you; and I believe by what he said to 
you, is what he intends to do for you, if you'll accept it. 
But you know, Syrena, that while he lives, I have no estate, 
and am a mere dependant on his pleasure, for my present 
expenses; indeed my allowance is not so scanty, but that out 
of it I could support you in a fashion, that, with a little 
love on your side, would make you easy. What answer," cried 
he, perceiving I was silent, "does my dear Syrena make?" 
"Alas, sir!" said I, "what answer can I make, that will not be 
displeasing to you? I have already told you I prefer my 
honesty to everything, and I hope shall always be of the same 
mind." Here he brought all the arguments, and indeed many more 
than I thought the cause would bear, to prove, that to resign 
oneself to a man of honour, and who loved one, was no breach 
of virtue, brought a thousand examples of women in past ages, 
and in foreign countries, whose love was never imputed to them 
as a crime; and in fine, left nothing unsaid that he imagined 
might make me think as he would have me. I did not pretend to 
argue with him, only cried, as often as he gave me opportunity 
to speak, "Good sir, don't talk so to a poor simple creature, 
that does not know how to answer you. I am very unhappy that 
you should think on me on this score," and such like; but 
though I feigned a world of ignorance, I took care still to 
let him see I kept up to my resolution, and that nothing 
should persuade me out of my virtue. This discourse lasted 
till we came to Blackheath, where we alighted at a house, 
which I suppose he knew to be a proper one for the purpose he 
brought me there upon. We had a very elegant dinner, and fine 
wine; but I remembered Vardine, and drank very sparingly; when 
the cloth was taken away, and the waiters gone, "I see, 
Syrena," said he, "the source of my ill success in all I have 
urged to you; it is because my person has made no impression 
on you, that my arguments have failed; but believe me," 
continued he, taking my hand, and tenderly pressing it to his 
heart, "that you will one day see some happier man, whom to 
oblige, you will think nothing a crime." "Indeed, sir, I never 
shall I'm sure," returned I with a sigh. "How are you sure you 
could refuse a man you loved," cried he? "Were you ever tried 
by one you loved?" With these words he looked full in my face: 
(I saw his drift was to find out if I had any liking to him, 
and thought that to seem as if I had, would give him the 
greater opinion of my virtue, in so resolutely withstanding 
his offers) so feigned to be in a great confusion--trembled--
set my breasts a heaving--and in a faltering voice cried, "I 
don't know what you call love, sir, but I am sure I could 
refuse giving up my virtue to one that I would give my life to 
oblige in anything else." "And I would give my life," returned 
he hastily, "to be that happy man you speak of, even though 
you should continue to refuse me the proof of it I desire. 
Tell me, tell me, my little angel," pursued he, throwing his 
arms about my waist, "am I so blessed to thought well on by 
you?" "O! Do not, sir," cried I more and more confused, 
"endeavour to pry into the little secrets of a silly innocent 
maid, that knows not how to disguise, nor to confess them as 
she ought; but if I were a great lady, I should not be ashamed 
to let you see into my very heart; but don't," added I, hiding 
my face in his bosom, "don't, sir, talk to me any more of 
settlements and provision. Poor as I am, I scorn the thoughts 
of anything but--" "Love,"interrupted he, in a kind of 
rapture, "say love my charmer." "If I were to be won from the 
principles I have been bred in," said I, "love, since you will 
have it so, would be all that could induce me." Now, mamma, I 
fancy you'll think I carried the feint too far, and brought 
myself in a snare, I should not know how to get out of; but I 
had all my wits about me, as you'll find. He called me his 
life, his soul, cherubim, goddess, and I know not what. "We'll 
talk of nothing then, but love," cried he, "do nothing but 
love;" and having me in his arms, was about to carry me to a 
settee at the other end of the room. I begged him to let me 
go, but he was deaf to all I said; till at length I broke from 
him, and throwing myself at his feet, beseeched him with a 
flood of tears, not to ruin me; but this proving ineffectual, 
and he still persisting in his endeavours to raise me from the 
posture I was in; I counterfeited faintings, fell dying on the 
floor, and between every pretended agony, lifting up my eyes, 
cried, "O! Sir, you have killed me; but, I forgive you". This 
piece of dissimulation had the success I wished: he vowed no 
more to shock my modesty, said a thousand tender things, and, 
I believe, was truly concerned to see me in that condition. By 
little, and little, I seemed to recover my spirits, and when I 
had; "How shamefully," said I, "have I betrayed myself. How 
dare I encounter the artifices of mankind, with my plain 
simple innocence: how could I flatter myself such a gentleman 
as you, could have any inclinations for such a creature as 
myself; but such as would demean me more, O! Infinitely more, 
than fortune has done." "You wrong yourself and me," replied 
he; "you know very well I could not marry you, without 
entailing ruin on us both, but anything else--" "I beg you, 
sir," said I, "let us talk no more of love or ruin. I know the 
difference between us in all respects. I am unhappy, and I 
must be so; then I began to weep again, and appeared so wild 
and discomposed, that he was afraid my fits would return. He 
led me into the garden for air, and the whole time we were 
together afterwards, which was till quite night, neither said, 
or did anything, but what would become the most respectful 
lover.

Now mamma by this, you may see into the bottom of his heart. 
He loves me, but will not marry me: nor can he make a 
settlement till his father dies, and who knows how his mind 
may alter before then; so I think it would be better for me to 
break quite off with him, and see what proposals Sir Thomas 
designs to make me. I send this by a porter, because the 
penny-post would not be time enough for your answer, which 
pray send directly; for I want your advice what to do, 
especially, as I shan't see you, till we come to town again. I 
am, 
	Dear mamma, 
	your ever dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

The messenger by whom this was sent brought an answer to it, 
the contents whereof were as follows.

Dear Syrena, 
	You have very well atoned for the vexation I suffered 
yesterday, through your not coming; by the full account you 
give me of the cause that detained you: I am highly pleased 
with every particular in your conduct, and, especially, that 
you have such just notions of what is your real interest; and 
make no distinction between youth and age, but as either is 
most advantageous. As Mr L---- can settle nothing upon you, 
and drawing him into marriage, seems attended with many 
difficulties; I would have you receive Sir Thomas's proposals 
with somewhat less severity, than you have done; but not so 
much, as to make him too secure of your yielding neither; for 
as I believe, by all circumstances, that Mr L---- has a strong 
passion for you, there is a possibility you may have him at 
last your own way. Only, my dear child, stick to this maxim, 
to make nothing of him, if you can't make him a husband. I 
doubt not but before you come back, you'll know what Sir 
Thomas intends to do for you; till then there is no resolving 
on anything . I perceive neither of them have, as yet made you 
any presents, which I much wonder at. If any should be 
offered, accept of nothing from the father; but you may 
receive any proof of the son's affection, because it will also 
confirm him in the hope you have given him of yours; which is 
the only thing you have for bringing him to the point we aim 
at. I wish you a good journey, my dear girl, and safe return; 
write as often as anything occurs, to 
	Your affectionate mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.



Chapter III.

Sir Thomas and his family went as they intended to his country 
seat; where they had not been above seven days, before Syrena 
had matter to inform her mother of, which she did in these 
terms.

Letter I.

L---- Hall. 
	Dear mamma, 
	I won't fill up my letter with any particulars of our 
journey, 'tis sufficient to tell you, we all got safe down; 
and that people with heads, not so taken up as mine is, might 
find everything here, they could desire for their 
entertainment. I dare say you are impatient to know how my 
love-affairs go on. As to Mr L---- he behaves to me with an 
inexpressible tenderness, mixed with more respect than before 
our conversation at Blackheath; but still gives me not the 
least room to hope, he had any intentions of making me his 
wife; on the contrary, he rather seems afraid I should flatter 
myself so far; for being one day with him in an arbour a good 
distance from the house, after he had said a thousand 
passionate things, and taken some liberties which I permitted 
with an air, which seemed to tell him, I was too much lost in 
softness to know what I did, I started suddenly from his knee, 
where he had made me sit, and cried, "O! To what does my fond 
artless heart betray me! Cruel! Cruel Mr L----, can you 
pretend to love me truly, and use me in this manner?" And then 
fell a-weeping in so extravagant manner, that he looked quite 
confounded; but putting his face to mine, and wiping with his 
cheeks my tears away: "My dear Syrena," said he, "what can I 
do in the circumstances we both are? I wish to God there were 
less inequality between us; you know I am not master of 
myself. Sir Thomas likes you as a mistress, but would never 
forgive me for making you his daughter. My mother, 
grandmother, and all our kindred, are full of your praises as 
a servant; but would despise and hate you as a relation; in 
fine, you must be sensible, there is no coming together for us 
in the way you would approve; and therefore if you loved me, 
would not see me wretched merely for a ceremony, which 
sometimes instead of joining hearts more closely, serves but 
to estrange them." I said nothing to all this, but kept on 
weeping and sobbing, as if my heart would burst; but though he 
said all he could to comfort me, I could not perceive that he 
receded at all from the declaration he had made, nay did not 
even pretend, that when his father died, he would marry me. 
All he talked on was the violence, and constancy of his 
affection, for me; that when he came to his estate, I should 
vie with the greatest ladies in the town, in fine clothes and 
equipage; and that if duty or convenience ever obliged him to 
marry, I should still be the sole mistress of his heart; but 
as I knew better than to depend on promises, I had not any 
occasion for dissembling to show my contempt for them. Company 
coming into the garden we were obliged to separate, which, 
indeed, I was very glad of, as our being together had made so 
little for my purpose. He made me promise, however, to meet 
him the next day, in a lane on the back of the house; I kept 
my word, but that produced no more than a repetition of those 
arguments he had made use of in the arbour.; so I doubt mamma, 
that all the advantage I shall make by his addresses, is a 
more thorough knowledge of the passions of mankind. As for Sir 
Thomas, according to your directions, I appear less and less 
reserved, whenever chance or his own endeavours throw him in 
my way, which, indeed, is very seldom; for what with company, 
and what with his son's watchfulness, he can hardly get an 
opportunity of speaking three words to me. I believe he was 
going to say something very material to me yesterday, but was 
interrupted by Mr L---- coming into the room. So, my dear 
mamma, this is all at present from, 
	Your most obedient daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Letter II.

L---- Hall. 
	Dear mamma, 
	I was not mistaken when I told you in my former, that I 
thought Sir Thomas had something extraordinary to say me; for 
this morning he watched for me, in a part of the house that he 
knew I must pass to go into my lady's chamber, and as it was 
too public a place to hold any discourse in, he only put a 
paper into my hand and said, "I hope this will convince you, 
that my designs are such as you cannot disapprove, without 
being an enemy to your own interest." And then went away 
directly, without staying for any answer. I was quite 
impatient to see what it contained, and made haste into my own 
room, and locked myself in, that I might not be interrupted in 
reading it. I send you an exact copy of the contents; because 
I thought best to keep the original in my own hands, for fear 
he should ask for it again.
Proposals offered to Mrs Syrena Tricksy's consideration, by 
one who would be her faithful friend.

I. The person will engage himself to pay, or order to be paid 
to her, the annual sum of one hundred pound, either monthly, 
quarterly, or yearly, as she shall think fit, during his 
natural life.

II. The said person will enter into articles, and settle, out 
of what part of his estate she shall choose, upon her, during 
her natural life, the annual sum of fifty pounds to be paid 
her in like manner, as the former.

III. That in case she shall have any children, they shall be 
taken care of, and educated without any expense to her.

IV. This agreement to be drawn up by a lawyer of her own 
nomination, and signed and sealed according to form.

I leave it to you, mamma, to judge of these conditions, and 
will avoid Sir Thomas as much as possible, till I have your 
answer, which I desire may be soon: direct for me to be left 
at the post-house, in ---- till called for; because if it 
should be brought to the house, and I not just in the way, who 
knows but the curiosity of Mrs Brown, Groves, or even Mr L---- 
himself, might tempt them to open it; and as it is but a 
little mile, I can easily go to fetch it.

Nothing worth acquainting you concerning Mr L---- has happened 
since my last; nor has he been able to get one opportunity of 
talking to me in private, though I can see he is very uneasy, 
and more passionate than ever, since he thinks I love him. If 
I am in the chamber when he comes to my lady, he talks, 
indeed, to her, but has eyes continually on me; and if she 
does but turn her back one moment, I am sure to have a kiss, 
or a squeeze by the hand; the same in the gallery, or the 
stairs, or wherever we meet--but what signifies all his love, 
if he won't make me his wife, nor can do anything handsome for 
me. I take care, however, to look upon him, and receive the 
proofs he gives of his fondness; so as to make him think I 
have as great an affection for him as he can have for me, 
because who knows how far one may be able to work him up at 
last, when he is once convinced he can get me on no other 
terms. I had a stratagem come into my head, but I know not how 
you will approve of it, and that is to pretend to him, that I 
could not bear to be continually in the sight of a person, 
whom I could not keep myself from having the tenderest regard 
for, yet knew never could be mine, but by a way I would rather 
die than yield to; and that I was determined to quit my lady's 
service, and endeavour by absence to lose the memory of him. 
I'll try what effect this will have, if you think fit, mamma; 
it can be no prejudice to me at least, and if it comes to 
nothing, I can accept Sir Thomas's offers at last. Pray give 
me your opinion in full, on both these affairs; for you may 
depend upon it, I will do nothing for the future without 
consulting you. Who am, 
	Dear mamma, 
	your most dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Letter III.

L---- Hall. 
	Dear mamma, 
	Not hearing from you as I expected was a very great 
disappointment and vexation to me, and the more because I was 
afraid you were sick or dead, or something extraordinary had 
fallen out; but we are informed that the mail has been robbed, 
all the bills taken out, and the letters thrown away; so hope 
the want of your advice so soon as I could have wished, is all 
the misfortune of it; and as things have happened, I have the 
less occasion; for I shall very shortly be in town. A man and 
horse came last night with the news that Lady G----, Sir 
Thomas's sister, is dead, and having left him sole executor 
and trustee for her children, he is obliged to go directly for 
London. He talks of setting out to-morrow, with his son in the 
chariot, and the ladies in two or three days after; so you 
will hear no more from me till I see you--we are all in a vast 
confusion and hurry here, so have time for no more than to 
tell you, I am, 
	Dear mamma, 
	your most dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. Since I wrote the above, Mrs Brown told me the ladies 
were resolved to follow Sir Thomas the next day.

The family came to town as Syrena had wrote, and the mother 
and daughter soon after meeting, concerted a design the most 
abominable that ever was invented, and which in a short time 
they carried into execution in the following manner.

Sir Thomas, either through grief for the loss of a sister whom 
he had tenderly loved, or the hurry of affairs her death had 
involved him in, had no leisure immediately to prosecute his 
amour with Syrena; but the young gentleman, less affected, 
omitted no opportunity of testifying the regard he had for 
her, and she, by a thousand different artifices, every day 
improved it, till his passion for her arrived at that height, 
that for the gratification of it, he would probably have given 
her the proof she aimed at, and become her husband, had not 
the fear of being disinherited, and rendering her as unhappy 
as himself, prevented him. Her mother having told her, she 
approved of her pretending to quit the house, she terrified 
him with that, and one day, when he was saying all the tender 
things that love could suggest, in order to prevail on her to 
quit that cruel resolution, as he called it. "O!" said she, 
"could you, sir, be sensible how much I shall suffer when 
separated from you, you would acknowledge, I was much more 
cruel to myself than you." And gave him, while she was 
speaking this, a look, which made him think it might still be 
in his power to prevail on her. On which he began to reiterate 
all the promises he before had made her; adding, that if she 
would be his, he would use her in all things like a wife, the 
name excepted: she feigned to listen with less aversion than 
before to his offers; but he fearing to be interrupted, for 
they were then in the parlour, begged she would give him a 
meeting in some place, where it would be less dangerous to 
converse in; but she would by no means be persuaded to see him 
abroad; pretending, that since the adventure of Blackheath she 
had made a vow; "and," said she, "I should think breaking a 
vow, though made only to myself, the wickedest thing I could 
do; but," added she blushing, "Sir, if you desire to take 
leave of me, or have anything to say that I ought not to be 
ashamed to hear, I'll tell you how we might pass an hour, at 
least, together without suspicion." "Where, my angel?" cried 
he impatiently. "You know, sir," answered she, "that Sir 
Thomas, your mamma, and my lady, go all to church next Sunday, 
and it being the first of their appearing since the death of 
Lady G----, Mrs Brown, Mrs Mary, Mr Groves, and myself are 
ordered to attend them, to show our mourning, and the men, you 
know, will be all with them: now, sir, I can say, I have got a 
violent headache to excuse going; and if you could find any 
pretence for staying at home, I will once more indulge myself 
in the dangerous satisfaction of hearing you talk." He was 
quite transported with this contrivance, and told her that 
nothing could have happened more lucky; "for, my dear," said 
he, "I am at this time soliciting a place at court, and my 
Lord R----, on whose interest I chiefly depend, has really 
ordered me to attend him on Sunday morning: now, as his 
Lordship's hour of rising is usually about the time of divine 
service, Sir Thomas does not expect me to go to church, and 
will suppose I stay to dress for this visit." "Then," cried 
she, "I will be in my lady's chamber, because of the 
convenience of the closet, in case any of the maids that are 
left at home should chance to come up for anything; but, sir," 
pursued she, "don't you think me very forward now? Does not 
agreeing too soon to see you in private, look as if I were 
consenting in a manner to everything? If it does, indeed I 
won't be there; for though I love to be with you, and my heart 
is ready to break when I don't see you, as you know sometimes 
I don't, for two or three days together, yet I won't be 
dishonest; I will die first". "My dearest, sweetest 
innocence," replied he, "time will convince you, that I would 
not hurt you for the world." They had no time for farther 
conversation, nor did they meet again, till the morning 
equally longed for by both, though for different reasons, was 
arrived.

The family went to church, little imagining, while they were 
in this laudable act of devotion, what a scene of mischief was 
preparing for them at home, by a creature whom they took to be 
the most artless and innocent of her sex. The young deceiver 
was ready in the appointed chamber to meet her expected lover, 
who no sooner found the coast clear, than he flew to her with 
all the raptures of an unfeigned affection, after the most 
vigorous pressures on the one side, and a well-acted childish 
fondness, mingled with a shame-faced simplicity on the other, 
he gained the utmost of his desires, and she the opportunity 
to attempt the accomplishment of hers.

He had no sooner left the chamber, than she tore her hair and 
clothes, pinched her arms and hands till they became black; 
plucked down one of the curtains from the bed, and throwed it 
on the floor, and put herself and everything in such disorder, 
that the room seemed a scene of distraction; then having 
watched at the window Mr L----'s going out, she rung the bell 
with all her strength, and the maids below came running up, 
surprised what could be the meaning, but were much more so, 
when they saw Syrena in the most pity-moving posture 
imaginable; she was lying cross the bed, her eyes rolling as 
just recovered from a fit; she wrung her hands; she cried to 
heaven for justice; then raved, as if the anguish of her mind 
had deprived her of reason. The girls were strangely alarmed 
at so unexpected a sight, and asked her the occasion, but 
instead of giving any direct answer, she only cried, "Let me 
be gone--O let me get out of this accursed, this fatal house--
O that I had been buried quick before I ever set my foot in 
it," and then begged of them, that they would send somebody 
for a coach or a chair for her, but they refusing to let her 
go out of the house till the family came home, she started up, 
and snatching a penknife that lay upon the table, cried she 
would run it into her heart, if they offered to detain her. 
"No," said she I will never see my lady, Lady L----, nor Sir 
Thomas any more--I cannot bear it--let me go--" raved she. "I 
am sure I have taken nothing from anybody. My trunk is here. 
Keep that and search, but as for me I will go--I will--I 
will," continued she; and in spite of all they could do, broke 
from them and ran downstairs, and so into the street, in that 
torn and dishevelled condition, where she soon got a coach, 
and was carried to her mother's; who highly applauded her 
management in this affair, and gave her fresh instructions for 
the perfecting their most detestable plot.

Nothing ever equalled the surprise that Sir Thomas, the 
ladies, and whole family were in, when on their coming home 
they were told the departure of Syrena, and the confusion of 
her behaviour. They looked one upon the other, as not knowing 
what to think of the matter. Mrs Brown and Mr Groves shook 
their heads, as if they apprehended somewhat they durst not 
speak, and all of them at once demanded who had been in the 
chamber with her? The maids answered, that they knew of 
nobody, and were certain no person had come into the house 
since they went out. In fine, as 'twas impossible she could 
have been in such a condition as was described without some 
very extraordinary occasion, the least mischief they could 
think of it was, that she had been taken suddenly mad. This 
unhappy adventure engrossed not only their thoughts, but 
conversation also, and on Mr L----'s return from visiting the 
nobleman his friend, and was informed of it, all he could do 
to command himself, was insufficient to prevent some part of 
the concern he felt from appearing in his countenance. He said 
the least, however, of any of them; and endeavoured frequently 
to turn the discourse on other subjects, telling the ladies, 
that though Syrena was a pretty modest girl he believed, yet 
he wondered they should be so uneasy about her; that probably 
some disorder in the brain had seized her, which might be 
removed by proper remedies; and it was pity they should give 
themselves so much trouble about a servant. But this affected 
carelessness, which he thought so politic, was very 
prejudicial to himself afterward; and helped greatly to assist 
the base designs formed against him, though at present none 
took notice of it, or at least seemed to do so. As soon as 
dinner was over, one of the men was ordered to go to Syrena's 
mother, to see if she was with her, and learn, if possible, 
the truth of this affair. Mr Groves desired he might be the 
person employed, and Mrs Brown and the chambermaid who all had 
a great regard for her on the score of her youth and pretended 
innocence, begged they might accompany him in this errand, 
which was readily granted, and Sir Thomas told them they might 
have the coach; but before it could be got ready, so 
industrious is villainy, Mr L---- was informed two gentlemen 
desired to speak with him, he went to receive them in the 
parlour, where they had been conducted by the footman, who had 
opened the door. He no sooner was within the room, than one of 
them coming up close to him, told him, that he was sorry he 
was obliged to execute the duty of his office on a gentleman 
like Mr L----, but had a warrant against him, on account of a 
rape and assault sworn to be committed by him that morning, on 
the body of Syrena Tricksy. Not all the astonishment Mr L---- 
was in, and there could not be a greater, quelled the emotions 
of his rage at so vile an accusation, and without considering 
the consequences, laid his hand on his sword, with intention 
to draw it; but both the others seizing him at once, prevented 
what else his passion might have prompted him to; and there 
ensued so great a scuffle among them, that Sir Thomas and the 
ladies, who were in the next room, heard it, and ran in: the 
occasion was soon discovered, and it would be very difficult 
to describe the consternation, the terror, the grief, the 
shame, with which every one of their faces was overspread; the 
ladies fell into fits, the servants who assisted in recovering 
them, were little better themselves, and all were in the 
utmost hurry and confusion. Sir Thomas offered to engage for 
his son's appearance; but the officers said it could not be 
allowed in a capital case: that the girl had suffered 
violence, which perhaps might be her death; but as they knew 
the respect due to so worthy a family, Mr L---- should have no 
reason to complain of the want of anything but liberty, during 
the time he was with them; and added, that they hoped things 
might be made up so with the plaintiff's mother, that he would 
be restored to that also in a short time. Mr L---- gave no 
answer to this insinuation; but a look which showed his 
contempt of coming to any terms with such abandoned wretches. 
In fine, after some little debate he was compelled to obey the 
order, brought against him, and quitted his father's house 
with company he little expected ever to be among.

This was the stratagem which these pernicious creatures had 
devised, and thus was it executed; the moment Syrena came 
home, the same coach carried her, in the deplorable condition 
she had made herself appear, with her mother to a magistrate, 
who seeing the youth and seeming modesty of the girl, doubted 
not the truth of their accusation, and sent tipstaves 
immediately to seize on Mr L----, which being done, Mrs 
Tricksy congratulated her daughter in iniquity, as well as 
blood, for the success of their enterprise: "Now, child," said 
she, "you will be Lady L----, the proud puppy will be glad to 
marry you now to save his neck; and marry you he shall, or 
come down with a sum sufficient to entitle you to a husband of 
as good an estate as he will have."

But the satisfaction they had in this event, greatly as it 
flattered their presuming hopes, was short of the anguish, the 
unspeakable horror in which it involved Sir Thomas and his 
noble family: dear as Mr L---- was to them all, not one, when 
they considered circumstances, the time, the place, the still 
believed artlessness of Syrena, the confusion he appeared in 
at hearing she was gone, and which he strove to conceal, but 
could not. All concurred to make him seem as guilty as he was 
represented to be, and was rather an addition, than an 
alleviation of their sorrows, especially to the ladies.

As for the young gentleman in custody, rage, shame, and 
amazement took up all his mind, and left no room for any 
thought how to disentangle himself from the snare his love for 
an unworthy object had brought him into; he never could 
conceive there was so much villainy in womankind, much less in 
one so young; and was ready to curse the whole sex, for the 
sake of the perfidious Syrena: so unjustly do our passions 
often make us blend the worthy with the unworthy!

Sir Thomas in the meantime neglected nothing that might remedy 
this misfortune. The best counsel was consulted in the affair, 
who, on hearing the whole of the affair, advised to make it 
up, if possible, with the mother of Syrena; but that monster 
would listen to no proposals, and set the virtue and 
reputation of her child at no less price than marriage. 'Tis 
impossible for heart to conceive the indignation of the young 
gentleman when he was informed of this; he protested that he 
would sooner yield to all the law inflicts in such cases, than 
become the property of those vile serpents; for that was all 
the name he could bring himself to call them by. Hard, indeed, 
was his fate, when those who most endeavoured to defend him, 
in their souls believed him guilty; his counsel, his parents, 
all the servants in the family, even his own man (who had been 
the person who called the coach for Syrena, when she was 
carried to Blackheath, and knew his master had a design upon 
her) had the matter been brought before a court of judicature, 
could have said nothing but what must have tended to prove the 
imaginary crime. How false and weak, therefore, is that notion 
which some men have, that they may do anything with a woman, 
but marry her, and that nothing but a wife can make them 
unhappy; when, in reality, there are often more disquiets, 
more perplexities, more dangers attend the prosecution of an 
unlawful amour, than can be met with, even with the worst of 
wives; for if a woman cannot be sincere in a state where 'tis 
her interest to be so; what can be expected from her in one 
where 'tis her interest to deceive: besides, the artifices 
practised to gain the sex at first, gives them a kind of 
pretence for retaliation afterward; and men frequently find to 
their cost, they but too well know how to be even with them.

Thus Mr L----, who in the morning thought himself happy in the 
possession of a beautiful innocent creature, that loved him 
with the extremest tenderness, found himself before the sun 
went down, the wretched property of a presuming, mercenary, 
betraying, perjured and abandoned prostitute; his friends 
incensed; his reputation blasted; his liberty at the disposal 
of the lowest and most despised rank of men, and his life in 
danger of the most shameful and ignominious end.

So greatly were all appearances against him, that what a day 
before his friends would have looked upon as the heaviest 
misfortune could have befallen them, they now laboured with 
all their might to bring about, as the only remaining remedy 
for the present evil; and Mr L----, to aggravate the horrors 
of his mind, was compelled to hear every moment, from all who 
wished him well, the distracting solicitations, that he would 
consent to make the supposed injured girl his wife. Whether he 
would at last have been prevailed upon by their arguments; or 
whether he would rather have chosen to endure the sentence of 
the law; or whether, to avoid both, he would not have been 
guilty of some act of desperation on himself, is uncertain; 
providence thought not fit to punish him any farther, and when 
he least expected it, sent him a deliverance.

The villains who had robbed the mail, as before mentioned, 
after they had taken out the bills, threw the bag and letters 
into a ditch; but there happening to be no water in it, the 
papers received no damage; but the post-man had been so beaten 
and cruelly used, that he was not capable of telling what had 
become of them; they were afterwards found by a country-
fellow, who seeing what they were, carried them as directed; 
there being two for Sir Thomas L----, and one for Mrs Syrena 
Tricksy; the man delivered them at his seat, but the family 
being come to London that morning, a servant took them, and 
putting them altogether under a cover, sent them up by the 
next post. Those for Sir Thomas were nothing to the purpose of 
this story, but everybody agreeing that it would be proper to 
open that for Syrena, they found it from her mother, and 
contained as follows:

Dear Syrena, 
	I have considered on all you acquainted me with; and 
have been much perplexed in my mind how to advise you in 
this ticklish affair; but am at last come to a 
resolution. Sir Thomas's proposals are very niggardly; 
what is an hundred pounds a year to a woman that would 
appear handsome in the world? And then if he dies, to be 
reduced to fifty--good God! I wonder how he can offer to 
think of having a fine girl, and a maid too, as he takes 
you for, on such poor terms; but it may be it would have 
been better for his family, if he had bid higher; for I 
have a project in my head to force his son to marry you, 
in case all your arts to draw him in should fail; nay, 
and to oblige Sir Thomas and my lady, and all of them, to 
consent to it; and if he should refuse to live with you 
afterward, the allowance they must give you as his wife, 
will be more than his father's pitiful hundred pounds a 
year: besides, when Sir Thomas dies (and what I design to 
do, will go a good way towards breaking his heart) you 
will be Lady L----, they can't hinder you of that; and a 
title will give you such an air among the young fellows, 
that you may make what terms you will with any of them. 
The contrivance I have formed is indeed pretty dangerous, 
and requires abundance of cunning and courage too to go 
through with it to purpose; but I perceive with pleasure, 
you have a good share of the one; and as I shall be 
obliged to act a part in it myself, I don't doubt but I 
shall be able to give you enough of the other also; but 
nothing of this can be put in practice till you come back 
to London. All you have to do in the meantime, is to 
heighten the young squire's affection, by all the little 
stratagems you can invent; as to the father, I would have 
you avoid, if you possibly can, giving him any positive 
answer; but be sure not to part with the proposals he 
gave you; they may be useful hereafter, in making him 
fearful of provoking us to expose him. If he should ask 
for the paper, you may pretend you burned it as soon as 
you had examined it, for fear of its being found. My dear 
girl, my head is always at work for thee; be careful to 
do as I direct; let Mr L---- believe you love him to 
madness if he will; but be still more and more tenacious 
of your virtue, till I inform you the proper time for 
resigning it. 'Tis possible as he loves you so well, you 
may persuade him to marry you, when he finds there's no 
having you without; but once again depend that I have the 
sure means to make him be glad to do it. So no more at 
present, from 
	Your affectionate mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

Here Mr L----'s parents found a full as well as a seasonable 
discovery of the wicked plot, and their son's innocence, as to 
the pretended rape, cleared. Their transport could not but be 
great, though somewhat allayed by the story of Sir Thomas and 
his proposals; the confusion of that gentleman, and the 
jealous disdain of his lady, a while combated with the sincere 
satisfaction they would otherwise have felt. Some few 
upbraidings on the one side, and excuses on the other were 
natural on the occasion, but at length were wholly swallowed 
up in the joy for the deliverance of an only son. The next 
thing they had to think upon, was how to proceed for the 
punishment of these vile creatures who had imposed upon them; 
but when they found that it could not be done without bringing 
the whole affair to a public trial; their counsel advised them 
rather to compromise it, and rest contented with the 
disappointment Syrena and her mother had met with, and not 
pursue a justice which would occasion so much town-talk of 
themselves; especially considering that such practices would 
infallibly some time or other, draw on the authors the public 
shame they merited, where perhaps the avengers had not laid 
themselves so open to ridicule, as Sir Thomas and his son had 
done. The letter therefore being produced, and the person who 
brought it, detained as an evidence, in case they had offered 
to deny the hand, the audacious expectations of our female 
plotters, were turned into submissions; and all their arts 
employed only to prevail on the lawyer, who negotiated between 
them, that Sir Thomas and his family would not prosecute them 
for perjury and fraud, which he pretended to accomplish with a 
great deal of difficulty; and so this troublesome and 
dangerous business ended, and was, 'tis to be hoped, a means 
of preventing both father and son from rendring themselves 
liable to any future impositions of the same nature.

Now had the wicked Mrs Tricksy and her daughter time to 
reflect on the ill success of their stratagem; but instead of 
acknowledging the justice of divine providence in unravelling 
this affair, they only cursed fortune, and accused themselves 
for having trusted the secret of their design to pen and 
paper: dreadful proof that their hearts were totally void of 
all distinction between vice and virtue! The best may have 
fallen into errors which they have afterwards so truly 
repented of, that even those faults have contributed to the 
rendering them more perfect. others again may have been guilty 
of repeated crimes, and yet have felt remorse, even in the 
moment of perpetrating them; but the wretch, incapable either 
of penitence or remorse, one may, without breach of charity, 
pronounce irreclaimable but by a miracle, and fit for the 
engaging in any mischief where temptation calls.



Chapter IV.

When our young deceiver and her mother had a little recovered 
from the emotions occasioned by their disappointment, they 
began to consider what they had best do: the family Syrena had 
quitted, kept so much company, that for her to think of 
getting into any other as a servant was dangerous; as she 
possibly might be seen, by those she had ill-treated, and by 
that means be exposed: it therefore seemed most prudent to get 
out of the way for some time, and trust to chance for 
adventures. Greenwich was the place they pitched on for a 
retirement; and Mrs Tricksy having sold what few houshold 
goods she had, took a neat, but plain ready-furnished lodging, 
for herself and daughter, at a house which had a door into the 
park; as judging not improbable, but that by frequent walking 
there, the little harpy might happen on some prey to her 
advantage: the event in part answered to their wish; her 
youth, her beauty, and seeming innocence, soon made her be 
taken notice of by several gentlemen, whom the season of the 
year, and the pleasantness of the place, had drawn thither; 
but he that seemed most affected with her charms, was Mr D----
, he had often seen her walking in the park, sometimes with 
her mother, and sometimes with a young lady, who lodged in the 
same house with them; and had more than once fallen into such 
little conversations with them, as the freedom of a country 
place allows, without being particular; his eyes however 
discovered something, which did not 'scape the vigilant 
observation of both mother and daughter, and afforded a 
prospect they so much wished to find.

Mr D---- was a young gentleman of about 800l. a year, was 
contracted to a lady called Maria, and shortly to be married 
to her, with the consent of the friends on both sides; but a 
near relation in Lincolnshire, from whom she expected a 
considerable augmentation of her fortune, being taken ill, the 
young lady was gone to make her visit. During her absence, Mr 
D---- intended to pass the time at Greenwich, a place he 
always liked, but now more especially; the solemn prospect of 
the sea indulging those ideas, which persons separated from 
those they love, are ordinarily possessed of. The first sight 
of Syrena struck him with a kind of pleasing surprise;--he 
fancied he saw something in her face, like that of her he had 
for many years been accustomed to admire: he little thought 
how much he injured the virtuous maid, by making any 
comparison between her and this unworthy resemblance; or that 
the affection he had vowed to Maria, could ever be diminished 
by an innocent conversation with Syrena; yet so it was, by 
pleasing himself with seeing her for the sake of another, he 
by degrees grew delighted with seeing her for her own--so 
little do we know ourselves, and so hard it is to preserve 
constancy in absence. As on his first acquaintance with 
Syrena, he had no manner of design upon her, he made no secret 
of his affairs, and talked of his beloved Maria in the most 
tender terms; but afterwards mentioned her name with less and 
less emotions; and from being passionately fond of talking of 
her, fell at last into an uneasiness of hearing her spoken of 
at all.

Mrs Tricksy therefore had some reason to flatter herself, that 
the impression her daughter had made on him, had erased that 
of the mistress he had so long adored; and that he wanted 
nothing but an opportunity to confess it to her; on which it 
was contrived, that she should throw herself in his way, at a 
time, when there should be no witnesses of their conversation. 
They knew he was accustomed to walk early in the morning, on 
that side of the park that has the prospect of the sea; and 
there on the side of a hill did Syrena place herself, leaning 
in a pensive posture, her head upon her hand; she had not 
waited long before Mr D---- came that way, and felt (as he 
afterwards called it) a guilty flutter at his heart, in 
perceiving she was alone. He accosted her at first only with 
the usual salutations of the morning; but she, with a modest 
blush, downcast eyes, and all the tokens of an innocent 
surprise (which she before had practised in her glass) soon 
allured him to entertain her in a more tender manner. "I am 
afraid miss," said he, "I have disturbed your contemplations, 
and perhaps been injurious to the happy man who was the 
subject of them; for it cannot be that a young lady like you 
should choose this solitary place, but to indulge ideas more 
agreeable than any company can afford." "It is certain, sir," 
replied she, "that there is a pleasure in being alone 
sometimes; but I assure you that is not my case at present: I 
love to rise early, the sweetness of the morning tempted me 
abroad, and the few acquaintance I have here, are all too lazy 
to partake of it." "Then," rejoined he, "you will give me 
leave to be your companion?" "Provided," answered she gaily, 
"your complaisance is no violence on your inclination; for as 
you have owned yourself a lover, it may very well be supposed 
you come here to indulge those ideas, you just now accused me 
of." "Perhaps, miss," said he, "I can nowhere so well indulge 
them as in your presence." "That's impossible," replied she, 
"unless I had seen the object of your affections, and could 
expatiate on the beauties of her shape, her air, her face, and 
wit." "While you show me your own," cried he, "I need no more 
to inspire me with the most passionate sentiments. Sure none," 
added he, "catching her in his arms, can see the charming 
Syrena, and lose a thought on any other object." "Hold! Hold! 
Good sir!" said she, disengaging herself from him, "you grow a 
little too free, and I shall be in danger of growing too 
serious. What!" continued she, "this from a man in love with 
another woman!" "Whatever I may have felt, for any other 
woman," replied he, "while I see Syrena, I can love nothing 
but her." "O fie!" rejoined she, "what has a man to offer, 
that has already disposed of his vows." "His heart," answered 
he. "O! Then I find," said she, "your heart is like a ready-
furnished chamber, to be let to the first comer, who must go 
out at a short warning, on the prospect of a more advantageous 
lodger."

The reader will perceive she was here acting the coquette. The 
reason of it was, that imagining a sprightly behaviour would 
be most agreeable to a man of his gay temper; and as she could 
have no hopes of gaining him for a husband, things having been 
gone so far with Maria, whose fortune she had heard was to pay 
off his sister's portion, she thought too great a reserve 
might deter him from making any addresses to her; and though 
she could not expect any settlement, as her affairs now were, 
it seemed better to play at a small game, than stick out.

She continued to rally with him for some time, and her wit and 
the little artifices she made use of, so much inflamed his 
amorous inclinations, that he was ready almost to take the 
advantage of that solitary place, and become a ravisher for 
the gratification of them; but it needed not, she received his 
caresses in such a manner, as afforded him a sufficient cause 
to hope, she would not be cruel. She promised to meet him the 
next morning, at the same place and hour, and let fall, as if 
unguarded, some hints that she wanted only to be convinced of 
his affection, to give him the proof of hers that he desired.

The time of their assignation being arrived, both were 
punctual, and she allowed him yet greater freedoms than 
before, but kept back that he was most eager to obtain; he was 
not to seek what 'twas she aimed at, and presented her with a 
diamond ring, which she accepted as a proof of his love. The 
next day he brought her a gold watch, and after that an 
embroidered purse with fifty broad pieces. All which she took, 
without returning him anything in exchange, but the liberty of 
kissing and embracing her, not that she absolutely refused 
him; but pretended she would find a fitter opportunity, and 
that her mamma was to go shortly to London, on some business 
that would detain her the whole day and night; and that she 
would then contrive a way, to get him privately into their own 
lodging. This satisfied him for the present, but finding no 
effect of the promises she made him, he began to grow 
impatient; and was for seizing the joy he aimed at, in a place 
where the seeming delicacy of Syrena, would not consent to 
yield it him. She found means, however, to prevent him, both 
from having any suspicion she had a design to jilt him, or 
from compassing his intent, till she thought fit to grant it.

The motives of her behaving in this fashion, were two; the 
first was to get as much as she could of him, before she 
granted him any material favour, having an after-game in her 
head to play upon him; and the other was, that she had another 
lover whom she found her account in managing.

This was a rich Portuguese merchant, who having finished some 
business, which had brought him to England, was on the point 
of returning to his family, when Mrs Tricksy and her daughter 
came to Greenwich: he lodged at the next door to them, and 
being charmed with Syrena, soon got acquainted with them. The 
cunning mother soon perceived his inclination, and to 
encourage him to discover it, in a proper manner, was always 
entertaining him with the misfortunes of her family, and the 
straits to which they were subjected. He took the hint, and 
gave her to understand, he was ready to contribute to the 
relief of the necessities she complained of, provided he might 
obtain a grateful return from the fair Syrena. In fine, the 
agreement was soon struck up between them; he gave his gold, 
and Syrena her person. As he had begun to visit them at their 
first coming, there was no suspicion in the house of the 
amour, which lasted for about a month; at the end of which, 
having fully satisfied his desires, and the necessity of his 
affairs calling him to Portugal, he took his leave: and Syrena 
had now leisure to prosecute her intrigue with Mr D----, which 
she could not so well do, while the merchant was so near her.

She had met by appointment this young gentleman for several 
mornings; but she now came not according to her promise, which 
did not a little perplex him; but he saw her in the afternoon 
in the park, accompanied by that lady, who frequently walked 
with her in the evenings. He joined them as usual, and 
discoursed with them on ordinary things; but perceived a gloom 
on the face of Syrena, which he had never seen before, and 
found that she frequently sighed: he longed for an opportunity 
to enquire the cause, but could find none in that company. 
Syrena too, whenever she looked upon him, expressed some 
impatience in her eyes; but for what he was not able to guess; 
till they turned a corner to go down a walk, she let her 
handkerchief drop, which he taking up, and returning to her 
she slipped a paper into his hand at the same time, and he 
conveyed into his pocket unperceived by the other. Syrena 
after this seemed tired with walking, and with her companion 
took leave of Mr D----, who eager to see what his billet 
contained, made no efforts to detain them; and as soon as they 
were out of sight, found to his great surprise these lines.

Dear sir, 
	That I met you not this morning, was owing to the 
misfortune of my mother's finding the presents, you were 
so kind to make me; and which I had concealed from her, 
knowing how scrupulous she is in such things. She would 
needs make me tell her how I came by them, I had no way 
to conceal the truth, and was obliged to endure a strict 
examination on what had passed between us. I assured, as 
I well might, that our conversation had been perfectly 
innocent; but was obliged to add, that your addresses to 
me were on an honourable foot. She told me she would 
believe nothing of it, unless she heard it confirmed by 
your mouth, and had sent for you today, if company had 
not come from London to visit us, on purpose to return 
the watch and ring; for the purse she knows nothing of, 
and hear what you would say as to your designs on me. 
Therefore, dear sir, do not contradict what I have said, 
unless you would for ever be deprived of the sight, and 
thereby break the heart of, 
	Your Syrena.

P.S. If you humour my mamma in this article, you will 
have leave to visit me, and we may be together as much as 
either of us desire. Pray burn this.

Mr D---- was so much shocked at this proposal, that for some 
moments all the love he had for Syrena was converted into 
contempt, imagining it a trick contrived between mother and 
daughter, to draw him into a promise of marriage; but when he 
reflected that the girl had behaved in a quite contrary 
manner, the good opinion he had of her sincerity, soon cleared 
her from having any share in it. He had great debates within 
himself what to do in the affair: he thought it base to 
pretend a thing which he was far from intending; but then the 
exposing a young creature who loved him, to the rage of a 
mother, whom he supposed she stood much in awe of; together 
with the thoughts of never seeing her any more, out-balanced 
the consideration of his own honour; and he chose, as, indeed, 
most do, when they are in love, to sacrifice his character to 
his passion, rather than his passion to his character, since 
he found himself in a dilemma, where both could not be 
maintained.

The next day, as he expected, the servant of the house, where 
Mrs Tricksy lodged, brought him a letter, which was to this 
purpose.

Sir, 
	I am sorry to have occasion to write to desire you 
will call on me, on an affair which you ought to have 
found an occasion of communicating to me. I scarce think 
you can be ignorant of what I mean, though I am as to 
your real designs; but if they are of a nature fit to be 
acknowledged, to a person in the circumstances I am in; 
you will not hesitate to come, and immediately declare to 
her, who wishes to be with honour, 
	Sir, 
	your obliged humble servant, 
	Ann Tricksy.

This letter, and the summons it contained, renewed his 
confusion; but he found himself under a necessity of giving 
some answer; and as he did not care to write, bid the 
messenger give his service to the lady, and say he would wait 
on her as soon as he was dressed. He was afterwards several 
times prompted by his good genius to break his word on this 
occasion, and go directly for London, without troubling 
himself about what Syrena or her mother should think of him; 
but the presents he had made, and the happiness which they 
were to purchase for him, got again the better of the dictates 
of his prudence, or his consideration for Maria; and he went 
with a resolution to make the mother of his new charmer 
satisfied.

Few women knew better how to behave themselves on all 
occasions than Mrs Tricksy; and on this 'tis not to be doubted 
if she exerted all her artifice: she received him with the 
greatest respect, yet at the same time mingled a certain 
severity in her air, which gave him to understand, she 
expected to be answered with truth, to the questions she had 
to ask him; the principal of which were, on what score he had 
made her daughter such valuable presents? And when he had told 
her on the most honourable one: wherefore his intentions, and 
the courtship between them had been concealed from the person, 
who as a parent ought to have been consulted? To this he 
replied, that he was willing to know how far he could 
influence the affections of the young lady, without the 
interposition of a mother's commands; and that also as he was 
contracted to another, it would be highly improper that the 
world should have any suspicion he had made a second choice, 
till he had found some pretence to break entirely off with the 
first.

On these declarations, Mrs Tricksy seemed perfectly easy, and 
telling him she depended on his honour and veracity, gave him 
leave to visit Syrena, as often as he pleased; and assured him 
at the same time, that she would keep his secret inviolably 
till a proper time for revealing it; and that the family where 
they lived should never know he came there, with any other 
view than to chat away a leisure hour, as an ordinary 
acquaintance.

Glad was Mr D----, when he was got over this task: he was a 
man who naturally hated all kind of deceit, and looked on 
lying, as beneath the dignity of his species; he could not 
therefore utter words so foreign to his heart without feeling 
an inward shock. Yet so great an ascendant had the charms of 
Syrena gained over him, that the unhappy passion he had for 
her, corrupted even his very morals; and made him think 
nothing vile that tended to the enjoyment of her.

Mrs Tricksy, in the meantime was far from believing what he 
said, though she feigned to do so, nor indeed had not yet 
formed any design to draw him in to marry her daughter; 
because his former engagement, and the necessity of his 
affairs requiring he should keep it, she had looked on it as 
an impracticable attempt. All her design in obliging him to 
pretend an honourable passion, was only to support her own 
character, and compel him afterwards to do more for Syrena, 
than perhaps his inclinations would have excited him to; but I 
will not anticipate.

Mr D----, had now all the opportunity he could wish with 
Syrena, which he did not fail to make use of for the 
gratification of his desires; and our young dissembler so well 
acted her part, that he imagined never woman loved to a 
greater height than she did: in the midst of this intrigue, he 
received a letter from Maria, and another from that kinswoman 
at whose house she was: that lady being recovered from her 
indisposition, and loath to lose Maria's company, made him an 
invitation to come down, telling him as what she imagined 
would be a great inducement, that he would have the pleasure 
of conducting to London, that dear person, who was shortly to 
be his companion for life. Maria also desired him to come, in 
terms as pressing as her modesty would permit, and the 
engaging manner in which she wrote somewhat awaked his former 
tenderness; but happening to see Syrena the same evening, and 
mentioning the invitation, the artful creature presently fell 
into fits, crying out between her counterfeited agonies, "O! I 
shall never see you more--you love Maria--you will marry her--
Syrena will be forgot--but I will not live to be forsaken." 
then ran to the window as though she would throw herself out; 
and on his taking her in his arms, and vowing never to be 
ungrateful to her love, clung about his waist, bathed his 
hands and bosom with her tears; then swooned again, and in 
fine, so well feigned the desperate half dying lover, that he 
thought he should be the most cruel of mankind, to quit so 
soft, so endearing a creature; all he could say or do however 
could not pacify her, till he gave her the most solemn 
assurances not to go to Lincolnshire; and the more to convince 
her of the sincerity of what he said, wrote an excuse to the 
ladies in her presence, for his refusal.

When Syrena told her mother how much he was affected with her 
pretended grief, and the condescension he had made, the old 
woman began to be of opinion that he really loved enough to 
marry her, if it were not for his engagement with Maria, and 
from that moment thought of nothing but how it might be broke 
off. The most feasible way she could invent was to make that 
lady think him unworthy her affection. She knew very well how 
far pride and slighted love work in the minds of women, and 
without farther delay wrote to Maria in the following terms.

To Miss Maria S----, at Mrs J----'s house in Lincolnshire 
	Madam, 
	The assurances you have given Mr D---- of making him 
happy in your person and fortune, might justly render any 
man highly contented with his lot; but as our happiness 
consists chiefly in the sense we have of it, I am sorry 
to inform you Mr D---- is ignorant of his. I beg you will 
not suspect I give you this unwelcome intelligence out of 
any sinister view, for I assure you, madam, I am a person 
who have not the last self-interest in this point; and 
nothing but the love I bear to truth and justice could 
have prevailed on me to let you know how void of both Mr 
D---- is now become. You had no sooner left London than 
he went to Greenwich, in pursuit of a young girl esteemed 
very beautiful, but I have never seen her, so take that 
character of her upon trust; I am, however, very certain 
that she is so in the eyes of Mr D----; that he makes 
honourable addresses to her, and has assured her mother 
that he only waits an opportunity to break with you, and 
will then avow his passion for her in the face of the 
world. I appeal to yourself for one proof of what I say, 
if it be true as he gives out that you invited him to 
Lincolnshire, and he declined accepting that favour on a 
frivolous pretence. If you know this to be real, it is 
easy for you to convince yourself yet farther, by 
employing any person to inspect into his behaviour, while 
you are absent. It would be vain to wish you might hear 
it is such as would merit your approbation. The next 
blessing therefore that can attend you is, that you may 
be undeceived in your good opinion before the 
indissoluble knot is tied, that would put it out of your 
power to punish his ingratitude, which is the sole motive 
of this trouble, from 
	Madam, 
	your unknown friend.

This mischievous letter Mrs Tricksy sent to Lincolnshire by 
the post, after having got it copied by a friend in London, to 
prevent any suspicion it was herself that wrote it, in case 
Maria in a rage should either send it up to Mr D----, or show 
it him at her return. The unfortunate gentleman little 
guessing what had been contrived against him, continued 
treating, presenting, and caressing his pretty Syrena, till he 
was sent for to London on the arrival of an uncle, who had 
been three years in Antigua; and whose absence, he being 
guardian to his nephew, alone had so long retarded the 
nuptials of Mr D---- and Maria, the friends of that lady 
insisting on accounts being made up between them before 
marriage.

Syrena no sooner heard this news, than she had recourse to all 
her artifices to retain him; tears, complaints, and faintings 
were all employed to detain him, while the mother on the other 
hand plied him with remonstrances of the promise he had made 
her of breaking with Maria, than which she told him there 
could not be a fitter time than the present, as he might 
easily find some way to embarrass the accounts, so as to 
render it impossible to make any settlement on a wife to the 
satisfaction of her kindred. To this he coolly answered, that 
she might depend he would act as became a man of honour; but 
though he had enough to do between the mother and daughter, 
and had a heart relenting to the sorrows of Syrena, he began 
now to be satiated with enjoyment, and the virtuous affection 
he had avowed to Maria to resume its former dominion over his 
soul. He therefore took his leave of them with so ill-
dissembled a concern, that they easily perceived there was a 
change in him no way to their advantage. Mrs Tricksy however, 
flattered herself with some success in her plot on Maria; she 
imagined that if it did not absolutely break the match it 
would breed a jealousy and uneasiness on her side, which in 
time would create a disgust on his; and that joined with a 
stratagem she had from the beginning intended to put in 
practice, would renew his affections for her daughter, and 
cement him to her more firmly than ever.

Mr D---- being got to London, the pleasure he took in the 
society of an uncle he had not seen in so long a time, and who 
he looked upon as a parent, being left very young to his care, 
together with the hurry of settling his affairs, so took up 
all his mind, that there was little room for remembering his 
Greenwich amour; he had not however left that place above ten 
days before he was reminded of it by a letter from Syrena's 
mother. The contents whereof were as follow:

Sir, 
	I am very much surprised that you have not in all 
this time found a leisure hour for a visit at Greenwich, 
or at least for writing a line to let us know you 
remembered that you have some friends here, who have 
reason to expect that proof of your sincerity. I am loath 
to call your honour in question, yet as I am a mother, 
must beg you to reflect, how cruel it would be, to take 
so much pains as you have done to gain the affection of a 
poor innocent girl, for no other purpose than to leave 
her to despair. I see the concern she is in through all 
her care to hide it from me; and though I find enough to 
chide her for, in the course of her conversation with 
you, yet I have a mother's heart; and cannot but tremble 
at the apprehensions to what she will be reduced, if you 
should prove ungrateful or unkind. Put an end therefore, 
I beseech you, sir, to the suspense we both are in, 
inform us how your affairs are, and if you have made any 
progress towards getting rid of your old engagement. 
Syrena would fain have accompanied this with one from 
herself, but I would not permit it, till I had first 
heard from you, which I once more entreat may be with a 
speed, conformable to the professions you have done her 
the honour to make, and your promises to, 
	Sir, 
	your most obedient servant, 
	Ann Tricksy.

This letter put Mr D---- into a very ill-humour, he now saw 
some part of the ill consequences attending the prosecution of 
an unlawful flame, and condemned his own inconstancy as much 
as any other person could have done. He was in the utmost 
perplexity what to do to rid himself of this troublesome 
affair, and for a long time could not decide within his mind, 
whether not answering Mrs Tricksy at all, or answering her in 
such terms as might let her see there was nothing to be hoped 
from him on the score of marriage, would most contribute to 
that end. At length he resolved on the latter, and wrote in 
this manner.

Madam, 
	As I have a great opinion of your honour, and sense 
of religion, I can scarce think you will blame me, that 
on mature reflection I dare not make any efforts to break 
an engagement, into which I voluntarily entered. I have 
the utmost regard for your daughter, and doubt not but 
she may be much happier with any other, then she could be 
with one, who to be hers must be perjured. I ask your 
pardon for having deceived you; and shall rejoice in any 
opportunity that shall put it my power to atone, for what 
I have done, by any act of friendship, that is consistent 
with the character of a person, who is shortly to give 
his hand to another. I dare say, you have too much 
prudence to make any talk of this adventure, which would 
only create uneasiness to me, without any manner of 
advantage to yourself and daughter. Pray make my best 
wishes acceptable to her; but at the same time let her 
know, that all future correspondence between us, would be 
disreputable to her, and highly inconvenient to, 
	Madam, 
	your humble servant, 
	D----.

He wrote at the same time to Syrena, in these terms.

Dear Syrena, 
	I suppose you are no stranger to the contents of 
your mother's letter; and as you very well know, there 
never was any real intention of marriage between us, and 
that what I said to her, was merely in complaisance to 
your request; I should have taken it kind, if you had 
saved me the shock of her remonstrances, or upbraidings 
on that score; by seeming to think me unworthy of your 
affection, and pretending to her that that the imaginary 
courtship, broke off wholly on your side. Believe, dear 
girl, that I shall always retain the most grateful sense 
of the favours I have received from you; but as I am now 
going to enter into a state, which allows not the 
continuation of them, our interviews hereafter must be as 
private as possible, for both our sakes. Therefore, I beg 
you will make yourself easy. In a little time, perhaps, 
you will hear from me, more to your satisfaction, and be 
convinced that I shall never cease to love you. 
	Yours, 
	D----.

Both these he sent by the penny-post; but directed that for 
Syrena under a cover, to the person at whose house he had 
lodged, while he was at Greenwich, that it might not fall into 
the mother's hands; and betray to her, that her daughter had 
been of the plot to deceive her: poor gentleman, little 
suspecting himself was the only person imposed upon, or that 
the excursion he had made, would be attended with 
consequences, which he soon after dreadfully experienced. But, 
methinks, I hear many of my fair readers cry out, that no 
punishment could be too severe for the inconstancy of Mr D----
, and that the least inflicted on him, ought to be the 
everlasting contempt of the woman to whom he was false, and 
the insincerity of her for whose sake he was so. It cannot, 
indeed, be denied that he had acted an ungenerous part; and if 
we may take his own word for it, in the latter part of his 
letter to Syrena, had no intention to be more constant to 
Maria after marriage than before: 'tis certain, however, that 
though that insinuating creature had got but too much 
possession of his heart, he had at sometimes his repenting 
moments. He was soon after involved in perplexities from 
another quarter; he had wrote three letters to Maria, to none 
of which he had received any answer; and the last being 
accompanied with one to Mrs F----, he obtained one from that 
lady, in which he found these lines.

Sir, 
	Your letters for my cousin came safe to my house, 
but she being gone from me, I have according to her 
desire, laid them by in order to send to her, when I 
shall receive directions from her where to do so; for at 
present, I am entirely ignorant of her retirement. I know 
not what has happened, since she left my house, to go to 
that of a relation we have twenty miles hence; where, she 
said, she intended to pass some days; but I have heard 
went from thence directly in the London stage. I am 
greatly surprised you have not seen her, nor that she not 
has wrote to me. She seemed in a good deal of inward 
agitation at her departure, but I could get nothing from 
her of the motive. I wish all is well. I do not doubt now 
you have this intelligence, but you will make a strict 
enquiry, and beg as soon as 'tis in your power, you will 
let me know, for I am in more concern, than I am able to 
express. 
	Sir, 
	your most humble servant, 
	K. J----.

'Tis a common saying, that people seldom know the value of 
anything, till they are in danger of losing it. Mr D---- was 
not sensible himself how much he loved Maria, till this 
letter. Jealousy, and the fears that some accident had 
befallen her, by turns distracted him; he sent, he went 
himself to all the relations and acquaintance she had in town, 
to enquire after her; but to no effect; whoever he spoke to on 
this head, seemed no less amazed and concerned than himself, 
and the more he reflected on it, the more he was bewildered in 
his thoughts. One evening as he returned to his lodging with a 
heart full of disturbed emotions from this fruitless search; 
he was told by the people where he lodged, that a young lady 
had waited for him some time; as he then thought of nothing 
but Maria, he imagined it must be she, and flew upstairs with 
all the impatience of love and curiosity. But how great was 
his surprise, when instead of her, he found Syrena: a visit 
from her seemed so presuming, and at the same time so distant 
from that modesty she had always counterfeited before him; 
that on his first coming into the room, he had scarce command 
enough over himself, to forbear saying something, that might 
have been accounted too shocking to a person of her sex, and 
whom he once pretended to love. She gave him not much time, 
however, to consider how he should receive her; for rising 
from an easy chair into which she had thrown herself, and 
running to him with a most artfully assumed wildness in her 
countenance, the moment he entered the room. "Pardon me," 
cried she, "my dear, dear Mr D----, that I come here an 
uninvited guest; 'tis the first and last trouble I shall give 
you; but I could not die without seeing you: all I beg is a 
kind farewell, and that you will pity the unfortunate, the too 
tender Syrena." If he was before amazed and angry at an 
action, which he looked upon as too bold; he was now more 
confounded and grieved at a behaviour, which had in it so much 
the appearance of despair; and demanded hastily what had 
happened, and what she meant by talking of dying, and 
farewell? On which she told him with a flood of tears, that 
her mother had intercepted the letter he wrote to her, and 
finding by it the truth of their correspondence, and that she 
had been of the party to deceive her; she flew into such an 
extremity of rage, that she turned her out of doors, with an 
oath never to see her more, or own her as her child. "Thus," 
added the young dissembler, "I am abandoned to the world, 
destitute of friends, of lodging, or any means of supporting a 
wretched life; and what increases my misfortune, I fear I am 
with child. What then can I do but die? And die I will. The 
minute I go from you, I will seek out some private stairs that 
lead to the Thames, and throw myself in." Mr D----, who 
believed all she said, thought now of nothing, but dissuading 
her from so dreadful a resolution: he made use of all the 
arguments he was master of; assured her of his everlasting 
friendship, and swore that neither she, nor the dear little 
one, in case it was as she apprehended, should ever be to seek 
for support. This being what she wanted to bring him to, her 
distractions by little and little seemed to abate. He sent his 
man to provide a handsome lodging for her, gave her twenty 
guineas for her pocket, and promised to bring her three pounds 
every week, till something should offer more to her advantage.

Now was Syrena a kept mistress, and being by his good-nature, 
settled in a commodious and reputable lodging, found many 
excuses besides her pretended pregnancy to drain money from 
him, more than her allowance; but not all the extravagance of 
love she pretended to have for him, nor all the liking he had 
of her person and behaviour, had the efficacy to drive Maria 
from his mind: her strange absenting herself from him and from 
all her relations, at a time, when it was expected their 
marriage would have been celebrated, gave him discontents, 
which it was in the power of no other woman to dissipate. To 
aggravate his confusion, he received by the penny-post an 
anonymous letter, the contents whereof were these.

Sir, 
	I am no stranger to your engagement with Miss S----, 
nor to the disquiet you at present labour under on her 
account, and am enough your friend to advise you, not to 
give yourself any farther trouble in searching after one, 
who if found, might occasion you to be guilty of somewhat 
unworthy of your character; in fine, she is in the arms 
of a man, whom an inconstancy natural to the sex, makes 
her prefer to him intended for her husband. Chance 
discovered the secret to me; nor would I have been so 
cruel to the lady, to inform you of it, had I not thought 
I could not have concealed it without ingratitude, having 
once received an obligation from you, which I cannot 
forget. I choose, however, to stand behind the curtain, 
till it is known how you relish so disagreeable an 
intelligence. If you have love enough to forgive this 
false step in Miss S----, and make her your wife, when 
she thinks fit to be visible, you cannot expect to know 
the person, whom you could not look upon without a blush; 
But if, thus warned, you take the advantage she has given 
you of concealing herself to break off, you shall be made 
acquainted with the whole story of her infidelity, and 
also the name of him, who now subscribes himself, 
	Your well wisher.

Mr D---- believing Syrena to be the most disinterested, open 
and sincere creature in the world, had been so weak as to 
entrust her with Maria's having absented herself from all her 
friends; the fruitless enquiry both himself and they had made 
after her, and also some jealous sentiments, which ever and 
anon rose in his mind, that so odd an elopement could have no 
other motive, than a new and more favoured lover; and the 
artful hypocrite appeared always to take the suspected lady's 
part, invented excuses for her having acted in that manner, 
and apologized for her with so much seeming earnestness, that 
Mr D---- was perfectly charmed with her generosity, and in 
some moments thought he should not be much concerned to hear 
the worst that could be of Maria, since he had in Syrena so 
faithful a friend as well as mistress. He no sooner received 
the above letter, than he flew to communicate it to her, 
though it was then very late at night, and he had passed all 
the afternoon with her; but as if since his unhappy amour with 
her, he was to be continually involved in matters of surprise, 
of one kind or other, he met one here he little expected, that 
of being told she was abroad; as he had left her quite 
undressed, and she had mentioned no occasion that should call 
her out, he knew not what to think of such a nocturnal ramble; 
he resolved however to wait till she returned, though it 
should be all night, and bid the servant of the house light 
him upstairs; for Syrena boarding with the family, had yet 
taken no maid of her own; the people durst not refuse him, and 
he sat down, full of various and disturbed emotions. He had 
not long indulged them, before casting his eye on the table, 
he saw a sealed letter; he took it up, and finding it directed 
to Mrs Syrena Tricksy, and as he thought in her mother's hand, 
he broke it hastily open, and found he was, not deceived; it 
was indeed from Mrs Tricksy, and contained these lines:

Dear Syrena, 
	I was in town yesterday, and should have been glad 
to have given you my opinion on what you wrote; but durst 
not come or send for you anywhere, for fear of Mr D----'s 
being with you. A little circumspection, my girl, may 
draw the fool in to marry you at last; therefore I am 
vexed you have gone so far with Captain H----s; if 
anything should happen to discover your intrigue with 
him, and Mr D---- should turn you off before you have got 
a settlement, the other you know has no estate, but it is 
too late to advise you now, only be cautious; it is lucky 
your keeper depends so much on your sincerity, as to tell 
you his suspicions of Maria; I took the hint you gave me, 
and sent him a letter as from an unknown person, which 
will make him quite confirmed of her falsehood. That I 
sent to Lincolnshire I am positive has had a good effect, 
for a person has been at Greenwich since you left it, 
making great enquiry concerning you and Mr D----, which 
could be only by Maria's orders. I dare believe by this 
time they heartily hate one another, and as we have 
contrived it, can never come to a right knowledge of the 
matter; only I once more charge you to take care, that 
nobody has it in their power to betray your affair with 
the Captain; and also, that you will get as much as you 
can of him soon, for I hear his ship will sail in a 
month's time. Let your next bring me an account how Mr D-
--- takes my anonymous letter, and whether Maria is heard 
of yet. I think to leave Greenwich soon, and then we may 
see one another privately, for I must not pretend to 
forgive your yielding to Mr D---- yet a-while. Adieu, 
dear girl. I am, 
	Your loving mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

No man that has not loved, entrusted, and been jilted, and 
betrayed, like Mr D----, can have a true notion of what he 
felt at this scene of villainy, so wonderfully laid open to 
him. He shuddered to think there could be so much wickedness 
in the world; but when he reflected that it had been practised 
on himself, by a person he had so much confided in, he was all 
rage and madness. Had he followed the first dictates of his 
fury, he would have stayed till the false Syrena had come 
home, and torn out her beguiling eyes, and soft dissembling 
tongue; but reason afterward remonstrating, that all he could 
do, would be but a demeaning of himself, and fall short of 
what her hypocrisy merited at his hands, he took pen and 
paper, and wrote to her in these terms.

Base monster, 
	A letter from your vile mother and accomplice of 
your crimes, has fallen into my hands; I need say no more 
to let you know, I am no longer a stranger to your 
treachery to me, and the injured Maria. Tremble then, 
cursed deceiver! Thou abandoned profligate! Thou hoard of 
complicated crimes, at my just resentment, and fly for 
ever from my sight, lest I stamp deformity on every limb, 
and make thy body as hideous as thy soul. 'Tis highly 
probable I am not the first, but am resolved to be the 
last on whom your detestable artifices shall take effect. 
Captain H----s shall be immediately informed what a viper 
he cherishes; and after, your character shall be made 
public, to warn all mankind from falling into those 
snares, so fatal to the reputation and peace of mind of 
	D----.

This letter he left for her on the table, and put that from 
her mother into his pocket, as an evidence of their 
confederated baseness; he read it over several times after he 
got home; but though he plainly perceived by it, that Maria 
had been imposed upon and made uneasy, as well as himself, by 
their artifices; yet he could find nothing that could give him 
room to think they knew what steps she had taken, any more 
than that a person enquiring after him at Greenwich, seemed 
probably employed by her; but who this person was, he could 
not guess; and his curiosity in that point was so great, 
imagining, that if he could discover this agent of Maria, he 
might by that means be informed where she was; that he was 
sometimes tempted to offer old Mrs Tricksy a free pardon for 
herself and daughter, if she would in the first place turn her 
prolific brain, for discovering the person that came to 
Greenwich; and in the second, make a full recantation of all 
she had put in practice, for sowing dissention between Maria 
and him; but though he would have done almost anything to come 
at the knowledge of the truth, yet when he came to consider a 
second time, he could not yield ever to see or to hold any 
conversation more, though for never so small a time, with 
those wretches, who had so grossly imposed upon and betrayed 
him.

Much compassion had been due to the vexation this gentleman 
was involved in, had not his infidelity, in a manner, merited 
the mischiefs it drew upon him; but what the innocent and 
wronged Maria suffered all this time, cannot but excite the 
pity of every generous reader.

This lady loved Mr D---- with a tenderness, which is rarely to 
be met with in these times of gallantry: she had from her very 
infancy been taught to look upon him, as the man who was one 
day to be her husband; and her virtue and duty improving the 
inclination she naturally had for him, she had never indulged 
herself in those gaieties so many of her sex are fond of; had 
never listened to the sound of love from any tongue but his, 
nor had a wish beyond him. He, for his part, had seemed to 
centre all his hopes and his desires in her, had never given 
her cause for one uneasy moment on his score, nor did she even 
know what jealousy meant; till that fatal letter from the 
wicked Mrs Tricksy awakened in her that poisonous passion, and 
forced her, all soft and gentle as she was by nature, to 
experience those furious emotions, which love ill-treated, and 
confidence abused, never fail to excite. The shock she felt at 
first reading the malicious intelligence, was greater than her 
tender frame could well sustain. She strove to disbelieve it, 
but in vain: the racking idea returned, in spite of all she 
could do to hinder it; sleeping and waking the hated vision of 
a rival flashed upon her mind; she painted her in imagination, 
sometimes kind and consenting to his vows, sometimes reserved 
and haughty, repaying his inconstancy with scorn; in fine, 
love, hate, curiosity, and what was more distracting than them 
all, suspense, made her once tranquil soul a perfect chaos of 
confusion. Resolving to be satisfied, yet unwilling to make 
anyone privy to what she felt on the occasion of it, she 
pretended to Mrs J---- that she would visit a kinswoman at 
some distance, and where she knew that lady would not offer to 
accompany her, on account of a little pique between them. She 
went, indeed, but stayed no longer than one night, and took 
the stage for London. She let no person into the secret of her 
arrival, but one who had formerly been a servant in the 
family, and was now married and kept a house for lodgers: with 
her did the discontented Maria take up her residence: it was 
her whom she sent to Greenwich, to enquire concerning Mr D---- 
and Syrena, and from her she received an account which seemed 
to confirm the truth of the letter; for Mrs Tricksy had taken 
care to spread through all that little town, that her daughter 
was about being married to Mr D----. Being thus, as she 
imagined, fully assured of the worst that could have been 
suggested to her, curiosity led her to try all possible 
methods to gain a sight of the face that had undone her: by 
the diligence of her faithful emissary, she obtained that too; 
for Mr D---- being watched to the house where she lodged, 
Maria afterward went disguised into the neighbourhood, and saw 
not only her rival, but her ungrateful lover also, with her at 
the window----killing sight! All the fortitude she had assumed 
for this adventure, was too little to enable her to endure it. 
She fell immediately into convulsions, and after into a high 
fever, which from the very beginning threatened death. The 
poor creature who had been her confidant, now wished she had 
been less industrious in obeying orders, which were likely to 
bring on so fatal a catastrophe; and judging it wholly 
improper to conceal her any longer, sent to several of her 
relations, who immediately came to visit her full of surprise, 
to find she was in town, and had hid herself till her 
condition made it necessary to disclose the place she was in: 
nobody, however, questioned her on that head, believing it 
might increase her disorder; but they failed not to enquire of 
the woman the motives which had brought her thither, to which 
the other pleaded ignorance, and kept inviolably the secret 
committed to her trust; though it did not long remain so; for 
Maria, growing delirious, so often mentioned the names of Mr 
D---- and Syrena, that it was easy to believe that something 
relating to that gentleman, had been the cause both of her 
strange behaviour, and the condition they now found her in. As 
they were sensible of the trouble he was in on her account, 
they thought it best he should be sent for, which he 
accordingly was, though much against the will of the woman of 
the house, who feared the sight of him would heighten her 
fever.

Mr D---- received the news where Maria was, and of her 
indisposition, the very morning after he had detected the 
treachery of Syrena; and not doubting but it was to the 
pernicious arts of Mrs Tricksy that she owed her illness, 
flattered himself, that his presence, and a full confession of 
what had passed, would greatly contribute to her recovery; but 
he found altogether the reverse; that unhappy lady no sooner 
saw him in her chamber, than she fell into such agonies, that 
he was obliged to withdraw: he imputed it, however, to the 
force of her distemper, and still hoped, that if she came a 
little to her senses, she would consent both to see him, and 
hear what he had to say; so ordered a bed to be prepared for 
him in the same house, that he might be near to watch her 
intervals of reason, and endeavour to make his peace with her. 
In the meantime, he was informed by the confidant, of the 
pains Maria had taken to convince herself of a truth, she had 
better have been eternally ignorant of; and in relating the 
steps that had been taken, highly condemned herself for having 
assisted in the cruel discovery. Mr D---- shook his head, and 
told her that he wished she had been enough his friend to have 
given him a private intelligence of Maria's sentiments; 
though, added he, I cannot blame your acting in the manner you 
did, as appearances were so much against me.

Two days had Mr D---- been under the same roof without being 
able to speak to her; the physicians having ordered she should 
be kept extremely quiet; but at the end of that time, being, 
as they thought, somewhat better, the women ventured to 
acquaint her, who was so near her, and his true remorse for a 
false step, which youth and inadvertency alone had made him 
take, and his real innocence as to the main point, that of 
having any inclination to breaking of with her, or of marrying 
Syrena. The disconsolate Maria listened attentively to her, 
without giving any other answer than sighs; and when the other 
alleged the improbability there was, of his having any settled 
affection for a girl, such as Syrena, and expatiated on the 
vileness of both her, and her mother; "So much the more 
unhappy is my lot," cried Maria, "to be the sacrifice of such 
wretches. However," continued she, "I will see the still dear 
and guilty man--let him be called in."

He threw himself on his knees by her bedside, and said 
everything that love and repentance could inspire, to assure 
her, that his heart had never been but hers; however, an 
unlucky, as well as criminal inclination, had for a small time 
made him act contrary to his honour and his vows."I believe Mr 
D----", answered she, "you are now sorry for and ashamed of 
your acquaintance with Syrena; but, perhaps, it is more owing 
to the discovery of her baseness, than to your regard for me; 
and the next new face that pleased you, would have the same 
influence; at least the passion you have had for her has 
destroyed all the confidence I had in you. I could not now be 
happy with you, nor," cried she, in a low voice, "can I live 
without you." In speaking these words she fainted away; he was 
obliged to ring for the people to come to her assistance; but 
all they could do was ineffectual, she dying in less than an 
hour, and left him, who could not but look upon himself as the 
cause, in a condition little different from distraction.

The real affliction Mr D---- was in for this sad accident, 
made England and the sight of all his friends hateful to him: 
he embarked in a short time for foreign parts; but before he 
went, wrote all the particulars of this fatal adventure, and 
desired it might be made public, as a warning to gentlemen, 
how they inadvertently are drawn into acquaintance with women 
of Syrena's character.



Chapter V.

Our hypocritical mother and daughter had all this time 
business enough upon their hands: Syrena no sooner came home, 
which was about six in the morning, than finding Mr D----'s 
letter, she made no delay, for fear he should return, and use 
her as she knew she merited at his hands, but packed up her 
things, quitted her lodging, and took a coach immediately to 
Greenwich. Mrs Tricksy, on being told what had happened, 
thought that place altogether unsafe for them; so they both 
returned the same day to London, and took lodgings at 
Westminister; where, having no acquaintance, they lived quite 
private for some days, to avoid meeting with Mr D---- or Capt. 
H----s, to whom they did not doubt, but that the resentment of 
the other, had exposed them, as he had threatened in his 
letter. Between the liberality of Mr D----, the Portuguese 
merchant, and the Captain, they had made a pretty handsome 
purse, which if they could have resolved to be honest, might 
have put them in some way of getting bread; but neither of 
them were of frugal dispositions, they indulged themselves in 
everything they liked, and Syrena sent for a mercer, milliner, 
and other tradespeople to equip her in a gay manner, that when 
she went abroad, her charms might appear to advantage: by 
private enquiries they soon heard that the captain had failed, 
and also of Maria's death, and Mr D----'s voluntary banishment 
from England; on which Syrena broke from her obscurity, 
dressed, and trod the mall with as great a grace, and as 
little concern, as the most virtuous that frequented that 
place; she had nothing, indeed, to apprehend; but meeting with 
some or other of Sir Thomas L----'s family; she had, 
therefore, her eyes continually on the watch, that if she 
happened to see any of them at a distance, she might turn 
away, before they came near enough to distinguish her, thus 
disguised as the hussy was in lace and embroidery. The season 
for park-walking in an evening being far advanced, it quite 
passed over without her being able to make one conquest, which 
was no small mortification to this fine lady, especially as 
her money was almost exhausted in clothes, luxurious eating, 
and chair-hire. In short, winter came on, without anything 
being done. She durst not go to plays, operas, nor concerts, 
because she very well knew, that there was seldom a night but 
some or other of that family she had so grossly imposed upon, 
were at those diversions. The masquerade was the only place 
she could go to without fear of being exposed, and even there 
was in danger of being accosted, either by Sir Thomas or his 
son; she flattered herself, however, that she should have 
penetration enough to find either of them out in any habit, 
without their being able to discover her; and she happened in 
reality to be more lucky than she deserved on this score. She 
was not so, however, in her principal intention, that of being 
addressed to in a particular manner. She had been there twice 
without having been accosted with any other than the common 
salutations of the place, as do you know me, and I know you, 
and such like stuff; or the impudent freedoms which are used 
to common women, and which some who glory in being accounted 
libertines, have the effrontery to practise in the most public 
places. The expense of her tickets, dress, and chair-hire thus 
thrown away, was no small mortification to her, as cash began 
now to run very low: she adventured, however, a third time, 
and happening to be addressed by a person, who, on stretching 
out his arm to reach at something on one of the buffets, she 
perceived, by his domino falling a little open, had a star on 
his coat; she resolved to encourage a conversation with him; 
and keeping her eye constantly fixed upon him, had artifice 
enough to draw him off, wherever she found he was engaging 
with any other of the masks. Her wit and manner pleased him 
extremely, and at length he grew very particular with her. She 
seemed no less charmed with his behaviour; and, after a good 
deal of feigned reluctance, consented he should conduct her to 
some place, where they might discourse with more freedom; and 
he accordingly carried her to a bagnio in St. James's Street. 
If she had appeared agreeable to him before, she was much more 
so now, when she had an opportunity of revealing those 
beauties in full, which in the ball-room could but be shown in 
part, and that too, but by stealth.

After a supper, and some amorous conversation, he entreated 
she would stay with him all night; but though she pretended to 
have been struck with an irresistible passion for him, the 
first moment she saw his face, and had it not in her power to 
refuse him anything; yet said, she would sooner die than be 
guilty of an injustice to one of her own sex; so begged to 
know if he were married. He told her, on his honour, that he 
was not. She then insisted on his name, and he made no scruple 
of letting her know, he was Lord R----.

They passed the time till morning in mutual endearments, and 
indeed mutual dissimulation, Syrena artfully mingling with her 
pretended fondness certain modest shocks to heighten his good 
opinion of her, and he affecting to be possessed of a more 
than ordinary passion, for the more emboldening her to meet 
his amorous desires with equal warmth. The night being past, 
and his lordship fully gratified, he made her a present of ten 
guineas, which she at first refused with an air of disdain, 
telling him that he injured her greatly if he imagined she had 
yielded from any motive but love. But he forced her to accept 
this token, as he called it, of his affection; on those terms, 
said she, I take it from my dear lord; but were every piece a 
thousand I would reject them with scorn if offered as the 
purchase of my virtue. "I am no prostitute," continued she, 
"and if I thought you looked on me as such, and having 
accomplished your desires would never see me more, I would 
this instant undeceive you, by running your sword through my 
too fond, too easily charmed heart." Lord R---- smiled within 
himself to hear her talk in this romantic style; but willing 
to humour her in it, made her as many promises of constancy as 
she desired, and assured her in a very small time, he would 
write to appoint a second meeting, and they would then settle 
things so as to see each other often.

Thus they parted, and Syrena went home somewhat better 
satisfied with the effects of this masquerade than she had 
been with the two former, though she did not flatter herself 
with securing the heart of this nobleman, as she had done 
those of Mr L---- and Mr D----; she feared he knew the town 
too well to be drawn into any serious engagement with a woman 
he had come acquainted with in that manner, but expected 
however, that he would send to her, and that she should have 
further presents from him.

The first part of her conjectures she soon found were but too 
true for her, but the other greatly deceived her; for his 
lordship thought little of her after they were parted, and 
less desired a second interview: he judged by her behaviour 
that if he were to encourage her expectations by making any 
future assignations she would become a troublesome dependant, 
and be a kind of burr not easily shaken off. Beside he had a 
mistress whose love and fidelity he had for many years 
experienced; by whom he had several fine children, and who was 
at that time lying-in at his seat in the country. He would 
have been loath to give any cause of discontent to a woman he 
loved, and had reason to do so, by any settled intrigue with 
another, and though meeting with Syrena (at a time when 
Christians as well as Jews think they may indulge an amorous 
inclination without breach of constancy) he had toyed away a 
night, it never entered into his head to continue an 
acquaintance with her.

Four days being passed over, Syrena's impatience would suffer 
her to wait no longer, and having enquired where Lord R---- 
lodged, for he kept no house in town, dressed herself in as 
alluring a manner as she could, and went to make him a visit.

His lordship was strangely surprised when his gentleman told 
him a lady in a chair, who said her name was Tricksy, desired 
to speak with him; he looked on her coming to his lodging as a 
piece of impudence altogether inconsistent with the modesty 
she affected to be mistress of; however he ordered she should 
be admitted, but resolved to behave to her in such a manner as 
should prevent her from ever troubling him again.

This was certainly a very wrong step in Syrena, and what her 
mother would fain have dissuaded her from; she told her that 
none but those who were not ashamed to be thought common, ever 
went to visit men at their lodgings; and that if Lord R---- 
were a man of sense, or had but the least knowledge of the 
world, he must contemn her for it; but our young deluder was 
of a quite different opinion; she imagined that going to him 
in that manner, would give him a high idea of the extreme 
passion she had flattered him with, and that also it would 
make her seem to act without disguise, and that she was too 
innocent even to know there was any indecency in what she did. 
So all the arguments Mrs Tricksy made use of were to no 
purpose; the pert baggage told her she was capable of managing 
now for herself, and would walk with leading-strings no 
longer.

"This is a favour I little expected madam," said his lordship, 
as soon as she was introduced. "Then, my lord," answered she, 
"you were ignorant of the power you have over me; but it is 
not to be wondered at, that you should not expect any effects 
of love from me, when you are so insensible of that passion 
yourself. What," continued she, "to be four long days without 
seeing me or sending to me." "I have had business," returned 
he coldly. "O ungrateful!" cried she, "can you have any 
business of equal moment to the peace of one who adores you as 
I do, who have given you the greatest proofs of it a woman can 
do, and who cannot live without you?" "Hush, madam," 
interrupted he, "we may be overheard. This is not a place for 
expostulations or upbraidings, and as I never receive visits 
from your sex, unless those who are known to be nearly related 
to me; I must beg you will make yours as short as possible for 
both our reputations." "O my stars!" cried she, "are you then 
ashamed of me?" With these words she burst into tears. "Fie, 
fie," said he, with a half smile, which denoted his contempt, 
"do not spoil that pretty face with crying. You were all 
gaiety when I saw you before, and good company, and if you 
desire to pass three or four hours again in the same manner, I 
assure you this is not the way to charm a man of my humour." 
Syrena now burst into a real rage, and scrupled not to treat 
him in a manner little befitting his quality; on which he bid 
her leave the house, and learn better manners. She had then 
recourse to fits, and swooned so naturally, that if he had not 
been well versed in this artifice of the sex, he would have 
taken it to be real; but he immediately saw through it, and 
instead of calling for any help, only said "Look you, madam, 
these airs won't pass upon me, I see your drift. You want to 
pin yourself upon me; but it won't do; and instead of 
softening me into the cully you want, you only incur my 
disdain, and inspire me with the worst sentiments for you I 
can have of any woman; therefore put your face into order and 
be gone; for if you continue in this posture, I shall order my 
servants to put your head in a pail of water, which I look 
upon to be the best remedy in the world for such disorders as 
yours." These words frighted her, and not doubting by all his 
behaviour to her, that he would do as he said; raised herself 
from the ground, and flew downstairs without making any 
farther attempts to bring him to her purpose.

I do not doubt but many of my fair readers will be highly 
disobliged at this nobleman's behaviour; they will say, he 
ought to have carried with more complaisance, at least to a 
pretty young creature, who had obliged him; and some perhaps 
may even tax him with savageness and brutality; therefore to 
vindicate his character from all such aspersions, I must 
inform them, that he had before met with women of Syrena's 
stamp; that he had for some few years of his life devoted 
himself so much to gallantry, that he was perfectly acquainted 
with every little art put in practice by those, whose business 
it is to ensnare; and had more than once been imposed upon by 
the pretence of a violent affection, which made him not only 
presently discern, but likewise abhor those studied and 
counterfeited tendernesses; but as to the rest, no man knew 
more how to value real merit in the sex, nor paid a greater 
regard to it.

The disappointment Syrena had met with, made her half 
distracted: she was ready on her coming home to break and tear 
to pieces everything that was in her way; then her mother 
remonstrated to her, that she could expect no better usage, 
when she pretended to pursue a man to his lodgings, and 
reproached her for not taking her advice; but the other, 
instead of acquiescing with what she said, or acknowledging 
she had been to blame, flew into a greater rage than before, 
and told her, that all her misfortunes had been owing to the 
rules she had prescribed. "You were always preaching up 
softness and tenderness," cried she, "but I dare swear if I 
had been saucy, and given myself an air of insolence, as 
indeed is more to natural to me, I should have fared better." 
"You are a poor ignorant fool," replied the mother, "if you 
are not used well by the man who thinks you love him, you 
never will by the man who thinks you do not. Softness is the 
most prevailing arms we have; beauty may attract, but that 
alone secures the heart." A great argument on this arose 
between them, and at length terminated in a quarrel, in so 
much, that Syrena went directly and took a separate lodging, 
and vowed she would henceforth follow no direction, but her 
own humour; but this quarrel did not last long, each found she 
had need of the other, and their mutual interest reconciled 
them; it was judged proper, however, they should live apart 
for some time; Syrena having embarked in an adventure, which 
could best be carried on without the appearance of a mother.

She remembered that in the time she was kept by Mr D----, 
happening to buy some silk for a short-apron, at a shop in 
Covent Garden, the mercer had seemed to look upon her with an 
eye of admiration, pulled down several pieces of fine brocade, 
under the pretence of tempting her to buy; but in reality, 
only to have the pleasure of detaining her as long as he 
could; and though she bought only such a trifle, would fain 
have sent one of his young men home with it. All this she 
thought testified a desire of being acquainted with her, if he 
could find any means to bring it about, so she contrived it 
for him in this manner.

She made it her business to walk for several evenings by his 
shop, just in the close of day, when they were preparing to 
shut up; and the first time she saw him there, ran in a vast 
hurry and seeming fright up the steps, and cried, "I beg a 
thousand pardons for this trouble, sir, but for god's sake 
give me house room for a few minutes, for I am frighted to 
death." He immediately reached a chair, and having made her 
sit down, enquired the cause of her disorder. "O!" said she, 
"this Covent Garden is a wicked place. I hope I have not the 
look of an ill woman, but a gentleman has followed me I know 
not how far. I could not get rid of him for my life; and he 
swore I should either go with him to a tavern, or he would see 
me home. O! What a terror he has put me in! So I took the 
liberty to run into your shop to avoid him." The complaisant 
mercer told her she was extremely welcome, and perceiving she 
grew pale, and ready to faint (which she could counterfeit 
whenever she pleased) ordered a glass of water, and bid his 
man ask his wife for some drops; the good gentlewoman hearing 
of the accident, ran down, and assisted in recovering the 
hypocrite from her pretended illness, exclaiming all the time 
against the vileness of mankind; who, though there were so 
many fit for their purpose, could not suffer civil women to 
pass. Syrena having created a good deal of bustle, began at 
last to come to her senses, and then made a great many 
apologies for the trouble she had given, but begged they would 
add to the obligation, that of letting one of the servants 
call a chair for her; this was readily granted, but not till 
they had made her drink a glass of sack, and eat a bit of rich 
cake; she assured them she would endeavour to return their 
favours, by buying everything she wanted in their way, and 
recommending the shop to all her acquaintance. As she was 
going into the chair, she took care to give the men directions 
where to carry her, loud enough for the mercer not to be 
mistaken in the place, in case he should take it into his head 
to visit her, as she imagined he would do, by some tender 
looks and pressures he gave her, while he supposed her not in 
a condition to be sensible of them.

She was not deceived, indeed, for the amorous mercer was quite 
charmed with her, and the next day came to her lodgings, under 
the pretence of enquiring how she got home, and found herself 
after her fright. She had dressed herself in expectation of 
him in a loose and most becoming dishabille, and received him 
full of sweetness and affected modesty. Every look she gave 
him, and every word she spoke, was new fuel to the unhappy 
flame she before had kindled in his heart. He thought there 
never was so perfect, so beautiful a creature born, and wished 
himself unmarried, that he might have endeavoured to gain her 
affection, which he now durst not presume to attempt. He 
thought however he might indulge himself in the pleasure of 
seeing and conversing with her, without any injury either to 
her or his wife; but the consequence proved (as indeed it 
always does) how fatal it is to give way to inclinations of 
that sort, which, by not being nipped in the bud, at length 
grow too sturdy to be bowed down, and extend themselves to the 
most dreadful and enormous size. She asked him to drink tea, 
which he too gladly complied with, and after that a bottle of 
wine; among other chat, she led him into that of his business, 
and of the fashions, asked him many questions concerning what 
colours, and what patterns were most in vogue; and then told 
him, she should soon be his customer for three or four suits 
of clothes; for, said she, "I have been out of town for a 
considerable time, and am quite out of gowns and petticoats; 
but I must stay," continued she, "till I receive a remittance 
from my husband." "Husband! Madam!" interrupted the mercer, 
are you married then?" "Yes," cried she, with a deep sigh. 
"You answer, madam," added he, "as though you were not so 
happy in that state, as I am sure you deserve to be." "Where 
hearts are not united," replied she, "there can be no solid 
felicity--however, he is my husband, and absent, neither is it 
owing to him if I am miserable;" in speaking these words she 
let fall some tears, which gave him a curiosity to know the 
motive; and though he thought it would be too great a freedom 
to ask it, yet he could not help dropping some expressions 
which testified his desire, and gave her an opportunity of 
telling him a long story that she had invented to amuse him.

As she found he was married, and that there could be no hope 
of drawing him in for a husband, she thought it best, for many 
reasons, to pass for a wife; so said, that being courted very 
young by a gentleman, who was heir to a great estate, her 
mother had compelled her to marry him, but that his friends 
were so enraged at it, that they had sent him to Venice, where 
he now resided; and added she, "Must do so till heaven shall 
turn their hearts, which I see little hope of; they allow him 
a very handsome income, however, out of which he sends me 
sufficient to support me, in the little way you see me in; as 
we lived together but three days, I do not choose to be called 
by his name, till I can appear in a fashion more befitting his 
rank in the world; and also, because I have been privately 
informed, that if they can bring him to consent to it, they 
will give me a handsome sum of money to renounce all claim to 
him. Thus, sir," said she, "I am a wife, and no wife--have 
lost my peace of mind and character, with those who know not 
the truth of my unhappy marriage, and all through the mistaken 
care of a too covetous parent."

The mercer seemed much affected with her misfortunes, but 
gathered more courage for his love, thinking there was more 
hope at least of being listened favourably to by a wife in 
such circumstances, than there would have been by a young 
virgin of a handsome fortune, as he at first took her for.

He made her a great many compliments on her beauty and merit; 
highly blaming her husband's friends for their inexorable 
behaviour; and saying, that in his opinion, such a woman as 
she would become the highest rank of life. He told her 
moreover, that as she had said she wanted some silks, she was 
extremely welcome to whatever his shop afforded, and begged 
she would come the next day, and order what she would have 
sent in.

She thanked him for his kind offer, but seemed loath to accept 
it, till he pressed her over and over, and assured her, with 
the tenderest air he could put on, that having it in his power 
to oblige her, was the happiest thing could befall him. At 
last she promised to come, and he took his leave, rejoiced at 
this opportunity of continuing an acquaintance with her.

She, who was perfectly sensible of the ascendancy she had 
gained over him, resolved to manage him, so as to command 
everything he had: she went the next day according to 
appointment; and became his customer for three rich suits and 
two night-gowns, which she carried away with her in a hackney-
coach, after having invited him and his wife to drink tea at 
her lodging, the first time their leisure permitted.

It is not to be supposed he failed waiting on her; and his 
wife taking her to be a lady of strict modesty, was so much 
charmed with her, that nothing but the fear of being 
troublesome, kept her from being almost continually with her. 
She never thought herself so happy, as in her company, and was 
for ever inviting her to dine and sup at their house. Syrena 
accepted her kindness, as often as prudence would admit; and 
the intimacy between them increasing every day; the husband 
took the advantage of their familiarity, to grow more so also. 
He told Syrena that if she were a man, he should not approve 
of the affection his wife had for her; and as she was a woman, 
he thought he merited something from her in compensation, for 
robbing him of so much of his wife's company. The sly deluder 
answered, that she looked upon him and his wife as one, and 
therefore desired when she could not have them both, that she 
might not be without one. "Your business calls you so often my 
way," added she, with a most bewitching air, "that, methinks, 
I need not miss the sight of you once or twice every day." 
This with some other kind expressions she let fall, whenever 
she had an opportunity, by degrees dissipated the awe his good 
opinion of her had inspired him with; and he at length took 
courage to discover his inclinations. Never had Syrena given a 
greater proof, how perfect a mistress she was in the art of 
dissimulation, than by the amazement she put on at hearing him 
talk to her in the language of a lover; a half resentment, and 
a half compliance were blended with it, so as not to dash his 
hopes too much, nor lessen herself with him by approving too 
easily of his addresses. In fine, she behaved in such a 
fashion, as made him think her an angel of virtue, and at the 
same time, a woman not a little attached to him by a secret 
liking of his person. He was not, however, long held in 
suspense, he was one night at her lodging--they were alone--
had drank a glass of wine pretty freely--he was bolder than 
ordinary, and she sunk into his arms at once, and gave herself 
up entirely to him, without seeming to know what she did.

Never man thought himself happier than the transported mercer; 
and Syrena was perfectly content with what she done; not 
doubting but she should henceforward have the command of his 
purse; as indeed, she had; he loved her too well to refuse her 
anything, and she had so little conscience in the expenses she 
brought him into, that in three months, there was a frightful 
diminution of his substance. His lavish love bestowed so much 
upon her, that had she lived in any frugal decorum, she might 
have saved sufficient to have made her easy for a long time; 
but having nothing now to think on, farther than indulging 
every luxury, she became exceedingly lewd; and the mercer not 
being able to give her enough of his company, and, besides, 
had something of a sobriety in his nature, not agreeable to 
her present way of thinking; she fell into an adventure which 
was not a little expensive to her.

Living in good lodgings, appearing always rich in dress, and 
conversing with none who were any blemish to her character, 
for her intimacy with the mercer's wife, took off all scandal 
on his account; she visited, and received visits from several 
ladies in the neighbourhood; with them she used frequently to 
take a morning's walk up Constitution Hill, as it is called, 
in the Green Park. She was seldom there without seeing a man 
of a genteel appearance and agreeable person; she was struck 
at first sight of him, with something she had never felt 
before, and which made her uneasy to become acquainted with 
him. As she found he was pretty constantly there; she went one 
morning alone, and had, what she thought, the good fortune to 
meet him--as they drew pretty near, she tripped her foot 
purposely against a little pebble, and fell down as if by 
accident, as he was just by her; he ran and raised her, but 
she pretended to have sprained her ankle, and was not able to 
walk without support, so she leaned upon his arm till they got 
into the lower park, where they sat down on the first bench. 
As she had no farther designs on him, than entering into an 
amour, she showed herself without disguise, and was all the 
libertine. On his proposing to go to a tavern, she immediately 
consented, and yielded herself up to his embraces, without the 
least reserve or scruple. If such abandoned inclinations can 
be called love, she might be said to love this new gallant to 
a very great degree. She stayed with him the whole day, and 
encroached some hours on the night; nor parted without telling 
him her name and lodgings, and exacting a promise from him, of 
coming to see her the next day.

She had no reason to doubt his punctuality in this point. He 
was of as amorous a constitution, as her vicious desires had 
made her languish for. He was at that time free from all 
engagements, and thought himself lucky, in having so young and 
beautiful a mistress thrown in his way; but what extremely 
added to his satisfaction, in the enjoyment of her was, that 
he was pretty secure, both by her appearance and temper; for 
she would not suffer him to pay the reckoning, that she would 
be no manner of charge to him; but on the contrary, he should 
be able to render his acquaintance with her serviceable, as 
well to his interest, as he had found it to his pleasure.

Their second interview was no less full of rapture than the 
first; and they were so highly satisfied with each other, that 
both swore eternal constancy, and, perhaps, at that juncture 
intended to preserve it. From this time they were seldom 
asunder; he breakfasted with her at her lodgings, then they 
went together to the White Eagle in Suffolk Street to dine; 
and parted not till the hour, in which she expected the 
mercer, or his deluded, injured wife; she always defraying the 
expense, though he complained he was ashamed of it; but that 
being a young fellow of a small fortune, he had it not in his 
power to behave towards her in that respect, as he could wish. 
She told him she had enough for both, and begged he would make 
himself easy, for his love and constancy, was all she expected 
from him; and withal told him, that he might command whatever 
she was mistress of, with the same freedom as his own. Nor was 
she backward in the performance of this promise; whenever they 
went abroad, she took care to put more money in his pocket, 
than the charges of the day could possibly amount to. So that 
never any man, who could content himself with receiving 
obligations of that nature from a woman, had more reason to be 
satisfied.

The passion she had for this young gallant, however, did not 
make her negligent in preserving her interest with the mercer. 
She was never out of the way, when he appointed to be with 
her, and received him with such an infinity of tenderness, 
that he would almost have doubted the testimony of his own 
eyes, had they told him she was false.

But being willing to prevent any accident that might discover 
her intrigue, or render it even suspected by the people of the 
house; she considered that it would be proper, he should not 
be much seen at her lodgings: she had passed him at first, as 
a country kinsman just come to town; but as a continuance of 
such frequent visits, might occasion enquiries, she 
henceforward met him at her mother's; and for this reason it 
was she submitted herself to her, and was reconciled. But 
knowing well that Mrs Tricksy, being past the pleasures of 
love herself, was solely devoted to interest; she carefully 
concealed from her the truth of her sentiments for her new 
lover, pretending to her that he was a man of fortune, and 
allowed her five guineas a week; and to gain credit for what 
she said, gave him wherewith, to make her very handsome 
presents. Thus was the instructress in deceit, deceived 
herself; and though she did receive some profit from her 
daughter's vices, yet it was little in comparison of what she 
might have got, if the other had been as sincere to her, and 
to her own interest, as she pretended. But it is generally 
speaking, the fate of prostitutes to lavish on some indigent 
favourite, who, perhaps, despises them, what they gain by the 
folly of the deluded keeper.

The mercer at length finding her grow exorbitant in her 
demands upon him, and beyond what he could continue to grant 
without ruining his family, began to feel some touches of 
remorse for the wrong he did his wife and children, but the 
artful Syrena, whenever she found him slack either in his 
embraces or presents, knew so well how to win him to her 
purpose, and disperse all thoughts, but those of the pleasures 
he enjoyed in her arms, that he could not find in his heart to 
refuse anything to so lovely, so endearing, so faithful a 
creature; much less to abandon her entirely; and had certainly 
kept on his correspondence with her, till his destruction had 
been inevitable, had not an accident happened to open his eyes 
to her perfidy and ingratitude.

Early one morning she received a letter from her beloved, 
acquainting her, that he had been arrested the night before, 
by his tailor, for the sum of an hundred pounds, and desiring 
she would forthwith oblige him with the money; for he had no 
bail to offer, and had other debts, which, he feared, would 
come upon him and fix him in a gaol for life, if not 
discharged immediately. This news gave her the utmost concern, 
she had been too profuse to have half that sum by her, and 
could not bear the loss of a lover, so well qualified to 
please her. She, therefore, sent directly to the mercer, 
begging he would come to her that moment, on a business of 
equal moment with her life: he had too much real tenderness 
not to obey so pressing a summons, and found her lying on her 
bed, half drowned in tears. She told him her mother was going 
to be carried to prison for a debt of an old standing, and 
that though there had not been a very good understanding 
between them of late, on account of her unhappy marriage; yet 
she could not live and see her parent die in a gaol, as she 
must do, if the money was not paid; "It would be highly 
improper, both on your own account and mine," said she, "that 
you should appear in the affair, either as to bail her 
yourself, or send any other person to do it; and besides the 
money must be paid at last, so that if you have any love, 
friendship, or pity for the poor Syrena, let me have the sum 
required, that I may fly to save from misery, the person to 
whom I owe my being. I would have pawned my jewels, and what 
little plate I have," added she, "rather than have given you 
this trouble; but I know not which way to go about such a 
business, and also fear they would not raise so much." How 
moving are the griefs of those we love; had she asked him for 
his soul he would have given it, and though at that time he 
could very ill spare it, being going to pay a bill drawn on 
him by one of his weavers, yet he immediately took out of his 
pocket-book two fifty pound bank notes and gave her, bidding 
her dry her tears, and go instantly to remedy the cause; with 
these words, accompanied with a thousand kisses, he took his 
leave, and she ordered a hackney coach to carry her to the 
place where her lover was confined. As the believing mercer 
was going home, he met a tailor, with whom he had been long 
acquainted, and was a customer; this man seeing him so 
opportunely, told him he was going to a sponging house, to 
hear what offers a person he had arrested, had to make him: 
the mercer complied, and they went together. On their coming 
to the officer's house, they were told a lady had just gone up 
to the prisoner, and desired to wait in the parlour till she 
was gone: accordingly they did so, but the door not being 
shut, what astonishment was the mercer in, when the lady 
passing by to go into the coach that waited for her, he saw it 
was his, till then, supposed faithful Syrena: she had plucked 
her hood pretty much over her face, not that she suspected in 
the least who was there, but that her face might not be known 
hereafter, by anyone who should have seen her in such a place: 
her clothes, however, being the same he had just left her in, 
and which had come from his own shop, her shape, her air, and 
her voice in speaking to the coachman, discovered Syrena too 
plainly, to one who had so much cause to know her, for him to 
be mistaken. He was scarce able to dissemble his confusion, 
before the person he was with, but their being that moment 
desired to go up to the prisoner, prevented the other from 
taking notice of it. On going in he received a dreadful 
confirmation of Syrena's baseness, had he doubted of it; --he 
saw the two fifty pound bills he had just given to her, and 
the number of which he knew, paid as so much money to his 
friend, and on the prisoner's finger a diamond ring he 
presented her with, and which she pretended to have lost.

Those of my readers who have some time or other in their 
lives, found themselves in the mercer's case, need not be told 
what 'twas he felt at so amazing a proof, how greatly he had 
all along been imposed upon by the artifices of this wicked 
woman; and those who have never been so unhappy to experience 
such deceptions, ought to be warned by the despair this poor 
man afterwards fell into, how they enter into any engagements 
with women, whose principles they are not acquainted with; and 
not like him be beguiled and ruined by a fair face and seeming 
affection; but, as the poet says,

Shun the dangerous beauty of the wanton--

For in corrupted morals no sincerity can be expected, and the 
sacred names of love and friendship are but profaned and 
prostituted for the basest ends.

The mercer thought every moment an age till the business on 
which his friend had brought him there was ended, that he 
might go to Syrena, and vent some part of his rage in those 
reproaches which her behaviour had merited from him. He found 
her at home, and was received by her with such a show of love 
and gratitude, that his astonishment at her dissimulation was 
so great, he had not presently the power of uttering what was 
in his heart; but he gave her a look, and, at the same time 
pushed her from him, as she was throwing her arms about his 
waist, as sufficiently informed her somewhat very 
extraordinary was labouring in his mind. She trembled 
inwardly, but disguised it with her usual artifice, and asked 
him tenderly, what had disordered him? As soon as he could 
speak there was nothing opprobrious, that he omitted saying to 
her; he called her every vile name that his passion could 
suggest, and on her having recourse to protestations of 
innocence, and falling into faintings, he let her know he was 
not to be again deceived, and flung out of the room, leaving 
her in a pretended swoon.

The loss of so great a support vexed her to the heart; but 
perceiving he was not to be recovered, and that the proofs of 
her infidelity were too plain for her to aim at any 
justification of her actions, she consoled herself with the 
reflection, that he would not dare to expose her, for the sake 
of his own character; and that she had youth and beauty enough 
to attract some other, who might be as much devoted to her 
interest as he had been.

The mercer after this examining into his affairs more 
heedfully than he had done during the hurry of his passion for 
the infamous Syrena, found himself in very bad circumstances, 
and that he was no less than thirteen hundred pounds a worse 
man, for his acquaintance with her, though it had not lasted 
above four months. The injury he had done his wife and family 
now glared him full in the face, and together with the 
thoughts how impossible it was for him to retrieve this false 
step, made him grow extremely melancholy: his wife perceived 
it through all his endeavours to conceal it, and often with 
the greatest tenderness, urged him to reveal the cause; but 
could get no other answer from him, than that he had of late 
had some losses in trade, which hindered him from being so 
punctual in his payments as he had been accustomed to be; but 
that he hoped he should recover it in time. This he said, to 
keep her from the knowledge of her misfortune as long as he 
could; but finding his creditors grow impatient, and no 
visible way of making things easy, but by a statute of 
bankruptcy, his pride would not suffer him to consent to that, 
and, therefore, resolved to put a period to his life and 
troubles at once. To this end he shut himself one day in his 
counting-house, and clapped a loaded pistol to his ear, with 
an intent to shoot himself through the head; but providence 
averted his aim, and by a sudden shaking of his hand just in 
that dreadful moment, directed the bullets another way, and 
they but grazed on the back part of his head, and lodged in a 
shelf behind him. The report of the pistol drew all the family 
to the place; the door was immediately broke open, and they 
found him with that instrument of death in his hand, about to 
charge it for a second attempt. His servants by force wrested 
it from him, and his wife having made them carry it away, and 
leave the room, threw herself upon her knees before him, and 
conjured him, for the sake of his own soul, and for the sake 
of those dear babes, who must be left orphans, not to harbour 
thoughts so contrary to religion and to nature. "You know," 
said she, "that my fortune is by our marriage-articles settled 
on me, I will give it you up entirely; dispose of it as you 
please to make you easy; if that is not sufficient, take all 
my jewels, my clothes, and should all be ineffectual, I will 
go to my father, prostrate myself before him, and never leave 
his feet, till I have obtained wherewith to retrieve your 
circumstances." It was now he found the difference between a 
virtuous and a vicious woman; and having naturally very tender 
and grateful sentiments, was quite overcome with her 
generosity. He could not resolve to abuse it, nor suffer her 
to remain longer in ignorance. The wrong he had done her, was 
a burthen on his soul, which he could not sustain. "O cease 
this goodness," said he, "to an unworthy husband; I have been 
base, been unfaithful, and deserve the punishment my crime has 
brought upon me. I will not involve you in my ruin. Live, my 
dear virtuous wife," continued he, "and enjoy what, I thank 
heaven, my creditors cannot dispossess you of; and do the best 
you can with it for yourself, and our unhappy children; for 
me, I am determined either not to live, or not to live in 
England." The poor gentlewoman was ready to die at these 
words; but insisted, as well as she was able, on his accepting 
her offer. "O," said he, "you little imagine what a villain I 
have been--but you shall know. Then after some small struggles 
between shame and generosity, he made her sit down by him, and 
related the whole story of his guilty commerce, concealing not 
the least article of what he had done for Syrena, nor the 
ingratitude with which she had returned his too sincere, 
though criminal affection, concluding with these words: "Now 
my injured dear," said he, "judge if a wretch like me ought to 
live, much less to receive any marks of good-will from you, 
whom I have so much abused and deceived?" It was impossible 
for a wife to hear such an account of the cause of their 
misfortunes, and from a husband's mouth, without being seized 
with many different emotions, all violent in their turns; but 
jealousy, resentment, pride, all subsided, and gave way to 
tenderness and pity. She was a few minutes without being able 
to give him any answer for tears, but a kind embrace supplied 
the want of words, and when she spoke, it was in these terms: 
"My dearest love," said she, "I look on your making me the 
confidant of your failing, as a full atonement for it; had I 
been told it by any other, I could not, perhaps, so readily 
have forgiven it; because I cannot but think, that the heart 
still takes pleasure in a crime which it cannot bring itself 
to acknowledge as such, and that there is no true penitence 
without confession. But your having told me all, obliges me in 
return to pardon all, and to do all in my power to contribute 
to your ease. I now, more than ever, insist on your commanding 
my fortune; and if you refuse taking it up, I will do it 
myself, and distribute it among your creditors, as far as it 
will go." The husband was confounded at a sweetness, so rarely 
to be found in a woman wronged in so tender a point; and the 
pleasure he took in having thus eased his aching heart, 
mingled with the just sense of shame, for having injured a 
goodness and excellence of nature, superior to all he ever 
heard of, rendered him in a manner beside himself. He could 
say nothing but "What a blind wretch was I? How insensible of 
what was truly valuable; how could I slight the real diamond, 
and set my heart upon a common pebble, fit only to be trod 
upon, spurned, and kicked into the sewer!" "Come, come, no 
more of this, my dear," cried she, "throwing herself upon his 
breast, many men like you, have erred where there was less 
temptation to excite them; but few men like you, have honour 
enough to own they have done amiss. If you think me worthy the 
return of your affection, oblige me by speaking no more of 
this matter than I shall do, to whom it shall be as it had 
never happened; and let us study how to recover our little 
affairs from the perplexity they are at present involved in."

It was with the utmost difficulty however, that she at length 
prevailed on him to call in her fortune; and just as he was 
about to do it, news arrived of the death of a brother he had 
abroad, who left him more than ten times what was necessary 
for the retrieving of his credit. To make what reparation he 
could to his wife, he settled upon her all that remained after 
paying his debts; he soon after left off trade, and retired 
into the country, where no people live more happy in each 
other; she blessing his return to virtue, and he the goodness 
that had reclaimed him.



Chapter VI.

Syrena in the meantime soon began to feel the want of his 
purse, and as her power of treating and presenting declined, 
found also her favourite's inclinations declined in 
proportion: he talked of nothing now in her company but the 
want of money, and on her reproaching him with the change she 
found in him, he told her that love was the child of plenty, 
and that for his part he could think nothing charming that was 
indigent. This so enraged her that she gave him a blow on the 
face, which he, who neither loved nor regarded her, but for 
self-interest, returned with interest, and there was a perfect 
battle between them; as she found her strength inferior to 
such sort of combats, and liking him too well for his 
ingratitude to extinguish, she fell into abject submissions, 
begged his pardon for doing what indeed he deserved from her, 
since vile as she was to others, she had been generous to him 
even to excess; and did everything in the power of woman to 
engage a continuation of their acquaintance, which however 
lasted not long, debts came upon him; and she not having it in 
her power to discharge them, he was obliged to quit the 
kingdom to avoid a prison.

She was now destitute of either friend or lover, and having 
expended and made away with all had been given her by the 
mercer, fell into extreme poverty, and had nothing for her 
support but the credit, which having laid out a great deal of 
money in the neighbourhood; had given her, on this she lived 
some little time, but the shop-keepers beginning to send in 
their bills, she was thinking to remove privately to some 
other lodging, to prevent one being provided for her, she 
could by no means approve, when chance threw an offer in her 
way, which her industry had for a good while in vain sought 
after. Happening to be looking at some lodgings at a 
tradesman's house in the strand, she perceived as she was 
going home a fellow in a very rich livery followed her till 
she came home, and as soon as he had seen her enter, go to an 
opposite neighbour's; she could not guess the meaning, but was 
informed by that person soon after, that a footman had 
enquired there her name. And the next day received a letter to 
this effect.

Madam, 
	I saw you yesterday at one of my tradesmen's houses 
where I called to pay a bill, and at the same time lost 
my heart; if you will permit a visit from me this 
afternoon, I shall endeavour to convince you that I think 
you deserve a better situation than his house can afford. 
Favour me with your answer by the bearer, and believe me, 
	Your sincere admirer, 
	M----

This was indeed wrote with the freedom of a man of quality, to 
one he thought honoured with his addresses; but she was not at 
present in a condition to stand upon forms, and therefore 
answered him in these terms, after being informed by his 
servant by what title she should address him.

My Lord, 
	I am extremely obliged to the honour of your 
lordship's notice, and know too well what is owing to 
your rank and character, not to receive the favour you 
are pleased to offer with all submission; but must take 
the liberty to acquaint your lordship, that though under 
misfortunes, I am a gentlewoman, and have hitherto 
preserved my reputation; so flatter myself, your lordship 
has no other view in this visit than commiseration for 
the ill fate that perhaps may have reached your ears of 
the 
	Unhappy 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Having dispatched this epistle, the remainder of the day was 
taken up in setting herself forth to the best advantage, and 
consulting in what manner she should behave; as she thought it 
might give him an ill opinion of her sincerity afterwards, if 
she pretended to put herself upon him for a virgin, she 
resolved to tell him the same story she had done the mercer, 
only with this addition that her husband died abroad, and by 
that means she was cut off from any hope of future support 
from that quarter.

About six in the evening came the expected guest, who, struck 
with her beauty and seeming innocence by seeing her only en 
passant, was now quite ravished with her charms; as he knew 
well enough however that she could not be ignorant of the 
intention of the visit, he made no great ceremony, but came 
directly to the point; and she seeing his humour was not to be 
dallied with, practised none of those artifices to keep him in 
hand, which she had made use of to others: all she insisted 
upon was a settlement for life, but he stopped her mouth, by 
telling her he was under an oath to the contrary, having been 
deceived by some, who after that engagement had ill-treated 
him; and, said he, you, madam, have much less occasion than 
any of your sex to desire it, since you may be certain your 
charms will secure me constant while you continue to be so. 
Finding that nothing was to be done that way, she gave over 
all speech of it, and told him she would then depend entirely 
on his love and honour. So a bargain as it might truly be 
called, was struck up between them the same night. He made her 
a present of 50 broad pieces, and the promise of 10 guineas 
per week to defray common expenses.

Now was Syrena in high spirits again, and her Lord was so fond 
of her, that she might have brought him almost to anything, if 
the warmth of her inclinations could have permitted her to 
content herself with his embraces alone; but public affairs, 
or pleasures of a different nature took up so much of his 
time, that she wanted a companion in his absence; and by 
keeping a great deal of company, and those not of the best 
sort, she soon entered into intrigues in which her usual 
cunning had not the least share: in fine, she became so free 
of her favours, that she at length got the disease common in 
such cases, and without knowing it, made a present of it to 
his lordship: as persons of his quality cannot feel the least 
disorder without having immediate recourse to their 
physicians, he was soon informed from what source his ailment 
proceeded; and as he had no gallantries with any woman since 
the commencement of his amour with Syrena, had no room to 
doubt if it were she who had done him this unwelcome favour: 
he accused her with it in terms, which made her know he was 
convinced of her inconstancy, and though she here made use of 
every stratagem to persuade him she was innocent, all her 
vows, her tears, her imprecations were of no force, he quitted 
her, and told her, if it were not more for demeaning himself 
than any remains of regard for her, he should resent the 
injury she had done him in a severer manner.

One would imagine she should, in so terrible an exigence, have 
looked back with shame and confusion on her past conduct, but 
she appeared rather hardened than abashed, when her mother, 
who soon discovered the truth, remonstrated to her the folly 
and madness of her late behaviour. 'Tis possible the old woman 
now began to repent the having trained up a child in that 
manner; but if she did, it was of no service, since the other 
was too opinionated and too obstinate to take any advice, but 
such as was agreeable to her own inclinations. 'Tis certain, 
that though she at first taught her to ensnare, to deceive, 
and to betray, her aim was to enable her by those arts to 
secure to herself some one man, by whom she might make her 
fortune; and never imagined she would have run such lengths, 
merely for a precarious dependence, or to gratify desires, 
which when once indulged, bring on inevitable destruction; but 
it was too late to reflect on what was past, and she forbore 
saying much to her, seeing the violence of her temper, and 
unwilling to come to a downright quarrel, hoping she might 
still make some conquest, that might be of greater service 
than those she had lost; and her condition now requiring 
medicine rather than reproof, she bent all her cares for her 
cure in the most private manner; for which reason she made her 
leave the lodging she was in, and come to hers; where, by the 
assistance of a skilful surgeon and good nurse, she was 
perfectly recovered in a short time.

But her circumstances were not so easily repaired as her 
health had been; the expenses of her illness had so reduced 
her, that she had scarce a change of garments to appear in; in 
such as she had however, she took little rambles about the 
town, in hope of captivating some admiring fool; but nothing 
offering answerable to her expectations, she grew very much 
mortified, and began to fear she had lost the power of 
pleasing, though not yet seventeen. No necessities could 
almost be greater than what mother and daughter were now in, 
yet would neither of them think of betaking themselves to any 
honest way of getting a livelihood. Those relations who had 
formerly been kind to them, having heard something confusedly 
of Syrena's conduct, had for a long time withdrawn their 
bounties, so they were entirely destitute of all assistance.

In this melancholy posture of affairs Syrena went one day into 
the park, not with the view of meeting any adventure to her 
advantage, for she was now quite hopeless, but merely to 
indulge her vexation. She sat down on one of the most remote 
and unfrequented benches, and nobody being in sight, vented 
her spleen in real tears, mingled with sighs, and ever and 
anon an exclamation. "What shall I do? What will become of 
me?" did she frequently cry, without being sensible she did 
so. Such was the agony she now was in, she neither saw, nor 
heard the tread of any person approaching, till all at once 
she turned her head, and found a grave old gentleman, sitting 
by her on the same bench. "If it would not be an impertinent 
question, pretty lady," said he, "I should desire to know what 
occasions such excessive grief in one so young and beautiful?" 
Overwhelmed with sorrow, as Syrena had been, she felt her 
heart spring with joy, at being accosted by a person, who 
looked as if he had it in his power to redress her grievances; 
so drying her eyes, and assuming all possible sweetness in her 
countenance, "Alas, sir," answered she, "my misfortunes are 
too great to be concealed; and as they are not fallen upon me 
through any fault I have been guilty of, I need make no 
scruple of declaring the real cause, especially to a 
gentleman, who though a stranger, seems to have a heart 
relenting to distress." She then told him, that she had been 
married very young to a gentleman, whose friends having been 
disobliged on the account of her having no fortune, had sent 
him to Venice; whence, out of what they allowed him, he had 
always sent her something; but that being now dead, all her 
support was lost; she having no friends but a mother, wholly 
unable to help her; adding, that she was a gentlewoman, and 
had never been bred to any business.

He seemed very much affected with her story, but persuaded her 
not to give way to despair; telling her, that the ways of 
providence were mysterious, and that frequently when things 
had the worst appearance, good fortune was nearest at hand. He 
talked to her in this fashion for a considerable time, and 
asked her many questions, to all which she answered with so 
much sweetness and seeming sincerity, that he grew very much 
taken with her; and among other particulars, having enquired 
of her where she lived, and her name, told her, he would make 
her a visit, if she would give him leave; "For," added he, "it 
may be that I may think of something that will be to your 
advantage." "You seem, sir," replied she, "too much the 
gentleman and the man of honour for me to apprehend you have 
any motives for this offer, but merely pity for the calamities 
you see me involved in; therefore shall think myself honoured 
in your acquaintance." "I assure you," returned he, "I shall 
never give you any reason to repent this confidence; and when 
I see you next, and acquaint you who I am, I flatter myself 
the character I bear in the world, will entirely rid you of 
all scruples on my account. In the meantime," continued he, 
"you shall promise me to be cheerful, and attend with patience 
a lot which may be happier than you at present see any cause 
to expect." She replied, that she would do her endeavour to 
follow the advice of so worthy a person. He then took his 
leave, and she went home a good deal more at ease than she 
went out. Her mother was rejoiced at hearing what had befallen 
her, and cried out in a sort of transport, "Syrena, this is 
the man will make you happy! Not one woman in an hundred makes 
her fortune by a young fellow. A young fellow thinks himself 
upon a par with any of us, be we never so handsome; but when 
once an old fellow takes it into his head to fall in love, he 
will do everything, give everything to render himself 
agreeable. There is indeed a kind of boyish love, which begins 
about sixteen or seventeen, and lasts till twenty or something 
longer, but then it wears off, and they commonly despise the 
object afterwards, and wonder at themselves for having found 
anything in her to admire--from twenty to thirty they ramble 
from one to another, liking every new face, and fixing on 
none. After thirty, they grow more settled and wary; and if 
they love at all, it is commonly lasting; but a passion 
commenced between forty and fifty, is hardly to be worn off. 
'Tis certainly strange, but true of that sex, that amorous 
desires grow stronger, as the power of gratifying them grows 
weaker, and an old lover is the most doting fond fool on 
earth, especially if his mistress be very young; for it is 
remarkable, that when a woman is advanced in years, I mean 
about forty, she shall look more lovely in the eyes of a young 
man, than in those of one of her own age, who at that time 
begin to grow fond of girls, in so much, that I have known 
some forsake very agreeable women, and take up with, nay, have 
been ready to ravish creatures that have been blear-eyed, 
hump-backed, had pimpled faces, and all for the sake of dear 
eighteen. So that while you are young, my girl, choose a lover 
old enough to be your father, and as you grow older, one who 
might be your son."

With these learned maxims did the old Jezebel entertain her 
daughter, who stirred not out all that day nor the next, in 
hope of the old gentleman's coming; but he deferred his visit 
till the third day, either thinking it unbecoming to his 
character to appear too hasty, or perhaps not altogether 
determined within himself how he should act when he did come.

At last he came however, and Syrena seeing him from the 
window, ran to tell her mother, on which they both took up a 
work-basket: Syrena seemed darning a cambric apron, and her 
mother altering an old velvet mantelet. These marks of good 
housewifery and frugality were very engaging to the old 
gentleman; to find them thus employed gave him an advantageous 
idea of their modesty and virtue, and he did not fail to give 
them those praises he thought they merited.

After some few compliments and preparatory discourses; "I have 
been thinking," said he to Mrs Tricksy, "on the account your 
daughter gave me of her misfortunes, and have been ever since 
very much affected with them. I should be glad, methinks, to 
have it in my power to alleviate them; but the way I have to 
propose may not, perhaps, be agreeable to either of you." "O! 
sir," replied she, "I dare believe you are too worthy a 
person, to offer anything we should not approve of with joy." 
"You might think it an under-valuing of your family, which I 
hear is very good, rejoined he; for your daughter to undertake 
the charge of a house, I do not mean the servile offices of 
it; but to overlook the servants, and see that they did their 
duty. She seems," added he, "to have a prudence above her 
years, and I imagine would be very fit for such a trust in 
every respect." "I am sure she would endeavour to be so," 
cried her mother, "if you, sir, would do her the honour to 
recommend her." "She needs no other recommendation than her 
own," answered he, "since it is myself, who would put the care 
of my family into her hands." He then told them, that he was 
called Mr W----; that he was formerly a merchant, but having 
acquired sufficient for his contentment, he had retired from 
business, and took a house in an airy part of the town; that 
he was a widower, had but two sons, one of whom was married, 
and settled in the city, and the other a student at Oxford. 
"So that," continued he, "I live alone, and should be glad of 
a gentlewoman to eat with me, play a game at picquet in an 
evening, and, in fine, be a companion as well as housekeeper."

Both the mother and daughter seemed very much pleased with his 
proposal, and left it to himself, what consideration she 
should have for the trouble she was to take; telling him that 
he should reward her as he found she merited. This he thought 
was acting like real gentlewomen, and the confidence they 
placed in him highly obliged him. It was agreed that she 
should come into his house, in the station he mentioned, the 
ensuing week, and he then made a present of a twenty pound 
bank note to Mrs Tricksy, for hers and her daughter's use till 
that time.

After he was gone, Syrena communicated to her mother some 
fears she had, that he intended her for no other than a real 
housekeeper; but Mrs Tricksy told her there was not the least 
reason for such apprehension. "Thou silly girl," said she, 
"would any man take a stranger like you into his family 
without having a more than ordinary liking to her person; and 
will not that liking produce offers of a different kind, when 
he becomes more acquainted? Perhaps, he has a mind to try how 
you will behave before he will discover his inclinations; 
therefore it behoves you, indeed, to be very cautious, to keep 
a strict guard upon every word and look, and above all things 
to strengthen the opinion, he now has of your innocence and 
virtue." "But," said Syrena, "if I should seem too rigidly 
honest, it might deter him from any attempt upon me, and in 
time extinguish all amorous inclinations, if he now has any 
for me." "Not at all." replied her mother; "Men, especially 
rich men, are apt enough to think their wealth will conquer 
the most stubborn virtue. Besides, have not I instructed you 
how to play at fast and loose, as I call it, with the men; 
sometimes kind, sometimes reserved; coy when they're free, and 
tender when they seem more cold; and all as if by accident, 
and as if design had not the least share in your conduct?"

Between lessons for her behaviour, and preparing things 
necessary for her departure, the time was taken up till the 
appointed day; on which he came in his chariot, and conducted 
her himself to his house; where they no sooner arrived, then 
he had all his servants called into the parlour, and told them 
he had brought a gentlewoman to be in the place of their 
mistress, and they must follow her directions in everything. 
The keys of all the plate and linen were then delivered to 
her, and she took possession of all, as though she had been 
wife, or daughter of the owner of the house. As it was not 
thought proper her mother should come often to visit her any 
more, than when she was at Sir Thomas L----'s; they agreed 
Syrena should write whenever anything material occurred; and 
that her mother whenever it required any answer should send it 
by old Sarah, who still lived with her, and not trust to the 
penny-post. In three or four days she wrote as follows.

Letter I.
Thursday.

From G---- Square. 
	Dear Mother, 
	I cannot yet tell what to make of the old gentleman's 
designs: he uses me with more respect than I could look for as 
a house-keeper, and with all the freedom of a relation; but 
speaks not the least word of love. He approves of everything I 
do, and has never found the least fault; though god knows I am 
ignorant enough how to order the affairs of a family. I do my 
best, however, to please him; and every morning as soon as I 
get up, write a bill of fare, and show it him when he comes 
down to breakfast; and I assure you he has told me more than 
once, that I have an elegant taste; whether he is earnest or 
not, I don't know; and I am sometimes afraid he should think 
me too delicate, but I bring myself off: for yesterday having 
set down green peas, "Are there any yet?" said he, pretty 
hastily, as I thought. "Yes, sir," I replied, "I saw some 
yesterday, but they are dear; I set them down only to show 
you, that I know they are to be had, if you should have a 
fancy to any; for you see the second course is full without 
them, and they may be omitted." "You are very obliging," 
answered he, "and I think may spare yourself the trouble of 
making any bills of fare hereafter, since you are so good a 
judge yourself, of what would become my table." I told him 
that I could not be easy, unless he saw how his money was to 
be laid out. "Well," said he, "if it must be so; but, I 
believe, you'll seldom find me either add or diminish to what 
you shall contrive for me." I played at cards with him last 
night, till twelve o'clock, and he had a bowl of rack punch 
made, and set by us on a dumb waiter; but though he pressed me 
very much to drink glass for glass with him; yet I begged to 
be excused, telling him I had a weak head, and had never been 
accustomed to drink anything strong. Indeed, I could have 
drank the whole quantity, myself; and you know how well I love 
that liquor; but I tell you this, to show you what a command I 
have over myself, if he intends to make me either a wife or a 
mistress, I find 'tis necessary to give him a very high 
opinion of me; for he is devilish wary and observing; so I 
must lead the life of a vestal, though cruelly against my 
inclinations, till I have got the upper hand of him; and then-
-but I won't build castles in the air.

As soon as I know anything farther, I will write again, and 
am, 
	Dear mother, 
	your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. Just as I had finished the above, he sent for me to tell 
me to-morrow is his birthday, and he shall have his son in the 
city, and his wife, and several other relations to dine with 
him; so bid me order a dinner accordingly. I wonder whether I 
shall sit at table or not, or what he will say of me to them. 
Pray heaven none of them know me.

Letter II.
Saturday.

From G---- Square 
	Dear Mother, 
	Yesterday was, as I expected it would be, a very hurrying 
day, we had a vast deal of company indeed, and a very noble 
entertainment I provided for them. A little before they came, 
the old gentleman sent for me into the parlour, and said, "Mrs 
Tricksy as I shall have so many people here today, and your 
youth and beauty may possibly occasion some raillery, or if 
not some conjectures at least that I dare say your modesty 
would not willingly excite; I hope you will not take it ill, 
if I desire you to dine alone, I say alone, for I will not 
have you dine with the servants by any means; I am sorry I did 
not think of bidding you invite your mother to keep you 
company, but it is too late now. When any other such occasion 
falls out I shall be more considerate." I told him nothing 
could be more agreeable to my inclinations than to avoid being 
seen by so many persons to whom I was an utter stranger, and 
not at present in a rank of life to entitle me to such 
conversation. "As to that," replied he, "you are company for 
anybody; and when you have been here a little longer, it may 
be, I may introduce you; in the meantime you must be content." 
I made him a low curtsy in token of being perfectly satisfied 
with his goodness, and was going out of the room, but he 
called me back and said, "I had like to have forgot to tell 
you that I insist upon it, that you order a part of whatever 
you like best to be carried into your own chamber, and not let 
anything come to your table after it has been on mine. I have 
my reasons," continued he, "for this injunction, and shall not 
be pleased if you do not observe it." I made him all the 
acknowledgements so great a mark of his respect deserved from 
me, but would have declined accepting it till I found he was 
resolved upon it.

At night after they were all gone, which was not till almost 
12 o'clock, I went in to him to ask if things had been ordered 
to his satisfaction. "Nothing could be more so, my pretty 
manager," said he, with a look that I thought had something 
very amorous in it, but I perceived he had been drinking 
pretty freely; so I asked a great many questions on purpose to 
give him an opportunity of opening his mind, and I imagined he 
was going to say something two or three times, but whatever it 
was he restrained himself, only as I was taking my leave he 
gave me a gentle pull by the gown, and said, I must not omit 
making you a small acknowledgement for the care you have taken 
today, and put 5 guineas into my hand, and at the same time 
kissed me with a good deal of eagerness three or four times, 
then pushed me from him as it were, and cried "Go your ways, 
you little temptation you!" I neither seemed frighted, nor 
yielding all the time, but affected a little confusion, and 
once more wished him a good repose: he did not call me back 
again, as I was in hopes he would; and this morning at 
breakfast he behaved to me no otherwise than usual; so whether 
he has forgot, or repented of the freedom he took with me last 
night, I know not, but it vexes me that he comes on no faster. 
I hate suspense of all things, and begin to grow weary of this 
dull insipid life, yet I am resolved to endure it a little 
longer. I long to see you and have some talk about this 
matter. I have never stirred out since I have been here, and I 
find it pleases him wonderfully to think that I love home so 
well. I am sure it would not be improper for you to come to 
see me some day next week, so if you don't hear from me before 
I shall expect you, who am, 
	Your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Her mother came as she desired the Wednesday following, but 
Syrena having nothing of consequence to inform her their 
conversation is of no moment to the reader. But on the Monday 
following she wrote a third letter to this effect.

Letter III.
Monday.

From G---- Square. 
	Dear Mother, 
	I have now the satisfaction of acquainting you, part of 
the secret which we so much wished to know is at last 
revealed. I will tell you how it came out. Last Saturday night 
I was sitting in the parlour reading the play called the 
Conscious Lovers, when the old gentleman came home. I laid 
down the book as soon as I saw him enter, which he perceiving, 
cried, "Don't let me disturb you; pray what is the subject of 
your entertainment," and then looking into it --"O! The 
Conscious Lovers," continued he; "this is accounted a very 
good play; pray what's your opinion?" I told him I was no 
judge, but it pleased me. "So it does most people," said he, 
"and indeed is a good performance, but yet, methinks, there is 
somewhat in the characters of Bevil and Indiana not quite 
agreeable to nature." "The gentleman is very generous, sir," 
cried I; "Ay," replied he, "and less self-interested than we 
men are capable of being to the object we love." I could not 
help looking a little surprised at these words, and cried, "I 
thought, sir, that love had inspired generosity." "Yes," 
answered he, "it does inspire what is commonly called 
generosity, we are ready enough to give everything, and do 
everything for the person we love; but then that passion that 
makes us so liberal, makes us also desire something in return. 
We cannot content ourselves with rendering happy the object of 
our affections, but languish for something more than 
gratitude. Indeed, pretty Mrs Tricksy," continued he, taking 
my hand and pressing it, "these are all romantic notions; and 
as charming as you are, you will never find a man who loves 
you for your own sake alone." "I cannot expect it sir," said 
I, "without I had as much merit as Indiana." "You have as 
much, and perhaps more," replied he, "at least in my eyes, 
than ever woman had; yet, sweet creature, my heart is far from 
feeling any platonic sentiments for you."

Here I pretended to be in a vast confusion, and hung down my 
head as ashamed to hear him talk so. "Don't blush," said he, 
"whatever liberty I may take in thought, my actions shall 
never be such as shall give you cause to fear me. I am an old 
man now, and cannot hope to make myself any way equal with 
your youth and beauty;" then perceiving I made no reply, but 
seemed more and more ashamed, "Is not what I said too sad a 
truth for me," pursued he?" "I know not what you mean sir," 
answered I, "but I am sure the goodness you have been pleased 
to show me, deserves all the regard I can pay you." "Well, 
well," resumed he, "that's all I expect at present, but it may 
be that in time I shall grow more covetous and over-rate my 
services in hope of greater reward--but come let us go to 
cards, for I find you are more at a loss in conversation of 
this kind than any other." I made him no answer, but rung the 
bell for a servant to set a table, and we went to play. I won 
every game, for I found he lost to me on purpose, and was a 
gainer above 50 shillings. When we left off, "You know how to 
conquer me every way," said he, "but I must have a small 
revenge," and kissed me with an infinity of warmth. "I cannot 
help loving you," he cried, two or three times over, "but you 
must not be angry," then went up to his chamber without 
staying to hear what I would say. I went soon after to bed, 
but could not sleep all night for thinking of his odd 
behaviour. Yesterday morning at breakfast he looked more than 
usually earnest upon me, and after being silent some time, 
asked how long it was since I heard of my husband's death; the 
question a little startled me lest he should happened to have 
been told something of me that had made him suspect the truth 
of what I had said; but I disguised my confusion well enough, 
and answered about eighteen months. "I wonder," said he, "you 
have not been tempted to make a second venture:" on which I 
replied with a smile, that it must be something very 
extraordinary indeed, that could tempt me to enter again into 
a state which had cost me so much disquiet. "Indeed," pursued 
he, "there are so many things requisite to make a happy 
marriage, that if passion did not get the better of reason 
much fewer would engage in it than do." These words were 
uttered with a sort of coldness, which I knew not to what 
cause to attribute: nor has he since spoke to me but on 
ordinary things. I very plainly see he loves me, but for what 
end I know not, and fancy that he has also a kind of struggle 
within himself what he shall do concerning me. I wish 
therefore that there could be something contrived to put him 
in fear of losing me. I would have him think I had some offer 
of marriage much to my advantage, if such a thing could be 
artfully brought about. I wish you would consider of it, and 
help me out. It would certainly make him declare what he would 
be at sooner than he seems willing to do at present; and my 
patience is almost worn out I assure you. For though I live 
well, want for nothing, and am treated with the greatest 
respect; yet you must be sensible, my youth and inclinations 
are not to be satisfied with such a sort of life; besides I 
should be glad to be at some certainty. I shall not fail to 
acquaint you with everything that happens, but in the meantime 
think of my request, and believe me, 
	your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Letter IV.
Thursday.
 
	From G---- Square 
	Dear mother, 
	My old spark comes on a little, though not so fast as I 
would have him. He both dined and supped abroad yesterday, and 
did not come home till very late. I would not go to bed, 
thinking he would take it as a mark of my respect; and so, 
indeed, he did, and seemed mightily pleased with it, though he 
said he was sorry to have been the cause of breaking my rest. 
He was in a very gay humour, and I found had been drinking 
pretty hard, though he was not what one may call fuddled 
neither: he told me, they had been very merry with him upon my 
account, "And will need have it," said he, "that I should not 
have made choice of so young a house-keeper, if I had not 
liked her for the management of other affairs besides those of 
the family; so, continued he, I am at a loss what reparation 
to make you for the scandal the living with me is like to 
bring upon you." "O, sir," answered I, putting on a very 
troubled countenance, "I fear these are people who envy me the 
happiness of your favour, and invent this ridicule on purpose 
to make you part with me." "No, no, no such matter," said he, 
"they rather envy me. But let their designs be what they will, 
if you ever leave me, it shall not be my fault. I am only 
afraid you will grow tired of an old man's company, and I 
shall lose you by your own inclination." I then assured him, 
with an earnestness that came pretty near to tenderness, that 
I thought my lot extremely blessed in being with him; that I 
looked upon him as my good angel; that nothing could be more 
perfectly satisfied than I was with my condition; and would 
not quit his service, for any consideration whatever. He was 
so much transported with what I said, that he catched me in 
his arms, and held me there for some minutes, then kissed me, 
and cried, "My dear creature, you shall never quit me--I could 
not live without you. Good God! What a neck, what breasts are 
here!" added he, putting my handkerchief back with one hand, 
and laying the other upon my breast. I drew a little back, but 
he pulled me to him, and forced me to sit by him on a couch, 
where he took me about the waist, and kissed me till my breath 
was almost gone; I struggled, and begged him to desist; but he 
pursuing what I found gave him an infinity of pleasure; I fell 
a weeping, and cried, "O, sir, do not compel me to call back 
the words, I just now said, and make me fearful of the lot I 
so lately blessed. I am unhappy, it is true; but I am 
virtuous, and will be always so." He seemed very much affected 
with the counterfeit terror I was in, and wiping away my tears 
with his handkerchief, "Forgive me," said he, "I told you 
there were times when we men could not command our passions, 
but I will never do anything to your real prejudice. I love 
you too well for that, indeed I do--love you much more than 
you imagine, and --." Here he stopped, and after having paused 
a while-- "but I won't keep you any longer from your repose, 
good night, my dear creature, permit me one more kiss, in 
token of forgiveness," with these words he gave me another 
tender embrace, though less vehement than the former, and so 
retired.

Now, my dear mother, I think this looks as if he had kind of 
inclination to make me his wife, only the fear of the world's 
censure, and the dissatisfaction it would be to his children, 
hinders him from coming to any resolution about it. I am 
almost sure, if he could be made to believe I refused some 
good offer for the sake of living with him, jealousy and 
gratitude would spur him up to a determination in my favour: 
'tis worth trying for, at least, so I beg you'll think on't. I 
know you have a good working brain, and can do anything when 
you set about it. Consider that if I get him for a husband, we 
are both of us made forever; but I won't urge you any farther, 
I dare say, you will not neglect what shall be as much your 
own interest, as that of, 
	Your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

To this her mother returned the following answer by old Sarah.

Friday.

Dear Syrena, 
	I have been considering of what you wrote, of hastening 
the old gentleman to come to a resolution, ever since your 
first letter. There are several stratagems; but that which 
seems most likely to prevent suspicion, is my writing to you, 
concerning some person that has been in love with you a long 
time, and has a good fortune; if you can any way contrive that 
my letter might fall into his hands--but this is a nice point, 
and must be managed very delicately, or it would ruin all. Old 
men are naturally wary, and apt to think everything has a 
design in it; and if he should once imagine you went about to 
deceive or trick him, he would never endure you more; so 
without you can order it so, that he may see what I write, 
without your knowing he does so, I would not advise you to 
attempt it. I cannot but say, if it could be done cleverly, it 
would bind him very much to you, and also oblige him to 
declare himself sooner than, perhaps, he otherwise will. 
Therefore weigh the matter well, and when you have resolved, 
let me hear from you again, and you may be sure of all the 
assistance in the power of, 
	Your affectionate mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

Letter V.

Monday.

From G---- Square. 
	Dear mother, 
	I have been racking my brains ever since I received 
yours, for some expedient to assist my project; but can think 
of nothing, but what may give room for suspicion, and I am of 
your mind so far, that the least doubt of my sincerity would 
ruin all: however, I would have you write in the manner you 
speak of, and send it to me. Some opportunity may happen, that 
I do not yet foresee. In the meantime I must acquaint you, 
that he now makes no scruple of telling me he loves me, 
whenever we are alone; but he has never yet put the question 
to me, and all his words are so ambiguous, that I cannot, for 
soul of me, discover what he would be at; nor dare I ask him 
for fear of offending him. If he means honourable, it would be 
making myself cheap to seem to imagine he could have any other 
designs upon me; and if he intends me for a mistress, to give 
any hints that I thought myself deserving of being his wife, 
would look too presuming, and perhaps at the same time, hinder 
him from making any proposals at all; so that I am in a 
strange dilemma. However, since my last to you, I have met 
with something that a little sweetens the tasteless insipid 
hours I used to pass here. I mean, the thoughts of one of the 
most agreeable pretty young fellows I was ever acquainted 
with. Don't be alarmed; for I have taken such care, that the 
old gentleman can never come to the knowledge of the matter. I 
met with him by accident the other day, when I went to buy 
some things for our cook, who had begged that favour of me. It 
happened to rain while I was abroad, and believing it would be 
but a small shower, I stood for shelter under a porch, my 
spark came there also, we fell into a chat, and a mutual 
liking of each other carried us into a tavern. We passed two 
or three hours as agreeably as any two young people equally 
gay, could do; in fine, this one interview made us know we 
were fitted by nature for each other, and, I hope, we shall 
always continue to think as we now do. I told him I was a 
young widow, had a small fortune, and an unblemished 
reputation. Swore he was the first man, with whom I had ever 
made a false step, and that I lived with my mother. So 'tis to 
your lodgings I have appointed him to direct a letter; which 
pray let me have the moment you receive it, and only say to 
the messenger that brings it, that I am abroad; but you will 
deliver it to me as soon I come home, and for the rest leave 
it me; I know how to order it, so that if he sends never so 
often, he will never find out, that I do not live with you. 
Now, methinks, I see you all in a tremble, for fear this 
intrigue should undo me with the old gentleman; but I beg you 
will make yourself easy, for I will engage it shall never be 
discovered, and as for anything else you ought not to blame 
me; consider I have lived like a nun for three months, 
including the time I was sick. So dear mother don't think of 
chiding my pleasures; but do your best to help forward my 
interest: let me have the letter I mentioned, and wrote with 
as much artifice as you can; if I can find no plausible 
occasion to make use of it, it will be only a little labour 
lost, which I flatter myself, you will not grudge to 
	Your obedient daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. If any letter comes from my dear new gallant, I beg 
you'll send it me the same moment, for I am half mad with 
impatience to see him again.

This epistle was answered as soon as received by Mrs Tricksy, 
with another enclosed, which on first opening, Syrena 
flattered herself had been from her young spark; but her 
conjecture this time deceived her: they were both from her 
mother, the one for her private perusal, and the other for the 
old gentleman's, if it could be brought about. That which 
contained her real sentiments was to this purpose.

Dear child, 
	You see I have not been idle in complying with your 
desires: I had wrote a letter, such as I think proper to 
excite the old gentlemen to be more hasty in his resolution, 
before your last came to my hand; and will add nothing to the 
cautions I before gave you on that score; because I think you 
do not seem to stand in need of it. I wish there were no 
greater danger of your inadvertency on another score; and that 
the inclination you have for the young lover, may not be fatal 
to our designs on the old one. However, if any letter or 
message comes from him, Sarah shall bring it directly. I 
neither blame, nor wonder at your liking a pretty fellow; I 
would only have you keep it ever in your thoughts, that you 
never were in so fair a way of making your fortune as at 
present, and not do anything that might even give a 
possibility of reversing it. Remember the mercer who was so 
good a friend to you; and Mr D----, who I don't know but might 
have married you, if the discovery of your amour with Capt. H-
---, had not ruined you with him. 'Tis true that was an affair 
of my own promoting; but, however, it should be a warning to 
you. Nothing has contributed more to establish you in the good 
opinion of Mr W---- than your staying so much at home; and if 
your passion for this new gallant, should take you too 
frequently abroad, who knows what jealousies, such a change in 
your behaviour might occasion. He might send to watch where 
you went, and with what company; or if he should not go such 
lengths, may you not chance to be seen by some person or other 
who may inform him of it. A thousand accidents may happen, 
which is not in the power of prudence to prevent. But I am 
very sensible, who reasons with a person in love, talks to the 
wind. So I shall say no more than to remind you, how much it 
behoves you to be upon your guard. I am far from being an 
enemy to your pleasures; but would have you a true friend to 
your interest; and that you may be so, is the sole aim of, 
	Your indulgent mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

The enclosed contained these lines.

Dear Syrena, 
	I have for these three weeks been strangely persecuted 
with the importunities of Mr Smith; I would not have you vain; 
and you know very well, have always cautioned you against 
putting too great a faith in mankind; but I think that I may 
venture to say, he loves you with a passion rarely to be found 
in one of his sex, especially in these days. He behaved like a 
madman, when he first heard you had left me; but when I 
refused letting him know where he might see you, or direct a 
letter, his desperation increased to such a degree, that I 
trembled for the consequence. He would not believe but you 
were married, and on my protesting you were not, seemed more 
outrageous than before; whether it was that he was under some 
apprehensions you had disposed of yourself a worse way, or 
that he thought I deceived him, I cannot tell: he is still 
extremely melancholy, and I could not forbear letting you know 
the proofs he gives of his sincerity; though I don't expect 
you will ever be persuaded to reward it. Yet after all, 
Syrena, 'tis strange you should be so blind to your own 
interest. If ever you design to marry again, 'tis not to be 
expected you should have a better offer as to fortune; and as 
to character, 'tis unexceptionable. His person is agreeable 
enough, I think for any woman to love; and you know very well, 
he might have had wives long ago, who are accounted pretty 
women, and handsome portions. But if you would not resolve to 
have him, when you were under such distresses as you have 
been; I can neither flatter him, nor myself, that you will do 
so now, when you want for nothing, and have such a good 
master. However, child, service is no inheritance, a thousand 
accidents may happen to throw you out, and our friends who you 
found were weary enough of assisting us before, will do 
nothing at all if you persist in this obstinate denying the 
good that providence seems to point out for you. I dare answer 
even Mr W---- himself, would very much blame you if he knew 
the story; and as he has pitied you, and been so kind to take 
you into his house, would rejoice to see you have one of your 
own; which though mean in comparison with his, is yet what no 
gentlewoman need be ashamed to call herself the mistress of; 
therefore, Syrena, I would have you consider seriously of 
it.'Tis very childish and silly in you, to cry you can't love 
him; such an honourable and constant affection as his for you, 
would bring you to love him in time, especially, if it be true 
as you say, that your heart is not prejudiced in favour of any 
other man: but I have so often pressed you on this score, and 
with such small success, that I think 'tis lessening my 
character, as your mother to say anything farther; nor had I 
done it now, but the poor gentleman extorted a promise from me 
to write. I wish you never may have cause to repent the 
ingratitude, you are guilty of to him, or the injustice you do 
yourself; which, with my blessing, is all at present from, 
	Your affectionate mother, 
	Ann Tricksy.

P.S. Your aunt longs very much to see you, I believe, to talk 
to you concerning Mr Smith; so if you continue resolved to 
refuse his offers, it will be best for you not to go.

Syrena had scarce time to consider on these letters, before 
old Sarah returned with another, which had been left for her 
by a porter, at Mrs Tricksy's lodgings, while she was abroad. 
This was the dear expected billet, she had entreated her 
mother to be so careful of, and contained these lines.

Dear creature, 
	You must be too sensible of the pleasure your 
conversation affords, not to believe whoever has once 
enjoyed it, must languish for a second interview. You 
told me other engagements would detain you for some days, 
so have deferred writing as long as my impatience would 
permit; but, now I hope my charming Syrena will no longer 
hold herself from me. I shall be at my cousin's to-morrow 
about four; and earnestly entreat nothing may disappoint 
me of a pleasure, I till then shall live in the most 
eager expectation of, who am, 
	Lovely widow, 
	Your sincerely devoted 
	Friend and admirer, 
	HARRIOT MANLY.

The reader will doubtless be at a loss for the meaning of this 
epistle; but never had Syrena given a greater proof of her 
cunning, than in the management of this intrigue; to prevent 
his making any enquiry after her at Mr W----'s; she had told 
him, that being left a very young widow, without any children, 
she lived with her mother, and to give him a good opinion of 
her mother's virtue, and care of her, as well as to hinder him 
from knowing she had deceived him in the place of her abode, 
she told him he must never visit her; and when he wrote, as 
she desired he would often do, to appoint a meeting, it must 
be in a woman's name, whom she said she would pretend to have 
commenced an acquaintance with, at the house of some female 
friend. She made him believe also, that whenever he desired to 
see her, he must send the day before at least, for that Mrs 
Tricksy was so fearful of her entering into any correspondence 
with a man, that she made her be denied to all that came, 
unless relations, or such as she had an intimacy with herself, 
nor ever gave her any letter till she had first opened it, and 
examined the contents; so that, said she, you must not be 
surprised, if the messenger you send with your billets, never 
finds me at home; but when she reads them, and supposes them 
wrote by a woman, which I shall take care to mention before, 
as a mighty agreeable young lady, who has taken a fancy to me, 
she will make no scruple of permitting me to come out.

Thus having settled everything, as she thought, beyond a 
possibility of discovery, she flew to the rendezvous, his 
cousin's as he termed it, which indeed was no other than a 
common bagnio, with a pleasure which attends the gratification 
of any passion whatever; but more especially that which more 
or less is inherent to all animated beings, and for that 
reason called the most natural.

To keep Mr W----'s servants from suspecting anything by old 
Sarah's coming twice in one day; she pretended her mother had 
been taken suddenly ill, after she sent the first message; and 
that the second was to desire to see her immediately; she 
backed this excuse with so much seeming grief, that nobody had 
the least doubt of the truth of what she said; and the old 
gentleman coming home before her, and being told the story, 
was very much concerned at the supposed indisposition of so 
good a woman.

After passing four or five hours in a manner perfectly 
agreeable to her inclinations, she came home in a hackney-
coach about eleven o'clock, with a countenance, conformable to 
the melancholy visit she pretended to have made. Mr W---- not 
being gone to bed, enquired concerning her mother's condition, 
in a most tender and obliging manner; and the hypocrite 
dropping some well dissembled tears, answered, that she had 
found her so ill, that she had ventured to intrude on his 
goodness so far, as to promise to go again the next day; "By 
all means," cried the worthy gentleman, "and I will send a 
physician with you." "I most humbly thank you, sir," replied 
she, "but my mother has one, who has always attended our 
family, and is acquainted with her constitution." "Well then," 
resumed he, "I desire she may want nothing else proper for 
her; you shall go to her as early as you please in the 
morning; and pray," continued he, "give her this, with my best 
wishes for her recovery." With these words he put five guineas 
into her hand. Syrena affected to receive this favour with an 
equal share of gratitude for his goodness, and grief for the 
danger of a much esteemed and loved parent. Their 
conversation, till he retired to his chamber, was that night 
wholly taken up with Mrs Tricksy; Mr W---- imagining any gayer 
subjects would be little pleasing to a person, under the 
affliction Syrena seemed to be.

She went early in the morning in reality to her mother's, and 
gave her the five guineas, with a full recital of the occasion 
of that present; Mrs Tricksy was very well pleased with her 
management of his intrigue, and they both laughed heartily at 
the ease with which a woman beloved, could impose on a man of 
the best understanding. They breakfasted together, and then 
Syrena took her leave, and went to the bagnio, having promised 
her young lover to dine with him there, in confidence, that 
the story she had to tell Mr W---- would render it no 
difficulty for her to come out.

In fine, she carried on the deception of her mother's illness, 
for above a fortnight; so that in all that time, she never 
missed seeing her gallant one day; nay, stayed with him two 
whole nights, under the pretence that her mother being 
expected to expire every moment, she waited to pay the last 
duties of a child. Mr W---- was always extremely indulgent, 
sent her ten guineas more, and some phials of rich cordials, 
which they drank together with a good deal of mirth and 
ridicule on the donor.

But now Mrs Tricksy began to think it was high time for her to 
be on the mending hand, lest a too long counterfeiting, might 
at length raise some suspicion; and also, because that while 
she was supposed to continue in this dangerous way, Syrena's 
affair with Mr W---- seemed to stand still, that gentleman 
having forborne his amorous chat, out of decency to her grief; 
but the young wanton would scarce have been prevailed upon by 
her mother's remonstrances, to have given any intermission to 
a conversation so pleasing to her, had she not been compelled 
to it by the young gentleman, who told her a business of the 
most urgent nature called him into the country. Her grief at 
parting with him was really sincere, and she omitted nothing 
that she thought might detain him, but though he had an 
extreme compassion for the agonies she threw herself into, yet 
there was a necessity he should quit her at least for a time; 
she made him swear to write to her, and urged to know the 
exact place to which he was going; but it being highly 
inconvenient for him to comply with either of these requests, 
he yielded not to the one without a mental reservation, and 
wholly deceiving her as to the other; and told her a county as 
distant as north from south, from that he went to, which, 
together with his having passed with her by a feigned name, 
rendered it altogether impossible for her to hear anything of 
him, though on finding he did not write to her, she afterwards 
strenuously endeavoured.

Well, Mrs Tricksy recovered, and Syrena at home as before this 
adventure; the old gentleman began to renew a conversation, 
which with a good deal of pain to himself, he had so long 
stifled in his breast, what he said to her on the first 
opportunity, will be seen in the following letter, wrote by 
her to her mother.

Letter VI.

From G---- Square 
	Dear mother, 
	My old gentleman, though I allow him to be the most 
compassionate and best natured creature in the world, had 
certainly a great share of self-interest in the concern he 
expressed for your imagined sickness; in the first place it 
deprived him of my company for the most part, and when I was 
with him, the sorrow that it was necessary for me to assume, 
obliged him to restrain the dictates of his heart; but now he 
thinks you out of danger, he seems to give a loose to his 
gayer inclinations. I never go out, nor come into the room, 
without being saluted by him in the most tender manner, which 
I suffer as a person who has no aversion to such a behaviour, 
but what proceeds from my modesty; and also, as one who thinks 
herself too much obliged to his bounties, not to refuse any 
freedoms that are consistent with virtue; so that by behaving 
to him in a tender affectionate manner, I give him room to 
think I am far from having any dislike to his person; and by a 
seeming struggle within myself, and half sentences thrown in a 
propos, whenever he takes any extraordinary liberties, to 
think my gratitude alone hinders my resentment. I can see he 
is more and more charmed with me, and I flatter myself will 
soon break his mind to me; that is, let me know what it is I 
am to expect from him. Yesterday at breakfast, as I was going 
to fill the tea-pot, the man being out of the room on some 
occasion, he snatched the kettle from my hand, "No, my dear," 
said he, "though I am an old man, I know better the regard 
that ought to be paid persons of your sex, especially such a 
one as you, to suffer that." "O! Sir," cried I, "you are too 
good, and forget I am but your servant." "I never have treated 
you as such, replied he; and should be sorry you should ever 
think of me as master; methinks it is more natural," pursued 
he, smiling, "for you to look upon yourself as my mistress, 
than my servant." "God forbid sir!" cried I, "I do not mean 
naughtily," rejoined he, "but as the mistress of my 
affections; and indeed if you imagine I can place them on any 
other woman you do me wrong." He had perhaps added something 
more which might have explained what he meant by the word 
mistress, but the officious fool of a footman came unluckily 
in and prevented any farther discourse on that head. I saw him 
no more till night, for he dined abroad, and then at supper, 
as I was helping him to a bit of raspberry tart, "I think," 
said he, "these same pies are a kind of an emblem of the 
passion of love, where the sweet and sour seem to strive with 
each other, and both together are so grateful to the palate 
that one cannot wish to be without them; what do you think, 
pretty Mrs Tricksy, is not the comparison just?" "Indeed sir," 
answered I, "the little experience I am mistress of, does not 
qualify me to form any sort of judgment on that passion; and 
as for tarts I seldom eat any." "Yet you have loaded my 
plate," cried he, "and may I not also infer from thence that 
you would wish to see me taste all the sweets and sours alone, 
while you are unmoved at either?" I carried on the raillery, 
and affected not to conceive he had any other meaning in what 
he said than merely literal. But he soon obliged me to be more 
serious, by telling me, that he would have me henceforward 
look upon him as a man whose very soul was devoted to me. 
These words so uncommon with men of his grave and sober 
deportment, and uttered with the greatest vehemence, made me 
regard him with some astonishment, and indeed rendered me 
incapable of replying for some moments. During my silence he 
took hold of my two hands, and pressing them between his, said 
with a deep sigh, "O! That there were less disparity between 
us! I then perhaps might have been happy!" "I know not" sir, 
answered I, "anything that can be wanting to your happiness; 
but this I know, that I should be very miserable if any way 
the cause of giving you one moment's pain. You are, sir, my 
patron, my friend, my benefactor, my guardian angel, and when 
I cease to acknowledge your generous goodness, may my 
ingratitude be punished with some dreadful mark." "Hold, 
dearest creature," interrupted he, "I know thy sweet, thy 
tender, grateful soul--but--" "But what," cried I, "for 
heaven's sake, sir, inform me in what I am wanting. "In 
nothing," said he, "that's in your power--yet I could wish 
there were a possibility of--don't ask me what--it is 
irremediable, and becomes me not to mention--I cannot do it; 
yet at least--good night--" With these words he rose from the 
table, called his man, and went immediately to bed.

Now mother, to what can this inconsistency of behaviour be 
imputed, but to an excess of love and to some obstacle within 
himself that makes him fearful of indulging it? 'Tis strange 
he conceals it in this manner, but there is no getting it out 
of him, till he pleases himself--something sure extraordinary 
will be the event, but what I know not; when I do, you shall 
not be a moment in ignorance. I am 
	Your dutiful daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Letter VII.

From G---- Square 
	Congratulate me, my dear mother, congratulate your happy 
daughter. All my fears and my suspense are over. Mr W---- has 
at last brought himself to confess an honourable passion for 
me. He will soon come to acquaint you with it, and then make 
me his wife. O! How I shall roll in riches and plenty! How I 
shall indulge every wish, enjoy every pleasure, and despise 
all restraint. The very thought of what I shall be is ecstasy 
and transport. O! That the joyful time were come! I'll make 
him settle a jointure upon me, get possession of his plate and 
jewels, turn them all into ready money, that the heirs may not 
come upon me, and then break the old fool's heart, and shine 
out the belle of the town! But I must tell you what brought 
this fortunate catastrophe about, and of what infinite service 
your letter concerning the imaginary Mr Smith was to me. You 
know 'tis more than a week since I wrote to you, nor indeed 
had I anything pleasing to acquaint you with. Mr W---- after 
the conversation I repeated in my last grew more than 
ordinarily thoughtful, spoke but seldom, and when he did, it 
was either on family affairs, or other subjects altogether 
foreign to love. I was very uneasy in my mind, but appeared 
before him as usual, though indeed I began to imagine I had 
small hopes, not that he either gave me any words or looks 
that testified he had conceived the least disgust against me; 
but his whole carriage seemed to tell me, he had conquered 
himself so far as not to make me any offers of being in a 
better situation with him than he had placed me in at first. 
But when I thought my good fortune farthest removed from me, 
it happened to be nearest, as you shall hear. He came home 
last night about an hour before the time of lighting candles, 
and asking for me; one of the servants said he believed I was 
in my own room, and was coming to call me; but Mr W---- told 
him it was no matter, he was going up, and would speak to me 
above. He found me in a musing posture, leaning my head upon 
my arm, and indeed discontented enough at his late behaviour: 
"What, melancholy, pretty Mrs Tricksy!" said he, as soon as he 
came into the chamber. I was a little surprised at seeing him 
there, though very well pleased, especially as he seemed more 
cheerful than he had done for several days. "Not at all, sir," 
answered I, "but there are times when one cannot help being 
more than ordinarily serious." "There are so," resumed he, 
"nor am I sorry to see you so now, because I am come to talk 
with you on a very serious matter." With these words he made 
me take my seat again, which I had quitted on his coming in, 
and placing himself in another chair as close to me as he 
could, "I have been reflecting for some days past," said he, 
"on the pleasure your agreeable company has afforded me ever 
since you came into my house, and how forlorn I shall be 
whenever you leave it." "I hope, sir," said I, "that I have 
been guilty of nothing that should lay you under a necessity 
of obliging me to leave it?" "No, no," cried he, "far from any 
such thing, I have already told you, and I now repeat it, that 
it will be yourself alone can ever take you from me; but, my 
dear creature, I should be unreasonable to desire a young 
person like you, to live always in the manner you now do. 
There is no doubt but you will have offers of bettering your 
fortune, and you will marry" Here he ceased; and I took the 
opportunity of telling him that I preferred the honour of 
living with him as I now did, to being the wife of any man in 
the world: and on his seeming to question my sincerity in that 
point, as he well might, I endeavoured to convince him by all 
the asseverations befitting a modest woman to make; but he 
stopped my mouth with a kiss, and told me, that though what I 
said was vastly obliging, yet he could not think I could be so 
much an enemy to myself. I then thought I had a fine pretence 
for showing him your letter, and running to the bureau brought 
it in my hand, and presenting it to him, "Sir," said I, 
"though I should die with blushing to make you the confidant 
of such an affair, yet I cannot help doing it, to clear myself 
from all deceit; so beg, sir, you will give yourself the 
trouble to read this." He made no reply, but did as I desired, 
and I could see while thus employed a good deal of impatience 
in his eyes. As soon as he had finished the perusal, he gave 
me the letter again, and asked me several questions concerning 
Mr Smith; to all which I gave him such ready and natural 
answers, that he had no room to imagine I was amusing him with 
a fictitious story. After he had nothing farther to inform 
himself of, he told me he should be extremely happy if he 
could be sure that I refused Mr Smith, merely because I chose 
to live with him, to which I replied to give him still a 
greater opinion of my sincerity, that I could not say I had 
refused Mr Smith altogether on his account, because I had 
resolved not to marry him before I ever had the happiness of 
living with so excellent a master, but that since I had 
enjoyed so great a blessing, and had the experience of his 
goodness; not only Mr Smith, but all mankind beside were 
perfectly my aversion. He seemed overjoyed to hear me speak in 
this manner, kissed me, and embraced me a hundred times I 
believe, before he was able to make me any answer. At last, 
"well but, my dear love," cried he, "there yet remains one 
proof of your preferring my society above all others of my 
sex, and if you deny to give me that, you must give me leave 
to disbelieve all others. In fine, you must consent to put it 
out of either of our powers to part; you must be my wife." 
Judge, my dear mother, how much I was transported at these 
words, but I concealed it under a modest surprise, and hanging 
down my head, said, "You are pleased to sport, sir, with your 
unworthy servant." "No, my dear," replied he, "the offer I 
make you is not only serious, but well weighed, the result of 
a long consideration. The first moment I saw you, I 
entertained a thought of it, but was willing to wait till some 
proofs of my friendship had in part compensated for a 
disparity of years. What say you then? Is it possible for you 
to yield that youth and beauty to the embraces of an old man, 
without reluctance? Can you love me as a husband? Answer me," 
continued he, "with your usual sincerity; if you can love me 
as a husband (I again repeat it) I shall be happy; if you 
cannot, I will endeavour to make you so, either with any other 
more agreeable to your years; or if you choose a single life, 
by settling an annuity upon you;" on this I replied, that his 
excessive generosity had entirely overcome all my timidity and 
natural bashfulness; and that since he was so good to make me 
three offers, the first, and infinitely the best, must be my 
choice. It would be endless to repeat what he said on this 
occasion; had I been a queen, and he my subject, raised by me 
to a throne, he could not have expressed greater joy. I did 
not fail, however, to represent to him, the fears I had, that 
his sons and his other relations, would not be satisfied with 
our marriage; but he seemed to slight all I urged on that 
head, and told me, he had not lived so long in the word, to 
place his felicity in other people's opinions; and as for his 
children, they were too well acquainted with their duty to 
repine at anything he thought fit to approve.

Thus is everything agreed between us, and we shall come this 
afternoon or to-morrow to acquaint you with the affair, and 
ask your consent for our marriage, which he intends to 
solemnize as soon as a new coach and liveries can be got 
ready; for he resolves it shall be in as much splendour, as if 
I brought him a fortune equal to his own. Well, after all, he 
is very good to me, but 'tis all to please himself; and I 
shall follow his example, in doing everything to please 
myself. O! I shall live a rare life--but I must conclude, for 
I expect him to dinner every moment. Dear mother rejoice for 
the good fortune of 
	Your happy daughter, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

P.S. I send this by a porter, for fear the penny-post should 
not have come time enough to apprise you of our coming, for 
you to get everything in order--once more, farewell.



Chapter VII.

Mr W---- having determined, and indeed desired nothing more 
than to make Syrena his wife, fulfilled the contents of her 
letter to her mother, in going to ask her consent in form, 
which it would be needless to say was readily granted; after 
this he made no secret of his intentions, but declared to 
everybody that he was going to alter his condition. 
Accordingly he bespoke a fine new coach, ordered rich liveries 
for his men, and made some additions to his furniture; omitted 
nothing that he thought might show his regard for his designed 
bride, who he took abroad with him in his chariot almost every 
day, either for the air, or to buy things for her appearance 
as his wife.

His eldest son, though doubtless not well pleased in his mind, 
was obliged to treat her with all imaginable respect; and his 
other relations contented themselves with condemning his 
conduct among themselves, and did not pretend to dissuade or 
to argue with him on a thing, which they found he was 
absolutely bent upon.

Mr W---- resolving however to make all his family as easy as 
possible, in this unexpected change of his condition, sent for 
his son from Oxford, in order to settle a handsome fortune 
upon him before his marriage; and thereby prevent any 
apprehensions he might otherwise have had, of being a sufferer 
by a future issue.

By some accident the letter was delayed at the post-house, so 
that the young gentleman came not so soon as expected, and 
arrived at his father's but the evening before the day 
prefixed for the wedding; but happy was it for the whole 
family he came when he did, as will presently appear.

The old gentleman happening to be at home when he came, took 
him directly to his closet, and entertained him there a 
considerable time, telling him, that though he was about being 
married a second time, as it was to a woman, whose virtue and 
good nature would rather make her an advocate for his 
children, than the contrary; none of them ought to repine at 
his conduct in this affair. The son assured him with a great 
deal of submission, but how much veracity I cannot take upon 
me to determine, that he did not think it became a son to call 
his father's actions in question; and that whoever he had made 
choice of, he, for his part, should not have the least 
reluctance, in paying her all those duties she could expect 
from a son of her own, if it should please heaven to favour 
her with any; which, added he, "I sincerely wish." "Well 
said," my boy, replied Mr W----, "I assure thee, thy 
disinterestedness shall lose thee nothing. I sent for thee to 
town, for no other purpose, than to make over to thee now, 
what I intended for thee at my death; and as near as my 
marriage is, thy settlement shall be made before it. I will 
immediately send for my lawyer, and the writings shall be 
drawn to-night. In the meantime you shall see the lady, I 
shall make your mother to-morrow morning, and who has been 
some time in my house. So that, my dear boy," continued he, 
"it is not one whose humour I am unacquainted with, that I am 
going to make my partner for life; but one, whose uncommon 
virtues and goodness I have experienced, and am perfectly 
convinced of." With these words he led him the way to Syrena's 
chamber, who rose to receive them with her accustomed 
sweetness, and well affected innocence. But on his approaching 
to salute her, presented by his father, never was so odd a 
meeting The young gentleman started back as if he had seen a 
gorgon, nor could the reality of that fiction have been more 
shocking to him. Syrena lost all her presence of mind, and 
gave a great shriek. Mr W---- seemed thunderstruck at seeing 
them so; in fine, never did three people appear in a greater 
consternation. All of them were in a profound silence for some 
minutes, during which time, the father cast his eyes from 
Syrena to his son; then from his son to Syrena again, as 
expecting to be informed either by the one or the other, of 
what at present seemed so mysterious. At last, "Is this the 
lady, sir, you intend for my mother?" said the young 
gentleman, with a faltering voice. "Yes," answered Mr W----, 
"I told you so before I brought you here; have you anything to 
object against my choice? Or have you, Syrena, continued he, 
turning to her, any motives for being dissatisfied with this 
young man?" "No, sir," replied she, by this time having 
recollected what was best for her to do, "but he is so very 
like a brother I once had, that the first sight gave me a 
surprise, I could not presently overcome." "And you, madam," 
cried the young gentleman, "are so like a mistress of mine, 
and I doubt not but of half the town beside, that I could not 
with patience look on you as the person intended for my 
father's wife." "How!" cried Mr W----, with an angry tone. 
"Your pardon, sir," replied his son, putting one knee to the 
ground; "that I presume to own before you the folly of my 
youth. On any other occasion I could not hope forgiveness; but 
here 'tis absolutely necessary. Yes, sir, I confess, that 
without your permission I came about a month past to London, 
indeed to give a loose to some extravagancies, which I will 
never henceforward repeat. In my rambles I met with this 
woman. We fell into conversation. She affected in words to 
appear a modest woman; but her actions were altogether the 
reverse; in fine, sir, she is no other than a common creature-
-." He was going on, but Syrena had now no card but one to 
play, and interrupted by saying, "O! Barbarous aspersion! O! 
That I had died, rather than lived to hear my reputation thus 
cruelly traduced, and to my face, by one I never saw before, 
heaven is my witness, though the likeness of faces at first 
deceived me." With these words she fell into fits, nor could 
all the old gentleman's endeavours bring her to herself. The 
servants were called in to assist, but she no sooner seemed to 
recover from one convulsion, than she fell into another; 
insomuch, that all present, excepting the young gentleman, who 
had experienced her artifices, imagined she would die. Mr W---
-, who yet knew not what to make of what his son had said, was 
too generous and humane to let her perish for want of proper 
help, even though she should be proved guilty of all she was 
accused of; ordered the maids to take care of her, and sent 
immediately for a physician. Having given these directions, he 
withdrew into another room, taking his son with him; he 
questioned him very closely concerning the time of his 
acquaintance with Syrena, the places where they met, and every 
particular that he thought might inform him of the truth; for 
though he could not entertain so bad an opinion of the young 
gentleman, as to imagine he had forged this story on purpose 
to break the match; yet he could not tell how to bring himself 
to think he could have been so grossly imposed upon by a 
woman, whose temper, inclinations, and conduct, he had 
observed with the utmost strictness, ever since she came into 
his house.

I believe the reader by this time guesses the truth, and that 
the son of Mr W---- was no other, than the last gallant she 
had; and for whom, to meet with the greater freedom, she had 
pretended her mother's indisposition. This article it was, 
which more than anything convinced the old gentleman, that the 
seeming modest Syrena, was the infamous wretch his son had 
described her; for not only her name, and the young 
gentleman's positiveness as to her person, but the times of 
their being so frequently together, agreeing exactly with 
those of her pretended visits to Mrs Tricksy, at length opened 
his eyes to the villainy of both mother and daughter; and 
though he had loved the fair deceiver, with too much 
tenderness to endure this detection without pain, yet he 
thought himself bound to thank heaven for so timely a 
discovery of her guilt; which, had it happened but a day 
after, had made him from the most happy, the most miserable 
man on earth. The frailty of his son also deserved his pardon; 
not only because of the temptation that had misled him, but 
likewise, because he could no other way have received a 
confirmation of her crimes. After much talk upon this head, Mr 
W---- burst out into an exclamation, "Good God!" cried he, 
"what a fiend must this be under an angel's form! She knew 
herself a prostitute to the son, yet would have married the 
father! Monstrous incestuous strumpet!" "Hold, sir," 
interrupted the son, "compound as she is of lewdness and 
deceit, let us not wrong her. She knew not till this hour, I 
was your son; for the better to conceal my being in town from 
you, I passed with her, and wherever I went, by a different 
name." "But she is now no longer ignorant of that secret," 
replied the father, "yet would she have persuaded me, you 
either had mistook her for some other, or had malice enough to 
asperse her without cause. O what punishment is great enough 
for such a wretch!" The physician that moment came in and 
broke off their farther discourse, by telling them the lady 
was dangerously ill; that he had prescribed for her, but much 
feared the success. Young Mr W---- shook his head in token of 
contempt, and after he was gone could not forbear saying, some 
severe things on the gentlemen of that profession; but in this 
he was guilty of some little injustice; for the truth was, 
that though Syrena's fits were only counterfeited, yet the 
surprise she had been in, and the apprehension which 
immediately followed of losing that great fortune, she had but 
a few minutes before thought herself secure of, gave her real 
agonies, which put her whole frame into such disorders, as, 
joined with the artificial ones she put on, might well puzzle 
the physician's skill.

The old gentleman, however, not being able to suffer so vile a 
creature under his roof, made her be told she must quit his 
house; and that if she were as ill as she pretended, her 
mother was the most proper person to take care of her; and if 
she were not, it would be doing her a good office, to send her 
where she would no longer have any need of feigning. She 
begged with floods of tears to see him, protested her 
innocence, and left nothing undone to deceive him once more, 
and throw the odium of all upon his son's dislike of their 
marriage; but he was now too well assured of her baseness, and 
remained inexorable to all her messages; so that with a heart 
full of rage, and a tongue full of imprecations, she took an 
everlasting leave of a house she was so near being mistress 
of, after having been obliged to resign all the fine jewels 
that had been presented to her when intended for a bride.



Chapter VIII.

It would be needless to repeat the distraction that both 
mother and daughter were involved in at this sudden turn in 
their fate; neither could it be pleasing to a virtuous ear to 
hear those shocking and profane exclamations, which 'tis easy 
to suppose persons of their abandoned principles make use of, 
when any way crossed by providence in the pursuit of their 
wicked designs. It must be confessed, indeed, that Syrena had 
very ill luck in being so often on the very point of 
compassing all her avarice, ambition, or pride could aim at; 
and then, by the most unforeseen accidents, thrown from the 
height of all her hopes. And here, methinks, it is worth 
remarking, how the indulging one vice, destroyed all the 
success she might have expected from the other; for had she 
been less lewd, her hypocrisy, in all probability, had 
obtained its end, at least, in this last pursuit it had done 
so: but it is generally the fate of such wretches, who, while 
they go about ensnaring and deceiving all they can, to be 
themselves ensnared and deceived, either by others, or their 
own headstrong and ungoverned appetites.

In a short space of time they again began to feel the want of 
what before they had profusely lavished. Syrena was not idle 
in spreading her nets; but none as yet had the ill fortune to 
fall into them, and the first that did, proved little to her 
advantage, as well as to his own. Their acquaintance began in 
this manner.

She was walking one day through the strand, equipped for 
adventures in a modish dishabille, with a little hat on her 
head, and a cane in her hand, when she saw at a bookseller's 
door a gentleman, whom she no sooner cast her eye upon, than 
she imagined fit for her purpose: he was in the prime of his 
age, well proportioned, genteel, and had somewhat in his looks 
that denoted him to be of a more than ordinary amorous 
constitution: she perceived he had his eye upon her as she 
passed, and the street being pretty dirty, and the kennel of a 
great breadth just in that part, she either had, or seemed to 
have an occasion to cross the way--the coaches driving 
backward and forward very fast, it being term time, made her 
often obliged to stop, and return, then go on again, and all 
this opposite to where the gentleman stood; so that he had a 
full opportunity of seeing and admiring all the pretty airs 
she put on; the distress she affected, in not being able to 
prosecute her little journey, gave him a pretence of offering 
to assist her. He stepped hastily to her, and taking her under 
the arm with one hand, and with the other extending his cane 
to keep off the horses, like a true knight-errant, lifted his 
Dulcinea over the muddy brook, and safely bore her to the 
farther shore. When arrived, she made a curtsy, and thanked 
him with so bewitching a softness in her eyes and voice, as 
wholly completed the conquest she desired. He entreated 
permission to attend her to the place where she was going, and 
telling her it was altogether unfit a lady of her appearance 
should walk the streets, without some person who might guard 
her, both from the insults of the undistinguishing populace, 
and the dangers also, such uncommon charms might lay her 
under, from men of more elevated rank. To these obliging 
offers and compliments, she made him such answers, as gave him 
an opinion she had been brought up in high life, and had 
conversed only with people of the greatest fashion; but seemed 
to decline accepting his protection any farther, saying there 
was no need of his giving himself that trouble, since she was 
only going home, and there were no more such ugly places to 
pass over in her way thither; adding, that she was already 
under too great an obligation to his care to consent to 
receive any addition; since she was conscious there was 
nothing in her conversation capable of compensating for his 
loss of time. This naturally drew a great many fine things 
from him; nor would he be persuaded to quit her, though she 
often desired he would; but how sincerely the reader may 
imagine.

They walked on together talking in this manner, when just as 
they passed by a tavern, he perceived her colour change, and a 
sudden trembling seize all her limbs, which, as I have in many 
instances explained, she could bring on herself whenever she 
found it necessary for her purpose. He was surprised and 
troubled at this alteration, and was about to ask the cause, 
when she catched hold of his arm, as if to save herself from 
falling; rolled her eyes with a half dying languor, then 
closed them, and appeared quite fainting. He little suspecting 
all this for artifice, was extremely frighted, and supporting 
her as well as he could, led her into the tavern, where having 
called for hartshorn and water, she soon became revived, but 
seemed not presently to recollect her senses enough to know 
where she was, or what had happened to her; but when she did, 
"O heaven! cried she, how strange an accident is this! Bless 
me, how can I answer to myself or the world, being in a tavern 
with a gentleman, I never saw before! or how, sir, can I ever 
retaliate the favours I have received from you this day!" 
Besides the common compliments on such occasions, as thinking 
it an honour to be any way serviceable to a lady who seemed so 
much to deserve it, he being a man of great wit and gallantry, 
added a thousand infinitely more elegant and obliging; his 
natural complaisance and respect to the fair sex, being now 
heightened by a passion he had never felt before, though 
frequently what is called a lover, he expressed himself in a 
manner, which might have charmed a woman less susceptible than 
her he now addressed. 'Tis certain she was transported with 
him, and had no need of feigning to make him see his behaviour 
had made an impression on her. All her subject for 
dissimulation, was to pass it on him for the first, which she 
was too perfect a mistress of, not to succeed in.

On his asking her if she had been accustomed to these 
faintings, "No, sir," answered she, calling to her cheeks a 
most becoming blush, "I never before knew what it was to lose 
my senses, even for a moment. Few women, I thank heaven, are 
blessed with a better constitution, or a more easy and 
cheerful mind. I know not what to think of the accident that 
has just now happened, nor to what cause to impute it, and 
were I inclined to be superstitious, should be apprehensive it 
was the fore-runner of some very extraordinary event." "If we 
pay any regard to history or tradition," said the gentleman, 
"whatever happens out of the common course of nature, as your 
disorder, madam, seems to have been, has ever been looked upon 
as a presage of some unexpected change in fortune. But you 
have not the least reason to imagine it an ill omen; since it 
would be calling in question the justice of providence, to 
suppose it had created an excellence like yours, for anything 
but to give and receive the highest good this world at least 
can bestow; but I suspect," continued he, with a sigh, "that 
as so many charms cannot be without an adequate number of 
adorers, it was the commiseration for woes you cannot bring 
yourself to redress, that overwhelmed your gentle heart, and 
for a moment deprived you of yourself."

Here he ceased, and looked steadfastly on her with a kind of 
enquiring, yet imploring eye; and she who easily saw into his 
thoughts, and found with pleasure the influence she had 
gained, made no immediate reply; and when she did, assuming a 
half smile, "By the manner of your talking", said she, "I 
fancy you take me for a maid; but, sir, I have been married, 
and as I was so without feeling for him who was my husband, 
much less any other man; those emotions, lovers talk of, I 
cannot have much compassion for what I always looked on 
fictitious, and mere words of course." "How," madam, cried he, 
"have you been married, and are so long a widow, as to be out 
of mourning, at your years? On this she told him the same 
story, she had done her former lovers; only with this 
difference, that as she knew not his circumstances, it seemed 
most proper to keep him ignorant of hers, till time should 
discover, if it were best to affect poverty or riches.

After having passed about two hours with him; she thought it 
time to pretend being perfectly recovered; nor could all his 
persuasions, nor her own secret inclinations, induce her to 
stay longer. She could not now, however, refuse giving him 
leave to go home with her, which he did; and on her telling 
her mother before him, the civilities she had received from 
him; he was treated with the utmost respect and gratitude, by 
the seemingly good Mrs Tricksy. And from her as well as 
Syrena, had permission to wait on them again.

When he was gone, and these ensnarers had liberty to consult 
together, judging by his garb and appearance, that he was a 
man of a fortune sufficient to maintain her as a wife; they 
set all their wits to work to make a husband of him; for in 
the way of discourse to them both, he had declared himself 
neither married nor under any engagements of that kind. 
Schemes were therefore contrived between them to delude him; 
which they afterward had but too much opportunity to put in 
practice; and which his own temper and circumstances 
contributed to assist in.

He was a gentleman whose father had been possessed of a 
plentiful estate, but by giving too much into the gallantries 
of the times had dissipated it so far, that at his decease he 
had not an acre to bequeath; and young Mr P---- was only left 
with a small fortune in money, for which the last acre had 
been disposed of: his education had been the best for a man of 
an estate, but the worst for a man of business: he had too 
much pride to descend to anything for bread, which he thought 
unbefitting his birth; and though he had many powerful 
friends, whose interest might have procured him a place at 
court, or a commission in the army, either of which he would 
gladly have accepted, whenever such a thing was in agitation, 
some cross accident intervened, and disappointed his hopes; 
when they seemed nearest the accomplishment. Several years 
having passed over since the death of his father; and nothing 
succeeding according to his expectations, his little stock of 
money almost exhausted, and years coming on, for he was now 
turned of thirty; he could think of nothing to retrieve 
himself but marriage. He was, therefore, on his acquaintance 
with Syrena, looking out for some elderly widow or maid, whose 
substance might support him in the eve of life, in a decent 
manner; and as he was a man perfectly agreeable both in his 
person and conversation, 'tis not to be doubted, but he might 
easily have succeeded in that view, had he not unhappily met 
with this fair, and more base deceiver, whose arts engrossed 
his whole attention on herself, and rendered him incapable, 
because unwilling, to apply where his good genius called him.

He imagined by Syrena's appearance, and the manner in which 
her mother and she lived, that she must have either a good 
fortune in her own hands, or a jointure; and though he was 
enough infatuated with her, to have married her without a 
shilling, could his affairs have admitted of it; yet the 
belief, that she had sufficient for them both, was no small 
spur to his inclinations. With the view therefore of making 
his addresses to her, did he visit her the next day; where 
everything he saw, serving the more to confirm him in the good 
opinion he had conceived of their circumstances; for they took 
care to put on the best outside; he after two or three visits 
more declared himself a lover. Syrena received his suit with 
the greatest show of modesty; but blended with a certain 
languor in her eyes, which gave him to understand, as if 
against her will, that she felt the highest satisfaction on 
it. Every time he entertained her on this topic, she grew less 
and less reserved, and at last confessed, that she loved him 
from the first moment she beheld him; and that it was wholly 
owing to the emotions he had occasioned in her; that she fell 
into those disorders which gave rise to their acquaintance. 
How pleasing are the thoughts of being beloved by one who 
seems worthy of being loved! Mr P---- thought himself the 
happiest of all created beings; blessed in the purest and 
tenderest affections of the most beautiful, most engaging, and 
most virtuous of her sex; and one who had also a handsome 
competency at least, to make smooth the rugged road of life. 
Though he was by nature a man of very warm inclinations, and 
had been the destruction of many fine women's virtue and 
reputation; so great was the respect he bore Syrena, that 
though he had unnumbered opportunities he never took the 
advantage of any of them, or approached her with liberties 
beyond a kiss, which considering her constitution, and the 
real liking she had to him, was not, perhaps, so agreeable to 
her as he imagined. He all this time, however, never came 
directly to the point, and though he courted her on honourable 
terms, and she had acknowledged the greatest passion for him, 
he had not pressed the consummation of his happiness; had not 
entreated her to fix the day that should give her forever to 
him. This very much surprised both mother and daughter, and 
made them begin to fear there was some mystery in his being so 
silent on that head; and having considered on what means would 
be best for obliging him to explain himself, Mrs Tricksy one 
day, when Syrena on purpose had left the room, took an 
occasion to tell him, that as she found he and her daughter 
had settled their affections on each other, she hoped he would 
not think it an improper question if she desired to be 
informed of some particulars relating to his fortune. On which 
he seemed a little confounded; but answered, that his estate 
at present did not exceed four hundred pounds per annum; but 
that he expected more on the death of a relation. Well, 
resumed Mrs Tricksy, four hundred pounds a year frugally 
managed, may keep a little table for a time. Mr P---- thought 
he had now an excuse for expressing a desire of knowing in 
what manner Syrena was left in her widowhood; his ignorance of 
that having been, indeed, the cause he had not been more eager 
for the knot being tied; for though he loved her with an 
extremity of passion, he had no notion of living with a wife 
in a mean and penurious manner. "Madam," said he, in answer to 
Mrs Tricksy's last words, "my estate is much too small to 
maintain your daughter in a fashion worthy of her, and I 
should be ashamed to be too much indebted to a wife's purse: I 
would, therefore, endeavour to bring my kinsman to add 
something before his death to what I at present enjoy." "If 
you can do so it will be well," replied Mrs Tricksy, "but if 
not, you must be content; perhaps when you are married and 
children come, he may be prevailed upon. In the meantime, you 
may make some small settlement out of what you have upon my 
daughter." "Gladly, madam," cried he, "and whatever the young 
lady is possessed of, shall also be settled on herself." This 
was enough to let her see he expected a fortune with her, and 
as it was impossible to deceive him in that point, thought 
best not to attempt it; but to seem entirely open in what 
could not be concealed, that he might the more readily believe 
those things in which she had it in her power to impose on 
him. "Sir," said she, "what I have to tell you will be a 
certain test of the sincerity of that affection you profess. I 
do assure you, Syrena has at present no fortune; but lives 
dependant on me who have a tolerable good jointure, and is all 
that is preserved out of a large estate her father once 
enjoyed; but which, at my decease goes also to an eldest son. 
Not that she will always be a beggar .She is set down six 
thousand pounds in the will of a rich cousin, who by the 
course of nature cannot live many years, being now more than 
ninety. Several others also of our kindred have promised to 
leave her handsomely; so that, as I observed before, if you 
both live frugally for a while, you may hereafter indulge what 
want of fortune, at present, will not suffer you to enjoy with 
prudence."

Mr P---- found a shivering at his heart from the time Mrs 
Tricksy had said her daughter was no more than a dependent on 
her; but he concealed the shock it gave him as much as 
possible, and told her, he was only concerned, that he had not 
more to lay at Syrena's feet.

Notwithstanding all his efforts to behave with the same gaiety 
as usual, he could not conceal from the piercing eyes of 
Syrena and her mother, his inward discontent; and reasoning 
upon it after he was gone, they both were of opinion he would 
not marry without a portion, which was not a little 
disappointment to them both, as they doubted not the truth of 
his being possessed of some estate, if not altogether so much 
as he pretended.

He, on his part, when the hour came in which it was proper for 
him to retire, went home to his lodgings with an aching heart: 
he loved Syrena, too well to be able to live without her in 
any tolerable degree of peace, and the impossibility of 
maintaining her as a wife, made him pass the night in the most 
grievous agitations. He cursed fate and his friends, whose 
endeavours to get him a place had been unsuccessful; for as he 
doubted not the truth of what Mrs Tricksy had told him 
concerning the six thousand pounds, and other legacies, he 
thought if he could any way have supported her till that time, 
he might very well venture to marry her; but as things stood 
now with him, that was entirely out of the question, and how 
to proceed he could not determine.

He went to visit her the next day, however, and several 
succeeding ones as before this �claircissement<156> had been 
made; but though he could not forbear talking to her as a 
lover, he mentioned not the least word of marriage, which 
confirming Syrena and her mother in their conjectures, that he 
intended no such thing, made them resolve to push the matter 
home; but in what manner they could not yet determine; and 
were thinking of various stratagems, without being able to fix 
on any, when fortune presented Syrena with an adventure, which 
furnished her with one, that, besides being agreeable in 
itself, promised success.

She was walking across the Park one morning, after having 
breakfasted with a friend at Westminster, when she saw a 
gentleman go before her, whose shape and air she fancied she 
was not unacquainted with. She, therefore, mended her pace, 
and though he went not slow came up with him, and pulling her 
hat as low as she could to conceal her face, if it should 
chance to be any of those she had reason to avoid, looked full 
on him as she passed, and found it was Vardine, the man who 
had triumphed over her virgin beauties, and betrayed her 
innocence, if a creature so early bred up in wiles, can be 
said to remember she ever had any. It presently came into her 
head, that he might be of service in her designs on Mr P----, 
and accosted him with a tap on the arm with her little cane. 
He started and turned to her taking her at first for one of 
those ladies of pleasure who frequent that place; for he knew 
her not immediately, being grown fatter and somewhat more 
plump, though far from fat; but she soon by her voice, and 
discovering her face more fully, let him see who she was. He 
was a little confounded at first, and was beginning to make 
excuses for his behaviour; but she would not suffer him to go 
on, telling him she had forgot and forgiven all that was 
disagreeable to her in his conduct; that she was now glad to 
see him, and had a favour to ask of him, which it would cost 
him nothing to grant. He took this as a sort of reproach for 
the little he had done for her; but made her no other answer, 
than that he should rejoice in an opportunity of obliging her 
with anything in his power. After some conversation relating 
to their former intimacy, they adjourned to a tavern, where 
finding by him that he was still but a lieutenant, and had as 
little money to spare in matters of gallantry as ever, she 
attempted not to impose on him in any shape, affected not 
virtue, nor refused, on his desiring it, a renewing of those 
endearments he before had experienced from her, though then 
given with more artifice than she now took the trouble to put 
in practice. She told him she was endeavouring to draw in a 
gentleman to marry her, and that if he would assist her, he 
should command her in everything. He readily complied to do 
anything she desired on that score, and thought he owed her a 
greater service, if in his power, for the favours she had 
conferred on him. She carried him home to dinner, and having 
presented him to her mother, and told her his name, soon 
reconciled her to him, by informing her also, what he was to 
do for her; they then all three entered into a consultation, 
and as he was a graceful young fellow and well dressed, it 
seemed probable, that the very sight of him would create a 
jealousy in Mr P----, that might serve to quicken his love; it 
was, therefore, agreed upon, that he should stay till the 
other came, which was generally about the hours of six or 
seven, and then take his leave with a seemingly dejected air.

Vardine acted his part as naturally as they could wish, and Mr 
P---- made no doubt but he had a rival, which, as he truly 
loved her, was no small addition to his inquietudes. He 
complained of it to Syrena in the most tender terms, and she 
confessed, blushing, that indeed that young officer had made 
pretensions to her almost ever since her widowhood; but that 
he was always her aversion, and that having been obliged to go 
into the country to his regiment, she had hoped to have been 
rid of his importunities, and was sorry to find he still 
continued his passion for her; but, said she, I had not seen 
him today, if by chance I had not been at the window when he 
knocked, and am resolved to be denied to him henceforward, if 
he comes ever so often. "Be easy and satisfied, therefore," 
continued she, "for as I loved him not when my heart was 
wholly unengaged, 'tis impossible to endure him now, so full 
as it is of your idea." The believing lover appeared 
transported with joy and gratitude; and had it not been for 
the thoughts of not being able at present to make so excellent 
a woman his own, his ecstasy had been beyond all bounds.

Some few days after this they contrived it so, that when Mr P-
--- was in the dining-room with Mrs Tricksy and her daughter, 
a great sound of voices was heard below, and the old deceiver 
feigning a surprise, opened the door, as to listen what it 
meant, having stood a moment, "Heavens!" cried she, "'tis 
Captain Vardine! He is quite outrageous on your being denied 
to him. I must go down myself, and put a stop to the clamours 
of his despair: with speaking this she ran hastily out of the 
room, and the door being purposely left open, Mr P---- heard 
him say, "I have nothing wherewith to accuse the cruel 
charmer, nor the happy gentleman I am told she has made choice 
of; I only would beg once more to see her, to take my last 
farewell, and die before her eyes." Mrs Tricksy seemed 
expostulating with him; but he continued his exclamations for 
some time, and Syrena pretended the utmost terror, lest he 
should force his way upstairs, and there should be a quarrel 
between him and Mr P----; at length, however he departed, and 
Mrs Tricksy, returned, full of a well-counterfeited concern 
for his condition.

To refuse a man who loved her with such an excess of passion 
and unwearied constancy, they thought would lay a kind of 
obligation on Mr P----'s honour, as well as his love, to make 
her his wife; but to strengthen her claim to him they also had 
recourse to another artifice, which was this:

They had several worthy and good relations, as has been before 
mentioned, who had formerly been very kind and beneficent to 
them; but some whispers concerning the conduct of Syrena, 
which the manner in which she was supported without following 
any business, served to confirm, having reached their ears, 
they had not seen either her or her mother for a long time; 
but on this juncture, that crafty woman ventured to approach 
them, saying, that her daughter was now about being married to 
a gentleman of an estate, and that there wanted nothing to 
hasten the marriage, but their vouchsafing to own her as a 
relation, without which, continued she, he may imagine she has 
been guilty of some mismanagement, and break off. To retrieve 
the character, therefore, and settle in the world a young 
person allied to them, the greatest part of them consented to 
visit her; and now there seldom passed an evening, without his 
seeing some or other of his intended wife's kindred: they all 
approved highly of his person and behaviour, and he was 
invited to all their houses by turns, which, not knowing how 
to avoid accepting, he went with Syrena and her mother: the 
fashion in which they lived, and the entertainments they made 
for him, would have convinced him, if he had not been so 
before, that she was no mean person. But all this served only 
to make him more unhappy, by reflecting, that he had acted 
dishonourably, by pretending to have what he had not; and that 
he appeared guilty of ingratitude, by not doing what, as his 
affairs were, he had not power to do, without bringing to the 
utmost misery, both himself and the person he loved.

No offers yet being made by him, of bringing the matter to a 
conclusion, Mrs Tricksy and her daughter began to despair of 
ever compassing their point; but to ascertain themselves of 
the truth, if possible, they tried one more expedient in the 
following manner.

Pretty early one morning as he was dressing to go out, the 
servant of the house where he lodged, told him, a lady desired 
to speak with him. He was a little alarmed, imagining it a 
young creature with whom he had commenced an amour, before he 
saw the fatal face of Syrena, and who he knew was with child 
by him; as his new passion had rendered him wholly neglectful 
of her of late, he doubted not but she was come to reproach 
him, and endeavoured to prevail on the servant to say he was 
not at home: "How can I do that, sir," said she, "when I have 
already told the lady you were?" "Pish," cried he, "can't you 
pretend you were mistaken, and that I went out without your 
seeing me." As they were arguing, Syrena's impatience at being 
made wait so long, with a little mixture of jealousy, that 
some other woman might be with him, made her fly upstairs 
without being asked; he was agreeably surprised to find it was 
she, and begged a thousand pardons for not coming down to 
receive her. "I have no reason," said she, "to be offended at 
your want of ceremony; for as I did not send up my name, I 
believe I was the last person you could think of, that was 
come to disturb you." He was beginning to make some 
compliments on the favour she did him, but she put a stop to 
them, as soon as the maid had left the room, by saying, "The 
affair I come upon deserves not these civil things. I am 
come," continued she, bursting into tears, "to forbid you our 
house. You must see me no more; my mother has resolved it, and 
is prepared to tell you so at your next visit. I thought the 
news would be less shocking from my mouth; and therefore in 
spite of all the considerations that might have restrained me, 
am come to take my everlasting leave; and to tell you, that 
though I cannot think you love me with that tenderness you 
have professed, you are too dear to me, for me to be able to 
resent anything you do, and that you ever will be so to the 
last moment of my wretched life."

These words, and the manner in which they were spoke, touched 
him to the very soul; he was ready to keep her company in 
tears; and though he did not absolutely weep, his eyes were 
full, and it was not without great difficulty he withheld the 
swelling grief from falling down his cheeks. "Ah, madam!" 
cried he, "what is it you tell me? What can have made this 
sudden alteration in your mother's sentiments?" "That," 
replied she, "which ought to have had the same effect on mine-
-your deceit in pretending to love me only for my person and 
mind, when in reality you regarded nothing but the fortune you 
supposed me mistress of." Here he made a thousand 
asseverations to the contrary of what she accused him of; and 
that no woman in the world, though endowed with all that could 
glut the avarice of the most sordid man, could have the power 
to alienate his affection from her; and concluded what he said 
with a solemn vow, never to marry any other, unless she first 
should lead the way; to this she made no answer, but sighs, 
and he resumed his protestations; "Had I millions," said he, 
"I would devote them all, with myself, to the service of the 
charming, the adorable Syrena; but as the little, the very 
little I am at present master of, is insufficient to give her 
even ease in life, is it not a greater proof of love, to 
restrain the burning wishes she has inspired me with, and 
delay my happiness till fate shall put it in the power of one 
of us, to make marriage comfortable, than to desire she should 
be partaker of my abject fortune?"

Syrena was too penetrating not to see into the fallacy of this 
argument, but as she was resolved to pin herself upon him 
anyway, she forbore to urge the matter farther, and said, "I 
should readily agree with you; that it is better to wait till 
the death of this old impediment of my happiness, shall make 
me mistress of my fortune, but my mother will never be brought 
to think as we do. She presses me to marry the young officer, 
and though I am resolved never to yield to that, and could 
sooner die than suffer the embraces of any but him, to whom I 
have given my heart; yet I must, terrible as it is to me, 
forbear your sight and conversation, till better times. If you 
can be constant in absence, and preserve your heart for me, as 
I shall do mine for you, we may hereafter find a recompense 
for our present pains." This Mr P---- was ready enough to 
consent to, but could not tell how to bring himself to think 
of not seeing her till the time should arise, of claiming the 
performance of her promise; and he expressing the 
impossibility there was for him to live without her society, 
she aimed not to render him more satisfied on that head, but 
pretended that whatever she had said, she doubted not but he 
would soon hear she was no more, when she no more enjoyed his 
presence.

Nothing could be more tender than their conversation; but he 
still persisting in his first resolution of not marrying yet 
a-while, she fell into violent fits, the people of the house 
were called up, but as she seemed a little recovered, 
withdrew.  She then wept, and hung upon him with agonies, such 
as threatened distraction; he kissed, embraced, said all he 
could to comfort her, and these endearments continuing for a 
long time, rendered both, according to all appearance, in the 
end forgetful of themselves, and sinking into each others' 
arms, they enjoyed the pleasures of matrimony without the 
ceremony. But Syrena, whose every word and look during the 
whole time of her being with him, was studied artifice, and 
before concerted with her mother, seemed so shocked at what 
she had done, that she begged he would that moment run his 
sword through her heart; for life after the loss of honour, 
cried she, would be a perfect hell. He endeavoured to 
reconcile her to an act, which he said could not be criminal 
between two people, whose souls were already married, and who 
had resolved never to receive any other idea, than those with 
which they were at present filled. She began by degrees to 
seem convinced by his reasons, but told him, that after what 
had happened, she could not think of being absent from him 
even a day;  that she now looked upon him as her husband, and 
conscious of her own integrity, regarded not what opinion the 
world might have of her conduct; and in fine, said she would 
live with him as a mistress, till circumstances should admit 
of her being made a wife.

An offer, such as this, from a woman of her supposed modesty, 
could not but surprise him. He took it however as a proof of 
the most exalted and disinterested passion that ever was; but 
when he reflected, that to support her as a mistress, would be 
little less inconvenient than maintaining her as a wife, it 
very much puzzled him. But he loved her, and that overcame all 
other considerations; she stayed with him at his lodgings, 
shared the same bed, and they lived together in every respect, 
as if they had been married.

So full an enjoyment did not in the least abate his 
tenderness; and though after she had been with him some few 
days, he was told by persons who happened to see her at his 
window, that she was a woman of an infamous character, and 
made up of deceit, he looked upon it all as malice or envy, 
and even quarrelled with the dearest friend he had on earth, 
for but seeming to doubt of her sincerity. "Have I not proofs 
both of her love and honour," cried he, "such proofs as never 
woman but herself ever gave, nor never man but me was ever 
blessed with? O! She is all charms, both mind and body! Till I 
knew her, I knew not what real happiness was, and vainly 
searched for it in various pleasures; but in my dear Syrena is 
all that's excellent comprised."

Those who loved him, pitied and lamented his infatuation; and 
those to whom he was indifferent, ridiculed it. All who knew 
his circumstances stood amazed, that a man of so fine an 
understanding in other things, should neglect all 
opportunities of making his fortune, dissipate the little 
substance he had left, and devote his whole time to a woman, 
who, had she been as much an angel, as she was really a devil, 
had it not in her power either to serve him or herself.

In the meantime, Syrena was not idle in providing against a 
change, or more properly speaking, for a change; she liked Mr 
P---- indeed, but liked interest better; and frequently 
pretending to go to some or other of her kindred, where till 
they were married, it was improper he should accompany her, 
went abroad in hope of meeting with something more to her 
advantage, than she now began to suspect he could ever be; and 
continued with him but till she could be better provided for.

Her expensive way of living, and the pleasure he took in 
indulging her every wish, together with the shame he found in 
himself, whenever he attempted to let her know how ill he 
could afford it, had exhausted his little stock of money in a 
short time. He then borrowed of all who would lend, and went 
in debt wherever he could, so that soon he found himself 
without either money, friends, or credit; shunned by his 
acquaintance, and in danger of a gaol--this made him very 
melancholy, but did not make him love the less--he cursed his 
fate, but blessed the wretch who had undone him--she took 
notice of the alteration in his countenance, and pressed him 
in so endearing a manner to let her know the cause, that he at 
last confessed his misfortunes, concealing nothing from her of 
the truth; she hid the vexation it gave her, with her 
accustomed artifice, and said, well my dear, be as patient as 
you can. I love you not the less for having no estate; and 
this old creature of a kinsman cannot live for ever, and my 
six thousand pounds will at least procure you a place.

From this time, however, she thought of nothing but how to get 
a new gallant; but none offering their service, she chose 
rather to remain with him, till he had made away with the last 
things, that would even purchase a dinner, than go home to her 
mother, where she must have been put to those straits herself, 
which he alone at present sustained.

A gentleman who had been an old friend of Mr P----'s father, 
hearing of his misfortunes, made him an invitation to his 
house, which he told him should be to him as his own, till he 
could get into some employment; but this unhappy and deluded 
man refused to accept so kind an offer, on Syrena's falling 
into fits, when he but barely mentioned it; and chose rather 
to starve with her, than forsake her without her own consent; 
and sure a greater act of barbarity and ingratitude was never 
practised, than by this base wretch in still hanging on a man, 
who to support her was obliged to be guilty of meannesses 
which his soul on any other occasion would have abhorred; and 
heaven only knows to what extremes, he might have been driven, 
had not providence discovered to him her perfidy in too full a 
manner for all her dissimulation to evade, had she attempted 
it; but indeed having now run in a manner, the last length she 
could go with him, she took not any pains about it.

As he was taking a solitary walk one afternoon in Chelsea 
Fields, indulging his melancholy contemplations, he met an 
acquaintance, who would needs make him go into the next house 
of entertainment; where being seated and discoursing of 
ordinary affairs, their conversation was interrupted by the 
loud laughing of some persons in the next room; and their 
being only a wainscot partition between them, they heard 
distinctly these words, "By G--d, my dear, if ever fortune 
throws a rich fool in my way, you shan't want a better 
commission." This was a woman's voice, and sounded so like 
Syrena's, that Mr P---- could not forbear growing as red as 
scarlet; not that he imagined it could be she, whom he had 
left at home undressed, and hard at work, for she pretended to 
be a good housewife; but he was enraged that any vile woman, 
as he perceived this was, by other words he heard her say, 
should have anything in her like his dear modest creature. The 
gentleman, who knew not his emotions, cried, "We have got a 
loving couple near us, I find. Prithee, let's try if we can 
see who they are." In speaking this, he went to the side of 
the room, and found a crevice large enough for the eye to take 
in all that was done within. The fond pair by this time were 
silent, or what they spoke was in a lower accent, and, indeed, 
they were otherwise employed, as Mr P---- who going also out 
of curiosity, saw to his confusion. He not only found the 
voice, but the clothes and person of the woman, were the same 
with Syrena's, in fine, 'twas she herself; and in a posture 
such as he would have stabbed anyone, who should have told 
him, she could have been in with any other man than himself.

He was naturally of a warm and sanguine disposition, impatient 
of injuries, and incapable of reflection in the first moments 
of his passion: he made but one step from the room he was in 
to the next, burst open the door, which though locked gave way 
to the violence he used; drew his sword, and had certainly 
destroyed them both in the act of shame, had not his friend 
been quick enough to prevent him, by catching hold of his arm 
behind. Vardine, for it was he, was ill-prepared for a combat 
of this kind, but snatched up his sword which lay in the 
window, and stood on his defence. The people of the house 
hearing the noise, by this time came into the room, and with 
the assistance of Mr P----'s friend secured both their swords, 
and prevented the mischief which must otherwise have happened; 
with much ado they got Mr P---- out of the room, though not 
till after he had loaded the vile wanton with all the 
reproaches her treachery merited. Vardine and she went out of 
the house together; and she returned no more to Mr P----'s 
lodgings, a happy riddance, and a day which he has since vowed 
to celebrate every year, as the most fortunate one, that he 
had ever seen.

The next morning he received a letter by a porter, the 
contents whereof were these.

Sir, 
	Though I think it little worth my while to to demand 
any satisfaction on the score of the woman you found me 
with yesterday; yet it would ill become my character, to 
put up with your forcing into the room where I was, and 
disturbing my pleasures. I shall therefore expect you 
will meet me tomorrow morning in the field behind 
Montague House, to decide with the points of our swords, 
which of us has been to blame. 
	J. Vardine.

The gentleman who had been with Mr P----, at the discovery of 
Syrena's falsehood; came to see how he did after this 
disorder, and was at breakfast with him when this letter was 
brought. Mr P---- would have concealed the contents, but the 
other guessing the business, would needs see it; and having 
read it, "You shall not go." said he. "How! Not go," cried Mr 
P---- "would you have me posted for a coward?" "Not so," 
replied the other, "but if you will give me leave to take this 
letter with me, I will go along with the porter to him, and 
shall engage to order matters to the satisfaction of you both; 
which I am sure is much better, than losing your blood in a 
cause so unworthy of it."

It was with great difficulty Mr P---- was persuaded; but 
knowing his friend to be a man who hated a mean thing, as much 
as himself, he at last consented he should act in it as he 
thought proper; only bid him be careful of his honour, and his 
friend assuring him he would be so, went with the porter to 
the place where the letter had been given to him, and where 
Vardine still waited his return in expectation of an answer.

It was a coffee-house, but few people being there, the 
gentleman had opportunity enough to say what he intended, 
without interruption. He told him that not having quitted Mr 
P---- since the skirmish, and happening to rise first, he took 
the letter instead of him to whom it was directed; and 
suspecting the purport opened it, and was come to reason with 
him on the affair, before Mr P---- knew anything of it; and 
also, if he could, to prevent the fatal consequences which 
else might possibly ensue. Vardine did not seem displeased in 
the least at his proceeding; and when they came to argue on 
the provocation Mr P---- had received, and the almost 
unparalleled deceit and ingratitude of Syrena, Vardine 
acknowledged that he could not be expected to act otherwise 
than he had done; and concluded with saying, that he thought 
now, that they ought to exchange pardons with each other, for 
added he, I was prevailed on by the entreaties of that woman 
to join in the deception put upon Mr P----, in order to draw 
him in to marry her; and have as much occasion for his 
forgiveness on that score, as he has of mine for forcing into 
my room. The friend of Mr P---- then proposed a meeting 
between them three the same evening, to conclude all 
animosities over a bottle; the other agreed to it, and Mr P---
- at hearing what had passed was perfectly satisfied with the 
gentleman's conduct, and went with him to the appointment, at 
the time prefixed, with as much cheerfulness as his 
circumstances would admit of. All the love he had bore Syrena, 
while he believed her sincere, was now turned into as great a 
contempt, and Vardine expressing the same, and protesting 
never to see her more, added to his satisfaction.

Thus ended an affair, which though much to the prejudice of Mr 
P----, had it not been for the prudent management of his 
friend, might have been much worse, and afforded business for 
the Old Bailey; and ought to be a warning to all gentlemen how 
they suffer themselves to be beguiled in the manner he was, or 
expect sincerity from persons whom they commence an 
acquaintance with in the street.



Chapter IX.

Syrena was now once more at home with her mother, who knowing 
how little was to be got either by Mr P---- or Vardine who 
resolved to see her no more as well as the other, was not much 
troubled at what had happened; but her daughter was of a 
different way of thinking; she had for a long time been 
accustomed to be admired and caressed; and to live without the 
conversation of a man was wretchedly irksome, and what her gay 
and amorous constitution could not endure with any tolerable 
degree of patience. She made some efforts to retain Vardine, 
but that young gentleman finding what a consummate jilt she 
was grown, and fearful of being brought into more broils on 
her account, declined any farther acceptance of her favours; 
this, together with the poverty to which she was reduced, made 
her almost distracted; the notion she had been bred up in, 
that a woman who had beauty to attract the men, and cunning to 
manage them afterwards, was secure of making her fortune, 
appeared now altogether fallacious; since she had not been 
able to do it in four years incessant application, and such a 
variety of adventures, as in that time she had been engaged 
in. This naturally led her to reproach her mother for having 
given her ill advice; and the mother retorted that the 
misfortunes and disappointments she had met with, had not been 
owing to her advice, but to her own ill conduct. "What," said 
she, "hindered you from being married to Mr W---- but your 
amour with his son? Or what from being still the darling of Mr 
P---- but your renewing your acquaintance with Vardine? By 
which you have lost both, and will always do so while you are 
silly enough to love any man." "And pray," interrupted Syrena, 
"whom may I thank for losing Mr D---- but you, first for 
counselling me to be Captain H----'s mistress, and then by 
your unlucky letter betraying it to the other?" Thus with 
mutual upbraidings did they add to their ill fate, and as 
there can be neither true duty or affection where interest 
presides, that prevailing guide being at present suspended, 
whoever had seen them together, and heard the bitter things 
they said, without knowing who they were would little have 
imagined, how near they were by blood.

The manner in which Syrena had lived, entitled her not to keep 
any reputable company of her own sex, and as for women of the 
town, she always avoided any acquaintance with them, as being 
too much addicted to tattling, and also malicious to a face 
preferred before their own; so that whenever she went to the 
play or opera, or walked in the park, she had been always 
obliged to dress up some tirewoman,<153> sempstress, or such 
like person to accompany her; but she had now a very poor 
stock of clothes, most of those as well as her watch and 
jewels being gone to satisfy demands of a more pressing 
nature; so that she had no opportunity to show herself to 
advantage; for a woman can give herself a thousand enticing 
airs, when she has somebody to talk to, which cannot be 
practised when alone. To stay at home, however, she knew could 
be of no service to her, so she went out every day, sometimes 
to church, and sometimes to shops, cheapening goods, and to 
all the auctions she could hear of.

It was at one of these last places, she had the good luck, as 
she then thought it, to be taken particular notice of by Mr E-
---, a gentleman of a vast estate, and most agreeable person: 
he had seen her in the park some months before, and then 
languished for an opportunity to entertain her; but a relation 
of his wife, for he was married, being with him, he was 
obliged to put a constraint upon his inclinations, at that 
time, and fortune had never since thrown her in his way. To 
meet with her, therefore, in a place where the most reserved 
of either sex, make no scruple of speaking to each other, was 
an infinite satisfaction to him: he went round the room with 
her, as if examining the value of the goods; but in reality 
telling her how handsome she was, and how much he admired her: 
to give her some proof, that what he said were not words of 
course, a fine India cabinet being put up to sale, which she 
seemed to praise, he out-bid all the company, and made her a 
present of it. This he did in hope of knowing by that means, 
where he might wait upon her; and she, no less desirous that 
he should do so, took care to give very exact directions to 
the auctioneer where it should be sent. Though she affected to 
receive a favour of this kind, from a gentleman who was a 
perfect stranger to her, with a great deal of reluctance; yet 
she omitted not to let fall hints, as if she accepted the 
donation merely for the sake of the donor; having found by 
experience, that men, as well as women, have vanity enough to 
be delighted with the belief they have anything in them 
capable of charming at first sight, she called so much 
tenderness into her voice and eyes, whenever she looked upon 
him, or spoke to him; yet at the same time blended with it 
such an innocence, as made him, while he flattered himself 
with having inspired her with the softest passion, imagine 
also, that she was ashamed of her own thoughts, and was 
endeavouring all she could to suppress the rising inclination: 
he fancied he saw in every glance, desire struggling with 
modesty, and the sweet contest, which he fancied he found 
there, so heightened the idea of her charms, that he looked 
upon himself as the happiest man alive.

As she was about leaving the room, "I would attend you to your 
chair, madam," said he; "but, as I know how to direct, will 
give you the trouble of a line, if I may be permitted to hope 
you will allow it the favour of a perusal." "I am too fond of 
improving the little genius I owe to nature," answered she, 
with the most seemingly artless blush, "not to read with 
pleasure whatever falls from the pen of a gentleman like you." 
She waited not to hear how he would reply; but believing he 
would think she had said enough, turned hastily away, in an 
admirably well dissembled confusion, and went home to acquaint 
her mother with what had happened.

Early the next morning a porter brought a letter directed to 
Miss Tricksy; her orders to the auctioneer being to carry the 
cabinet to Mrs Tricksy at Mr N----'s in H---- street; and her 
youth and seeming innocence making Mr E---- suppose her 
unmarried, occasioned him to write the superscription in that 
manner. She opened it with impatience enough, and found in it 
these words:

Charming miss, 
	As it is impossible to see you without feeling a 
mixture of love and admiration, I fear you are too much 
accustomed to declarations of this nature, to have that 
compassion which is necessary to save the life of your 
votaries; permit me, however, to tell you, that I have a 
claim beyond what yet you have been sensible of, which is 
having adored you for a great length of time. Yes, most 
angelic creature! I have languished in a hopeless flame 
for many months; one sight of you at a distance, made me 
your everlasting slave; and though I have taken all 
imaginable pains, I never since that fatal moment could 
gain a second interview; till, yesterday, chance, more 
favourable than my industry, restored you to my longing 
eyes. What agonies I have sustained till then, you cannot 
be able to comprehend, nor am I to describe; but as I 
have already passed those sufferings, which are a kind of 
probation that love exacts from all those who profess 
themselves his votaries; if you are equally just as fair, 
you will allow some little recompense is due from one who 
is an old lover, though a new acquaintance; that of being 
permitted to visit you sometimes, and to sigh my wishes 
at your feet, is all I yet presume to implore, who am, 
	Divinest of your sex, 
	Your most humble, 
	Most passionate, and most faithful adorer.

P.S. If I have your leave to visit you, I will inform 
you, not only who I am, but everything you shall ask; and 
also endeavour to give you greater proofs than words of 
the sincerity of my flame. In the meantime, favour me 
with an answer directed to A. Z.

There was something so particular in the style of this letter, 
that neither Syrena nor her mother knew how to form a judgment 
of it; by some expressions they would have imagined, he took 
her for a girl of virtue, and intended to address her on the 
most honourable score, had not others again contradicted that 
belief. As they yet were ignorant of the circumstances of him 
who wrote it, there was, indeed, no possibility of fathoming 
his design; but as there was a necessity of giving an answer, 
and the porter waited, they contrived one between both, which 
should encourage him to be more open, and at the same time 
leave him as much in the dark concerning their affairs, as 
they were at present on the account of his.

To Mr A. Z. 
	Sir, 
	Though without ever having been what they call, in 
love myself, I have suffered so much from that passion, 
that I have reason to tremble at the very name; yet as I 
cannot be vain enough to imagine what is meant by it in 
yours, any more than mere gallantry, I shall make no 
difficulty of receiving the visits of a person who has so 
much the appearance of a man of honour, and whose 
civilities to me demand somewhat as an acknowledgement 
from a grateful mind; which is all the merit to be 
boasted of by, 
	Sir, 
	Your most obliged, and humble servant, 
	Syrena Tricksy.

Mr E---- was too impatient to defer any longer than the 
evening of the same day waiting on the admired object, but was 
a little startled when he found there was a mother in the way; 
and who, in the midst of the civilities she received him with, 
mingled a certain severity, which rendered him very much at a 
loss how to behave. Syrena, however, said a thousand obliging 
things to him, and whenever she had an opportunity, gave him 
looks sufficient to have encouraged a man who had a less 
opinion of himself. Tea was not over when a pretended 
messenger came to inform Mrs Tricksy her company was desired 
on a business of great importance. She made an apology for 
being obliged to leave him, which he very readily excused, 
rejoiced to be rid of the company of one, who seemed not 
likely to favour the purpose he came there upon.

She was no sooner gone, than he declared himself in the most 
passionate manner to Syrena, who replied to all he said with a 
well-affected modesty; but with a kindness also, which 
confirmed the hopes her glances had before inspired him with. 
She told him the same story of her marriage and widowhood, as 
she had done others, and gave him to understand her 
circumstances were none of the best. He, in return for her 
supposed sincerity, acquainted her that he was married, 
obliged by his friends to enter into that state when he was 
very young; but that he never loved his lady, nor, indeed, any 
other woman, till he saw the object before him. Syrena seemed 
shocked at hearing he had a wife, and gave him an opportunity 
of discovering, as he imagined, that she liked him infinitely. 
She told him, her mother would never permit her to receive his 
visits when she should know it; and as it was impossible it 
could be long kept a secret from her, she could not but look 
on herself as very unhappy in being deprived of the company of 
a man, who by an irresistible impulse, she could not help 
wishing to be eternally with. All this she spoke as in the 
first emotions of her surprise, and as though it escaped her 
without design, then afterwards appeared confounded at having 
so far betrayed herself.

Mr E----, who by this behaviour had reason to believe she 
loved him to a very great excess, was transported, and used 
many more arguments than he need to have done, to persuade her 
to leave her mother, and retire to lodgings of his preparing 
for her.

Syrena thought it not proper to yield to these proposals 
immediately, but did not seem altogether averse to them; and 
in this first visit he had cause to expect everything he could 
wish, so departed highly satisfied; not that he imagined he 
had to deal with a woman of that strict virtue she pretended; 
but his opinion of her was, that if she had fallen, it was 
merely for the sake of interest, and that if he gained any 
favours, they would be the effect of love: in effect, he 
languished not long; the circumstances Syrena and her mother 
were in at this juncture, would not permit them time for the 
artifices they might otherwise have practised on this 
gentleman, so they thought it best to accept of his offer, and 
trust to his future generosity and their own management, for a 
settlement.

In fine, the agreement in a few days was concluded between the 
amorous pair, and Syrena went to an apartment he had provided, 
the elegance of which showed both his love and liberality; he 
made her a present of 500l. the moment she set her foot in it; 
and assured her, that whatever he was master of she should 
command; Mrs Tricksy was to seem ignorant of all this, to the 
end, that finding it out afterwards, the reproaches of a 
mother might oblige him to do something farther to appease 
her.

Many stratagems they had in embryo, in order to impose upon 
him, but they were all rendered abortive, by a misfortune 
which fell upon them when they least expected it, and from a 
quarter they little dreamed of.

Syrena had now provoked a woman no less cunning, though more 
virtuous than herself, the wife of Mr E----, who being 
informed by some spies, she ever kept upon his actions, of his 
fondness of this new favourite, resolved to break off the 
intimacy between them, and effected it by this means.

She had among her acquaintance a lady extremely jealous of her 
husband, and of a temper too violent and outrageous to forgive 
the least infringement on her rights; this person she 
contrived to make her instrument of revenge on Syrena, without 
being seen in it herself, or giving Mr E---- any reason to 
imagine she even knew of the injury he did her.

Mr C---- was a man of a very amorous constitution, though 
secret in his amours, on account of his wife's excessive 
tenaciousness that way; to him did Mrs E---- contrive a letter 
should be sent, containing these lines.

To Mr C----. 
	Sir, 
	Love being a passion that admits of no control, the 
custom that obliges women to conceal it, is cruel and 
unjust; and what I hope you'll excuse the breach of, when 
made in favour of yourself. In fine, sir, there is a lady 
in the world, who for a long time has looked on you with 
the eyes of tenderness. The circumstances both of you are 
in, will not permit her to take any other steps, than she 
now does to let you know it; but if you will venture to 
meet her at the King's Arms in ---- Street, to-morrow at 
six in the evening, I believe you will not think your 
time ill bestowed. She is a woman of reputation, young, 
and accounted handsome. As to the rest, a few hours of 
her conversation will enable you to judge better, than 
any description can be given by 
	Sir, 
	Your unknown humble servant.

P.S. Enquire for number 1.

Mrs E---- took care to make the appointment, contained in this 
letter, at a time when she knew her husband was too deeply 
engaged with other company, to be able to see his mistress; 
and early in the morning sent a porter to Syrena, as from Mr 
E----, to tell her, that an extraordinary accident had made it 
improper for him to come to her lodgings any more; and that he 
desired to see her to inform her of it, at the King's Arms 
tavern in ---- Street. Everything happened as Mrs E---- 
wished. Syrena told the porter she would come; and the subtle 
wife having a letter ready prepared, sent it directly to Mrs 
C--, the contents of it were as follows.

To Mrs C----, 
	Madam, I am sorry to acquaint you that you are 
injured in the most tender part. Mr C---- has long kept 
company with one of the most lewd, expensive, insinuating 
women about town, who if not timely prevented, will be 
the ruin of his estate, as she has already been of his 
honour and fidelity, to so excellent a wife. To accuse 
him will be of little consequence; he is too firmly 
attached to the creature, to break off with her by any 
moderate measures; but if you think proper to assert the 
prerogative the law allows a wife wronged in this manner, 
and take a warrant and proper officers with you; you will 
find her with your husband at six this evening, at the 
King's Arms in ---- Street. Slight not this intelligence, 
because it comes from one you know not, but convince 
yourself of the truth, and at the same time punish the 
wretch who dares to invade your right. Her name is Syrena 
Tricksy, she passes for a widow, and at this time lodges 
in Maiden Lane; but as Mr C-- seldom sees her at home, 
you can never have an opportunity like the present of 
doing yourself justice, and reclaiming the man, whom both 
divine and human laws ought to bind entirely to you. I 
am, 
	Madam, 
	Your sincere well-wisher.

P.S. If you enquire for number 1, you will be shown 
directly to the scene of guilt and shame.

The rage this lady was in at the receipt of this, was not at 
all inferior to what Mrs E---- imagined. She went immediately 
to a justice of peace, obtained a warrant, and had a constable 
ready to attend her when the hour should arrive.

Mrs E---- in the meantime was not idle, she knew her husband 
was engaged the whole day with his lawyers on some business 
relating to an estate in debate between him, and a near 
relation. So she disguised herself, and went to the tavern, 
resolving to be a witness how her plot succeeded. Having 
placed herself in a convenient room, she saw Mr C---- come in, 
and soon after him, the deceiving, but now deceived Syrena, 
what would she have given for the gratification of her 
curiosity in hearing what passed between them, but that was 
impossible, and she was obliged to content herself with that 
of her revenge which she soon saw completed to her wish.

The reader however, must not be left in ignorance; when Syrena 
first came into the room, and found a strange gentleman 
instead of him she expected; she guessed the drawer who showed 
her up, had made some mistake, and was turning to go out of 
again, but Mr C---- taking it as modesty or affectation 
prevented her, by saying, "Sure madam you do not already 
repent of your goodness, and would leave me before I tell you 
how happy I think myself in meeting you here." "Sir," answered 
she, "I asked for number 1, being to see a friend here by that 
token, but perhaps it may so have happened, that there may be 
two who left that direction at the bar." "I know not that, 
madam," replied he, "but I was made to hope, I should here 
meet with a lady young, beautiful, but one altogether a 
stranger to me; so whether you are the person who designed me 
that favour or not, I am certain you have all the marks, and 
must at least detain you till another more agreeable than 
yourself (which is altogether impossible) shall come and 
relieve you." Syrena was at a loss what to make of this 
adventure, she could have liked well enough to stay with him, 
but she feared some trick in the case: she was apprehensive 
that Mr E---- had formed this contrivance to make trial of her 
constancy, and might be in the next room a witness of her 
behaviour; so with all the appearance of a virtuous 
indignation, she told Mr C---- who had fast hold of her hand, 
that she was surprised at the accident which had brought two 
persons together, in such a place, who were entire strangers 
to each othe; that she came there to meet a near relation and 
friend on business, which since she was disappointed in, 
begged he would not pretend to enforce her stay, nor imagine 
she was a woman who would submit to anything, that the most 
strict modesty would not allow of.

She spoke this with so serious and resolute an air, that Mr C-
--- began indeed to fear this was not the person from whose 
kindness he had so much to expect. To convince himself he took 
the letter had been sent him out of his pocket, and showed it 
to her, which made her more than before imagine that there was 
something in agitation against her. She assured him, as indeed 
she well might, that she knew nothing of the sending it, had 
never seen him before to her knowledge; "Or if I had," 
continued she, blushing, "I have a heart already too much 
taken up to entertain the thoughts of any other, though ever 
so deserving." As she still was possessed of the opinion, that 
this gentleman was a friend of Mr E----, and would report to 
him everything she said, she spoke this the more to ingratiate 
herself with him, when he should be told it; but the amazement 
Mr C-- was in, and the vexation he expressed to find he had 
been imposed upon, a little staggered her former conjecture. 
"I wish, sir," said she, "there is not some treachery put in 
practice against us both; but for what end, or from what 
quarter, I cannot guess; but," added she, "the surest way to 
disappoint it, is immediately to separate, therefore, I beg 
sir, you'll not offer to detain me longer." With these words 
she endeavoured to draw back her hand; but he, whose desires 
had been raised by the expectation of a different 
entertainment, and were now quite enflamed by so pleasing an 
object, could not tell how to let her go so easily; and 
instead of quitting his hold, threw his other arm about her 
neck, and in that defenceless posture almost smothered her 
with kisses. She was no less susceptible than himself of the 
strenuous embrace; and beginning now to believe, that if there 
was a plot, he at least had no hand in it, made but faint 
efforts to oblige him to desist what was equally pleasing to 
her as to himself, till quite overcome with the dangerous 
temptation, he found her lips not only yield, but return kiss 
for kiss. The amorous pair thus equally dissolved, had not 
stopped here, but were proceeding to much greater liberties, 
when Mrs C---- rushed into the room more like a fury than a 
woman. She flew upon Syrena, called her all the names that 
jealous rage could suggest; then turning to her husband, 
"Ungrateful monster! cried she, "is this the reward of all my 
love and virtue? Was it for this I slighted so many noble 
matches, and brought you such a fortune?" He was beginning to 
protest his innocence, but the very mention made her more 
outrageous. "O! Horrid impudence," said she, "have I not 
caught you almost in the odious act! Dare you deny it; but I 
forbear saying farther to you at present. Your strumpet here 
shall curse the hour she ever tempted you to wrong my bed." As 
she spoke these words she stamped with her foot, and 
immediately came up the constable, and other persons she had 
placed in a room under that where they were. "Do your office," 
man, cried she, "and carry that filthy creature, where your 
warrant directs." Mr C---- begged she would not expose herself 
and him; and Syrena frighted almost to death, fell on her 
knees, and entreated her mercy and forgiveness, but all 
attempts to quell her fury, were like fencing the sea with a 
battledore,<154> when it was mountains high. The more they 
humbled themselves, the more insolent and impetuous she 
became; and Mrs E----, who in her disguise was now mingled 
with the crowd of servants, porters, and others, whom the 
noise drew together, had the satisfaction to see her hated 
rival in Mr E----'s affections, dragged away like the lowest 
and most common prostitute, that plies the streets for the 
poor pittance of a half-crown fare; a fate, indeed, she long 
since had deserved, though fallen on her when she gave the 
least occasion.

How Mr C---- and his spouse made up this quarrel between 
themselves, is not to our present purpose; but Mrs E---- who 
knew not but Syrena might have the confidence to send to her 
husband, even from the place she now was in, in hopes of being 
set at liberty; did not here give over. She had by bribes and 
incessant application, made herself thoroughly acquainted with 
every circumstance of Syrena's family and circumstances; she 
knew she had pretty near kindred in the city, who were men of 
worth and character, and very rich: to one of these she went, 
and having made an apology for coming on a business, which she 
knew could not but be shocking, told him that Syrena, was at 
that time a prisoner in the house of correction: "The lady 
whose resentment confines her there," said she, "is my 
particular friend; but having suffered a great deal from her 
husband's intimacy with loose women, all I can say in favour 
of your unhappy cousin, will not prevail on her to give her a 
release; unless she could be certain of her being removed too 
far from London, for her husband to continue any 
correspondence with her. Now, sir," added she, "though she 
alone is guilty, her brothers, unfortunate in being so, will 
share in her disgrace; they are young, and might be eminent 
men in time; but what sober person will match his daughter, 
where so near a relative as a sister is, every day, nay every 
hour, guilty of actions, which render her a shame, not only to 
her family, but her whole sex? Besides, sir, if she continues 
in the wretched place she now is, the horrid society she in 
time will there become acquainted with, may excite her to 
crimes worthy of her second removal to Newgate. In fine, there 
is no knowing to what lengths, crimes will extend in a person 
of abandoned morals; so that for the sake of her family, I 
could wish she were disposed of, so as not to bring herself to 
farther infamy, nor her friends to trouble by the hearing it."

The person to whom this speech was addressed, seemed 
infinitely shocked, though by some things he had heard of his 
kinswoman's behaviour, he had dreaded to receive some such 
intelligence for a long time. He thanked Mrs E---- however, 
with the utmost civility, and told her he would consult with 
some others of the family; and she might depend upon it, order 
the affair, so that the lady her friend, should receive no 
farther injury from his abandoned relative.

This worthy citizen, in effect, summoned all who were unhappy 
enough to be nearly allied to the wicked Syrena, and having 
made them a brief recital of what crimes had come to his 
knowledge, committed by her, and the shameful situation she 
now was in, they all agreed, that to avoid hearing anything 
farther of her viciousness, it was best to send her to some 
remote place, where she should be strictly confined, till 
time, and a just sensibility of her infamy, should bring her 
to an abhorrence of her past life. One of them having a 
handsome estate in the farther part of Wales, proposed sending 
her to a tenant he had there; to which the others readily 
complied and each promised to contribute somewhat towards her 
keeping there.

This being agreed upon, the person to whom Mrs E---- had 
spoke, having her directions, waited on her, and begged she 
would now perform her promise in exerting her whole interest 
with Mrs C----, for the discharge of Syrena; and he would 
engage in return, that the unhappy girl should never wrong her 
more. Mrs E---- assured him, she would undertake the office. 
She did so, and Mrs C-- was easily enough prevailed upon, on 
the conditions her friend mentioned.

All that remained now was to let Syrena know what had been 
done for her, who, glad to submit to anything that would 
deliver her from the place she was in, made a thousand vows 
never to return to London any more.

Thus was Syrena taken from the first captivity she had ever 
been in; but when she considered, she was going to a second, 
which, though less shameful, would in all probability deprive 
her entirely from all conversation with mankind, she was 
almost inconsolable. Fatal necessity, however, must be obeyed, 
and she was sent under the conduct of an old servant of one of 
her kinsmen to Wales, where what befell her, must be the 
subject of future entertainment.

FINIS.



Melinda (1749)
The Adventures of Melinda; a Lady of Distinction Now Living. 
Founded on Real, Authentic Facts, and Such Diverting and 
Suprizing Incidents as Can Scarce Be Parallelled in History. 
London: Printed for H. Carpenter, 1749. 
https://books.google.ie/books?id=O6JhAAAAcAAJ



Title Page

THE

ADVENTURES

OF

MELINDA;

A Lady of DISTINCTION 
now Living.

Founded on Real, Authentic Facts, and 
such diverting and surprizing Incidents as 
can scarce be parallelled in History.


============================================
Be warned ye Fair! Melinda's Follies Shun, 
Lest, treading in her Steps, you are undone.
============================================

LONDON:
Printed for H. CARPENTER in Fleet Street 
1749.



Chapter I.

It would be an extreme difficult point to decide, whether men 
of fortune have been greater sufferers; by the dilatoriness, 
chicane, and knavery of the law, when they have been 
necessitated to enter into its dreary meanders, or from the 
cheats and abuses of sharpers, when they have resigned 
themselves up to a vicious habit of gaming. Horatio 
sufficiently participated of the evils of both. He was not 
above the age of eighteen years when his father died, who left 
his effects, which were very considerable, in the hands of 
such honest guardians, that Horatio, when he cameof age, was 
obliged to apply to the justice of Law, and the equity of 
Chancery, to recover what was his indubitable right; which 
nevertheless, he could not obtain the possession of, till 
after a tedious suit of ten years' continuance; whereby his 
fortune was so much curtailed, that scarce a fourth part of 
his father's personal eslate came into his hands, although he 
was the only son and heir to his possessions, and as such, 
during his father's lifetime, he had always been exceedingly 
indulged in those pleasures to which he had an inclination, of 
which play was not the least.

Horatio, on his father's demise, found himself deprived of the 
means of pursuing his favourite diversion; for his careful 
guardians immediately packed him to the University, with such 
a pitiful allowance as would scarce provide him with 
necessaries. He had drank too deeply of the pleasures of the 
town to relish a college life; and began to cast about how he 
should manage to live like a gentleman, till that day arrived 
which should make him of age, and free him from the power of 
his guardians: so, quitting the university privately, he 
hastened to town. He soon learned that there were persons 
enough always ready to furnish any minor, that was heir to a 
fortune like his, with cash, if he could bring himself to a 
compliance with their exorbitant terms.

Horatio thought it no time to hesitate upon their articles, as 
he could not support a town life without money; and his 
guardians' alllowance was too mean, even to support him at the 
college like a gentleman student: so that he soon complied to 
pay an extravagant interest, for the purchase of his 
pleasures, till he should arrive at age. But when the wished-
for day came that brought that period about, how was he 
surprised, on application to his father's righteous trustees, 
to be put into possession of his fortune, in finding himself 
absolutely refused.

It would be to little purpose to rehearse the several evasions 
they made use of on this occasion in order to keep the young 
gentleman's patrimony in their own hands, where they alleged 
it was very secure; and that by drawing it thence he would 
inevitatably ruin himself, from the violent propensity he had 
to gaming. Neither would they condescend to discharge any of 
those debts that he had contracted in his minority, so that he 
soon found, he had no other way to deal with them but by 
commencing a lawsuit.

This step, to which he was compelled by necessity, proved very 
expensive; and during the continuance of it, he married a 
lady, who had little else beside beauty, wit, and 
agreeableness, to recommend her. Neither could he expect any 
other fortune, as the Law had not, as yet, given him anything 
to furnish out a jointure suitable for a moneyed wife.

By this lady he had several children; of whom Melinda was the 
only one that lived any considerable time. But the costs of 
the lawsuit, and his extravagancies in gaming, both before and 
after his coming at the possession of that moiety of his 
fortune which the law left him, disabled him from leaving his 
daughter any more than was scarcely sufficient to match her to 
a mechanic; though he had given her an education suitable to a 
much higher sphere.

As Melinda was descended from a good family, and had a 
sufficient share of wit and beauty, her accomplishments soon 
rendered her too conspicuous to want admirers: but, as her 
fortune was so very slender, they seemed to pay their 
addresses rather through hopes of obtaining a gratification of 
their brutal passions, than with any desire to her advantage 
in the matrimonial state. But as her eyes were charming, they 
were also very discerning; which soon made her see the drift 
of her lovers, and that notwithstanding all the fine 
compliments, and hourly protestations which were continually 
made to her, yet unless she would sacrifice her virtue to 
their desires, there were, no hopes of her benefiting herself 
by her adorers.

Though Melinda was capable of inspiring love, yet she did not 
appear framed to receive any of its impressions; whether from 
a coldness in her nature, a rigid vow of chastity, or from the 
true principles of virtue having been infused into her by the 
care of her mother, she still continued deaf to all the 
overtures and promises that were made to seduce her, and 
although then but at the age of sixteen, she had sense enough 
to distinguish between her own true interest and the sensual 
views of her lovers.

She, being one day visiting a lady of fashion, happened to 
meet with an ancient gentleman, that was a widower, called 
Lorenzo, who had a very great estate. He was instantly so 
smitten with her beauty, and sprightly conversation, that he 
hecame from that moment deeply enamoured with her. But being 
sensible that his years would not permit him to waste much 
time in courtship, and also, having a strong mistrust that he 
should never be able to obtain the young lady's consent to 
make him her spouse, purely from the prevalency of his own 
personal accomplishments, he resolved, first to ask her 
father's permission to make his addresses to her, promising 
withal, that if he could prevail with Melinda to have him, 
that he would marry her without requiring any fortune of him, 
and would also settle upon her as good a jointure, in case she 
should survive him, as either of them could wish for.

Horatio, well knowing the narrowness of his own circumstances, 
and thoroughly weighing the great probability of Melinda's 
outliving the old gentleman, listened very attentively to his 
proposals, and was very well inclined to accept of one older 
than himself for his son-in-law. He therefore soon took an 
opportunity of opening the affair to his daughter. Although 
Melinda had not fixed her inclinations upon any of those young 
and gay sparks that were continually accosting her, nor had 
any previous engagement upon her hands, or any distinct view 
of profiting by matrimony: yet the inequality beteen Lorenzo's 
years and hers gave her such a great aversion to this ancient 
lover, that she at first absolutely refused conforming to her 
father's request, and could scarcely credit that Lorenzo, 
notwithstanding his advantageous proposals, was in earnest, 
till Horatio made her thoroughly sensible of it, by informing 
her, that the old man had married his first wife for the sake 
of her fortune, which was very considerable; and therefore was 
willing to venture the second time purely for love, though 
Melinda could not think it to be any other than mere dotage.

To the father's entreaties for this young lover, were joined 
the solicitations of all her friends and acquaintance, who 
assured her that if a lady of her youth and sprightliness 
managed matters rightly after wedlock, that the old 
gentleman's fondness would soon bring him from the wedding 
sheets to a winding one; and that the more she caressed him, 
the sooner she should find herself an opulent widow, instead 
of the miserrable wife that she imagined herself going to be.

Lorenzo was indeed already past his grand climacteric; it is 
therefore no wonder that Melinda thould disrelish him, either 
for a lover or a husband. But as interest seldom fails of 
having advocates, and money always procures friends; so old 
Lorenzo's cause had so many strenuous backers, joined to the 
indispensible commands of Melinda's father, that, much against 
her will, she was at last prevailed on to become the old 
gentleman's bride: and Lorenzo had the marriage celebrated 
with as much pomp and splendour as possible, thinking thereby 
to endear himself the more to the lovely Melinda, by showing 
her that he begrudged no expense, either on her person or her 
pleasures. Though perhaps the lady was much better pleased 
with the festivity of the celebration of their nuptials, than 
with the joys of consummation. However, she treated Lorenzo 
with all the fondness and endearments that could possibly 
invigorate those remaining sparks of fire that were left in 
his blood; thereby fully convincing him, that, though young, 
she was capable of fully performing her duty of loving and 
cherishing him, whenever he was inclined to demand it.

Old Lorenzo was entirely charmed with the constant and 
affectionate caresses of his young wife, and wanted for 
nothing more than an ability to return them, which his years 
would not permit of; and Melinda, for her part, comforted 
herself with an entire reliance on her friends promises, that 
the old gentleman would not long survive his nuptials, with 
such a young and sprightly lady. Almost a twelvemonth passed 
on (a tedious time to a wife in her situation) and yet not the 
least view of his being nearer to make her happy in becoming a 
widow, than she could expect from being a wife. But, however, 
as he promised before marriage to make her mistress of all his 
fortune, and to maintain her in the greatest splendour, she 
took care to remind him of it, and he accordingly kept his 
word with her, by purchasing the richest furniture, jewels, 
and equipage, that could be bought for her use; and daily 
presenting herwith the most precious knick-knacks and 
bagatelles that could be procured.

All these favours, kindnesses, and magnificent living, could 
not satisfy the heart of Melinda, which was continually 
willing for widowhood: but in order to pass her melancholy 
days (as she called them) the better, she resolved to divert 
herself by visiting her acquaintance, and making use of some 
recreation, to extirpate the disagreeable thoughts of passing 
her youth in the arms of such an old lump of impotency as was 
Lorenzo; whose superannuated caresses she abhorred in her 
soul, nor would have endured them, only in hopes that they 
would contribute to hasten his end. For which reason she was 
continually, when at home, sitting on his kneee, stroking his 
cheek, kissing, tickling of him, and using all other 
provocatives, in order to make believe that he was not above 
thirty; and indeed, it would have made her life much easier, 
if she could have found any motives to have persuaded herself 
so. Thus they were continually cooing and billing when 
together; and she would often protest, that he had not so much 
as a grey hair in his head; which she might very well assure 
him of, as it was bald all over.

But, as I said before, this way of spending her youthful days, 
in endeavouring to excite old Lorenzo to the performance of an 
impossible task, grew at last so irksome to her, that she was 
resolved no longer to lead a recluse life, but to pass the 
remainder of the time, that they must be together in innocent 
diversions and gallantry. Whereupon she acquainted her 
husband, that she found the sedentary life, she had so long 
led within doors, very much impaired her health, and would, if 
she continued it, bring upon her, in a little time, some 
violent disease; therefore begged of him to permit her to go a 
little abroad, and see company, in order to drive off the 
melancholy thoughts of that black and dreadful distemper which 
so apparently threatened her, and which she found to increase 
upon her daily more and more.

Lorenzo had too much value for his young wife, to deny her so 
reasonable a request, as this seemed to be; especially as she 
assured him, that the greatest diversion would be but a 
tedious punishment out of his dear company, were it not on 
account of her health, which she was obliged to do her 
endeavour to preserve, purely for his sake, who loved her so 
well; which gilding of the pill made the old gentleman swallow 
it the easier. So he readily gave his consent to her going 
abroad, and visiting, not only out of regard that such 
innocent recreation might be conducive to her health, but 
might also give him an opportunity of refreshing his own; 
which he found considerably impaired of late, by his too 
constant attendance at Venus's altar, whose fires he vainly 
attempted to make blaze, from that small spark which was left 
in his damp match. In a word, Lorenzo, who had all his life-
time, till he fell in love with Melinda, been accounted a boon 
companion, and used, notwithslanding his years, to dispense 
with a bottle or two of a night; now finding a more than 
ordinary decay of spirits, began to think of exhilarating 
them, by resuming his old practice, whilst his lady was abroad 
a-visiting.

As Melinda was reckoned to resemble her father in many things, 
so, like him, she had a violent propensity to gaming; which 
her visiting afforded her frequent opportunities to indulge, 
unknown to her old husband, as several ladies, whose houses 
she frequented, kept public nights for play at which she, by 
degrees, became a constant attendant. And Lorenzo, never being 
niggardly in his allowance for pin-money, furnished her with a 
sufficient stock to begin with, which she had the good 
fortune; by a lucky run at first, to improve very much in a 
short time.



Chapter II.

Melinda's youth, beauty, gaiety, and sprightliness, could not 
pass undistinguished in public company; and several persons of 
the first rank, that frequented the assemblies where she used 
to visit, began to pay their compliments to her, on account of 
her wonderful charms and brilliant conversation; their 
pretensions being the more encouraged by her having old 
Lorenzo for a husband. Amongst these was the Earl of ----, 
whose passion for play and the fair sex is well known, Lord --
--, and a gentleman named Marcus.

Though fortune favoured the young Melinda at first setting 
out, yet, being one night at my Lady B----'s, in company with 
the famous sharper Captain ----, whose success at gaming is 
too well known to cause any doubt of his manner of play, she 
happened to lose such a large sum as was nearly double to all 
her former winnings and not having a sufficiency of bills or 
cash about her to discharge the debt, was obliged to promise 
him payment the next night, when they were to meet at the same 
lady's house, in order to play out another party. This 
disaster plunged Melinda into the greatest affliction. She 
durst not ask old Lorenzo for such a large sum of money at 
once, without giving him some more plausible account of the 
use it was destined for, than she could at present invent: and 
she had been obliged before to pledge several of her jewels, 
to make up some losses that she was met with, though but 
trifling in comparison to the last, which even the remainder 
of her brilliants would not fetch money enough to satisfy.

The old gentleman knew nothing of his wife's taking so much 
delight in play, nor did he in the least mistrust it, as she 
seldom took a card in hand when at home or in his company. And 
as he usually spent his evening with some bottle companions at 
the tavern, he seldom came home either soon or sober enough to 
be apprised of what hours she kept, who generally had 
dexterity enough to quit her company so as to get home before 
him; but if, at any time, it happened otherwise; she had 
always some plausible excuse ready at hand to make him easy.

Melinda had a trusty waiting-maid called Aspatia, who being 
much older than herself, had seen more of the world, and 
consequently was the fittest person she could make a confidant 
of in this intricate affair of making up ths sum, that was to 
enable her to keep her honour the next night with the Captain. 
She immediately communicated the melancholy news of her loss 
to Aspatia, who could not for the present think of any other 
expedient, whereby to satisfy it, otherwise than by pledging 
the remainder of her jewels, which, she alleged, though they 
would not amount to the total sum wanted, yet perhaps they 
might be less at a loss in contriving means to obtain the 
rest, than they should be for the whole.

This was instantly agreed upon, and Aspatia took the first 
opportunity of carrying all her lady's jewels and ornaments to 
a person whom she was acquainted with, that was accustomed to 
furnish ladies with money, that were distressed, on such 
occasions, on the like security, with the greatest secrecy, 
but he would lend no more upon them than what would not pay 
Melinda's debt by forty guineas; which she was obliged to 
take, or go without; though what to do for the remaining forty 
pieces puzzled them as much as the want of the whole sum.

After canvassing many projects, that offered to their 
inventions on this occasion, and finding none to answer their 
purpose completely, it struck into Aspatia's head, to persuade 
her mistress to make trial of some of her admirers, that had 
so often made protestations of their devotion to her service, 
which Aspatia could not be ignorant of, as several of them had 
been tampering with her, in order to obtain her assistance in 
forwarding them in her lady's good graces. In fine, this was 
the dernier resort of their consultation; and as my Lord was 
the person whom either Aspatia was best acquainted with, or to 
whom Melinda rather chose to be obligated for such a favour, 
he was the man fixed upon to apply to.

Aspatia did not in the least want that necessary qualification 
of a waiting-maid called assurance; and having had several 
amorous adventures herself, in her younger days, she was not 
in the least afraid to venture herself with any gentleman in 
private now, when years and experience had taught her how to 
play her cards with the male sex, so as to come off no loser 
by any rencounter. In a word, she readily undertook the 
message, and waited on Lord ---- at his lodgings, from whom 
she had before received a piece or two for secret-service 
money, to engage her lady's affection to him, with a promise 
of a handsome recompense, if she could bring matters so to 
bear between them, that his lordship might have an opportunity 
of cornuting old Lorenzo. But, with all her skill and 
dexterity, she could not as hitherto bring Melinda to hearken 
to any such proposals; whether it was owing to the virtuous 
principles she had imbibed with her education, or from a dread 
that the unlucky miscarriage of such an amour might for ever 
discard her from her husband's favour, and end all her hopes 
of one day becoming a rich widow, in view of which only she 
had consented to marry.

Neither would she have come into this project of her woman's, 
for borrowing the forty pieces of any of her professed humble 
servants, could she possibly have hit on any other method to 
obtain it: but the case was very necessitous, and she was in 
hopes, by some turn of luck, some trick upon her spouse, or 
good economy in her housekeeping and expenses, to be able to 
discharge the obligation in a short time.

Though Melinda was thus firm and resolute against all the 
undermining attacks of her maid to overthrow her virtue, yet 
Aspatia had cunning enough to keep her mistress's invincible 
purity to herself, and continued to flatter her benefactors 
with hopes of one day enjoying Melinda's favours, and by this 
means kept herself constantly in fee with them; managing the 
affair with to much dexterity, that her lady could not 
perceive her servant to be bribed to the intersts of her 
admirers; nor could the lovers, who, by Aspatia's artifice and 
cunning, interpreted every little look, action, or word of 
Melinda's in their own favour, think their money thrown away 
upon her woman.

Aspiatia no sooner arrived at Lord ----'s in a hackney coach, 
but she was introduced to his lordship; he being at that time 
alone, and perhaps in expectation of some lady coming in that 
manner to visit, which was very frequent. The first entrance 
of Aspatia put his spirits in the highest emotion of joy, as 
he imagined that she was come to bring him tidings of this 
being the destined hour that she had so long promised him to 
arrive, when he was to possess the charming Melinda; --but, 
how did his countenance change, his tongue falter, his limbs 
tremble! when she apprised him of Melinda's ill luck at play 
having rendered her under the necessity of borrowing forty 
guineas of his lordship, which she promised to return as soon 
as ever it lay in her power.

Though Lord ---- loves play to excess, yet such is his natural 
and, it may be said, hereditary covetousness, that he grudges 
every shilling which he expends on any other occasion; nor did 
he think the enjoyment of Melinda worth forty guineas, much 
less the honour of obliging her, for which perhaps he should 
only receive thanks.

However, he refused her in as civil a manner as he possibly 
could, desiring Aspatia to assure her lady, that nothing could 
give him greater uneasiness than to be almost destitute of 
money himself, at the time when she wanted any for her 
service; keenly protesting that he had been obliged to pay 
several large bills that morning, otherwise he should have had 
it in his power. But that if it would be of any use to her in 
a month's time, when he expected some cash from his steward in 
the country, then she might certainly depend upon commanding 
him. A month's time his lordship well knew was an age for a 
debt of honour to wait for payment, unless some equivalent was 
deposited for security. Nevertheless, Aspatia had the courage, 
or rather impudence, term it which you please, to demand 
whether his lordship could not borrow such a small sum of some 
of his friends, at so critical a juncture.

"Alack, my dear!" says he to her, "those that I could have 
made free with are all out of town, and you know a man of my 
rank must not run himself under obligations to every one for 
trifles." Aspatia retired back to her hackney coach, and 
returned home to Melinda with a sorrowful account of her ill 
success.

My Lord ----'s covetousness quite disheartened Melinda from 
any further application on this score to her admirers; but 
though Aspatia had stood the rebuff, yet she was not so soon 
dejected as her mistress; and therefore proposed that Melinda 
should write a line to the Earl of ----, and she would be the 
bearer of it. This Melinda would by no means consent to, as 
she knew not into whose hands the letter might chance to fall, 
either by wilfulness, or neglect; but agreed to send a verbal 
message to him, as she had done before to Lord ----, if 
Aspatia would comply to carry it, but as for anything of this 
nature being transacted under her own hand, she would by no 
means consent to. After much debate upon this affair, one 
being for the letter, the other for the message, Aspatia at 
last submitted to her lady's commands, and undertook the 
embassy.

She hastened away to the Earl of ----'s house, and had the 
fortune to find him at home and alone; which latter he seldom 
used to be, as he was a man of much business, though greatly 
addicted to pleasure. Aspatia, who was not so well acquainted 
with the Earl as with the former peer, delivered the message 
to him in as handsome a manner as she could dress it up; and 
went further than her lady's commission, by assuring him, that 
in return for this obligation, he might expect all the favours 
that lay in her power, as soon as an opportunity should serve. 
The Earl was not at all discontented or displeased with her 
message, but made answer, that Melinda might command that, or 
anything else of him, whensoever she pleased; and should be 
glad to know where he was to wait on her with the money, or 
whether she would do him the honour to call at his house in 
the evening before she went to Lady B----'s, where she might 
come, if she pleased, unknown to any one, and he should be 
ready at home to obey her commands. The cunning Aspatia told 
the earl that her lady had too much regard for her reputation 
to make any appointment of meeting his lordship, neither would 
the watchfulness of her old husband permit her the liberty of 
doing it, had she ever so much inclination; and as to coming 
incog. to his house, it was impracticable, as his lordship 
kept so many servants; to some or other of whom she must be 
exposed, and might perhaps be known. Therefore she desired of 
him to let her be the bearer of the money to Melinda; and that 
his Lordship would have the patience to wait till a favourable 
opportunity offered, when her mistress might pay him her 
acknowledgments without incurring the danger of any scandal.

"Madam," replied the earl, "I should be proud of the honour of 
obliging such a fine lady as Melinda, but as I am not so well 
certified as I could wish, of the reality of your commission 
from her, having never before seen your person, to my 
remembrance, you must therefore excuse my complying with your 
request, until I receive further credentials from your lady, 
that the money which she expects me to deposit, is for her 
use, and will safely conveyed to her, through your hands. I am 
very sorry that I can't so well rely on your message as I 
could wish to do, but there are so many tricks played with 
people of fashion now-a-days, that it behoves us to look well 
at forty guineas before we part with it."

Aspatia returned home to her lady, very much disconcerted at 
the earl's distrust, and her mistress's disappointment. While 
they were laying their heads together again how to procure the 
money, behold Marcus passed through the street, as they 
perceived from the window of Melinda's apartment. Him they 
knew to be a man every way fit for their purpose, as he was 
rich, generous, and good-natured, yet loved play, women, and 
wine; was intimate with old Lorenzo, and sometimes spent the 
evening with him over a bottle, for want of better company. It 
was immediately agreed, that Aspatia should follow him and 
seek an opportunity of opening the affair to him. She was not 
long before she overtook Marcus, just as he was crossing a 
square, out of the reach of all hearers, where she made her 
addresses to him, and informed him of her lady's distress. He 
received her message with his usual complaisance, but 
protested that it was entirely out of his power to assist 
Melinda at that instant, as he had the misfortune himself to 
lose confiderably at play, the night before, but told Aspatia, 
that he would take a turn into the city in the afternoon, and 
try what could be done to procure the money, and would 
certainly be back again early in the evening, when he did not 
doubt but to wait on Melinda with the money, time enough for 
her to save her honour with the sharping Captain at Lady B----
's. And to prevent any notice being taken, he would contrive 
to send old Lorenzo an appointment to meet and crack a bottle 
at the tavern, where he should be sure to fix him before the 
hour of his return from the city.

Aspatia flew back to her mistress overjoyed with the 
comfortable promise of the money, and though Melinda could 
willingly have excused his waiting on her with it personally, 
as it certainly must put her to some confusion, and occasion 
many blushes, yet, as she found, it was to be had by no other 
means, she rested contented, and the more so as Marcus was 
well acquainted with her husband, had often addressed her in 
private, and she believed him to be too much a man of honour 
to betray her, on this or any other occasion. However, she 
gave Aspatia a strict charge to stay with her till the time of 
his arrival, and even then not to stir out of the room till 
Marcus left it.

It was winter time, and six in the evening was the appointed 
hour for Marcus's return; who took care, according to his 
promise, to send Lorenzo an invitation to meet him at the 
Bedford Head, and spend the evening. Melinda and he dined 
together about three, and the old gentleman being always 
punctual to such engagements, went to the tavern immediately 
after dinner. While she and Aspatia sat down to picquet 
together, in order to pass the time away. But six o'clock 
came, and no Marcus being returned, they flung up the cards, 
and sat fretting about an hour longer, when they heard a rap 
at the door, and judged rightly that it was him.

Marcus had been obliged to dine in the city along with some of 
his acquaintance, who were pretty free drinkers, and being 
overjoyed at the opportunity of obliging Melinda with the 
money, whom he mightily admired, had taken a bottle too much 
after dinner, in order to exhilarate his spirits against the 
hour of rendezvous; so that he appeared very much flustered 
with drinking.

He immediately begged her pardon for making her wait so long, 
but assured her, that he could not possibly complete the 
business sooner; and laying the forty guineas, in a rich 
worked purse, which he had bought on purpose, at her feet, 
told her, on his knees, that his whole fortune was at her 
devotion, begged that the would be no longer cruel to one that 
had long endured so much for her and rising up haftily to take 
her in his arms, they heard a knocking at the street-door, 
which she immediately guessed to be her husband, and so it 
happened.

They were then in her woman's apartment, which was just over 
Lorenzo's bed-chamber, and Aspatia had stayed there all the 
time, as her mistress commanded. So whipping up the candle, 
the begged of Marcus to stay there in the dark, till she could 
either come, or send Aspatia to release him; who immediately 
followed her mistress downstairs, having too much caution to 
trust herself in a room with a gentleman in liquor. Old 
Lorenzo having waited so long at the tavern, and not finding 
Marcus come, grew out of patience; so, having drank his 
bottle, and meeting with no other company to his mind, was 
returned home sooner than be designed, or his lady and Aspatia 
desired; and he being somewhat vexed at his disappointment, 
resolved to betake himself to bed. As for Melinda, she took a 
book in her hand as though she would sit down to reading.

Marcus in the mean time, had laid himself down on a couch that 
was in, the room, above stairs, and the fumes of the liquor he 
had drank soon laid him asleep, when somehow or other, 
endeavouring to turn himself, he fell down on the floor, just 
as Old Lorenzo was getting into bed; and not immediately 
recollecting the place where he was, fell to knocking and 
thundering against the floor, calling out for his man William, 
imagining that he had fallen out of his own bed.

Old Lorenzo was pretty thick of hearing, as is usual for 
people of his years to he, so that he was not apprised of the 
first noise made by Marcus's fall; though it much alarmed and 
exceedingly frightned Melinda, who was with her woman in the 
dining-room, which was on the same floor with her husband's 
bed-chamber; and Marcus still continuing knocking and calling, 
she could not imagine why he should make such a noise in such 
an improper place, unless he was subject to fits, and taken in 
one. While she was thus terrified, Marcus not as yet come to 
his sober senses, wondering his man Will did not come to him, 
fell to knocking and bawling louder than ever, insomuch that 
his noise reached old Lorenzo's dunny ears; and it being a 
time of much robbing and house-breaking the old man could 
conjecture no otherwise from the noise, but that thieves had 
broke into the house, and were knocking down the things in the 
room over his head: therefore he endeavoured to rise and call 
for his servants, and examine what the matter was.

Melinda hearing her spouse, ran to him exceedingly frightened, 
as well she might, and clinging round his old carcass, begs of 
him, for her sake and his own, not to expose himself to 
danger, for that the villains which were got into the house 
would certainly kill them all, if they offered to stir, Marcus 
still kept knocking and bawling, Aspatia sat trembling in the 
dining-room, and the old man striving to get up and ring the 
bell for his servants, who were, happily, so loudly diverting 
themselves at romps with the maids in the kitchen, that they 
heard not the least of the uproar above. Melinda, by the 
closeness of her embraces, and violence of her fears, kept old 
Lorenzo fast down in his bed, till growing rather too 
obstreperous, she called aloud for her maid Aspatia, and bid 
her go see what the matter was above stairs.

Aspatia, knowing too well how things went to need much 
instruction, catches up the candle, which she immediately let 
fall again, runs out, and shutting the bedchamber door, either 
from a pretended or real confusion, double locks it upon her 
master and lady, by which address neither of them could stir 
out; so, getting another candle, she runs up stairs to Marcus 
and tells him what disturbance he had made, and the mischief 
that was likely to come of it. The amaze at seeing Aspatia, 
and finding where he was, soon brought him sober, and made him 
begin to think of withdrawing thence; which he happily 
effected, before the servants were alarmed.

Aspatia had the thought to fling open the room-window which 
joined to some adjacent leads, and conveying some few small 
utensils out of the room, she called up all the footmen, ran 
down to Melinda's bedchamber, opened the door, acquainted her 
and Lorenzo, that there were thieves in the house, who had 
plundered the apartment overhead. The whole family was 
alarmed, the house searched all over, the things missed, but 
no thieves found, only the window that looked out upon the 
leads being wide open, they all wisely conjectured, that the 
rogues had taken that way to make their escape. So two of the 
stoutest of the footmen being ordered to sit up all night to 
watch, the rest of the family went to bed, and slept the 
remainder of the night very quietly, except Melinda and her 
maid, who were too much frightened with the adventure; and the 
former could get no rest, from this night's accident having 
prevented her going to Lady B----'s, to pay her debt of honour 
to the biting Captain. However, she went the next evening a-
visiting to Lady's that loved play, and where she expected to 
meet with him; who coming, as she guessed, after having 
excused herself by a sudden disorder, (as it really was) from 
not meeting him the night before, she paid him his winnings, 
and so got clear of this adventure, which otherwise might have 
cost her very dear.



Chapter III.

This accident could not make Melinda forsake her habit of 
gaming, which she still continued; and by thriftiness and good 
management at home, and luck abroad, she soon recovered her 
losses; but by being unwary in her conduct, and keeping of 
late hours, her husband at last became apprised how she spent 
her evenings. Although he found himself no sufferer by her 
playing, yet, as he knew full well the dangerous consequences 
that often attend that vice, when young ladies like her become 
addicted to it, he forbid her, in the mildest manner possible, 
to continue that odious diversion, as would thereby certainly 
incur his utmost displeasure; and did not fail representing to 
her the evils that often accrue from that diversion, in the 
most glaring colours.

She seemed to listen to his documents, and as she dared not 
contradict his will in so interesting a point, for fear of 
coming in for her thirds only, at his decease, she pretended 
to have quite forsook her old pastime; and to make Lorenzo 
believe that she was about a thorough reformation, she 
frequented the church as much as she had formerly done 
assemblies; and seemed as intent, upon her duty at home, as 
she had been before upon quadrille abroad. Though this 
agreeable change in her life pleased the old man exceedingly, 
yet he was not to be so easily weaned from his bottle and 
company, after taking to it afresh, but still kept on in his 
old method, seldom returning from the tavern till very late, 
and fully dozed with wine, upon which he would go to bed, and 
sleep for six or seven hours without waking. Though Melinda 
pretended to become such a pious devotee, yet her heart still 
languished after her forbidden pastime, the temptation to 
which came so forcibly upon her, that she began to devise some 
new artifice to deceive her old husband. In order to which, 
she at first endeavoured to persuade her maid to get into her 
place in bed, after Lorenzo was fallen asleep, and lie there 
till she should return from play, which she would be sure to 
do before the old man waked; alleging that if it should happen 
otherwise, and that Lorenzo should wake before her pastime was 
finished, that Aspatia had nothing to do but to counterfeit a 
deep sleep, and Lorenzo would not perceive the difference; 
neither need she be under any apprehensions of his meddling 
with her, as the old gentleman seldom diverted himself that 
way; and she would, if possible, always take care susficiently 
to slacken his nerves, and allay his heat again those nights 
that she designed to ramble abroad in. Aspatia very obediently 
replied to her mistress, that she was in no fear of whatever, 
in such a case, her master should attempt, as she did not 
imagine that anything could happen from the most vigorous of 
his embraces. But her greatest dread was, that Melinda should 
stay too long, and either daylight or some other accident, 
should discover the cheat, which would certainly be of very 
bad consequence to them both. Her mistress told her, that she 
would take care for that, and always be home again before 
Lorenzo waked. "Well, madam," says Aspatia, "look to it that 
you do, or else you may chance to lose a delicate morsel for 
your breakfast." "Whatever I happen to lose," says Melinda, "I 
fancy you'll be no great gainer by it." This project being 
agreed on, was soon put in execution, and succeeded very well 
for some time, without Lorenzo's being apprised of his new 
bedfellow: and as stolen pleasures are sweetest, so Melinda 
took more delight than ever in the innocent recreation of 
gaming.

Lorenzo, whose usual wine was old port, had been one evening 
engaged with some companions that delighted in rich Champagne 
and Burgundy. The old gentleman had played his part among them 
pretty well, and whether it was owing to the generousness of 
the wine he had drank, or to Melinda's neglect to keep his 
spirits down, so it happened, that after Aspasia had got to 
bed to him as usual, and he had taken a nap of about two 
hours, she found him begin to awake and seem very restless; 
when turning himself about suddenly, he began to kiss her with 
great eagerness, and laying his thigh across hers, she found 
his hand roving very freely about her body; she had no other 
way but to lie still and counterfeit sleep, submitting herself 
quietly to the old gentleman's liberties, lest her voice 
should betray that she was not the person whom he took her 
for. Though Aspatia's limbs might not be so soft and finely 
polished as her mistress's, yet did not Lorenzo perceive the 
difference, but let his hand wander on, till at last it 
arrived at the summit of Venus's mount, which in Aspatia 
happened to be more supplied with mossy tufts and shady bowers 
than in Melinda: whether proceeding from a fuller maturity of 
years, or a greater excess in the radical moisture of the 
soil, is submitted to the determination of those virtuosos 
that are skilled in natural philosophy.

As Lorenzo had not trespassed for some time past upon the 
border's of love's territories, he imputed the alteration in 
the fertility of the ground to the growing ripeness of the 
soil, and increasing warmth of the climate, the fresh air of 
which enlivened his vital faculties to such a degree, that he 
passed on boldly to the temple of Cytherea and performed his 
rites at love's altar, with more alacrity than was usual with 
him; insomuch that it in some measure recompensed the 
submissive Aspatia for the many lingering hours which she had 
waited in that place for her mistress, who happened to arrive 
just as Lorenzo was doing his utmost to convince her (as he 
thought) that his years had not got the better of his natural 
vigour.

Melinda was always obliged, at her return, to enter the 
chamber as softly as she could, for fear of awaking her 
husband, the door being left open on those nights, for fear it 
should crack when she entered; but she had scarce set foot in 
the bedchamber when she thought the heard the old gentleman 
very busy with his bedfellow; she stood still a little to 
listen, and soon found that it really was as she imagined; so 
prudently withdrew herself softly into the next room, leaving 
Aspatia to make the best of her old fumbler; though not 
without some vexation at missing that benevolence she had been 
so long without.

The old man, thoroughly fatigued with the ardour of the 
conflict, soon fell asleep again, and Aspatia was beginning to 
doze, when her mistress, knowing that all was safe by her 
husband's snoring, re-entered the chamber, and Aspatia rising, 
she took her place at the back of her exhausted bedfellow.

Things proceeded in this manner for some time. But as Aspatia 
and the butler had kept a very intimate correspondence 
together, either through his skill, or her master's unknown 
endeavours, it so happened, that she grew more bulky than she 
chose to be. This her mistress soon perceived, but as she had 
intrusted her maid so far in the affair with old Lorenzo, she 
hardly durst take the liberty to enquire who had occasioned 
that extension of Aspatia's petticoats; for her belly, by this 
time became so very prominent, that it was judged not safe for 
her any longer to supply her mistress's place, lest the old 
man should discover it, which would ruin all. Asptatia being a 
cunning baggage, assured her mistress that what had happened 
was occasioned by keeping her place warm; though Melinda could 
hardly credit that it came purely by that means, otherwise she 
might have found herself in the same condition long before her 
maid: however, as matters stood at present, she durst not 
contradict it.

Melinda was so intoxicated with the love of gaming, that she 
was resolved to invent some new method of deceiving her old 
husband, that she might frequent her nocturnal assemblies as 
usual, without either his suspicion or discovery. And as 
Aspatia was too near her time to be trusted any longer in bed 
with him, they contrived to make a figure of stuffed rags of 
Melinda's size and stature, which they dressed up with a 
vizard mask, one of her smocks, and a suit of night-clothes, 
and laid it in her place every night when Lorenzo was fallen 
asleep, and when Melinda was returned from play, it was 
removed up stairs again.

This cheat succeeded exceeding well for a month or two, when 
one morning about four o'clock, Melinda being at her usual 
night work, old Lorenzo happened to awake out of a very 
dreadful dream of ghosts, spectres and devils, occasioned, it 
is very likely, from the fumes of the liquor he had drank the 
foregoing evening. He turned towards his lady in order to 
acquaint her with what a fright he had been in, and laid his 
hand directly on the face of his dressed-up bedfellow, where 
finding a nose and mouth, without any breath or motion, he 
became exceedingly frightened, but more so, when on pushing, 
jogging and calling, it returned no answer; so imagining his 
wife was either in a fit, or dead by his side, he therefore 
rose hastily and rang the bell for his servants to bring him a 
light, which being done, he taking the candle in his hand, 
approached the bed to satisfy himself whether Melinda was 
alive or dead: but no sooner did he perceive how unlike to her 
was the figure that lay in her place, than he dropt the light 
through fear; and having been prepossessed from his infancy, 
with a strong opinion of witches, fiends and hobgoblings, 
instantly imagined that it must be no other than some devil 
could have made such a transformation. He immediately went 
down stairs and raised all the servants with his noise, but 
being in the dark, could not get them together before Melinda, 
who was luckily got into the house as Lorenzo was inspecting 
the frightful visage of his bedfellow, was got into her 
confidant's apartment, and taking the opportunity while the 
old gentleman was crawling down stairs, they instantly removed 
the figure that had caused such an alarm, and she slipped into 
its place; where her husband, on his return to the chamber 
with his servants and lights, found her, to his great 
surprise, when he expected to have met with some fiend. He had 
somehow procured an old sword below stairs, with which he 
would have inslantly dispatched his wife, had not his 
attendants prevented it, who were as much surprised at their 
master's madness, as he was with the surprising metamorphosis 
of his partner. "What!" cried he, "Thou sorceress! Thou witch! 
Thou fiend! Thou infernal succubus! Have I detected thee at 
last?" Melinda, surprised at his language, was just going to 
reply in her own justification; but he being too much in a 
passion to hear a word of reason, went on raving like a a 
bedlamite. "Thou witch," cried he, "be gone instantly to thy 
hellish nocturnal sacrifices, and quit my bed from this moment 
for ever! If these hands be mine," said he, addressing himself 
to his servants, "it was not she that laid in this place till 
now, but the grand devil himself, or one of his imps, was 
foisted in her room. I think certainly I am able to 
distinguish flesh when I feel it. Be gone, thou hag, I conjure 
thee, or thou instantly diest." Saying this, he quitted the 
room in a violent rage: and Melinda fearing to trust too far 
to the effects of his madness and passion, soon slipped on her 
clothes and quitted the house.



Chapter IV.

She immediately retreated to a lady's house who was her 
friend, to whom the discovered the whole secret of the 
transformation, and endeavoured through her means, who was 
nearly related to Lorenzo, to get the old gentleman to pardon 
her transgression, with a strict promise of conjugal obedience 
to his commands for the future. But notwithstanding all the 
endeavours of Melinda and her friend, old Lorenzo was fully 
persuaded that his wife had dealings with the devil, would not 
be beat out of his notion, but obstinately persisted in an 
implacable aversion to bedding any more with her, or suffering 
her to come under his roof; whom he looked upon as a more 
expert sorceress than Mother Shipton is reported to have been: 
so that Melinda was forced to live retired for some time, upon 
the small income that he was pleased to allow her for 
subsistence. This misfortune affording her leisure to reflect 
on and curse the immoderate love of gaming, which had thus 
plunged her into so much anxiety and trouble in her youthful 
days.

She continued to lead this disconsolate life, worse to her 
than widowhood, above two years; during which, she conceived 
an invincible hatred to her husband for this usage to her, 
scorning the imputation of a witch upon any other account than 
her beauty. As for Aspatia, she yet continued with her 
mistress, and partook share of her cloudy days as well as she 
had done those of her sunshine; and was delivered of a jolly 
boy, soon after this unfortunate discovery of her lady's 
gaming had driven them both out of doors from old Lorenzo's, 
so that they were pretty hard set to maintain the youngster 
out of their small allowance; however, Melinda had him taken 
care of at her expense, as Aspatia always vouched that he had 
not come into the world had she not been so dutiful to her 
commands as to take her place in bed with the old gentleman. 
As Lorenzo increased in years, so his constitution grew daily 
more impaired; and his servants finding him too infirm to 
inspect into family affairs, vexed him so much by their 
continual impositions and knavery, that he began to wish he 
had not been so rash in his anger as to part from his wife; 
and even to wish for her home again to keep his house in 
order, that he might grunt in his armchair, under the 
afflictions of his body, without those troubles of mind, which 
their outrageous mismanagement caused him to undergo. But 
though he made many overtures to Melinda for a reconciliation 
with her, yet the violence of her hatred towards him would not 
allow her to hearken to any terms, neither could she entertain 
any thoughts of returning again to the withered arms of 
threescore and ten.

It was in vain that the lady, her friend, whom she lived with, 
endeavoured to persuade her to relinquish her antipathy, and 
reconcile her obedience to her interest, as she was brought 
old Lorenzo to such a good inclination, by clearing up the 
mystery of her transformation to him, that was desirous of 
again admitting Melinda to her old place, upon a hearty 
promise of a thorough reformation on her side, from the folly 
of gaming. But whatever might be the real occasion of such a 
strong distaste in her, she absolutely refused coming to any 
agreement with her old hunks.

Thus time passed on, and this obdurate reluctance of Melinda 
to any reconciliation, occasioned as much grief to old Lorenzo 
as his former rashness had given to her; so he had recourse to 
his last remedy on this occasion, which was, to take to his 
bed and pretend violent sickness; and to make the matter 
sooner credited, he caused it every day to be given out that 
he grew worse and worse; this news soon reached the ears of 
Melinda, who hearing how ill he was, and judging from his 
great years, that there was little or no hopes of his 
recovery, submitted to the advice of her friend, and agreed to 
pay her husband a farewell visit, as she judged it would be 
the last time of her ever seeing him alive. So together they 
went, and at the entrance into his house perceived nothing but 
sorrow and dejection in every countenance; they were 
immediately, on their arrival, conducted to the door of the 
sick gentleman's chamber, where some of the servants with a 
gloomy silence, and others with sobs and groans, expressed 
their grief for the near departure of their old master.

But how was Melinda surprised, when on entering the room, the 
perceived a most sumptuous banquet prepared, at which. were 
present several of her husband's friends and acquaintance, the 
old man being seated in an elbow-chair at the head of them? He 
directly got up, as well as he was able, and embraced her with 
all the eagerness he was capable of, begging in the most 
moving terms, that she would forgive his former behaviour, for 
which he expressed the greatest sorrow, and agree to be 
reconciled with him. All the company joined their 
solicitations to his entreaties, and Melinda not being 
prepared for so strong and unexpected an attack, could not 
make so stubborn a resistance as she would otherwise have 
done, had she not been taken so disadvantageously.

The company being willing to give her time to recover her 
surprise, perceiving that she was not thoroughly inclined to 
yield to their persuasions, begged of her to sit down to 
table, as there was cause to hope for the bringing of her to 
reason after dinner, though she would not immediately comply 
with their request for a thorough reconciliation. Overcome by 
their unanimous entreaties, she and the lady her friend took 
their places; and the bottle passing pretty freely after 
dinner, matters were so well adjusted, that Melinda consented 
to go to bed again to her husband, who received her with the 
greatest satisfaction on his part, though perhaps the pleasure 
she found in this renewal of their friendship was not so 
exquisite as she might expect.

Fortune seemed now to be intent upon recompensing Melinda for 
the melancholy hours she had formerly passed in her separation 
from her husband, or rather from the participation of his 
riches; for whether the old gentleman exerted himself too 
vigorously for his years, on the renewal of the hymeneal joys, 
or whether it was occasioned by a decay of nature, yet so it 
happened, and no doubt much to her satisfaction, that she 
found herself in the long wished-for state of widowhood, soon 
after her reconciliation to her husband, who to convince her 
of his love and affection, and of his thorough oblivion of all 
past faults, left her in the possession of a much better 
fortune than she had reason to expect from an old man whom she 
had been so careless to oblige during her cohabiting with him.

Melinda had not been long a widow before the �clat of her 
youth, beauty and fortune drew together many suitors; and 
amongst the rest that made address to her was Sparkish, a 
handsome, gay young fellow, born in the kingdom of Ireland, 
but of no great family or estate, except a small commission 
that he had in the army. He, however, had received a liberal 
education, though he misapplied it in his detestable 
practices; and was above all endued with a most destructive 
inveigling tongue, which had more than once been fatally 
employed, to the ruin of many a female. With this forcible 
battery he plied Melinda so strongly that she soon began to 
capitulate, and agreed to surrender to him upon the honourable 
conditions of matrimony. This was all that Starkish wanted, 
nay he could even have dispensed with the ceremony, if there 
had been any other means of obtaining her possessions, the 
enjoyment of which he more coveted than that of her person, 
having been a libertine from his infancy, and had much 
improved himself in those principles since his entrance into 
the army.

They had not been married above half a year, before he was 
obliged to go to Flanders. She was so fond of him that she 
would fain have accompanied him, even into the bed of honour; 
but he would not permit it, alleging all the dangers and 
fatigues that attended the making of a campaign as invincible 
reasons for her remaining at home in safety; though this 
tenderness of his did not proceed so much from a regard to her 
ease, as to his own vicious pleasures, to which be imagined 
her presence would be a very great obstruction. His appetite 
for variety made him loathe her embraces, and he had 
confiderably sunk her fortune before he left her, by paying 
some extravagant debts which he had contracted before he was 
married to her; so that though he took his leave in the most 
complaisant and tender manner, yet he designed never to see 
her more.

When Sparkish arrived at the army in Flanders he lived 
agreeable to his inclination; that is to say, in the most 
disolute and debauched manner: but happening to be wounded at 
the battle of Tournai, he quitted the camp and retired to an 
adjoining town, where he changed his name and took upon him 
that of Bellair; and immediately caused letters to be wrote to 
Melinda, and his friends in England, containing a certain 
account of his being killed in the action; which fictitous 
piece of news had like to have killed her in reality; however 
her youth, and the goodness of her constitution, got the 
better of this imaginary misfortune.

He still continued in the Netherlands, where he married about 
a twelvemonth after, a young woman of good family and fortune, 
that had fallen passionately in love with him. With this 
second lady he lived about six months, in the most profuse 
manner; when finding that her fortune was not sufficient to 
support his extravagancy, he bethought himself of making a 
retreat from her also. In order to which, he pretended he 
would go to the Hague to get a colonel's commission in one of 
the new raised regiments in the Dutch service; to which she 
was obliged to give her consent, though not without the 
greatest reluctance. But he, instead of going to Holland, 
embarked immediately for England, where he continued to pass, 
by the name of Bellair, for a foreigner.

He had not been long here before he got acquainted with one 
Rightly, a gentleman who had for some time been making his 
addresses to Precisia, an elderly lady worth much money, and 
most rigidly devoted to that modern sect, called Methodists, 
but of such an obdurate heart to love or marriage, that 
Rightly could make nothing of her; and being now grown 
intimate with Bellair, and despairing of any success with his 
hardhearted saint, he discovered the whole of his amour to his 
wild and inconstant acquaintance.

Bellair understanding that the pious lady was well endowed 
with riches, immediately proposes to Rightly, that, out of 
revenge for using his friend so ill, he himself would 
undertake to wed her, though she were old; and that in return, 
he would assist him in obtaining a beautiful young widow not 
exceeding twenty-two years of age, whose husband was killed at 
the battle of Tournai. Rightly hearkened to his proposal very 
attentively, as the religious lady's ill reception of him had 
occasioned his relinquishing all further thoughts of 
overcoming her obstinacy; but assured his friend Bellair, that 
as the lady was so bigoted to Whitefield's doctrine, he very 
much despaired of his having any success with her; however, if 
he had courage enough to make the trial, he assured him that 
he would be no obstacle to his gaining her; and demanded of 
him how he would make good the advantage which he was to 
expect in return from the young widow, whom he had promised to 
help him to; "Oh well enough," replied Bellair, "I have no 
more to do than to deliver this ring, which will serve you for 
your passport. It was her husband's signet, who gave it to me 
a few hours before he expired of his wounds." Upon saying 
this, he plucked the ring from off his finger, and delivered 
it to Rightly, bidding him make the best use of it to his own 
advantage, and directed him where this young and beautiful 
widow lodged; he gave him assurances also that she was worth 
money.

Rightly took the ring, fully resolved to proceed upon this new 
adventure, as Bellair was to try his success with the bigoted 
lady Precisia. Impatient with the hopes of obtaining a wife 
with such a good fortune as he understood Precisia to be, 
Bellair did not hesitate the least on her age, as he hoped 
that the depth of her years would free him from her the 
sooner, but soon got intelligence to what congregation of 
Methodists she resorted, and straightway took a devout 
opportunity of repairing thither to worship his golden idol, 
whom he could not possibly mistake, as his friend Rightly had 
described her so well to him, and had also told him the seat 
which she constantly sat in when at her devotion. Bellair had 
not long placed himself in the adjoining seat, with his face 
opposite to her place, but the lady came in. During the time 
of service he behaved himself as dexterously as though he had 
been many years one of Whitfield's followers; he sighed as she 
sighed, hummed where he ought to hum, and shook his head in as 
right time as the most disciplined Methodist present, and 
could have wept upon occasion had the preacher's discourse 
been powerful enough to have melted any of the congregation. 
She took no further notice of him at the first meeting, than 
regarding him as a very pious stranger; which occasioned her 
inquiring amongst all her acquaintance if they knew anything 
of him, but all answered in the negative. Bellair continued 
his practice of piety for about a fortnight longer, without 
perceiving that she took any particular notice of his zeal, 
till at last he found she remarked his motions to such a 
degree, that he began to fancy all her devotion was directed 
to him.

As they were one day coming out of the place, the pious lady 
chanced to stumble, and Bellair, who like the devil, was 
constantly at her elbow, happily saved her from falling; this 
afforded him an opportunity of making her a compliment, which 
she received exceeding kindly. He, with all the gravity 
imaginable, expressed his sense of her civility, and, with a 
low bow, was for taking leave of her; but she, not designing 
to part with him so soon, told him, that if he had not a coach 
of his own, hers thould carry him to his lodgings; and he well 
knowing it to be contrary to his interest to refuse such a 
kind favour from the old lady, was too polite not to accept of 
it, which he readily did, upon condition that he might first 
wait on her home in it. This being agreed on they rolled away 
to her door, where Bellair was again going to take his leave 
with the utmost respectt, but she very engagingly invited him 
to take share of her dinner, if he was not provided with a 
better; to which he replied, that were he engaged to anything, 
excepting his immediate duty to heaven, he would forsake it, 
for once, to be happy in the enjoyment of her excellent and 
pious conversation.

At dinner they ate pretty heartily and talked but little; but 
the repast being over, they thundered it off in a repetition 
of what they had heard from the good man in the morning. This 
continued for some time, but at last they fell upon other 
matters, and the result of their discourse was, that they 
could not be happy without the pleasure of each other's 
obliging and innocent conversation, which they mutually 
promised to give themselves as often as possible. At nine in 
the evening they parted, she possessed with a most pernicious 
passion for his person and seeming piety, and he with a most 
inexpressible veneration for her money.

The next evening he met his good friend Rightly, to whom he 
related his success, demanding what news from his beautiful 
widow?

"Alas!" replies the other, "she is very sorrowful for the 
account that I brought her; so that I have not had the courage 
or confidence to propose any such matter to her as yet. She is 
admirably beautiful! and, no doubt, sincerely virtuous!" "You 
love her then," replied Bellair. "Can you blame me," said 
Rightly, "for having a value for her excellencies?" Bellair 
having an engagement on his hands, they parted for the 
present, he being not a little chagrined to hear his friend 
extol the young widow's perfections so much. But the next 
visit to his pious mistress soon banished displeasure, and he 
plied the old lady so warmly, that in about three weeks after, 
they were married.

Precisia at first imagined that she had got a saint of a 
husband, and one of the most tractable in the universe; but he 
was not so much blinded in her, having made himself before 
acquainted with all her frailties, which knowledge he improved 
to his advantage for he caressed her continually, never drank 
but in her company, and constantly went with her to hear the 
precious man; which manner of behaviour continuing for about 
two months, so won her heart, that she could not conceal a 
shilling of her money from him.

Rightly, in the mean while underwent far greater difficulties 
in his suit to Melinda; her grief for the supposed loss of her 
beloved husband, seemed more and more unsurmountable; but his 
love being as invincible, their nuptials also were celebrated, 
though without the knowledge of Bellair, who had avoided 
seeing Rightly ever since he had gained his own ends of the 
devout Precisia, fearing that he might chance to meet his own 
Melinda with him some time or other, and therefore he proposed 
to his spouse Precisia to retire about fifty miles from 
London, in order, as he made her believe, to live the more 
frugal upon her fortune, and avoid the extraordinary expenses 
of a town life.

This the old lady readily embraced, as she imagined that in 
the solitude of the country she should have the more of his 
engaging company, but it happened unluckily that in a day or 
two after they had fixed upon this resolution of retiring into 
the country, Rightly and the unfortunate Melinda, then his 
bride, came to pay the old lady a visit, not knowing but she 
was still single; not as he intended it out of kindness, but 
only to show how bravely he had broken her chain. As they were 
coming up the stairs, Bellair chanced to hear his friend's 
voice, and immediately conjecturing how matters were he 
prudently slipped into his bed-chamber; leaving his new 
bargain to receive and entertain the guests, which she did for 
some time; but at length growing impatient at his not making 
his appearance, she began to call him to welcome his friends, 
but he making no answer, she ran into the bed chamber and 
asked him why he would not come and see his old friend Rightly 
and his lady. "No, madam," answered he, "Mr Rightly is your 
old friend, and for that reason I will not see him; so pray go 
and excuse me in the best manner you can." "Alas, my dear," 
says she, "you have not the least cause to be jealous; but I 
shall endeavour to make an apology for you." Which she did 
pretty handsomely, by telling them he was very ill with some 
thing that lay heavy at his stomach. However, his mind, at 
their departure, being discharged of the fear it lay under, he 
told her the next morning, that he would take a ride as far as 
Twickenham for the benefit of the air; but whether he went 
that way, or not, is unknown to this day, as he has never been 
seen in England after that time, by her, or any of his 
acquaintance that knew him by any of his names; neither could 
the old gentlewoman ever learn any tidings of the pretty large 
sum of money that he conveyed away with him. He had the 
assurance to leave a letter directed for Rightly, which was 
brought to him by a porter, the day after Bellair's departure, 
wherein he doscovered himself to him, in hopes, as 'tis 
thought, to make him forsake the innocent Melinda, but Rightly 
had so much respect to her quiet and his own, that he burnt 
it; as he could impute his project of setting him on to marry 
Melinda, to be done with no other intent than to prevent her 
suing him for bigamy.

Neither did Rightly ever disturb the repose of Melinda about 
Bellair, till he was thoroughly certified, by an officer of 
distinction in the army, that he fell in the last battle we 
had with the French, at a village called Val; having really 
purchased a commission in the Dutch service, with part of the 
old lady's money that he had taken with him out of England. 
And when Melinda was made acquainted with these his notorious 
transactions, she took his loss with so little regret that she 
and her husband now live in the greatest harmony and felicity 
that can possibly attend the marriage state: but the old 
doting Precisia soon came to her end, after the double loss of 
her money and bedfellow.

FINIS



Maria Brown by John Cleland (1766)

Genuine Memoirs of the Celebrated Miss Maria Brown. Exhibiting 
the Life of a Courtesan in the Most Fashionable Scenes of 
Dissipation. Published by the Author of a W** of P** (1766). 
New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1975.
https://archive.org/details/memoirsofmariabr00clel



Title Page


GENUINE 
MEMOIRS
of the celebrated 
Miss Maria Brown
exhibiting
The Life of a Courtezan in the 
 most Fashionable Scenes of Dissipation
by the author of 
A Woman of Pleasure 
[John Cleland ]
========================================= 
Under how hard a fate are women born? 
Prized to their ruin, or exposed to scorn. 
If they want beauty, they of love despair, 
And are besieged like frontier towns, if fair. 
ROWE<155>
 ==========================================



Chapter I. 
Some account of Miss Brown's family and connections--The 
prejudices of education exemplified--Is destined for a 
convent--Sets out for Liverpool to embark for France.

As the reader is not to consider this performance in the light 
of a novel or a romance, but the real adventures of a person 
who has made some noise in the gay world, so he must not be 
surprised if he meets with nothing in these sheets bordering 
upon the marvellous or surprising. The incidents of my life 
are not much out of the common road of female seduction, 
forwarded by the errors of the mistake in genteel education, 
and I shall endeavour as a stylist suitable to a subject that 
has nothing but plain truth and simpler nature to recommend 
it.

Though the name of Brown being so general may carry the air of 
a fictitious one, it was certainly my family name and is a 
pretty ancient one in Lancashire, which was the place of my 
nativity. My father enjoyed a small patrimony in this county, 
which was the usual place of his residence. He was of the 
Romish persuasion, and was a great stickler for religion, 
which has been the means of preventing his uncle, who had a 
place on the government and some influence in court, assisting 
him with his protection, which might have been greatly to his 
interest.

I have two brothers older than myself. But as I was an only 
daughter, I was the darling both of my father and mother, but 
particularly the latter, who was one of those good-natured 
inoffensive women who do everything for the sake of ease and 
quietness, so that I had my will upon every occasion. And my 
brothers tyrannised over her so much by her condescension, and 
hiding their boyish faults from their father, that we all 
three stood a very fair chance of being spoiled children.

Though my father, by his religion, which he made his two sons 
follow, was precluded all hopes of providing for them by any 
places under the government or in the Army, and though his 
fortune, when divided, could never be sufficient to maintain 
us all genteelly, yet possessed so much family pride that he 
could not prevail upon himself to put them out to any trade. 
So that after they had attained as much knowledge as the 
grammar school could afford, they were sent abroad to complete 
their studies in a foreign seminary.

My destination was nearly the same; for, having attained my 
11th year, and acquired as much learning as our country 
boarding schools could communicate, I was transported to 
Douai, to complete my education, improve my morals, and 
establish me more firmly in the principles of my religion.

A priest, who lived in our family and served for our chaplain 
and the general confessor, took care to keep up the 
superstition which I and my brothers had seemingly naturally 
imbibed. He told us it was a greater sin to eat meat on a 
Friday than to be guilty of theft, or even murder. And I must 
acknowledge he so far operated upon my weak mind, that I look 
to the kind of horror upon flesh that day, and it was with 
some difficulty could I reconcile myself to it the next. I was 
made to believe that my salvation in a great measure dependent 
upon my kissing a piece of wood in the shape of a cross. These 
and a thousand absurdities of the like nature, appeared to me 
of the most religious consequence, and I therefore considered 
them with the highest veneration. Whether our confessor really 
believed what he taught, or assumed so much hypocrisy only to 
impose upon us, I will not pretend to determine: but it must 
be acknowledged his life was one perpetual round of 
abstemiousness. He ate very moderately, drank still more 
sparingly, was not addicted to scandal, and was esteemed very 
charitable. His character therefore, more strongly enforced 
his tenets than even his precepts, and he was looked upon with 
so much deference in our neighbourhood that everyone thought 
it a blessing to be in company with Mr Fisher. Such, then, was 
the general character of the superintendent of our souls who 
very properly prepared me for my future recluse life.

I had never yet been absent from my mother one night. For 
though I had learnt writing, accounts, with dancing, and a 
little French at a boarding school in our town, I had only 
been what is called a day-scholar; so that when the time 
approached of my departure for Liverpool, where I was to take 
shipping for Calais, the thoughts of leaving my mother almost 
distracted me, and her concern was visibly as great. But when 
the hour came of our taking leave, I thought my heart would 
have burst. Words could find no utterance. I hung around her 
neck, and we mingled our tears together. At length, however, 
she recovered herself enough to say:

'My dear Polly, we must part, but I hope not forever. It is 
for the good of both your soul and body; and though it is 
worse than death to me to let you go, I must not oppose what 
is so much for your advantage. Treasure up the precepts of 
that holy man Mr Fisher, and upon every occasion pray for your 
father and mother, Tommy and Charles.'

Here a flood of tears stopped her saying any more: and my 
father very opportunely came to our relief, summoning me to 
repair to the coach, which, he said, had been waiting for me 
near half an hour. He took the by the hand, and without 
enquiring the cause of our grief, which he very well knew, he 
conducted me to the coach, whilst I remained quite insensible 
to every object about me.



Chapter II. 
Some account of Maria's fellow travellers--The conversation 
that ensues, wherein Mr Brown takes so great and zealous a 
part--Its salutary effects upon Maria.

I had gone some miles before I ever once thought of 
considering my fellow-travellers. My father, who was by my 
side, frequently desired me to dry up my tears and not give 
way so much to grief. But I found this event the only solace 
that was left to me, and it would have been cruel to have 
denied me the small consolation which this indulgence of my 
sorrow afforded. The rivulets of misery seemed at length to 
have dried their springs; and as they had before spontaneously 
flowed, they now in the same manner stopped their course, and 
I was able to make use of my visual orbs for their destined 
vocation.

Our company consisted of two French prisoners who had been set 
at liberty by the Treaty of Aix-La-Chapelle, a smuggler from 
the Isle of Man, and one of the actors belonging to the 
strolling company at Liverpool. They soon discovered their 
occupations by their conversation. The French officers very 
ingenuously acknowledged the civil and generous treatment they 
had met with in England, where they owned they had fared 
better, though they had been prisoners, than if they had been 
in actual service in their own country. The contraband trader 
agreed with the Frenchman that England was one of the most 
hospitable countries under the sun, and would in every sense 
be the best, if it was not for Customs-House officers and 
excisemen, who were the pest of society and the bane of all 
commerce. As to the actor, he complained loudly of the tyranny 
of managers and the want of discernment in auditors, who let 
merit go unrewarded, whilst they lavished the money upon 
foreign singers, dancers, and harlequins.

My eyes and ears were the only organs capable of performing 
the office. As to my tongue, my spirits were by far too much 
depressed for me to attempt exercising it, and the only 
articulate sound I was capable of expressing was 'Heigh-ho!', 
which frequently escaped from me, and which, with my former 
tears, had thrown my father into almost as melancholy a mood 
as myself, and had not the topic veered to religion, he would 
have been as little emulous as myself of joining in it. But 
this was the diapason of all his argument, of all his 
reasoning. It was impossible to touch this key without tuning 
his pipe, to throw in that discord so necessary to constitute 
harmony. No sooner had the illegal trader given his sentiments 
upon the significance of Customs-House oaths, than Mr Brown 
immediately entered upon the subject, and proved, by very 
learned and theological arguments, that a man must be 
irretrievably damned who was guilty of the crime of perjury. 
No one had the audacity to oppose this opinion directly. But 
the smuggler put an interrogation to Mr Brown which somewhat 
disconcerted him, as he was not prepared with an answer: 
whether there were as many hells as there were crimes. 'If 
not,' continued the querist, 'all punishments are alike, and 
there is no justice in the decree.' This was a bold assertion 
in the presence of my father, and he called for all his zeal, 
and no small share of superstition, to prove that there were 
two hells, or rather one and a half, as Purgatory could not be 
looked upon as a complete state of damnation. The primitive 
fathers, and many modern theological writers, were overhauled 
to support his doctrine, which was as soporific as it was 
orthodox, and lulled me to a more gentle and salutary sleep 
than I had experienced for some days.



Chapter III. 
Maria's arrival at Liverpool--Embarks for Calais--Her 
meditations--Her acquaintance with Miss Fleetwood--This young 
lady's story.

My slumbers were not in the least interrupted till we arrived 
at Liverpool, and we stopped at the inn, where I was to take a 
farewell supper with my father. The ship was ready to sail the 
next morning and, after a very affectionate scene that passed 
between Mr Brown and myself, I went on board.

A fresh gale sprung up, and in about three hours we were 
almost out of sight of land, but to the last my fond eyes 
stole a look at Albion's cliffs. 'Farewell to my native shore, 
relations, friends, all that's dear, perhaps for ever!' A 
flood of tears burst upon the conclusion of this soliloquy, 
which closed the scene of all but the watery element. And now 
succeeded such a qualm of stomach as entirely diverted my 
thoughts from everything but present relief, which I, in some 
measure, obtained, by the customary operation of seasickness; 
and a few hours after I had such an eager appetite, that 
having found in the cabin some ship-beef, I made the most 
hearty and most delicious regale I ever had in my life.

My spirits being by these means somewhat recruited, I began to 
consider my situation in a more favourable point of light than 
I had hitherto looked upon it, and my affliction was greatly 
alleviated by finding a young lady on board who was destined 
for the like station and the same convent as myself--so true 
is it that a companion in affliction diminishes our sorrows. 
We soon entered into familiar chat, when she acquainted me 
with her family and connections, and the cause of her being 
sent abroad.

'My dear,' said she, 'you most likely have heard of my family 
and friends. My name is Juliana Fleetwood. My father lives 
within a few miles of Lancaster; he has a patrimonial estate 
of about two thousand a year, and I am his only daughter. My 
mother died about four years ago, and I have been under the 
care of a distant female relation ever since. This cousin of 
mine was not without her foibles, and perhaps the most 
predominant one she had was that of drinking. As I had it in 
my power to promote her indulging herself in this respect, so 
she, in return, gave me all the liberty of conscience and 
action I could desire. I was without any sort of constraint 
when I attended that age that determined I was a woman. I had 
read a lot of the stories and little romances, which our maids 
furnished me with. In reading Pamela, I was greatly pleased to 
find that she was at last made happy; and this event so 
strongly operated upon my mind, that from this moment I looked 
upon all distinction of birth and fortune as no sort of 
impediment to two persons being united, whose affections were 
mutual.

'With these romances in my head, and favourable dispositions 
in my heart, our house was more like a nunnery than a 
gentleman's country-seat. And I had never yet set my eyes upon 
anything that is called a gentleman in our neighbourhood 
except a country squire, who was a great sportsman and who 
more resembled his dogs and horses than a rational creature. 
He could talk of nothing but leaping five-barred gates, being 
in at the death, laying the odds, and winning of plates. This 
was conversation I had no sort of relish for, and could not 
help concluding that if gentleman talked in the same strain, 
and on the same subject, they had little reason to pique 
themselves upon their birth and education. As the same time 
that I was drawing these no very favourable conclusions upon 
the score of gentility, I could not help making a comparison 
between the squire and William, a young footman that had been 
in our family for some years. Methought that his manners were 
more polished and his conversation, which I frequently 
overheard with the maids, more rational than the squire's, and 
with respect of his person all comparison was destroyed. The 
squire was clumsy, ungenteel, purblind and pock-frecken; 
whereas William's face was handsome, his person tall and well-
made and his deportment agreeable. Upon the whole, methought 
nature never intended such wide distinctions as my father was 
continually making between people of fashion and the laborious 
part of mankind.

'I had for some time observed that William's peculiar study 
was to endeavour at anticipating all my orders. He guessed by 
my emotions what I seemed desirous of, and scarce ever gave me 
an opportunity to ask for a thing. Such attention on his part, 
I must acknowledge, attracted my observation more than usual, 
and I could not help frequently casting a glance to see with 
what readiness he caught my looks; and yet our eyes scarce 
ever met but what I could perceive a sort of confusion in his 
countenance.

'He was one afternoon waiting upon me whilst I was drinking 
tea, all alone, in our summer-house at the end of the garden; 
when, giving him a nod to fill the pot, he did it, uttering 
such a sigh, that I could not help jocosely asking him, 'Sure, 
Will, you're not in love?' I had not completely uttered the 
words, till his hand shook to that degree that he poured some 
water on my hand, which scalded me. He was so greatly affected 
with what he had done that he burst into tears, which moved me 
so much that, for the present, I forgot the acute pain that I 
felt from the boiling water, and I found myself highly 
interested in consoling him, by assuring him that the burn was 
not great and that he need not give way so much to his grief 
upon the occasion.

'Upon my affording him some consolation, he dried up his 
tears, but gave me such a look as it is impossible for me to 
describe. Young and ignorant as I was in the language of the 
eyes, methought I read everything that the most tender, the 
most sensible sentiments could express.

'From this moment I was never easy but when Will was waiting 
or attending upon me, and I never had so much pleasure as when 
I could contemplate his person, without being observed by 
anyone. I discovered charms in him that I had before slightly 
passed over. His face appeared to me that of a perfect Adonis; 
Cupids lay in ambush in every ringlet of his flowing chestnut 
hair; his whole person seems to be a model for statuaries and 
painters! I longed for an opportunity of saying to him 
something upon the score of love, and would freely have 
undergone the pain of having my fingers scalded again, to have 
had so favourable an occasion of entering upon the subject.

'I contrived to drink tea alone in the same place a few days 
after. But I was no longer able to command those looks, the 
meaning of which he used so quickly to catch; and when I would 
have given him a command, I could utter nothing but a sigh. In 
fine, there was not a word passed upon this occasion but 
complete confusion on both sides, without either of us having 
dared to venture a look at each other.

'The next morning I found upon my dressing-table a letter, 
which I opened with rapture. I believe I have it in my pocket, 
and will read it to you.

Oh! Thou divine creature, 
	What can be the reason I am so miserable and you so 
perplexed? Surely there can be no sympathy in souls which 
Fortune has placed at so great a distance. I dare not 
venture to think that you could throw away a thought upon 
such a wretch as me! No, it is impossible. I must fly to 
some remote corner of the earth, and there forget there 
is such a divine being as the incomparable Juliana. Why, 
then, do I pretend to trouble with my impertinence and 
folly so much excellence, where it would be the highest 
presumption in me to say I was her most abject slave. 
	William Franklin.

'It is impossible to express what satisfaction I received in 
perusing these lines. I read them over and over, and every 
time I thought I discovered fresh beauties and more meaning. I 
was, however, greatly perplexed to know what step I should 
take. For a young lady to write to a man appeared to me highly 
criminal, and especially an answer to such a letter as this. 
Yet I found my heart strongly pleaded for the use of pen and 
paper, and I should have readily submitted to its dictates, 
had I known what to say.

'I was in this perplexity when he was ordered to call me to 
breakfast. He fell upon his knees and begged I would forgive 
him the imprudence he had been guilty of. Saying this, 
however, he insensibly got hold of my hand, and bathed it with 
his tears; nor could I find the least inclination to withdraw 
it from him.

'All explanations now became superfluous, and we availed 
ourselves of every opportunity of being together, when we gave 
each other the strongest assurances of our mutual passion.

'We had never yet been discovered, for my gouvernante was 
generally half the day so well employed with her cordial 
friends that she never gave us any interruption. And as to the 
maids, I contrived always to find them such employment at some 
opposite parts of the house, that our t�te-�-t�te parties had 
never yet been broke in upon. In one of these uninterrupted 
conversations we took the resolution of setting off post for 
London, in order to be married at Mayfair Chapel.

'My father was at this time at Bath, and everything promised 
fair for the execution of our project. I had packed up what 
clothes I thought necessary for our journey, and William had 
provided a post-chaise at Manchester, whiether he took me 
behind him upon one of my father's horses.

'But though we succeeded thus far, our evil genius soon 
interfered. We met the squire upon the road. His jealousy was 
roused on perceiving us, as he had professed himself one of my 
admirers. He sent an express to my father, and when we got out 
of the chaise at Hyde Park Corner, we found ourselves 
surrounded with constables. To shorten this disagreeable part 
of my narrative, I was wrested from the only man I ever loved, 
brought back to my father's, when the alternative proposal was 
made me of either giving my hand to the squire, or 
sequestering myself from the world in a nunnery. You see the 
resolution I have made, and I doubt not have merited thereby 
your approbation.'



Chapter IV. 
Arrive at Calais--The design Maria has of returning to England 
without landing--Is prevailed upon to lay it aside--An 
uncommon adventure, and its consequences.

My heart, as yet a stranger to the tender passion, felt some 
emotions upon the relation of Miss Fleetwood's story; and 
though I had scarce attained my twelfth year, I began to think 
I was going to act a very unnatural part in secluding myself 
from the world, and particularly from that part of the 
creation who alone I began to imagine could confer real 
felicity.

'Ay, my dear Juliana,' said I, 'what a cruel tyranny are 
parents allowed to exercise towards us, according to their 
whims and caprices, without consulting our sentiments and 
dispositions! You might have been more happy with your dear 
Billy than if you had wedded an emperor. Titles and grandeur 
to not confer felicity, or those who possess them would not 
complain.'

A flood of tears gave testimony to the concurrence of our 
sentiments with mine. She was too deeply afflicted with the 
relation of her story, and my comment, to be able to answer me 
with words. But I perfectly understood her silent expression 
by my own feeling.

Whilst we were thus employed, we unexpectedly entered Calais 
harbour. Here was a new world opened to my view, a collection 
of figures and appearances I was utterly a stranger to. 
Everything seemed to me terrible, and it was with much 
difficulty I could be disposed to get on shore, having 
endeavoured to prevail on Miss Fleetwood to secrete ourselves 
in the hold of the vessel, that we might return with it. But 
her experience of the world, though not great, was far beyond 
mine; and she pointed out the many difficulties and dangers we 
had to surmount the execution of such a project, and the 
reception we should meet with from our relations and friends, 
in so lively and picturesque manner, that she soon convinced 
me of the little practicability there was of executing such a 
scheme with success.

Behold me now, for the first time, upon French ground, 
tormented with a thousand impertinent and frivolous questions 
by Customs-house officers and porters, and at length conducted 
to a dirty inn, which was reckoned the best in the whole town.

We were to remain here to the next night, as the coach would 
not be ready to set out for Douai till then. Whilst we were 
still at the inn, an adventure happened that was somewhat 
singular, and which, though it occurred fifteen years ago, I 
retain a perfect remembrance of.

A young gentleman, about eighteen years of age, came running 
into our apartment between nine and ten at night, in great 
consternation, saying, 'I am a dead man if you don't save me.' 
Such an unexpected declaration greatly surprised us. However, 
after our first emotions subsided, we began to enquire into 
the cause of so abrupt and unexpected a visit.

'Look you, ladies,' he replied, with great earnestness, 'if 
you have humanity enough to assist me in making my escape, you 
must do it speedily. I have not time to acquaint you with my 
story. All I can tell you in a few words is that the officers 
of the police are at my heels, and if they come up with me I 
should be broke alive. The packet is now going to sail for 
England, but I cannot get on board without being disguised, 
for orders have been sent to all the seaports for stopping my 
getting out of the kingdom. Without one of you will lend me 
your dress and name, I am a dead man.'

So earnest an address pleaded his cause effectually; and Miss 
Fleetwood, without asking his name or any question, 
immediately equipped him with one of her gowns and all the 
other apparatus of female dress, when having most sincerely 
thanked us for goodness, he set out, leaving his own clothes 
behind.

Though such a scene as a man's undressing before me would at 
any other time have greatly dashed me, the critical 
circumstances of the youth, and the impossibility there was of 
his doing it anywhere else, removed all those delicate notions 
upon his head, which I was naturally possessed of. I even 
assisted him in putting on his clothes, to make him appear as 
much like a female as possible. We were so successful in this 
respect that he embarked on board the packet without being 
discovered, and sailed for England with a fair wind.

He had not been gone above two hours before we were disturbed 
by the officers of the police, who came to search the inn, 
having information that he had taken refuge there. We made as 
many excuses as possible for not giving them admittance, but 
all to no purpose. They insisted upon entering, and the more 
desirous we were of preventing them the more strenuously they 
persisted in their demand. It was not, however, till they had 
begun to force open the door, and that we found all the 
pleadings of our sex and youth were of no avail, as we agreed 
to let them in as soon as we had dressed ourselves.

They searched the apartment, and soon discovered the young 
gentleman's clothes. The immediately suspected we had been 
instrumental in his escape, and we were, without further 
ceremony, taken before the governor, who upon examining us 
soon prevailed upon Miss Fleetwood to acknowledge all that 
passed. I was set at liberty, but she was put under arrest.

During her confinement I learned the particulars of the young 
gentleman's story. He was one of the Grey Musketeers, a 
remarkably handsome youth, and was therefore greatly caressed 
by the ladies of Versailles. He lived in great splendour and 
magnificence, and consequently expended large sums, which it 
was well known, he acquired by the beneficence of the fairer 
sex, in return for favours which he conferred upon them. His 
inamoratas were not, however, publicly known, though scandal 
often pointed them out. A farmer-general, whose wife made 
frequent calls upon him for considerable sums which she 
pretended she had lost at play, gave him, at length, suspicion 
that she must have some other method of disposing of money 
than ill success at cards. He employed emissaries, who 
discovered the intrigue that was carried on between his wife 
and the young musketeer. The financier was naturally of a 
jealous disposition. He had married at the lady out of pure 
love. She was of mean extraction, and had no fortune.

He repaired to the place of their rendezvous, resolving to 
make an example both of his wife and her gallant. He got into 
the chamber, and was an eyewitness of her perfidy. Rushing 
upon them sword in hand, while they were in this defenceless 
situation, they were both likely to fall a sacrifice to his 
revenge. But the young musketeer seized his sword, and having 
disengaged himself from the couch of Venus, he entered the 
field of Mars with such uncommon resolution and address that 
the farmer-general paid for his temerity with his life.

The musketeer had no time to lose after such an affair. As 
soon as he was dressed he took post for Calais, where he 
arrived only one hour before his pursuers. The lady was taken 
up and examined; but is appearing that she was no way 
accessory to the murder, she was set at liberty, without 
suffering any punishment other than the loss of her 
reputation.



Chapter V. 
Arrive at Douai--Their reception at the convent--The behaviour 
of the father--confessor to Miss Fleetwood and Maria--The 
great veneration that he is held in--An unfortunate discovery 
in the person of a nun--the event.

Miss Fleetwood remained confined upon the young musketeer's 
account near three weeks. It was not till she had sent over to 
England to her relations, and they had given satisfactory 
answers to the governor's doubts whether or no she was a 
relation or mistress of the young gentleman's, that she 
obtained her liberty. I sent an account of this affair to my 
Papa, and obtained leave to remain at Calais till such time as 
Juliana was able to renew the journey.

At length all formalities being observed, and Miss Fleetwood 
having received a very severe reprimand from the governor, she 
was released, and we departed from Calais for Douai where we 
arrived about any remarkable occurrence on the way.

Upon arrival at the convent, the Mother Abbess came to the 
gate to meet us and usher us in. She conducted us into the 
parlour, where she heaped compliments without number upon us. 
She told us we were the most agreeable young ladies she ever 
set eyes upon; that the sisterhood would be delighted in 
having so amiable an addition to their number, and she plainly 
saw we were designed for angels; that heaven had parcelled us 
out for its own; that we should find everything agreeable to 
our merits; and that there should be nothing wanting to render 
that holy seminary a delightful sanctuary.

We were next introduced to all the sisterhood, one by one, who 
were equally lavish in their praises. There was nothing at all 
disagreeable in this introduction. But when our father 
confessor was bought to us, the scene was greatly changed. He 
told us to prepare ourselves for confession next day, and 
having taken us separately aside, he bid me recollect all the 
sins I had been guilty of, or thought I could charge myself 
with.

At my first confession, the next day, after I had revealed 
everything I had done which appeared to me in the light of 
evil, he still persisted in this, that I must have been guilty 
of more sins; that is was impossible for any mortal to live so 
upright as I have described. He hinted crimes to me which I 
was entirely ignorant of and did not know their meaning; and 
at my departure, he muttered something about my being a 
hypocrite.

I could not help contrast in the behaviour of this Capuchin 
with the open frankness and honest good nature of Mr Fisher, 
who was always satisfied with what I told him, and was never 
desirous of extorting an acknowledgement of imaginary sins.

Miss Fleetwood had agreed with me to communicate to each other 
whatever happened during our stay there and though our father 
confessor enjoined us to the strictest secrecy with regard to 
what passed at confession, we considered our prior engagement 
of more weight than his menaces.

She therefore acquainted me with the manner of his behaviour 
to her, which was very different. For though she told him all 
that passed between Billy and her, and all the various 
agitations of her mind, he had appeared nowhere dissatisfied 
at her conduct, and seemed to lament that it was not in his 
power to make her happy. She added, he made use of those last 
words in so tender a manner, and accompanied them with so deep 
a sigh, that she could not believe the holy father was 
altogether so pious-minded as he ought to have been.

Father Jaquel, which was his name, was about forty years of 
age. He was rather low of stature and inclined to be plump, of 
a ruddy complexion, with a longish nose and black eyes, which 
he could render very expressive, at least in anger. By his 
public actions and words, everyone would have concluded him to 
be a saint. He was particularly abstemious in his common diet, 
and conversed upon no subjects but such as were scriptural. It 
was looked upon as the highest crime to hint anything to his 
prejudice, and every devotee appeared particularly sedulous to 
serve him.

He had been upwards of two years in the convent. This 
character remained always an ornament to his order; though by 
several discourses which had passed between him and Miss 
Fleetwood at confession, it was pretty plain that he had not 
entirely surmounted all the effects of carnality, when an 
affair happened that at once destroyed his pious reputation, 
and had nearly ruined all tranquillity in the convent.

Miss Fleetwood and I have remarked that the holy Father 
continued always a much longer time in confessing and giving 
absolution to one of our nuns, was name was Mademoiselle 
Fenelon, than any other of the order. We had more than once 
perceived him retire from her in great confusion, and 
Mademoiselle's head and tucker often appeared very much 
rumpled after these holy conferences. It would have been 
highly uncharitable to have supposed any harm had passed 
between them upon these pious occasions, and it would have 
been still more dangerous to have revealed such suppositions. 
However, at the end of this period, Miss Fenelon's waist 
appeared uncommonly large. She would readily have submitted to 
a dropsical complaint, but she had no symptoms but what the 
faculty could have accounted for upon more natural principles. 
She was nevertheless indulged in the belief that she was 
afflicted with this disorder, and proper remedies were 
prescribed for her. They all proved ineffectual, and the time 
for her being tapped now approached. Instead of the discharge 
of water, she produced two fine chopping boys.

She was taken ill at midnight. The neighbourhood was alarmed 
as well as the convent. It was a whimsical errand for a 
messenger to go upon: 'one of our nuns is in labour, and once 
your assistance immediately.' There was no mincing matters: a 
midwife must be had, and what other message could be 
delivered?

'The reputation of my house destroyed--the sanctity of my 
character ruined--virtuous minds turned astray--pious virgins 
led to vicious thoughts--and I myself, whose chastity has ever 
been untainted, to have such a spectacle before my eyes, nay, 
under my very nose; not only one, but even two at a time. Oh, 
monstrous!' Such were the lamentations of our worthy Mother 
Abbess, who seemed greatly afflicted indeed; but whether out 
of real piety for the loss of so pious a pastor as Father 
Jaquel, who had ere now absconded, I cannot pretend to 
determine. It must be acknowledged that her grief seemed to be 
blended with the spice of jealousy, as well as a Christian 
abhorrence for such shameful and scandalous conduct.



Chapter VI. 
Maria is called over to England upon the death of her father--
The affectionate leave she takes of Miss Fleetwood--Arrives in 
London--Meets her brothers--Her behaviour at the play--The 
patrimony she receives--An invitation from her mother, which 
she disregards--The dangerous insinuation of her aunt.

Such, then, was our situation in the convent, when news came 
of the death of my father. The executors of his will demanded 
my attendance in England as soon as possible; and having taken 
leave of the Mother Abbess and the rest of my companions, I 
set out to review my native country, after two years and a 
half's absence. Miss Fleetwood testified the greatest concern 
at parting with me, saying she should now be miserable indeed, 
as I had been her only consolation amidst all her heart-
breaking anxieties. There certainly was a sympathy of 
sentiments which our constant acquaintance, from our first 
meeting, had framed into something superior to friendship. It 
bordered upon love. To quit, then, the only object that had 
yet excited in me any notions that could be denominated by 
that passion, must have been the more dreadful to her, as her 
confinement was still to be continued, without a friend into 
whose bosom she could pour the secrets of her heart. Alas! I 
know too well what she must have felt by my own sensations.

I left the disconsolate Juliana in the Spring of the year 
1752, and for the first time saw the metropolis of England. 
This was a scene indeed for a girl who had been immured in a 
monastery from the time that reason first began to dawn. I met 
my brothers, whom I had not seen for nearly three years, 
having come to London upon the same errand as myself. Their 
religion, I have observed, precluded them employment in their 
native country, and they had therefore been compelled to seek 
it elsewhere. The eldest had obtained a commission in the 
Imperial service, and the younger in that of France. They had 
served during the preceding war in Flanders and Italy, and 
acquired some laurels in the two last campaigns. They 
expressed great satisfaction at meeting me, which I as 
sensibly returned.

While our testamentary business was settling, my brothers very 
kindly showed me all the public diversions. I had never seen a 
play before, when they took me to the celebrated tragedy of 
Romeo and Juliet. The representation of this piece could not 
fail very greatly affecting me, as, besides the characters and 
sentiments which must be highly interesting to a young mind, 
the funeral procession, in many respects similar to what I had 
been accustomed to, given such an era of reality, that my 
brothers said they were quite ashamed at my being so deeply 
affected. They told me it was a mark of great rusticity to be 
touched at any incidents of a theatrical representation; that 
people of taste paid them not the least regard; but, on the 
contrary, in the midst of the most tender scenes, they would 
be entertaining one another with a loud whisper, or allowed a 
laugh.

I acknowledge that I might have been guilty of a mark of 
unpoliteness in giving vent to the grief those interesting 
scenes excited; but that at the same time I can see that those 
people of supposed taste were not only guilty of ill-manners 
in disturbing the rest of the audience, which proved 
themselves insensible to everything that was sublime and 
beautiful.

Though my brothers were not averse to acknowledge the 
rectitude of this reasoning, they were such avowed slaves to 
ridiculous custom that I could never prevail upon them to 
attend me again to a tragedy. However, we went to more 
comedies than one, and whilst the business which they came to 
England upon lasted, they treated me with great fraternal 
regard and seemed particularly anxious for my welfare.

Their leave of absence was now expired and they were obliged 
to return to their respective corps. By the regulation of my 
father's will, after his legal debts were paid, a bequest of 
two hundred and fifty pounds fell to my lot. My brothers 
received five hundred pounds each, and my mother had a small 
annuity secured to her for life, with which she subsisted 
decently, not elegantly, in Lancashire. This was the 
disposition of all our family fortune, and with this small 
stipend I was to make my way in the world as a gentlewoman and 
a woman of character.

My brothers were very desirous before their departure for the 
continent to see me settled in some manner whereby I might 
gain a genteel livelihood; but the shortness of their stay in 
England prevented their affecting their design. It is true, my 
mother wrote to me with entreaties to come to her, where, by 
our mutual economy, we might contrive to pass an agreeable 
life upon the produce of our joint stock. I may attribute all 
my misfortunes to not paying proper attention to this 
proposal. I too eagerly swallowed the sweetened flattery of an 
aunt, at whose house I lodged, who persuaded me I should 
certainly make my fortune in London, where my narrow 
circumstances were not known; but that if I returned to 
Lancashire, where our family poverty has been so completely 
manifested, I could not expect anyone would look upon me for a 
wife, or esteem me as an acquaintance; that London was the 
only market for beauty, and that a prudent, sensible girl like 
me, who had so good an education, and was mistress of so many 
charms, could not fail very shortly of meeting with a man 
suitable to her most sanguine wishes.

These sentiments were so entirely agreeable to my own way of 
thinking that I could not be persuaded they were unjust. 
Little did I then consider self-interest was the principal 
motive of my aunt's broaching this doctrine. She told me I was 
now arrived at woman's age, though I was scarce fifteen, and 
it was time for me to think of settling in the world; that in 
the choice of a husband, I should not so much consider beauty, 
or even youth, as that great palliative of all evils, money; 
but I must not expect to meet with all those fine romantic 
ideas of a lover, which I had perhaps suggested to myself, in 
a husband; that, if he were not old or ugly, so much the 
better, but the main thing was to find out one that was rich; 
and she generally ended with the passage out of Garth's 
prologue to Cato, and which, I believe, was the only scrap of 
poetry she ever read, or at least retained:
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix; 
'Tis best repenting in a coach and six.

This was a favourite sentiment of hers, and which she took 
great pains to inculcate in me.

Though I was thoroughly of opinion that I was a very proper 
woman, and very fit to be married, yet I could not help 
shuddering with horror at the thoughts of wedding age and 
infirmity. To clasp disease with my arms, methought was 
shocking to nature and reason.



Chapter VII. 
Maria's progress in the Beau Monde--A description of her 
person --Her first conquest, with a curious epistle--Her 
behaviour thereupon, and her aunt's judicious observations.

My worthy aunt took particular and early care to let me know 
that a girl's fortune in London depended in a great measure 
upon the figure and appearance she made, and that therefore I 
should think of furnishing myself with some genteel and 
fashionable clothes, at the same time intimating that I'd 
scarce a gown that was fit to wear, as I had outgrown all my 
things that were made in the English taste, and as to my 
French ones they were abominable. By this means she put me to 
about thirty pounds expense for three new sacks, and so 
completely disgusted me at my old ones that with very little 
persuasion she became the proprietor of them. I could not 
help, however, observing that though they looked so frightful 
upon me, they appeared quite different when upon her and that 
she considered them as the very best of her whole wardrobe.

The great object she pointed out to me was the necessity of my 
appearing in public places, that I might be seen and talked 
about; for it was a maxim with her that the finest woman in 
England who shut herself up, could never think of having 
admirers. 'And besides,' she would add, 'if you want to become 
the reigning toast, you may command a coronet, for the men, in 
their choice, do not mind so much what they themselves think 
of a woman, as what the world thinks of her.'

There was no occasion for such strong stimulatives to prompt 
me to follow the paths of pleasure. I had myself as much 
delight in going to the park, the play, or Vauxhall, as she 
could possibly have instilled into me with all her reasoning 
and logic. It is true her argument seemed to me additional 
incentives, and I thought I must be in the right road when I 
had the advice and applause of a woman of so much experience, 
and so near a relation. Upon this plan, then, we seldom missed 
an evening but what we were at some public diversion or other. 
A young girl, a fresh object in the gay world, well-dressed, 
fails not of some observers. It will not be astonishing, then, 
to think I attracted the attention of more than one, when the 
following picture of myself, at this time, I do sincerely 
think was a just one.

Nature seemed in some measure to anticipate my days of 
maturity, for though I was but in my fifteenth year, I had 
every appearance of a woman. I was already above the middle 
stature, with a fair skin, clear sparkling black eyes, a well-
shaped nose, pouting ruby lips, regular white teeth, and an 
agreeable dimple in my cheek. My hair was of a dark brown, 
which flowed in ringlets down a neck that was taper and well-
shaped; an easy fall of the shoulders took off, in some 
degree, from the plumpness before, which is uncommon at my 
age. My shape was not remarkably slender but proportioned to 
my body, and my legs and feet, which were particularly 
genteel, received grace from an easy unaffected air I was 
naturally possessed of. My hand and arm, already formed, were 
of the number of those which painters so attentively imitate.

The reader will perhaps be inclined to think I am rather vain 
of my person. I might have been so at the age I am speaking 
of, but I have no vestiges of that folly remaining, so that I 
may now be supposed to speak without prejudice. It is observed 
that we always talk most awkwardly about ourselves, especially 
when it relates to anything that may be considered as a 
perfection. I shall therefore give a transcript of the first 
love letter I ever received, which might not only to 
contribute to the opinion I entertained of my charms, as it 
paints me in a much more beautiful form than I have attempted 
to draw myself:

Most beauteous maid, 
	I know not from what clime thou art borrowed, or 
whether we owe thee to celestial parents. But thou art 
certainly the most enchanting creature that eyes ever 
beheld. It is now a fortnight since I have paid attention 
to any other object but yourself. I have been all this 
time studying to discover in thee some imperfection--but 
how vain, how fruitless have been my endeavours? Every 
time I gaze, fresh charms rush upon me before 
undiscovered. Venus and the Graces are odious comparisons 
when you appear. For heaven's sake, if you have any 
charity, study to make yourself less handsome, or teach 
me somehow to deserve such incomparable beauty. Alas! 
What do I say? I rave. Is it possible for a wretch like 
me to imagine you would throw away a thought upon the 
miserable 
Lothario

This letter is wrote in the true style of romance, and there 
is nothing wanting to make one believe that Lothario felt all 
the anguish he expressed, but that he did not tag a single 
couplet to it. A lover must be a poet by instinct; madrigals 
and sonnets are the only pure language of Cytherea. A true 
lover should do nothing like another man; a serenade should 
serve them for sleep; he should fast out of passion, rhyme out 
of sentiment and die out of fondness. What a pity it is 
Lothario could not tag a couplet or two. Nay, had he borrowed 
it, and only said

A general doom on all mankind is passed, 
And all are fools and lovers first or last. 
[John Dryden, The Humourist, Essay 13 ]

I certainly should have believed him, as never thought of him 
without ruminating upon his character--I mean that of a lover. 
But for a man to dangle after you from public place to public 
place, grow wan staring at you, keep time to the music with 
his sighs, without having the effrontery to tell you, 'you're 
the finest woman in all Christendom,' though by-the-by he was 
never out of England--but, at the end of a fortnight, to write 
you a melancholy ditty, and say, 'I am the unhappy Lothario,' 
does not he deserve to be treated just in the manner I treated 
him--that is, having his letter returned by the bearer, after 
having taken a copy of it? This, it must be owned, was highly 
necessary, or else how the deuce could I have remembered it?

How easy it is to write when one scribbles upon a pleasing 
subject! I have run through three pages, and scarce know where 
I am, and I only set out in giving a description of Miss Maria 
Brown in her fifteenth year. But as we have gone so far, it is 
time to change the subject, and think what sort of a creature 
this same strange Lothario might be.

He was a man about thirty, tall and well made, seemed 
passionately fond of music before he became so passionately 
fond of me. He never missed an opera nor an oratorio, took his 
seat on the Orchestra and Vauxhall, and as constantly placed 
himself next the rails at Ranelagh. He seldom sauntered in the 
Park, till I drew him from the Royal exchange to St James's in 
the forenoon. In a word, he was a opulent merchant, and might 
have made an excellent husband, if I possessed more prudence 
and less coquetry.

When I read the letter to my aunt, she said the man was 
certainly out of his mind, and she would by no means of any of 
her family unite with lunatics. There was no consideration, 
she added, could be equivalent to bringing a race of mad folks 
into the world, and that in this respect it was full as bad as 
the evil.



Chapter VIII. 
A modern character in the person of Dorimont--his passions and 
afflictions--Maria is rivalled a new-fashioned negligee.

Though my youth and ignorance in the real estimation of 
mankind prevented my thinking seriously upon such as suitor as 
Lothario, I was not insensible of the great estimation in 
which I seemed to be held by fops and danglers. My worthy aunt 
had more reasons than one for dissuading me to think of 
Lothario. Though the advancing of my interest was the 
pretended motive for acting upon the present recreative plan, 
yet her own advantage was what she had really at heart. And as 
my purse bore all the weight, she very judiciously conceived 
that the sooner I married the sooner she would be precluded 
from my assistance, especially if I was to wed a man of sense 
and discernment sufficient to see into her real designs. She 
conceived if I married a beau or a fool, he might be persuaded 
to believe that she had all along acted the parent's part, and 
that it would still be for my own advantage to remain under so 
good and experienced a tutoress. For these reasons I never had 
a single thing said to me by the butterflies of the day, but 
she advised me to listen to so genteel a man, so polite a 
person, so elegant a fellow. A girl's natural vanity and 
fondness of dress and parade are alone sufficient incentives 
for her to consider those heterogeneous animals in a point of 
light very different from what they merit. The sanction this 
disposition received from my gouvernante, made me conceive I 
was in terrestrial Elysium every time a powdered puppy told 
me, with an unmeaning face, that I was the sweetest creature 
he had ever seen.

Dorimont, that compendium of perfumery, who spoke only to hear 
his own sweet voice, smiled only to display his dimple, and 
laughed only to manifest the whiteness of his teeth; the 
unmeaning, insignificant, odoriferous Dorimont was a professed 
suitor of mine. He was enamoured, because it was the fashion 
to be in love; but this passion never exceeded the bounds of 
the most insipid delicacy, of the most unmeaning chastity. He 
would fain have had the world believe he was a happy man, but 
he was not desirous of taking the trouble to being so. The 
summit of Dorimont's bliss was to be considered a favourite of 
the ladies. Did they but smile upon him at the play, or ogle 
him at Ranelagh--oh! The happy, too happy Dorimont! A new 
toast no sooner made her appearance than he contrived some 
method of being introduced to her; and he was sure to be the 
first man that was seen with her t�te-�-t�te in public. All 
his faculties were confined to studying the means of procuring 
these desirable ends; and it must be acknowledged to his 
credit that his success was equal to his industry.

Dorimont was a great favourite of my aunt's. She had prevailed 
upon him to believe she was a very sensible woman, had seen 
much of the world, kept the best company and had always been 
esteemed for her politeness and agreeable conversation. This 
favourable opinion which Dorimont entertained of my aunt made 
her, by a certain reciprocity of sentiment, entertain very 
favourable notions of Dorimont, who in her eyes was the 
accomplished gentleman, a perfect master of good breeding, has 
an excellent test for address, and most engaging manner and, 
above all, was a complete judge of mankind. What could be more 
endearing than all these accomplishments in a husband? But the 
misfortune was, he never opened his lips upon the score of 
matrimony, or indeed a tender passion, except is where to tell 
me that he should be the most miserable wretch alive if I 
refused him the happiness of my hand--to Ranelagh.

My aunt would fain have had him more explicit upon these 
heads, and often urged him to come to an �claircissement.<156> 
But how can a man explain his meaning, when he has none? All 
his passions centred in dress, parade, and vanity. He was an 
utter stranger to all impure ideas of carnality. He was in 
love, it was true; but then it was not with my person--but my 
negligee. He was always captivated with a woman in proportion 
to her dress--and I lost my lover, because Miss D---- appeared 
at night in Ranelagh in the last new fashioned silk, which I 
was not mistress of.



Chapter IX. 
Maria's revenge upon Dorimont--Her triumph--Her aunt's 
remonstrances, with some small insight into the characters of 
Captain T---- and Sir Thomas B----.

I would readily have forgiven Miss D---- for having made so 
valuable a conquest, had her success been owing to her beauty, 
and not her dress. But it was a mortifying consideration to 
see myself slighted for a beldam that might have been my 
mother, without even the vestige of a good feature, as a 
remnant of antiquated charms. I was resolved to supply 
Dorimont's loss, and to convince him how much superior I was 
to my rival, as well in dress as person. Though the expense of 
a new sack was what I could ill-afford at this juncture, my 
vanity, seconded by my aunt's approbation, made me resolve 
upon outshining Miss D---- the very next night she appeared at 
Ranelagh.

I have scarce entered the amphitheatre, before I was accosted 
by two gentlemen with whom I had drank tea there, in company 
with Dorimont. Their persons and appearance were perhaps the 
most elegant in the place, so that, considering the pains I 
had taken to sparkle, we made one of the most striking groups 
in the place. Dorimont had accompanied Miss D---- in her own 
coach. We met him at the very first round, he made a very low 
bow, and I turned my head aside. He blushed and looked 
extremely confused, but still imputed my inattention to 
oversight; so that, whilst the next song was singing, he came 
close to me and asked me, in a loud whisper, whether I 
intended to captivate every man in the place? 'For the very 
ladies say that you never looked so handsome before.' I 
replied I was very much obliged to the ladies, and 
particularly Miss D----, who was doubtless a very great judge 
of beauty as she had studied it so long. This I pronounce it 
so audible voice that no one within some yards could avoid 
hearing; which produced so general a titter that poor Dorimont 
did not attempt to say any more bright things that evening, 
but joined Miss D----, who had heard the compliment I paid 
her, with all imaginable precipitation.

This triumph over that consummate coxcomb did not a little 
gratify my spleen. Captain T---- said he would certainly hang 
himself if he could muster up courage enough; and Sir Thomas 
B---- offered a hundred guineas to ten that he would never be 
able to show his face again at Ranelagh. The truth is that 
neither Dorimont nor Mrs D---- were any more visible that 
evening. And the next day, so strongly did the draught 
operate, a letter was published in one of the daily papers, 
remonstrating against the 'ill-behaviour' of certain ladies in 
public places. Captain T---- took upon himself to answer it, 
and depicted in so lively a manner the character of the author 
that Dorimont was obliged to go into the country for three 
months, to the irreparable loss of the ladies and the great 
diminution of his conquests, to avoid being pointed at for the 
author of 'remonstrances to the ladies.'

My vanity and self-importance were greatly magnified by these 
coquettish victories, and it cannot be at all surprising that 
I should imagine I could at any time command the first 
nobleman in England, if I set seriously about it. But this, I 
thought, it would be time enough to do when I had committed a 
little more slaughter with my charms. My aunt was, however, of 
a very different way of thinking. She conceived that I was 
very much to blame not to bring every man who said a similar 
thing to me to an �claircissement. <156> In this respect her 
prudence could not be condemned, as she foresaw, without 
extending her views were very distant prospect, the entire 
annihilation of my fortune by continuing the route we had now 
pursued for about eighteen months.

'Polly,' said she to me one morning, 'I do not at all approve 
of carrying your severity to that pitch, with regard to the 
men--you're already slighted about half a dozen good parties 
that I am pretty certain you might have made sure of, had you 
played your cards right. You should strike whilst the iron is 
hot. When Fortune knocks be sure to open the door. You have, 
by your cruelty, drove Dorimont into the country--that 
Dorimont who might have made you so good a husband. He was a 
man, if I had any judgement of the world, whom you might have 
fashioned to your own liking. You might have made him think as 
you please, and act as you chose. Besides, he had a good 
fortune, and was very much of a gentleman.'

I could not help interrupting her here: 'Indeed, aunt,' said 
I, 'his fortune could not be very great, or else he always 
behaved in a very scrubby manner. For, if you observed, he 
constantly let us pay for ourselves whenever we went to a 
public place with him; and if he accompanied us in a coach, he 
contrived to frame some excuse for leaving us to come back by 
ourselves, that he might avoid bearing the expense of our 
return. And with regard to his being very much of the 
gentleman, I'm sorry to find your notions of gentility are 
confined to such beings--such reptiles as Dorimont.'

'Well,' resumed my aunt, 'it is needless to talk any more 
about him--good or bad, he is gone, and it is in vain to 
repine. But here is the Captain, who has been dangling after 
you these three months, and I do not find you are an hour 
nearer bringing him to an explanation than you were the very 
first night you met him at Ranelagh. Besides, if you do not 
like the captain, who has been dangling after your these three 
months, though to be sure he is very handsome, and quite the 
gentleman, there is Sir Thomas B----. He is rich enough to 
make you a genteel settlement. I warrant he would think 
nothing of five or six hundred a year for pin-money, keep you 
a sedan, a man out of livery for yourself, and everything you 
could desire. Then you might be of some little service to your 
friends that wish you well, without hurting yourself.'

'But, dear aunt,' said I, interrupting her, 'can I force the 
men to explain themselves? I should have no manner of 
objection to the Captain, but I'm afraid he has got little 
more than his pay. As to the Knight, to be sure, I should like 
him above all things; a title is what I have always aimed at. 
But he has never yet so much as hinted at matrimony--and after 
all, I am yet but very young. I may perhaps meet with 
something better than either of these.'

When we had got thus far in our dialogue, we were interrupted 
by a rat-tat at the door, and a sedan chair, from whence 
issued a gentleman who had done me the honour of his hand the 
night before at a private ball, and who now did me the honour 
of waiting upon me to tea.



Chapter X. 
Some account of Maria's new lover--The advances he makes, and 
her behaviour and thereupon--A dialogue of courtship, very 
proper to be read by all young ladies would think they may 
ever be in the same situation.

Mr Fitzherbert, my present visitor, was a native of Ireland. 
But he had entirely divested himself of any peculiarity in his 
discourse or pronunciation which most frequently distinguish 
the natives of that country. He was about five and twenty 
years of age, tall and genteel and handsome. He passed for a 
man of very considerable fortune and presumptive heir to a 
coronet. Such recommendations as these could not fail having 
their influence over me, more especially as he seemed by 
nature designed to charm our sex. He had the happy art of 
always pleasing in conversation, also suiting his discourse to 
the company, and ever furnishing something new and 
entertaining. But though these talents in general company made 
him constantly agreeable and desired, they were greatly 
eclipsed when put in competition with his t�te-�-t�te 
conversations, when he seemed to unite everything that could 
charm and delight. He applauded without the appearance of 
flattery; he captivated without appearing emulous of conquest.

Such, then, was Mr Fitzherbert, who now paid me his first 
visit, which was very short but which was very soon repeated, 
and which from being ceremonial soon became familiar. He would 
drop in at breakfast, take a dinner and sometimes stay to 
supper. He seemed to look upon himself already as one of the 
family, and took every opportunity of declaring his 
friendship. But still not a word of love occurred. It was full 
two months before he opened his lips upon this theme. I almost 
despaired that he would ever declare himself, when one 
afternoon, whilst he was sitting by me and I was at work, he 
broke forth with a sigh, which I could not help responding to, 
though at the same time I asked him the cause of his grief.

'My dear Miss,' said he, 'why do you ask me so perplexing a 
question? At this very time I am the happiest man in Europe--
that sigh did not flow from grief, but from joy, which could 
be no other ways expressed.'

'Indeed,' I replied, 'it is very extraordinary that joy should 
demonstrate itself in so very doleful a manner'.

'But pray, Miss,' said he, interrupting me, 'upon what 
occasion did you give vent to some discontent, if such must be 
the cause of sighing?'

This question did not a little disconcert me. However, I had 
presence of mind sufficient to say that my father, who was one 
of the tenderest parents, had just come into my head.

'Upon my word,' replied he, hastily, 'I should rather have 
imagined you had been thinking of a lover.'

In saying this he caught hold of my hand, and kissed it with 
greater rapture.

My aunt entered at this instant, which I was very glad of, as 
it saved me some confusion, though my face was pretty well 
covered with blushes. Tea was now prepared, and we had no 
opportunity of coming to any further explanation that 
afternoon.

The next day, however, he took an opportunity of awaiting upon 
me in the absence of my aunt. 'My dear life,' said he, in 
entering, 'I am come to make a tender to you of a virgin heart 
that has not yet been caught with the wiles of love. Will you 
accept of it with as much sincerity as I offer it?'

'Upon my word, Sir,' said I, 'you quite astonish me with such 
a declaration. I do not know what answer to make.'

'Shall I dictate to you?' resumed he. 'Only say that you will 
accept my offer, and I am completely happy. I will not pretend 
to ask yours in return. That would be too much presumption, 
till such time as I have, in your opinion, merited it.'

'Indeed, sir,' I replied, 'you talk to me in a language that I 
am an utter stranger to--this may be very fashionable and 
elegant, but to an innocent, ignorant girl like me, it is 
absolutely thrown away upon her.'

'Oh! My Maria,' said he, 'if you treat me in this coquettish 
manner, I am quite undone. Lay aside that vanity and insolence 
of your sex, and be a rational creature. Do you consider that 
I am this moment upon the rack, and that every evasion you 
make is but an additional torture?' He uttered these last 
words with so much seeming sincerity, and accompanied them so 
opportunely with a flood of tears, but I could not refrain 
joining concert in his affliction.

When I had somewhat recovered myself, and wiped away the tears 
I endeavoured to hide, 'What would you ask of me?' said I.

'Only whether or not you completely hate me?' he replied.

'If it will give you any satisfaction,' I answered, 'to tell 
you I do not, that I readily will.'

'But,' said he, 'do you think you could prevail upon yourself 
to conceive one favourable thought in my behalf?'

'I have no reason,' said I, 'to entertain any other.'

'But then,' said he, taking hold of my hand gently, 'do you 
think I might ever share any part of your esteem?'

'Indeed Sir,' I replied, 'I esteem every gentleman that 
behaves as such.'

'So then,' said he, 'I find I only participate in general the 
benevolence you extend to all mankind. Do you think I can 
never hope to engage one small quarter of your heart, after I 
have so frankly yielded you all mine?'

'Indeed, Sir, it is difficult,' I said, 'for me so young to 
judge of my future sentiments; but I must acknowledge I like 
you as well as any gentleman I ever saw.'

'Then, my angel,' said he, 'you have made me happy. If I have 
no rival, I may hope, by perseverance, and a full 
demonstration of the extent of my passion, to merit some 
particular regard in your eye.'

This was the substance of this conversation. And he left me, 
after having made the most solemn declaration that never yet 
had any female made the least impression upon his heart, but 
that he found the complete conquest was left for me, whose 
transcendent charms no man could dare resist.

Upon my aunt's return, she was very inquisitive to know what 
had passed between me and Mr Fitzherbert, and whether nearly 
yet come to any terms? Whether he had yet appointed the day 
for our nuptials? But above all other had he yet made me any 
present? I told her, in answer, that he had said many civil 
things to me; but that there were such as every pretty woman 
ought to expect from a man with whom she is t�te-�-t�te. This 
information was no way satisfactory to my aunt; for she said I 
should now profit of the opportunity before his passion 
cooled, as he might perhaps meet with some other that he might 
think handsomer, or like better. I did not pretend to dispute 
with her any of these points, though in my opinion I fancied I 
had so perfectly riveted him that there could be no danger of 
a rival.

I retired early to rest, yet I got but very little sleep that 
night. I scarce close my eyes for reflecting upon what Mr 
Fitzherbert had said to me. I found he had made a complete 
conquest of my heart. And yet there was something misgave me, 
that he did not mean honourably by me; and I was resigned to 
have an explanation from him of this matter the first time he 
renewed his conversation on the score of love.



Chapter XI. 
The rupture between Maria and Mr Fitzherbert--His letter upon 
the occasion--Their reconciliation--The approach of their 
nuptials, and the preparation she makes.

My lover was as constant to his hour 
As the dial to the sun, 
Although it be not shone upon. 
[Samuel Butler, Hudibras Part III Canto 2 l.174-176 ]

He renewed his addresses and pressed me hard to make a tender 
of my heart, and I plucked up courage enough to ask him upon 
what terms?

'The most honourable in the world.' he replied.

'Why, then, so,' said I, 'you may take what steps you please 
to convince me of your sincerity.'

He seemed somewhat disconcerted as this unexpected reply, and 
during the rest of his visit the conversation turned entirely 
upon indifferent things. The next day however he renewed the 
subject of his passion, saying that now he was the happiest 
man in the world, and he considerably already as his better 
part, 'for after mutual consent,' said he, 'all the rest is 
mere ceremony.'

'How, Sir,' said I, 'do you look upon the holy institution of 
marriage as mere ceremony that may be dispensed with whenever 
our inclination may prompt us to consider it in that light?'

'My dear,' says he, 'read Scripture, and you will see our 
forefathers considered it entirely in this light, and I do not 
suppose we can pretend to be better than them. Besides,' said 
he, 'there are so many obstacles now to surmount, and so many 
disagreeable steps to be taken, since the Marriage Act has 
passed, that all sensible people are entirely of opinion that 
it is only putting so much money in the priest's pocket to 
publish three weeks beforehand to all the parish that on such 
a night a girl is to lose her virginity.'

His conversation did not little alarm me, and I left him in an 
abrupt manner, saying that since I found he and I differed so 
much in essentials, it was time we should discontinue our 
acquaintance. He would fain have prevented my going, but all 
his efforts were ineffectual, and I retired to my chamber, 
where I gave a full vent to my grief in a flood of tears. My 
aunt found me in this situation, and desired to know the 
reason. To this I answered in general, that I believed Mr 
Fitzherbert had no good intentions towards me. She asked me if 
he had offered me any rudeness. To this I replied in the 
negative; but added I was certain, by the tenor of his 
discourse, that he had no design of making me his wife. Whilst 
we were thus canvassing Mr Fitzherbert's late behaviour, a 
chairman brought a letter from him, which is written as an 
adjacent coffeehouse, and which was nearly to the following 
purport:

George's Coffee-house, 
	Tuesday afternoon.

My dear Miss, 
	I am extremely sorry that you should have taken 
anything amiss which occurred in our conversation this 
afternoon. If you form any bad opinion of me therefrom 
you are much to blame, for what I said I did not deliver 
as my sentiments, but what might be urged on the occasion 
by any indifferent person. I beg you will not think me 
any way culpable for offering what accidentally escaped 
from me without the least design of displeasing. If I 
have, however, offended you, prescribe the terms of my 
atonement, and I will readily submit to them. A general 
recantation of my errors, if you are of opinion that I 
ever adopted any, I am very ready to make, and to assure 
you by the most solemn vows how much I am, and more than 
is possible for words to express, 
My dear angel, 
Your most devoted servant, 
G. Fitzherbert.

My eyes were too much involved in sorrow to be able to peruse 
this epistle. So that my aunt, to whom I consigned it, having 
put on her spectacles, read it aloud, but not without making 
comments upon every passage, and concluding the whole with 
saying, 'this man can never mean aught but honourable, for you 
have it under his hand, so that you need be under no 
apprehensions.'

In this manner did my discerning aunt buoy me up with hopes, 
and prevail upon me to readmit his visits, though I was very 
far from being convinced of the sincerity of his intentions 
from this letter.

He appeared with seeming great contrition in his countenance 
upon his next visit, saying he was convinced he had been in 
the wrong in asserting what he had done, but that they were 
far from his sentiments upon that subject, as he would have 
convinced me if I had given him time; but that I bounced away 
from him in such a hurry, and in such a heat, that there was 
no such thing as setting anything to rights.

I told him, in return, that I was very glad to find he was not 
of that way of thinking, and that it was upon that 
consideration only that I admitted him again to visit me, as 
what he said must have alarmed every woman of the virtuous 
disposition, without the least regard to a gentleman's 
addresses.

In this manner was our reconciliation brought about, my aunt 
observing in her usual trite proverbial style, that the 
quarrel of lovers was the renewal of love. He said he should 
procure a special licence, and absolutely fixed upon a date 
for our nuptials. My time was employed in preparing my bridal 
clothes and I spared no expense upon the occasion, as I 
thought it would be paying my husband a compliment to appear 
as elegant as possible in quality of Mrs Fitzherbert.



Chapter XII. 
She is persuaded against her inclination to go with 
Fitzherbert to a ball--Takes her to a tavern near Soho--They 
wait for the company, who never come--Repeated expedients are 
used to fail upon her to stay--He puts laudanum into her 
liquor, which brings on an involuntary sleep, when he 
deflowers her of her virginity.

While things were in this situation, he came one afternoon in 
a great hurry and told me he had received from a friend of his 
two tickets for a ball, which was to consist of nothing but 
the genteelest and most elegant company, particularly of the 
female kind, otherwise he would not propose the party to me. I 
had been running about all that day from milliners to mercers, 
and from mercers to mantua-makers, and was so fatigued that 
the thoughts of dancing were sufficient to make me resolve 
upon retiring to rest. I therefore pleaded this excuse, and 
begged he would compliment some other lady with his ticket and 
his hand; but he could not think such a thing as long as I was 
in being, and entreated me not to refuse him so small a 
favour. I still persevered, however, in not going, till my 
aunt joined in persuasion with him, and made use of all the 
arguments in her power, whispering to me that I should not 
refuse Mr Fitzherbert any reasonable request, as things were 
present situated. This last argument had more force than all 
the rest, and at length, much against my inclination, I agreed 
to accompany him.

Upon arrival at the place where the ball was fixed upon, he 
enquired with the waiter for several gentleman by name, and 
was answered that were not yet come, so that we were shown 
into a room to wait for their arrival. Though this was the 
first time in my life that I was ever in a tavern with a man 
alone, I had not the least apprehension of danger, as I 
considered myself at present with no other than my husband; so 
that I readily consented to drink a glass of wine, and 
appeared as cheerful as the occasion required.

An hour elapsed in this manner before any of our expected 
companions arrived, and I began to testify some apprehensions 
that we should be disappointed, and to signify that it were 
better we returned. But he appeared very positive there could 
be no disappointment, as the persons who invited him were to 
be at all the expense, which arose from some wagers that had 
been lost in that house a few evenings before, and that the 
money was already deposited in the landlord's hands. 
'Besides,' added he, 'if they do not come, I think we have a 
right to partake of the regale for the trouble we have taken.'

This last assertion I did not altogether admire, as I imagine 
it looked as if he was already reconciled to a supper without 
a dance, and I now pressed him more than ever to go. He 
repeatedly rang the bell to enquire if any of the gentleman 
had come yet, and he was constantly answered in the negative.

We had already drank a bottle of champagne, and I began to 
find my head somewhat giddy, which made me resolutely refuse 
touching another glass, though he greatly importuned me; and I 
ordered the waiter to call me a coach, as I was fearful my 
giddiness might increase.

Some expedient was now necessary to make me stay. The waiter 
returned and said there was never a coach upon the stand. I 
then ordered a chair, but the same difficulty presented itself 
in this respect, and I found myself under the disagreeable 
necessity of either walking home in the midst of a heavy rain, 
dressed as I was, or staying till such time as the waiter 
thought proper to procure a conveyance.

Whilst I remained in this disagreeable situation a card was 
brought Mr Fitzherbert, intimating that one of the ladies who 
was to have been present was taken suddenly ill and that the 
dance was postponed till another opportunity. This message had 
its desired effect. I began to pity the lady, though I knew 
nothing of her, and was easily persuaded to be seated, when an 
elegant cold collation coming in, Mr Fitzherbert insisted upon 
my eating, saying it would do my head good; and in this 
expectation I ate a wing of a fowl, and drank some small beer.

Supper was scarce taken away before such an uncommon 
drowsiness came over me as I never before experienced. All my 
endeavours to keep awake were ineffectual, and in a few 
minutes I was overwhelmed with sleep. Oh that this had been 
the sleep of death, never to have waked again! But, alas! I 
was brought back to life and shame by the cruel efforts of 
this perfidious man to rob me of woman's most precious jewel!

The soporific drafts which he had so treacherously imposed 
upon me had now lost their force--the situation I was in too 
sensibly affected me to let even laudanum operate. My screams, 
my outcries, were all in vain--the deed was done, and it was 
but little consolation to upbraid him with the appellation of 
villain, monster and barbarian! He threw himself at my feet 
and protested that he had struggled against nature, reason 
became too weak--that I was so enchantingly beautiful as I 
slumbered, that an anchorite might have been pardoned for his 
crime. 'Besides,' continued he, 'my dear Maria, are you not my 
wife? Will not eight and forty hours consecrate you mine by 
all laws human and divine? I have but just tasted of that 
delicious food, which has given a greater edge to my appetite, 
and I should think every moment an age, till the delectable 
banquet is served in form.'

Tears were now my only reply, whilst he endeavoured by every 
sophisticated argument to persuade me that he was infinitely 
more enamoured with me than ever. 'Your face,' he said, 'it is 
true, has irresistible charm--but those beauties which I have 
just explored, are what most eminently entitle you to a 
superiority over the rest of your sex:

Where am I? Surely paradise is round me! 
Sweets planted by the hand of heaven grow here, 
And every sense is full of thy protection. 
To hear thee speak might calm a madman's frenzy, 
Till by attention he forgot his sorrows. 
To touch thee, that's heaven--but too enjoy thee, 
Oh! Thou nature's whole perfection in one piece, 
Sure in framing thee heaven took unusual care, 
Like its own beauty it designed thee fair, 
And formed thee by the best loved angel there. 
[Thomas Otway, The Orphan, or The Unhappy Marriage, Act 
II ]

'Pardon my rapture, my life, but nothing but the words of that 
inimitable poet could express the amazing sensations I have 
just felt.'



Chapter XIII. 
Maria is prevailed upon to acquiesce to his entreaties by the 
solemn promise he makes of marriage--Her disappointment--The 
effect it has upon her health.

It was near three in the morning before we returned, but the 
hour gave my aunt no suspicion of what had passed. And he had 
so completely persuaded me that was for my honour and future 
happiness to keep it an entire secret, that I was resolved not 
to divulge it. He returned the next day and brought me a ring, 
which he told me would unite us for ever. He put it on, 'and 
now,' said he, 'my angel, I hope you're persuaded of my 
sincerity. All your apprehensions must now vanish, as I do 
hereby declare you my wife in the face of heaven and earth; 
and tomorrow's Sun shall witness my vows before the altar.'

I must own that he uttered this with so much solemnity, and 
appeared so perfectly blessed with what had passed the 
preceding night, that he at length persuaded me there could be 
no crime in the repetition.

Here, perhaps, in the eyes of the scrupulously virtuous, I was 
an accessory to his guilt. And though I might before have 
conscientiously pleaded his treachery for having robbed me of 
my virginity, as I now voluntarily made the sacrifice of my 
chastity, I can no longer urge my innocence or claim 
protection at the altar of virtue. But, alas! When it is 
considered that I was now entirely at his mercy, and that 
methought prudence told me I should not take any step that 
might give him the least disgust, I imagined it would be 
acting contrary to my interest, and that I should in some 
measure be instrumental in my own ruin, if I refused him 
anything he asked. The reasoning of the girl of seventeen upon 
such an occasion, added to the importunity of a man possessed 
of every artifice to impose upon our sex, might easily induce 
me to throw off any further reserve to him who had already 
obtained the first fruits of enjoyment.

Every circumstance united to favour his design. My aunt was 
gone to market, and had taken the maid with her, so there was 
not a soul in the house but he and myself. He found me in my 
deshabill�, before I had put on my stays, and he followed me 
into my bedchamber, whilst I was still at my toilet, and where 
I could not plead even the danger of rumpling the bed, for it 
was not yet made.

He caught me in his arms and, almost drowning me with kisses, 
threw me upon the bed, whilst, in a kind of trance, I granted 
all he could desire. We were still in this situation when my 
aunt rapped at the door, and I had scarce time to adjust my 
clothes in such a manner as to give her no suspicion, before 
she came into my apartment, and gave me a long and, at 
present, very tedious account of her marketing and the 
preparations she had been making to celebrate my nuptials.

Upon his departure that evening, he promised to come at eight 
next morning and accomplish what he had so solemnly vowed. 
Sleep never approached my eyes that night. Such a variety of 
thoughts forced themselves upon me, which caused the 
perturbation of mind that would let me no longer remain in 
bed. As soon as Aurora began to dawn, I rose and dressed 
myself, and began to make such preparations as were necessary 
for the expected awful event. Every instant seemed a year till 
eight o'clock struck. But when that hour was passed, each 
moment now increased my fears, and I would gladly have 
recalled even those tedious instants to have been possessed of 
equal hope.

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, all struck, but no Mr Fitzherbert 
appeared. I now lost all patience, and dispatched a message to 
his chambers in the Temple, to enquire the reason. The porter 
returned, without being able to see anybody or make anybody 
hear. This was a dagger to my heart. All his treachery at once 
blazed before me, and I threw myself upon the bed, devoted to 
despair.

My aunt came and attempted to afford me such consolation as 
she thought might alleviate my affliction. But every argument 
she offered, so little was she acquainted with the real state 
of my case, instead of diminishing my sorrow, by far increased 
it. She bid me to despise such a wretch who had no regard for 
his promise, and said that, in her opinion, I had a very lucky 
escape to avoid a man of such base principles. I should have 
thought so too, has her words been completely verified.

'Forget him,' said she, 'there are men enough in the world 
more valuable than him. You have youth, beauty and virtue on 
your side, which are great recommendations; but more 
especially the last, as no woman that possesses it need ever 
to despair.'

A hundred poignards darted at once to my soul as this 
reflection, my tears streamed with double rapidity, and my 
anguish was so great that I swooned, unable to support nature 
under so arduous a conflict.

An apothecary was sent for immediately, who bled me, and 
ordered what he imagined proper medicines for a female deeply 
afflicted with an hysterical disorder, which he pronounced to 
be my case. Grief and despair reigned with such unlimited sway 
over me that I very narrowly escaped with my life. I was 
brought to so low a state that I was scarce able to walk at 
the end of six weeks; and a letter, which I received from my 
inhuman betrayer, had nearly operated as strongly upon me as 
the first cause of my affliction.



Chapter XIV. 
A letter she receives from Fitzherbert--Her indignation is 
fired at it--Resolves to despise and forget him--Reappears in 
public--Her hopes revive--A most fatal discovery, which blasts 
all her expectations--Her aunt's behaviour upon the occasion.

The second day after I had got downstairs, having been 
confined to my room for near six weeks, the postman rapped at 
the door and bought a letter directed to Miss Maria Brown. I 
trembled from head to foot at the sight of the hand, which I 
knew to be Fitzherbert's, and had scarce power to break the 
seal. My aunt would willingly have saved me the trouble, but 
my apprehensions lest he should have been base enough to hint 
anything that had passed between us to my prejudice, made me 
take the resolution of perusing it myself:

Cork, June 20. 
	Miss, 
	You will doubtless be surprised to hear from me, 
after so long an absence, and so continued a silence. You 
have, perhaps, a thousand times upbraided me with 
perfidy, and those common accusations which your sex are 
so apt to bestow upon those men who are not silly enough 
to be caught in the flimsy nets of artifice, which you 
are so constantly employed in working for us. 
	In a word, madam, I found myself greatly imposed 
upon, with respect to your fortune and expectancies. Your 
aunt, and yourself, frequently gave me to understand that 
you was an heiress to a very ample fortune when you came 
of age; whereas, according to the best information which 
I have had in the neighbourhood where you was born, and 
where your mother still resides, I find that your father 
left you only a few hundred pounds. This being the case, 
you would not think I act an ungenerous part in giving up 
all pretensions to you, and wishing you all the success 
your beauty and your merits may entitle you to. 
I am, Miss, 
Your most obedient and humble servant, 
Charles Fitzherbert. 


What a transition from the ecstatic transports which he 
promised himself at the delectable banquet of my charms--a 
cold phlegmatic letter of bargain and sale, worthy of a horse 
jockey in Smithfield! Such indifference from a man on whom I 
had fixed my heart, whom I looked upon as a part of my future 
life, might have preyed upon my spirits, which were still 
greatly depressed, had not my indignation fired at the insult. 
I resolved to despise a wretch that could act upon such base, 
and talk upon such mercenary principles.

I endeavoured to erase the idea of Fitzherbert entirely from 
my mind, and to this end I once more appeared in public. 
Everyone complimented me up on my recovery, and I thought I 
had as fair a prospect as ever of making my fortune--when a 
discovery, which forced itself upon me, blasted all my hopes 
and darkened all my future days with black despair. I was 
three months gone with child before I was convinced of my 
pregnancy, so great a novice was I in affairs of this nature. 
I had no friend to whom I dared to divulge the secret. My 
aunt's declared detestation against every slip of chastity 
assured me there I should find no asylum. Besides, my 
influence diminished in proportion as my small fortune 
lessened; and she had ere now thrown up some hints that she 
should be obliged very soon to give up housekeeping, as she 
could not pretend to support it any longer, without some good 
lodgers; and that she had an offer made her of taking care of 
an older gentleman's house in the country, which she thought, 
in her present circumstances, it would be very imprudent for 
her to refuse.

She had frequently been very inquisitive into the reason of my 
eating nothing with my tea at breakfast, had put some 
questions to me concerning some monthly female secrets, and 
seemed greatly surprised at my frequent retchings. Yet she had 
never taxed me with the fact. But, alas! My apron-string soon 
became too short and there was no hiding the cause.

Instead of reading me a lecture without end upon the score of 
virtue and religion, intermingled with severe reprimands and 
menaces, as I expected, she seemed to take no sort of notice 
of the discovery she had made, and I was in hopes I should 
have been able to have made her connive at the accident, and 
endeavour to hide my misfortune from the world. But when my 
expectations were in this respect raised to their highest 
pinnacle, they were soon levelled with the basis of despair.

She told me one morning, at breakfast, that the house was let, 
and that she should dispose of her furniture in a fortnight's 
time, and therefore gave me that notice, that I might provide 
myself with an apartment in time. In saying this, she left me 
very abruptly to make my reflections upon her conduct.



Chapter XV. 
Her aunt's ingratitude highly exemplified--A few strictures 
upon that execrable crime--The step Maria is obliged to take, 
and the approach of a critical period.

We never conversed upon the subject of my misfortune till the 
morning I was to leave my aunt's and repair to a lodging I had 
taken in Silver Street, Soho. My fortune, as the reader may 
imagine, was at this time pretty well exhausted. It consisted 
of exactly 5 guineas. The assistance I had given her, during 
my residence with her, might very well have entitled me to 
some share of the money which arose from the sale of the goods 
which she was this very day to receive. But, in order to 
prevent my grafting any hopes upon that foundation, she made 
me the following exhortatory and edifying discourse:

'I have never yet upgraded you with your infamy, though it has 
been shocking to my sight for some months, and has, in a great 
measure, induced me to take the step I now do of disposing of 
my goods to pay my debts, and retiring to the country. But now 
that I'm going to leave you, and perhaps never see you again, 
I think it is time for me to say a few words to you. After the 
shame and dishonour you have brought upon yourself, you can't 
expect that any of your friends or relations can look upon 
you. I should be frightened out of my senses at the thoughts 
of your calling me aunt a month hence, when all the world must 
be convinced of your prostitution. There is nothing left for 
you to do but to go and hide yourself in some corner of the 
world, where nobody knows you, that you may be no further a 
disgrace to your relations. And when you have got rid of that 
shameful burden, go to the abbess of your convent at Douai, 
and endeavour to be readmitted, that you may, by a life of 
exemplary piety, endeavour to atone for those deadly sins you 
have been guilty of. As to me, you know my circumstances. It 
is not in my power to assist you, if I would. Besides, I 
should think it's a very great sin to encourage vice. You are 
scandal to religion, honour and decency; and therefore never 
apply to me, or expect to hear from me any more.'

Ingratitude is certainly the native offspring of Satan. It 
could be engendered in none but an infernal breast. It is an 
epitome of all the crimes mankind can be guilty of. Yet it 
grows and thrives in every soil--all professions adopt it--
each sex practices it. If there is some particular curse above 
destined for the punishment of superlative villainy, this must 
be the object!

After having expended my small fortune in supporting such a 
monster, she casts me, in my greatest distress, upon the 
world, without the ability of any way supporting myself. Nay, 
not only this, but she informs all my acquaintances of what 
she has discovered, and writes to all my relations to give 
them the same intimation, that she may, in her opinion, 
exculpate her barbarous conduct.

After such an harangue, there required but little ceremony to 
take leave of such a monster. I turned up on my heel, and left 
her to the stings and adders which she engendered in her own 
breast.

The gentlewoman at whose house I had taken a lodging was one 
of those good-natured pliant sort of women, who can conform 
themselves to anything. Though she perceived that I was 
pregnant, she asked me no questions either concerning my 
marriage, or my husband. This was a very agreeable 
circumstance to me, for I was very fearful lest, by her 
inquisitive interrogations, I might have been obliged to come 
to such an explanation as would have greatly disconcerted me 
and prevented my having any future society with her.

For near two months, then, I passed my time tolerably 
agreeable with my landlady, though I was not at times without 
some very mortifying reflections at the silence my mother 
observed, notwithstanding I had wrote her several letters. At 
the end of this period I found my money all gone, and myself 
very near my time. Truly it is said that when misfortune 
strikes it seldom strikes singly.



Chapter XVI. 
Acquaints her landlady with her situation and distress--Who 
procures her a ticket for the lying-in hospital--Is delivered 
there--Her child dies--Her acquaintance with Mrs Freemantle, 
and her affecting story.

It was in vain now to make a secret to my landlady of my 
present situation. She, in some measure, anticipated the 
necessity I was under of disclosing my mind. She observed to 
me, without any sort of ceremony, that it was high time, if I 
had not already done it, to prepare some child-bed linen, for 
that, if she judged right, I must be very near my time. I was 
very well convinced of the rectitude of her observation, but 
in my present situation I was unable to follow her advice. As 
I had found her so good a sort of woman, I resolved to 
disclose my mind and tell the truth. She said, if that was the 
case, she believed she could make interest for me to get into 
the lying-in hospital, where I should be at no expense; and 
she accordingly procured me a ticket. I was very well received 
there, considering it was an hospital. But, notwithstanding 
the care and attention of the doctors, the child died the 
third day after its birth; which was occasioned, no doubt, by 
my illness immediately after my pregnancy, and the succeeding 
anxiety of mind I laboured under.

Whilst I remained in the hospital, I had sufficient time to 
ruminate upon my past follies, the treachery and deceit of man 
and woman kind. However, my disagreeable moments were in some 
measure alleviated by the acquaintance I here made with an 
agreeable woman, who was come upon the same errand as myself, 
but whose history was, in many respects, very different from 
mine. She had something in her so extremely engaging that I 
could not help being highly prepossessed in her favour, and 
very desirous of being acquainted with her story, which she 
entertained me with one day when we were all alone. And it 
made so great an impression on me that I can still remember 
many particulars of it:

'My father,' said she, 'was a wealthy farmer in the county of 
Essex, who had four daughters and a son. Of the former number 
I made one. We were brought up in a manner suitable to our 
station; my mother designing her daughters for good housewives 
and her son for an honest farmer. We were neither taught 
French, to dance, nor fine needlework; so that we retained all 
the rusticity of our station when we arrived at years of 
maturity. I was in my eighteenth year when a gentleman was 
upon a visit to the squire took a walk one morning into our 
yard, and spoke to me whilst I was churning. He asked me some 
questions concerning poultry, and I answered him with all the 
genuine simplicity of the country lass. I had, at that time, 
not the most distant notion of love, nor could I conceive that 
he entertained any thoughts of me on that score. However, the 
next day I received a letter from him, couched in such a style 
that I could scarce understand. Yet I comprehended enough to 
know that he meant a great many fine compliments upon my 
person and good housewifery, which, he said, he thought the 
greatest commendation in a wife. This letter threw me into the 
utmost perplexity, as he strongly pressed me to make him some 
answer; and besides my ignorance of writing in a manner proper 
for such a fine gentleman to read, I conceived it would be 
very forward and improper for a girl of my years to attempt 
such a thing.

I was ruminating upon this matter when I saw him approach our 
house. I ran as hard as possible and locked myself into the 
pantry. From my ambush I heard him ask for my father, and I 
was now more terrified lest he should discover to him that he 
had wrote me a letter, which I had not acquainted my mother 
with. After he was gone, my father called me up and told me if 
I was a good girl I should have a silk gown at Easter; but 
that I must say nothing to my sisters about it. This 
information could not fail puzzling me more than all the rest, 
and I was upon the rack to know what had passed between the 
gentleman and my father.

The next morning my mother took me aside and asked me, with a 
very good nature in her countenance, if I had not seen a 
strange gentleman come to my father the day before? I 
answered, 'Yes.' 'Why then,' said she, 'how should you like 
him for a husband?' I told her I could not tell; but that he 
seemed to me a very agreeable man. 'Why, look ye,' continued 
she, 'he has been talking to your father about you, and has 
made such proposals as cannot be refused, if you have no 
dislike to him.'

At this information my little heart fluttered to that degree 
that I was unable to make her any answer. But the colouring 
and perplexity she conceived I was in made her very readily 
and justly conclude that my modesty prevented my answering her 
in a manner agreeable to my thoughts; so that she left me, 
saying, 'Well, I should bring you together, and then you may 
settle it between you.'

She was as good as her word, for the very next afternoon the 
gentleman paid me a visit in form, and we were left together. 
He then said to me so many tender and agreeable things that I 
do not recollect half of them at present. But the substance of 
them was that he should be the happiest man upon the earth, if 
I would vouchsafe to give him my hand in marriage. So my 
bashfulness prevented me giving him an answer which my 
innocence would have dictated, he construed my silence into 
consent, and, clasped me in his arms, he gave me a thousand 
kisses, which seemed the sweetest I ever knew in my life. This 
gentleman, whose name and situation in life I was by this time 
acquainted with, was Mr Freemantle, a considerable merchant in 
Coleman Street, so that I had reason to go down upon my knees 
and thank heaven for the great happiness that seemed prepared 
for me. We were married in a very short time and continued the 
most fond pair that ever heaven united for more than seven 
years, during which time I bore him three children, who are 
all now living. I was again pregnant when an unexpected 
misfortune destroyed all our felicity and rendered me as 
miserable as you now see me. For my father had unfortunately 
about two years before met with considerable loss by the 
murrain raging amongst his cattle, and not being able to make 
good his payments, he was turned out of his farm, and had 
subsisted for some time upon Mr Freemantle's generous 
assistance. But calamity now was that Mr Freemantle was not 
longer able to assist him, or himself either. Three different 
failures abroad, wherein he was very deeply concerned, and two 
at home, rendered him unable to make good his payments. He was 
declared bankrupt. And though his known good character and 
constant uprightness of conduct in business had always secured 
him from malice and calumny, yet two of his creditors were so 
malevolent that they would not sign his certificate. He went 
abroad, and in a short time died of grief, when I was in the 
eighth month of my pregnancy; and the only resource I had was 
this hospital, where I have been delivered.'



Chapter XVII. 
Some reflections upon the erroneous custom of the world, 
illustrated with the sketch of a few modern characters drawn 
from real life.

One might be inclined to imagine that our sex had drawn upon 
them the particular vengeance of heaved, and yet we could have 
no hand in bringing the judgement upon the city of Gomorrah, 
but we seemed to be pointed out the peculiar objects of 
punishment for natural crimes, if such there are. A man may 
live by gaming, be known for a prostitute of our sex, may fail 
in trade and defraud his creditors. Nay, he may be guilty of 
murder, under certain modifications, and yet the generality of 
the world will neither despise him, nor discountenance him. On 
the contrary, if he should happen to be successful in the 
course of his villainy, he will be cherished and esteemed by 
those who class themselves amongst the honest and worthy. But 
alas! if we do but once deviate from the track delineated by 
custom on the chart of chastity (which, if anything, is but a 
subordinate virtue); if we attempt to pass but one barrier 
without paying toll, or only mistake the intended barrier, we 
are arraigned at the bar of honour, and our reputation is 
pronounced irreparable by a jury of prudes and old maids!

To illustrate this by examples: Jack Gayless started upon the 
town with a hundred pounds for his patrimony. He laid out two-
thirds of his fortune in a suit of velvet, one trimmed, and a 
plain pompadour, half a dozen pair of silk stockings, two pair 
of point ruffles, a sword, and Hoyle's Games Complete. He was 
master of an insinuating address, he constantly sacrificed his 
sentiments to good breeding, and applauded with a scringe. 
Jack was taken notice of by a man of fashion, who introduced 
him to Lady N----'s rout. This was sufficient. He had cards on 
every hand as invitations. By a proper change of clothes, 
throwing in a fresh parament<157> or new waistcoat, he 
appeared to have as great a variety of clothes as any man in 
town. The world judge by appearances, and no one questioned 
him being a man of fashion. Though he had the good luck to be 
thus speedily introduced into the best company, he as yet 
derived no other advantage from it than wearing out his 
clothes by the friction of lace and embroidery, and having 
opportunities of saying civil things to the first and finest 
women in England. He foresaw his destiny. He had now broke in 
upon the last ten pounds he was possessed of, and only to have 
hinted to his introducer that he was in distress would have 
been sufficient to have removed all future regard towards him. 
In this dilemma he was on the point of terminating a life that 
wore so unfavourable a prospect. He had absolutely charged his 
pistol, and was upon the desperate, tremendous brink of 
eternity, when a thought entered his head that made him defer 
the execution of his dreadful plan. He applied to the 
conjurer, and gave him one half of his fortune to teach him 
dexterity. Jack was an apt scholar, and though he had perished 
Mr Hoyle with great attention, he had never yet reaped any 
advantage from his knowledge. He constantly lost his money, as 
he constantly held bad cards. But now the scene was changed. 
He had matadors<158> at will, and sansprendres<159> at 
command. He soon recruited his finances, and unloaded his 
pistol, and is now in every sense a real man of fortune.

Captain H---- has been upon half-pay these seven years. He 
laid out all his little fortune in the purchase of this 
commission, and run in debt for mere subsistence, till he was 
taken notice of by Mrs L------, who afforded him full pay and 
good quarters. He makes no secret of his connection, and all 
the world is acquainted with his resources. When his tailor 
brings him home a new suit of clothes, he draws upon his 
female banker, and she does honour to his draft. His coach-
maker throws the Captain and chariot into her bill, and he 
thus drives through life in luxury and extravagance, without 
anyone arraigning or disputing his honour. His trades-peoples 
give him the best of reputations, and his friends, who are of 
the most elevated sort, pronounce him a very honest fellow, 
and much of a gentleman.

Dick Cone was bred a wholesale grocer. He married a woman the 
first year he set up with �10,000 and broke the next for 20. 
His wife died the third year, and his credit revived with his 
second nuptials. Five thousand pounds, which matrimony again 
threw into his coffers, enabled him to open a new shop, and 
carry on trade with as much vigour as ever. He failed once 
more, and once more made a composition of five shillings in 
the pound. But there is a fatality in some men's affairs. 
Dick's probity has never yet been called in question. He is 
again established in an extensive trade and full credit.

How contrasted to these is the fate of the unhappy Leonora! 
Though she has been guilty of no vice, and is not susceptible 
of a crime, she is shunned by the women and laughed at by the 
men. She acted, in her opinion, upon the most virtuous plan a 
woman could pursue. She would listen to no man until he 
offered his hand in marriage. Yet she was as distant from a 
prude as she was different from a coquette. She neither 
attempted to make the men believe that the very sight of then 
terrified her, nor that every man who came into her company 
would find no difficulty, the first opportunity he had, of 
putting the question. She pursued the desirable medium, and at 
length listened to a man who had all the appearance of making 
her happy. In a word, they were married at the Savoy chapel. 
The marriage proved to be void by law, and she has undergone 
the rigour of the most severe sentence upon the most criminal 
conduct. Poor Leonora! But why do I pity her and forget 
myself? Is not my case still more cruel? With how much justice 
may I cry out, with the author of my motto,

Under how hard a fate are women born? 
Prized to their ruin, or exposed to scorn, 
If they want beauty, they of love despair, 
And are besieged like frontier towns, if fair. 
[Edmund Waller, The Maid's Tragedy, Act V. ]



Chapter XVIII. 
Mrs Freeman's friendship to Maria--Recommends her to Lady 
Bentley as a companion upon her voyage to Paris--Their journey

The reflections in the last chapter may seem somewhat 
premature for a woman (for such I must now consider myself) of 
my age; but though they were not made perhaps entirely at the 
time, they must certainly be allowed to be no way 
inapplicable.

To resume my history. Upon my return from the hospital, I 
found my landlady had taken particular care of my clothes and 
what belonged to me, and though she knew I was not at present 
able to make her amends for her kindness and assiduity, she 
nevertheless took every opportunity of demonstrating her 
friendship to me. She told me to be careful of my health, and 
to consider that providence seemed to interpose in my behalf 
by taking the young cherub, which I had given to the world, to 
a happier lot than any mortal can here possess. In a word, she 
used all her endeavours to afford me consolation in my 
distress, saying at the same time she was under no 
apprehension about the trifle of rent I was indebted to her, 
and therefore bid me be under no kind of uneasiness upon that 
score; and that she did not doubt but that she should soon be 
able to procure me a place to wait upon a lady, as she had 
very good friends in the best of families, having served as 
housekeeper for many years in one of the first of distinction.

Mrs Freeman (that was my landlady's name) was in a short time 
as good as her word. She told me there was a lady going over 
to Paris, who wanted a companion who had been well brought up 
and could speak French; and she said she thought I was 
thoroughly qualified for the station. She accordingly gave me 
the lady's direction, and I waited upon her the next day.

Lady Bentley seemed completely satisfied with me upon Mrs 
Freeman's recommendation, and we agreed for twenty pounds a 
year, with all expenses of the journey defrayed. We were to 
set out for France in a week's time, and I had therefore but a 
very short time to prepare myself for the voyage.

I took my leave of Mrs Freeman, after repeated protestations 
of future friendship, and coming to a resolution of keeping up 
or correspondence by letters whilst I should be abroad.

We met with nothing remarkable in our journey to Dover, 
without I wear to mention the post-chaise breaking down a 
little this side Canterbury, which greatly terrified Lady 
Bentley, and frightened her favoured lap-dog almost into fits. 
But all the company having soon recovered, we arrived at the 
Ship tavern with keen appetites, and a fair wind for Calais. 
We had scarce time to swallow a hasty supper, when we were 
summoned to go on board the packet, which was just ready to 
sail.

Though the wind was very fair when we got out of Dover pier, 
it soon chopped about, and we were obliged to put back to the 
Downs. It now blew very fresh, and there was what the sailors 
call a great swell. Her ladyship had scarce got out of Dover 
pier before she evinced the emetic qualities of the seas; so 
that her sickness was in some measure abated when the billows 
began to roar and she heard 'all hands aloft!' She had no time 
to reflect upon her danger, and she very religiously went upon 
her knees as most fervently prayed to be preserved from her 
present danger, promising never again to dare the perils of 
the main.

Her ladyship's devotions continued during our whole passage, 
and, for the good of her soul, it were to have been wished 
that she had made an East India voyage; for no sooner did she 
set foot on shore at Calais than she resumed her former 
gaiety, and never cast another thought towards futurity.

Monsieur Grandsire did all the that lay in his power to 
accommodate her ladyship, agreeable to her rank and dignity; 
and after we had stayed two nights and part of the second day, 
he was so condescending as to oblige my mistress with his own 
post-chaise, which had never yet been used; for which, it may 
be imagined, he did not forget to charge her in proportion to 
her quality. Our bill, besides the hire of the post-chaise, 
amounted to above three hundred livres.

Lady Bentley had not the curiosity to stop a moment upon the 
road until we came to Chantilly, so impatient was she to get 
to Paris; but the chateau and gardens of the Prince de Cond� 
greatly attracted her sight, and she could not refrain from 
alighting to view them. In truth, they were well worth the 
time we employed in the inspection, as the Ch�teau of 
Chantilly may be pronounced one of the first and most elegant 
seats in France.



Chapter XIX. 
Arrive at Paris--The impositions that are attempted to be put 
upon Lady Bentley, detected by Maria, who is notwithstanding 
supplanted in her favour by a French chambermaid--A lively 
description of the manner of an English lady of fashion 
passing her time at Paris, in a letter from Miss Brown to Mrs 
Freeman.

Upon arrival at Paris we were lodged in a hotel-garni<160> in 
the Fauborg of St Germain and we were presently waited upon by 
all those leeches who call themselves marchands, and who 
accumulate fortunes by fleecing foreigners, particularly the 
English. Lady Bentley spoke very little French, having never 
been in France, and was therefore utterly ignorant as well of 
the manner as the coin of the country; so that every moment 
would have furnished opportunities to those who are desirous 
of imposing upon her, had she not a person with her more 
conversant in both than herself. As by speaking the language 
very fluently, and knowing the difference of the coins, they 
were kept in some sort of awe, so I had frequent overture was 
made to me indirectly by these tricheurs,<161> to cheat as 
much as we could and share of the spoils. But I constantly 
rejected such infamous proposals with the resentment they 
deserved, and always acquainted my Lady with the parties that 
had made them.

Notwithstanding my honest and upright conduct towards her, a 
French chambermaid found means to gain so much upon her 
confidence, that from the moment she came into the house I 
found my advice rejected, and all regard towards me daily 
diminishing.

In the meantime, it may not be unentertaining to the reader to 
know how we passed our time at Paris, the centre of English 
folly, and the point of gravity of English guineas. I believe 
I shall not be able to convey a better idea of our vocations 
and avocations here than by transcribing a letter to Mrs 
Freeman, which I wrote upon the spot, when I was a complete 
mistress of the subject, after a month sojourning in this 
metropolis:

"Dear Madam, 
	"You will doubtless accuse me of forgetfulness, if 
not ingratitude, for having preserved so long and so 
profound a silence. I must acknowledge it was not for 
want of matter to write, for one can turn on no side but 
objects sufficient present themselves to descant upon in 
a folio. The truth is, this metropolis abounds so much 
with dissertation and frivolity one has scarce time to 
think, much less to write. Our morning is taken up, like 
all the Paris ladies, in endeavouring to make ourselves 
hideous. We paint, not to look handsome, but to be in the 
fashion. Every woman is entitled to rouge, in proportion 
to her quality. And they have so thoroughly reconciled 
themselves to the custom, that their public writers 
reason upon it philosophically: 'When Caesar made his 
triumphant entry into Rome, he made use of it; and a 
pretty woman should consider every day is a day of 
triumph for her.' Thus says one of their favourite 
authors, and every woman here is convinced of the 
rectitude of his maxim. But, to continue our journal. Our 
face is not the only object of our morning attention. The 
head makes a very essential part of the toilet, and takes 
up no small share of the forenoon. Sometimes, indeed, 
this lays claim to a greater part of the business of the 
day than all our pleasures and amusements. My Lady has 
actually been under the hands of Monsieur Frisonette ever 
since nine o'clock, and it is now half past one. She will 
be ready for dinner (at least it would be ready for her) 
in half an hour. She will have the Marquis de Tarafine, 
the Conte le Beau, and the Abb� le Moux, who who will say 
a thousand soft things to her, sing her all the new airs, 
perhaps sit down to quadrille, and win all her money. If 
this should be the case, as it has often been, I may in 
all likelihood be dispatched with her casket to Mendez 
for a new recruit to brave the matadors, who have ever 
yet been inexorable to her prayers; and about two in the 
morning she may go to rest, very little disposed for it, 
with a light purse and a heavy heart.

Perhaps you may think this is a very odd way of living in 
a foreign country, whither people resort for pleasure and 
improvement. You may conceive that, if we go on, we shall 
return without having had much satisfaction, or reaping 
any other advantage than the killing of time as the price 
of our money. But we go tomorrow to Versailles, and as I 
know you have always expressed a desire to know whether 
the beauty and elegance of that Palace came up to the 
accounts of travellers, especially Frenchman, I should 
have an opportunity of satisfying your curiosity in this 
respect. From hence we shall follow the court to 
Fontainebleau and Compiegne. Believe me, 
Dear Madam, 
Yours affectionately, 
M. Brown."



Chapter XX. 
A jaunt to Versailles, with some short account of that 
celebrated place--An accident which terminates in Maria's 
dismission from Lady Bentley's service.

We went next day to Versailles, agreeable to the plan of the 
Marquis de Tarafine, who accompanied us in order to show us 
the apartments and everything that was curious. He informed us 
of the immense sums Louis XIV had expended to raise that 
Palace and converts the gardens into the form we saw them; the 
difficulty had of bringing water thither, contrary to the 
course of nature, for the use of the basins and the jets-
d'eau<162>. In a word, that from a poor contemptible village 
whose name was scarce known even at Paris, he had rendered it 
one of the most magnificent places in all Europe. It is true 
that we found the building very sumptuous, the gallery 
extremely elegant and the painting of the ceiling particularly 
fine; but that in general the furniture was very ancient, and 
there was neither that neatness, not what the French 
themselves call that air-riant,<163> which is so striking in 
the apartments of all our elegant edifices in England. As to 
the gardens, there were doubtless extremely well laid out; but 
the walks were insupportably dusty, for want of gravel. Many 
other statues were mutilated, and most of the waterworks were 
in a state of inactivity by reason of the pipes being out of 
repair. Upon the whole, it conveyed to us at once an idea of 
Louis XIV's ambition, the sentiments of glory wherewith he 
animated the whole kingdom, and the present degeneracy of the 
French nation.

Whilst we were at Versailles an accident happened, which 
though very trivial in itself, was not only the cause of my 
rupture with Lady Bentley, but, in some measure, of all the 
misfortunes which afterwards befell me. Lady Bentley had 
already adopted every part of French gallantry. She could hang 
up on a French Cavalier's arm in public, receive him at her 
ruelle<164> in private, listen to double-entendres, and 
sometimes risk them herself. Nay, she had no objection to a 
t�te-�-t�te party, or even a retreat into a sylvan grove 
distant from intruders, to hear the voice of love. The Marquis 
had told her that the labyrinth would greatly divert her, and 
that he would wager a hundred louis that she did not find her 
way out all alone. Though she did not accept of the bet, she 
however resolved to attempt the task, and I was left with 
Romeo while the experiment was made.

Romeo! cruel Romeo! How could you leave me! Ruin me! Desert 
me! It is very true, Romeo ran away from me, and I was undone. 
Lady Bentley was gone near an hour and a half, and upon her 
return, though I had no reason to suspect that she was ruffled 
either in her temper or in any way else, yet so it was, that 
all the reasoning I was mistress of could not calm her rage: 
her lap-dog was gone, and I should go after it. A chapter 
would not contain all the opprobrious epithets I was insulted 
with upon this occasion, which she the more lavishly poured 
out on me as the Marquis was ignorant of English, and 
consequently what she said.

Our journey back to Paris, whither we returned instead of 
continuing our route to Fontainebleau in hopes of gaining some 
intelligence of Romeo, was very dusty and disagreeable. We 
heard nothing but the dog and the disappearance of the finest 
creature upon earth, all the way. The Marquis' utmost 
endeavours to solace her Ladyship were ineffectual.

Being returned to the metropolis, she despatched messengers to 
every quarter of the city in quest of her favourite; and at 
the end of two days no tidings being brought her of him, there 
were no bounds to her passion. I was compelled to leave her. 
She ordered me out of the house, and swore I should never set 
foot in it again, except I brought Romeo with me.



Chapter XXI. 
The picture of a finished coquette--The advances Fitzherbert 
makes to her, and the success of the addresses which he pays 
to her--An unexpected blow at the crisis of his fate, very 
proper to be perused with attention by every coxcomb within 
the bills of mortality.

Who knows not the amiable, the enchanting Annabella, the toast 
of the gay and polite, the envy of one half of her sex, and 
the subject of scandal for the other? She was just now in the 
meridian of her glory, followed and dangled after by every 
puppy of fashion, who fancied an embroidered coat or feather 
entitled him to enchant every woman who looked at him. 
Annabella had too much good sense and discernment to be 
captivated by such external recommendations. She despised such 
suitors at the time they imagined they had made a complete 
conquest of her heart. She played them off, one against the 
other, each fancying himself the only happy man, and each 
equally duped by his presumption. This was certainly the very 
summit of coquetry; but she refined the character and made it 
almost amiable. That there are men in the world who richly 
merit such treatment, the reader is, I doubt not, by this time 
thoroughly convinced. What if Fitzherbert should be found 
amongst the number of her suitors, he who fancied, from his 
past success, that he was entitled to captivate all the sex 
and make them submit at discretion? It was even so: the 
perfidious Charles was at length caught in those toils which 
he had so often thrown out. Annabella was not insensible to 
his merit; she approved of his person, and could not refrain 
from commending his wit. But she knew his character, and was 
resolved to recriminate the anguish of her sex. She was 
perhaps the woman of the world the most suited for the task; 
for, besides the force of her charms, she was composed of such 
a temperament as to be inflexible to passion. A man might 
languish and die for months, ere she vented a single 
sympathetic sigh. She was a salamander amidst fire, a stoic in 
love, in a word, a finished coquette.

Such a picture of Annabella may perhaps be thought severe upon 
her; but distributive justice requires such characters in 
society. To crown her charms and render her power 
irresistible, she had fifteen thousand pounds in her own 
possession.

Fitzherbert had now been the foremost upon the list of her 
lovers for some months, without ever being able to get an 
absolute answer from her upon a question which he had put to 
her almost as often as he had an opportunity of being at a 
t�te-�-t�te. Without convincing him on her part, she was 
studious to give him indirect hints that she entertained a 
favourable passion for him. Whilst he was one day strenuously 
urging his suit upon his knees, and calling all the powers 
above to witness of the sincerity of his love, Sir George Airy 
unexpectedly entered. Sir George had the day before obtained a 
promise from her that she never would give her hand to any man 
but himself. Enraged at what he beheld, his passion would 
scarce give him leave to express it by words. He was colouring 
red and white alternately, and calling forth all his 
philosophy to smother the effects of his violence, when 
Arabella took an opportunity of saying she really thought Sir 
George laboured under some really violent agitation, and 
begged, if it was possible, that she might administer him some 
relief.

'Madam,' said he, 'let me cut that fellow's throat, and I 
shall be easy presently.'

'Indeed, Sir George,' she replied, 'I have no manner of 
aversion to it, if he is agreeable.'

Fitzherbert fired at this conversation, his sword was 
unsheathed ere Annabella had finished her answer.

'Sir,' said he to the knight, 'If you think cutting my throat 
will give you any relief, you are extremely welcome.'

By this time they had begun to thrust, and Annabella thought 
it was time to ring the bell to prevent any human blood being 
spilt. The servants did not, however come in time enough to 
prevent Sir George's receiving a wound in the sword-arm.

This was a triumph to Fitzherbert, which he did not fail to 
turn to his advantage. He pleaded with double urgency his 
passion; he pleaded his service--nay, he pleaded his courage. 
He rallied the troops in the service of his merits in so 
warlike a manner, that he vanquished all Annabella's 
objections and made her capitulate to surrender all the 
garrison of love, with all her charm, upon a carte-blanche of 
matrimony the succeeding Wednesday.

The trophies of Fitzherbert's victories were displayed in 
every mercer's shop in town. He ransacked Ludgate Hill and 
Covent Garden, to testify his adoration of Annabella. She 
courteously accepted of his presents. The whole art of his 
tailor was exhausted to display his taste in a wedding-suit

The auspicious morn at length arrived; his new gilt chariot 
was at Annabella's door by seven. She had been at a rout the 
night before, and could not be disturbed for some hours. He 
languished at a neighbouring coffee-house until eleven, 
despatching messengers every quarter of an hour, to know if 
the empress of his heart was yet stirring. Unable any longer 
to brook delay, he repairs again to her house. She is still 
invisible. He insists on seeing her, having something of the 
last consequence to impart; forces himself into her apartment; 
she testifies her surprise at his insolence; he reminds her of 
her promise, and how dangerous half an hour's delay may be. 
She has entirely forgot every syllable, and rallies his 
presumption; he, much enraged, upbraids her perfidy. Her 
servants are called; he undergoes the discipline of the 
blanket, and is bastinadoed out of doors into his new gilt 
chariot.

Such was the substance of a letter I received about this time 
from Mrs Freeman, which failed not to divert my melancholy at 
a period that I had most occasion for a mental cordial. I must 
acknowledge that Annabella's behaviour to Fitzherbert highly 
gratified the just resentment I bore him; and I wrote the next 
post to my worthy correspondent, to beg she would acquaint 
herself with the sequel of this affair, in hopes to learn that 
he had terminated a villainous life by a means that gives the 
finishing-stroke to cowardice and infamy.



Chapter XXII. 
The treatment she meets with from Madame la Rossi�re--The step 
she takes in consequence--Renews her acquaintance with an 
Irish officer's widow--The imposition that is practised upon 
her, and the distress wherein it terminates.

After my dismission from Lady Bentley's service, I took up my 
lodging with Madame la Rossi�re her milliner, in hopes that I 
should be able soon to obtain another place amongst the 
English nobility, who daily increased at Paris. Madame la 
Rossi�re was very civil to me for some time: but finding that, 
after remaining there about six weeks. I was still unprovided 
for, she very frankly told me she was unable any longer to 
support me, as she had not work enough to employ herself and 
her daughter, and begged that I would seek for another 
lodging. I was greatly mortified at this address from Madame 
la Rossi�re, to whom I had been particularly instrumental in 
procuring Lady Bentley's custom, and who had recommended her 
to a great number of English ladies. But I found ingratitude 
was the growth of every soil, and that all the professions of 
friendship Madame la Rossi�re had made me consisted of nothing 
but the superficial umeaning politesse fran�aise.

I told her very laconically that I was sorry for the trouble I 
had given her, but I would take care that it should be of no 
long duration. Her husband came in just at this juncture, and 
finding me preparing to depart, asked, with some surprise in 
his countenance, what was the matter, and where I was going. I 
told him how Madame la Rossi�re had behaved to me, and that he 
could not expect I should be any further inconvenience to her. 
M. la Rossi�re seemed highly exasperated at his wife's 
conduct. and swore that I should not leave his house till such 
time as I was provided for.

This declaration from him brought more natural colour into his 
wife's face than she had conferred upon it even by art; and 
rouge for once was totally eclipsed by passion.

'How, sir,' said she, 'is it so? What, then, you have 
discovered at last the shameful correspondence you carry on 
with this abandoned jade! And you, Madame, you impudent slut, 
to do it under my very nose! No. you shall either leave the 
house, or I will; and let us see to whom he gives the 
preference--to his trull, or to his wife.'

It was in vain for M. la Rossi�re to attempt vindicating 
himself; all remonstrance was unheard, drowned in a continued 
chain of reproach and insult. Under these circumstances I 
thought it was acting the prudent part for me to retire, 
without undeceiving a jealous woman, who had no other grounds 
for her suspicions than her own deformity and my comparative 
excellence.

Having taken a fiacre, I drove to the Rue St. Antoine, where I 
had a slight acquaintance with an Irish officer's widow, who 
was very glad to see me, and, upon relating my story, 
expressed herself with much concern that I, who was born of a 
good family, should form any connections with such canaille as 
hair-dressers' wives and milliners. 'Had you,' continued she, 
'applied to me when you quitted Lady Bentley's service. I 
should have behaved to you like a gentlewoman as you are, and 
you would not have been exposed to this insult.'

This harangue upon the subject of gentility and good behaviour 
continued near half an hour, and would, in all likelihood, 
have been the topic for much more animadversion, had she not 
recollected it was dinner time, and that she had not been yet 
to market; but that the traiteur across the way was reckoned 
to serve very elegantly, and paid a particular deference to 
the English; and therefore begged she might make use of my 
name, as it would be of no small recommendation.

Mrs O'Brien was so condescending as to take the trouble of 
ordering dinner. which was presently served, and which she 
failed not to pay due honour to. As to myself. I was so 
chagrined at the treatment I had just met from Madame la 
Rossi�re, that the fullness of my heart supplied all vacuity 
of stomach.

I had been a week with Mrs O'Brien before I observed that 
everything we had lived upon was entirely upon my score, when 
the traiteur. who never gave credit but from one week to 
another, brought in his bill and with great submission, asking 
some thousand of pardons, with as many thousand obeisances, 
hoped I could not be offended at the liberty he had taken. The 
liberty I could easily have forgiven, if he would as easily 
the debt, which was neither more nor less than seventy-two 
livres. I expressed great surprise at my name being at the 
head of the bill, telling him I was no lodger there, but a 
casual visitor, a guest of Madame O'Brien, etc. He said he did 
not know anything of the matter; but that Madame O'Brien would 
not have obtained a single haricot upon her own account, for 
that she was already greatly in his debt: and he would not 
depart till I had given him an assurance I would see him paid.

Upon Madame O'Brien's return from Mass, I could not help 
upbraiding her with her ungenerous behaviour. which had led me 
to the creation of so great a debt: and I at the same time 
expressed my uneasiness to think how it was to be paid, as all 
the money I had in the world amounted to no more than fifty 
livres. Her fruitful imagination immediately pointed out to me 
the method of creating money; and she hinted that my best sack 
and petticoat would procure double the sum that was required. 
This proposal was very far from being agreeable to me, and I 
could not help retaliating the compliment, in advising her to 
try first what she could get for one of her own. But she 
prevented my insisting much upon her making this experiment by 
frankly acknowledging that she was not possessed of any other 
than that which she wore, and that she would not have 
continued in mourning so long without any real cause, except 
that of poverty, if she had been able to make any change in 
her dress; that the pension which she received, as an 
officer's widow, was so small, and so irregularly paid, that 
she was driven to great straits, but that she was upon the 
point of recovering a very considerable legacy, when she 
should appear in a very different manner, and when I might 
make her house my home, without any ceremony or expense.

These and such like persuasives, added to that powerful 
advocate, eating (for dinner-time had long since been elapsed. 
without Monsieur le traiteur paying us his usual attention), 
at length prevailed upon me to follow Mrs O'Brien's advice.

Vices and follies familiarize themselves to us by degrees; and 
what at first appeared to me worse than death was gradually so 
softened in its asperity, that in a few weeks I was reduced to 
that state of mourning which Mrs O'Brien so justly complained 
of.

It was in vain for me to upbraid her with imposing upon me by 
false pretences and groundless hopes. It was time for me to 
think of altering my condition, and procuring subsistence by 
some other means than those which I had lately pursued. With 
this resolution I decamped one morning whilst Mrs O'Brien was 
gone to Mass, without taking any other leave of her than by a 
note, which I left upon her table. I found no great difficulty 
of moving, as everything I was possessed of was now upon my 
back.



Chapter XXIII 
The acquaintance Miss Brown makes in the Tuileries--Their 
conversation, which produces a closer connection--Goes home 
with her benefactress--Some account of her boarders, and their 
behaviour--An uncommon conflict.

I had traversed half Paris without knowing whither I was 
destined, when, finding myself very tired. I repaired to the 
Tuileries, in order to rest myself, and took my seat upon the 
terrace of the Capuchins. I had not been here long before a 
decent-looking woman, neatly dressed, came and placed herself 
by me. We saluted each other, and entered into that sort of 
conversation which usually occurs betweeen two people who have 
a mind to speak when they have nothing to say.

'Dear me! Miss,' said she, 'don't you find it very sultry?'

'Extremely hot, indeed, Madame,' I replied; 'but I think we 
have now and then here a refreshing breeze.'

'True, Miss; said she, 'I think we have chosen the best seat 
we could for what little air there is. What a sight of people 
there will be tomorrow at St. Cloud, if this fine weather 
continues!'

'No doubt of it.' answered I, 'Madame.'

'Upon my word, Miss, now I look at you, methinks your features 
are quite familiar to me. Have not I had the pleasure of 
seeing you in Brittany?'

'No. Madame. I never was in that part of France.'

'Well, to be sure. Miss, you are the very model of a young 
lady that I knew at Nantes. I could almost have sworn you had 
been the same: and the comparison, I can assure you, Miss, is 
no affront to you, for she is the toast of the whole city.'

'You are extremely polite, Madame.' said I, 'you are pleased 
to compliment: but if it were so, of what use would it be to 
me?'

In uttering these words, a sigh escaped me, which was followed 
by some involuntary tears.

'What, my dear child,' said she (in an affectionate tone of 
voice, squeezing my hand) 'you cry? What is it that makes you 
uneasy? Has any misfortune happened to you? Tell me, my dear, 
don't be afraid of opening your mind to me; you may rely upon 
the affection which you have kindled in me. Can I be of any 
service to you? Pray tell me. Let us go, my life, to the 
coffee-house at the end of the terrace, and breakfast; perhaps 
I may be of more service to you than you think for.'

This proposal was far from being disagreeable to me, as I was 
still fasting: and I followed her, not doubting that heaven 
had sent her in my way to snatch me from the brink of despair. 
After I had in some measure recruited my spirits with two 
dishes of coffee and a couple of little loaves, I frankly told 
her my present distress, and asked her if she could recommend 
me to a service of any kind. I did not care how mean it was, 
provided I could but get my livelihood in an honest way.

'By the holy Virgin!' cried my unknown benefactress, 'it would 
be an absolute martyrdom to think of putting such a sweet 
creature as you to hard work. No, nature did not design you 
for such employment. It is needless to dissemble with you; 
such a fine girl as you are may aspire at anything. And there 
is not the least doubt but that, if you will let yourself be 
guided by me, you will make your fortune in a very short 
time.'

'Ah! my good lady,' I cried in rapture. 'tell me only what you 
would have me do. and I will be bound to follow it. I'll 
resign myself entirely to your direction.'

'Well then,' said she, 'we will live together. I have already 
four boarders, and you shall make the fifth.'

'What! Madame.' I answered with some precipitation, 'have you 
already forgot that in my present distressed situation it will 
be impossible for me to pay you a penny for my board?'

'Don't let that give you any uneasiness.' she replied; 'all 
that I ask of you at present is that you will submit yourself 
to my direction. I shall take you as a partner in a little 
traffic which I carry on, and, please God, I don't doubt, 
before the end of the month, you will be able not only to 
satisfy me. but to support yourself in every respect in a 
genteel manner.'

In the excess of my joy I was ready to throw myself at her 
feet and bathe them with tears. I longed to be initiated into 
this happy society. Thanks to my lucky stars, my impatience 
was not of any great duration. Twelve o'clock struck, and we 
left the Tuileries at the gate des Feuillants. An old coachman 
upon the stand received us into his noble vehicle, and he 
conducted us to a retired house upon the Boulevards, facing 
the street Montmartre.

The house was surrounded by a court and a garden, which gave 
it a rural appearance that prejudiced me highly in favour of 
the inhabitants, and I secretly blessed the lucky occasion 
that had been instrumental in conducting me to this retreat. I 
was introduced into a parlour that was very decently 
furnished, and my companions presently made their appearance. 
Their careless air and assurance a good deal disconcerted me. 
I had scarce effrontery enough to look them in the face, and 
it was with great hesitation I was able to answer their 
compliments. My benefactress suspecting that the meanness of 
my dress, when compared to theirs, might be the cause of my 
confusion, whispered to me that she should equip me as fine as 
any of them. I was indeed not a little concerned to find 
myself in a greasy sack that had been cleaned and dyed till it 
was difficult to ascertain what colour it laid claim to, 
amongst people whose very deshabill�s consisted of some of the 
richest silks that France or India could produce.



Chapter XXIV 
Maria meets unexpectedly with an old acquaintance, who proves 
to be Mademoiselle Fenelon--Her adventures with Father Jaquel 
in Holland and England.

This introduction had scarce taken place, when, casting my 
eyes round, I perceived one of my fellow-boarders whose 
attention seemed completely fixed upon me; and when I looked 
towards her she blushed and appeared much confused. Methought 
I recollected something of her features, and the more I 
examined her the more I was convinced that I was not mistaken 
and I was resolved to profit of the first opportunity that 
offered to satisfy myself. One soon presented: for having 
observed this young lady go towards the garden, I followed 
her, when, upon comparing notes, we found ourselves to be old 
acquaintances and that we had been fellow-boarders under the 
same roof long before, in more propitious days.

'Do you not, Miss Brown, recollect Mademoiselle Fenelon?'

At this expression I flew to her, and, grasping her in my 
arms, expressed my surprise and happiness in meeting with such 
an agreeable acquaintance at so unexpected a time and so 
extraordinary a place. She eagerly enquired what accident had 
brought me here. I ran over so much of my life as was 
necessary to satisfy her curiosity, carefully omitting, 
however, that part which proved my weakness and Fitzherbert's 
triumph. She seemed sincerely to lament my fate and sympathize 
at my misfortunes. I begged of her, in return, to inform me 
how fortune had behaved towards her, and whether she had as 
much reason to complain of the blind goddess as myself. To 
this she readily consented. and entered into the following 
detail.

'I have no occasion,': said she, 'to remind you of the 
misfortune that befell me at the convent at Douai, where we 
passed so many innocent and agreeable hours: nor, perhaps, to 
acquaint you that Father Jaquel was one of the most 
hypocritical villains that ever disgraced the ecclesiastical 
function. Nothing but the tenderness of your years protected 
you from his villainous designs, and nothing but the advanced 
age of Madame Abbess prevented her dishonour being equally 
manifested with my own. Miss Fleetwood escaped by miracle, for 
had I not been so suddenly and unexpectedly delivered, he had 
laid such a plan for possessing her, and which, to my shame be 
it spoken, I was to have been a principal actress in, as could 
not, in all probability, have failed of success. In a word, 
there was scarce one pensioner in the whole society with whom 
he did not carry on a carnal correspondence, if her face and 
person excited his desires. But, upon my dishonour and his 
disgrace, you know we were both obliged to decamp, and it was 
necessary for us to leave France with all possible dispatch. 
He had immediately escaped into Holland, from whence he 
contrived to inform me that he there waited for me, and should 
expect me as soon as I was in a situation to travel. You are 
sensible that Madame Abbess would scarce let me remain under 
that religious roof the usual time that women take to recover 
their strength after such a violent effort of nature. She 
obliged me to depart after the third week of my lying-in, 
saying the affair had already got wind, and made so much 
noise, that she was terrified at the consequences. As I did 
not dare appear before any of my relations after such a 
disaster, I did not require much persuasion to follow Father 
Jaquel into Holland; especially as I thought he was the 
properest person to give me advice in my future conduct, not 
only as my father-confessor, but as that man to whom I had 
yielded my virgin heart, sacrificed my honour and all my 
future happiness.

'After travelling through Flanders, I at length arrived in 
Holland, and I met Father Jaquel at Amsterdam in a lay habit. 
I was much surprised at the appearance he made, as he was 
accoutred more like a military man than an ecclesiastic. He, 
perceiving my surprise, told me it was necessary to conform 
oneself to the custom of the country one was in; and as they 
were all heretics in Holland and looked upon a priest as a 
monster, for the sake of society, and to avoid scandal, it was 
necessary to appear no way singular.

'I did not pretend to contradict his prudential maxims; but, 
on the contrary, told him, I should be guided according to his 
directions, and desired him to instruct me what course I 
should take to regain the esteem and favour of my friends

'"As to your relations and friends," said he, "you must leave 
them to themselves, to be reconciled to your conduct at 
leisure. The prejudice of education goes a great way, and it 
is not the work of an hour to remove it. They may perhaps 
think the slip you have made. if such it can be called, 
irreparable; and, by their behaviour, they will endeavour to 
render it so. It is therefore your part to counteract their 
evil designs, and by your future success to convince them of 
their error. I have, during my officiating as confessor at 
Douai collected near thirty thousand livres, which I have 
taken care not to leave behind me, having from time to time 
placed it in the different banks of Europe, that I might 
always have some resource in case of an accident. I now offer 
you a share of my purse and fortune; and as most of my money 
is placed in England, I propose soon going over thither, in 
order to turn it to the greater advantage. If you choose to 
accompany me as my wife, you may depend upon it I shall always 
behave to you as such."

'Though I could not help thinking that such a proposal from a 
professed Jesuit, and my holy father-confessor, was somewhat 
inconsistent with his character, as I imagined he understood 
religious matters better than me, and that, if he could 
reconcile his conduct with his tenets, I certainly might, who 
had not yet taken the veil. And prudence at the same time 
pointing out to me this, as the most probable means of living 
in ease and affluence, I did not long hesitate to accept his 
offer.

'From this time, then, I took upon myself the title and 
character of Madame Martin, which was the name he had adopted. 
He passed for a merchant from Bordeaux, and actually 
transacted business as such whilst he was in Holland. Upon his 
departure from hence he had recommendations from many Dutch 
merchants to some of the best houses in London, where we 
arrived a short time after. Here he took a house, furnished it 
in an elegant manner, hired a man in livery, and two maid-
servants. We were situated in a genteel neighbourhood at the 
polite end of the town, and I soon made acquaintance with and 
received the visits of most of the ladies in that quarter.

'Mr Martin repaired constantly every day to 'Change, and 
appeared in Change Alley as a capital negotiator for merchants 
abroad. So it is not at all surprising that he obtained a very 
extensive credit, and, of course, a great deal of money 
circulated through his hands.'

Mademoiselle Fenelon had got thus far in her narration, when 
Madame Laborde came to her and told her it was time to dress. 
I was therefore obliged to suspend my curiosity till a future 
opportunity.



Chapter XXV. 
Continuation of Mademoiselle Fenelon's story--The infamous 
part Monsieur Martin begins to act--A scandalous, though 
common. character in the person of Madame la Touche.

I scarce gave Mademoiselle Fenelon time to dress herself, so 
eager was I to know the sequel of her history: and she seeming 
to be as impatient to relate it as I was to hear it, we soon 
resumed our walk in the garden. and she her narration.

'I think,' said she, 'I left off upon our arrival in London. 
where we had taken a house.' Upon my answering in the 
affirmative, she then continued:

'A pretty foreigner in London, you know, soon attracts the 
eyes of the men, especially if she appears in public and makes 
any figure. Monsieur Martin (for such I shall now continue to 
call him) debarred me from no pleasures nor amusements: and 
though he did not go frequently himself to public places, I 
often appeared at the walks and gardens, the opera, and play-
houses. In short, I was pestered with danglers whom I did not 
yet very well understand; though I don't in the least doubt 
but they said very tender things to me. It is true some of 
them, who were foreigners, spoke French, and here and there 
one amongst them Italian. But I found there was scarce a 
foreigner to be met with in London, without he bore some 
public character, that was not either a hair-dresser, a valet-
de-chambre, a cook, a dancing-master or a Jesuit. For which 
reason my husband always warned me to avoid them, as keeping 
them company could be of no service to us and would only tend 
to disgrace us. It was for this reason I had so little 
occasion to speak my mother-tongue, and was frequently. 
compelled to talk what English I could, and by this means it 
soon became, in some measure, familiar to me.

'A very rich merchant, who often walked with me in the park, 
was the most earnest of all my lovers. He would frequently 
make me presents, and endeavour to talk with me alone. In one 
of these t�te-a-t�te parties he told me, it was a thousand 
pities that such a beautiful young lady should be united to an 
old fellow that might very well pass for my father: that human 
nature shuddered at so disproportionate a match; that he was 
sure I could not be happy: that I was only a sacrifice, as he 
supposed, to my parents' will: that he had a heart full of 
sympathy and love, and a person which he flattered himself was 
not disagreeable to me: that he  was sure, at least, it was 
more suited to mine, in point of age, than my doting 
husband's. In saying this, he forced from me a kiss a 
l'anglaise, which was the first time I was ever embraced by 
any man but Monsieur Martin. I blushed, and for some time had 
not the power to express my resentment at his expressions and 
behaviour. However, at length I gave him to understand that 
his conduct was very disagreeable to me, and that I was 
greatly surprised how he could have the assurance to behave so 
to a modest woman. He said no more for the present, except 
begging my pardon if he had green me any offence.

'This happened at the island in St James's Park, when, upon 
joining an elderly French woman who used to attend me in these 
excursions, and who was an old acquaintance of M. Martin's, I 
related to her in what manner Mr Johnson had behaved to me. 
She pretended at first to be greatly surprised, but at length 
began to apologize for his conduct by saying it was the 
English manner; and those who had not travelled and seen the 
world were apt to be guilty of these mistakes, but that they 
meant no harm.

'M. Martin the next morning appeared to be very dull, and, 
upon my enquiring the reason, he at length with seeming 
reluctance told me that he had a bill of exchange drawn upon 
him from Amsterdam for six hundred pounds sterling, which 
would be due the next day, and that he did not know how to 
raise the money, as he fell quite short of cash; and concluded 
this information with asking me if, among the number of my 
polite and rich acquaintance, I could not borrow so much, 
"For," added he, "you know there is no refusing a pretty woman 
anything."

'I answered, I believe I could have done such a thing for him 
four-and-twenty hours before; but that I had had a little 
misunderstanding with one Mr Johnson, who had taken some 
liberties with me that I thought were not allowable. Upon this 
he asked me the particulars of the affair, which I very 
innocently and ingenuously told him. Though he seemed not a 
little nettled at that part which related to himself, he 
stifled his resentment in saying, "Well, my dear, I don't 
entirely approve of his conduct, but, you know, you must turn 
everything to your advantage in this life; and if you can make 
this man's folly serve your interest, even let him buoy 
himself up with the hopes that you will, one time or other, 
make him the happy lover."

'Such a speech from M. Martin stagnated my whole mass, and I 
was for some time unable to make any answer. That he should so 
coolly and dispassionately put up with so gross an insult to 
him and myself was what astonished me, when the only reason of 
my keeping it secret from him hitherto, was my fear his 
jealousy and revenge might carry him to some fatal lengths.

'"My dear," continued he, giving me an embrace, "do not 
imagine by what I have said that the fervour of my love is not 
so strong as ever. It is revenge that excites me to put you 
upon this scheme. Johnson ought to pay handsomely for his 
rashness and insolence. You have it in your power to make him. 
Besides, consider of what infinite service the money will be 
to me at this critical juncture."

'This specious method of reasoning, joined to Madame la 
Touche's seconding his arguments, prevailed upon me to answer 
Mr Johnson's bow the next time I met him in public. This 
concession on my part he looked upon as an acquiescence to 
what he had proposed. and he took every opportunity to gain 
upon my affection. As I had not the least passion for the man, 
I could hear with the utmost indifference all his 
protestations; and when he was talking vociferously of Cupid 
and Venus, I was thinking of his cash and bank-notes.

'I should have told you before that Madame la Touche was 
neither more nor less than a private procuress. whom M. Martin 
had known abroad, and whom he thought would be a very proper 
person to employ in his service, as a duenna or superintendent 
over my mercenary amours. To this end he had given her 
directions how to behave, and through her was echoed to me his 
good counsels and instructions: so that, by the help of this 
experienced and attentive monitor, I could not possibly err. 
She told me to give Johnson not the least liberties till such 
time as he had lent me at least five hundred guineas, and that 
the sooner I asked him for the money the better: and that even 
then I was to give him nothing but promises and fair words 
till such time as he entered into a bond for five thousand 
pounds, payable on demand. "For," added she, "he is as rich as 
Croesus, and a thousand guineas to him are not so much as ten 
guineas to M. Martin. Therefore act prudently and your fortune 
is made."'



Chapter XXVI. 
Conclusion of Mademoiselle Fenelon's story

I could not refrain crying out in this place. 'What a monster! 
Is it possible that Father Jaquel could be such an abominable 
wretch!'

'Ah! Miss Brown;' said she. 'have a little patience. I have 
not related half his good actions: his virtues are 
innumerable. But I must resume the thread of my story: When he 
found that, notwithstanding all the hints he had given, and 
all the advice Madame la Touche had so plentifully bestowed, I 
had still made no sort of progress in the money-affair--nay 
that I had not so much as insinuated to Mr Johnson that I 
stood in need of any--he began to treat the matter in a very 
different manner. "Look ye, Madame," said he, "if you do not 
absolutely contrive to meet Johnson this very day, and know 
positively whether he will lend it you or no, I shall make no 
ceremony of sending you off tomorrow morning for France, and 
placing you in your father's hands, to do what he pleases with 
you; the consequence of which will be that you will be shut up 
in a convent for life. And as I know you have not an ounce of 
nun's flesh about you, I hope you will take my advice and get 
the money this very evening."

'Such a menace from a man who had ever as yet treated me with 
the greatest tenderness, frighted me more than anything that 
could have happened to me; I burst into tears and, falling at 
his knees, begged he would not sacrifice me to the lewd 
embraces of a man I despised, for the sake of a little pelf. 
But he remained inexorable to all my remonstrances and, 
without raising me up, he turned upon his heel and quitted the 
room. Madame la Touche came to me in this situation. desiring 
to know what was the matter: this Abigail, this female 
seductress versed in all the arts of imposition, was well 
acquainted with the cause of my grief.

'"For heaven's sake, child," said she, "don't cry for nothing. 
M. Martin is a very good-natured man, though he is apt to be a 
little passionate. Wipe away your tears. I have something to 
communicate to you that will dissipate all your grief Here is 
a letter from a lover, a dying, desponding lover." Saying 
this, she put the following billet into my hand.

Dear Madam, 
	It was with inexpressible joy and ecstasy that I 
received your dear letter; and you may depend upon it, as 
you acquaint me Mr Martin will certainly be out of the 
way, that I will wait upon you punctually at four. 
Your impatient adorer, 
William Johnson.

'Good Gods! What was my surprise at reading these contents, 
and on looking at the superscription, which was to Madame 
Martin! "Bless me. Madame," said I to Madame la Touche, 
"surely this is some mistake--I never wrote a line to Mr 
Johnson in my life!" "Pshaw!" answered she, "never mind that, 
you ignorant girl. Suppose a friend has done a good office for 
you, ought you not to thank her?" I had not time to reply 
before I heard a rap at the door and, without my leave, saw Mr 
Johnson enter.

'He ran to me, and, clasping me in his arms, methought would 
have devoured me with kisses, which I repaid with a flood of 
tears. He was greatly surprised at my grief, and entreated me 
to let him know the cause. I saw I was sacrificed, but my 
pride would not let me own it to him; and that same pride 
urged me for the first time to dissemble. His questions and 
entreaty forced me to reply, and my imagination, amidst all my 
sorrow, pointed out to me that this was the lucky moment I was 
to improve.

'"Why, really, sir," said I, "to be ingenuous, the cause of my 
sending for you today is to impart a secret which I dare not 
entrust with anyone but yourself, so great is my opinion of 
your sincerity."

'"Pray, Madame," said he with emotion, "what is it? My fortune 
and life are at your service. if they can be of any use to 
you."

'So gallant a reply gave me fresh courage.

'"Why then, sir." said I, "since you are so polite. I must 
tell you: I had last night the misfortune to lose 500 guineas 
with Baron du Bos, the ---- Minister, and I dare not acquaint 
my husband with it. If you would favour me with the loan of as 
much, you may depend upon my repaying you the first 
opportunity, as I would prefer laying under an obligation to 
an Englishman rather than a foreigner.'"

'"Madame," he answered, "I am thoroughly sensible of the 
compliment you pay our nation: and I esteem it a particular 
honour to have this opportunity of convincing you of my 
friendship.'

'In saying this, he laid down bank-notes to the amount of a 
thousand pounds, adding, he begged I would try his luck with 
the remainder, and see if I could not get home upon the Baron.

'So much civility really staggered me. The obliging manner in 
which he presented the notes gave me the highest opinion of 
his generosity, and I found he had stole insensibly upon my 
affections. This visit, though so important, was very short; 
but I promised to meet him the next afternoon, all alone, in 
the Birdcage Walk.

'Monsieur Martin gave a most significant grin at the sight of 
the notes, saying I was a good girl, and should have a new 
gown for my pains. "But, pray now," said he, "tell me the 
truth, which do you like best, Johnson or me? For it is 
needless to deny it. I know a man won't part with his money 
for nothing."

'It was in vain to urge my innocence; the more I said to prove 
it, the more I convinced him of my endeavouring to deceive 
him; so that, after an hour's altercation, I retired to rest 
with a heavy heart, which vented itself in a stream of cordial 
tears.

'I would willingly have declined going the next day, 
notwithstanding my appointment, and even told M. Martin that, 
since I found he was of so jealous a disposition, and that 
there was no convincing him of one's innocence. I would at 
least contrive to avoid seeing Mr Johnson any more. But, 
heavens! what was his reply? "Pshaw! you fool, you cannot do 
more than you have done. Perhaps, if you please him as well 
today, he may throw another thousand into your lap."

'This speech of M. Martin's had more effect in accomplishing 
Mr Johnson's designs than all the arguments the latter had 
ever used; for, since I found I was looked upon equally guilty 
as if I had actually consented, I began to think it was a 
matter of little consequence whether I yielded or no. Add to 
this, I considered my gratifying Johnson at this time as a 
kind of revenge for Martin's ill-treatment; so that I met him 
with dispositions as agreeable to his purpose as he could well 
desire. Nor was he backward in using his utmost addresses to 
obtain what I granted him before my return.

'Thus, then, was I clandestinely sacrificed to prostitution by 
my father-confessor and my pretended husband. The 
correspondence between me and Johnson continued many 
months,with the approbation of the honest Jesuit who, tasting 
the sweets that flowed from it, highly applauded Johnson's 
generosity. As well he might, since in the course of fifteen 
months I drained him of near five thousand pounds. At the end 
of this time he was declared a bankrupt.

'Though I had procured Monsieur Martin so considerable a sum 
within so short a time, his natural extravagance, joined to 
the presents he made to Madame la Touche, who claimed a share 
in the spoils, we were not much richer at the end of that 
period by all our gains. So that he was planning new projects 
for raising supplies, at the price of my prostitution. After 
what had passed between me and Johnson,he thought there was no 
necessity for mincing matters, and he now frankly told me he 
had a Colonel in his eye for me; that, however, he was afraid 
he would not pay so well as Johnson; but that he had an after-
game to play upon him.

'Madame la Touche was accordingly engaged to bring us 
together. The Colonel's face I recollected very well. He had 
frequently dangled after me at Vauxhall and Marylebone: but 
had never till now opened his lips upon the score of love, or 
anything else. He made me a present of only a fifty pound note 
the first time he visited me: which so irritated Monsieur 
Martin, that he resolved to give him no further quarter, but 
to play his after-game upon him as soon as possible. He placed 
Madame la Touche and another female in a closet, where they 
designedly made the Colonel discover them by coughing loud, 
after the Colonel had paid his devotions to me upon the altar 
of Venus. The Colonel took the alarm and, judging of their 
business, he compounded matters for five hundred pounds with 
Martin, to avoid having them canvassed in a court of justice 
for crim. con.<165>, as he was himself a married man.

'Notwithstanding all this success in my profession, Monsieur 
Martin soon failed for �15,000 and he decamped for Holland, 
leaving me and his creditors to share his household furniture. 
He wrote me a letter from Rotterdam, telling me that he should 
soon return to England and settle his affairs But I never set 
eyes upon him afterwards.

'I have since that time shared all the vicissitudes of an 
unhappy woman. I was brought to Paris by an English nobleman, 
who, dying soon after, left me here destitute; and Madame 
Laborde has been kind enough to admit me amongst the numbers 
of her pensioners.'



Chapter XXVII 
Some insights into Maria's present situation--A descriptive 
portrait of a female gladiating repast, done from the life.

Mademoiselle Fenelon finished her story very abruptly, without 
giving me an opportunity of being acquainted with the footing 
which we were upon at Madame Laborde's. And my curiosity was 
all this time excited to know what kind of business it was in 
which I was to be admitted a partner. The gay appearance of my 
companions highly astonished me. I could not conceive in what 
manner they were able to support the expense they must 
necessarily make. Whilst I was thus racking my imagination to 
explain these mysteries, we were called to dinner, and the 
soup was served. The repast was nothing extraordinary, but the 
quick circulation of the glass appeared greatly so to me, and 
its effects soon manifested themselves. For the first course 
was scarcely removed before two of our boarders, whom the 
fumes of wine began now to operate upon, fell to boxing across 
the table. In an instant the table, plates, ragouts and sauces 
were overturned upon the floor. And now that they had no 
interruption to get at each other, a regular Broughtonian 
match ensued, their handkerchiefs, caps and ribbons wantoned 
in the air, and bloody noses began to stream. The mistress 
thought it was high time for her to interpose her authority. 
But in the conflict receiving a severe blow upon the eye, 
which was a kind of compliment she did not expect, her pacific 
intentions were instantly changed to a hostile charge upon her 
assailant, and she gave very convincing proofs of her skill in 
the athletic art. The other two boarders, who had till now 
observed a strict neutrality, imagined they had been long 
enough idle spectators, and now followed the example of their 
companions. so that this soon became a general action.

For my part, I had from the first dawn of this rupture retired 
in great consternation to a corner of the room, without once 
attempting to move during this Amazonian conflict.

Here was a scene for Hogarth to paint! Five women, more 
resembling furies than human beings. with dishevelled hair and 
bloody faces, bruising, swearing, cursing, scratching, biting, 
puking, screaming, and with scarce a rag of clothes to cover 
their nakedness, which in this present situation would have 
been visible in spite of dress. One who had got her antagonist 
down, rubbing her nose in a ragout: another, with her coats 
over her head, and an andouille<166> between her legs, calling 
out upon the Virgin Mary to preserve her in her present 
danger; the old lady swearing immediate destruction to them 
all for assaulting her. In this critical situation, the 
combatants still in the heat of action, which was not likely 
to be of short duration, a veteran female, who seemed to have 
served many an apprenticeship in the family, announced the 
arrival of a German Baron. This was a visitor of too much 
consequence not to procure an instantaneous cessation of 
hostilities. The heroines immediately disengaged, to search 
for their caps, ribbons, ruffles and petticoats, with which 
they flew to their respective apartments, whilst the hostess, 
who had made a precipitate retreat after having wiped her face 
and restored herself to the best appearance she was able in so 
short a time, went to amuse the Baron till the ladies were in 
a condition to receive company.



VOLUME II



Chapter XXVIII. 
A kind of introductory chapter to the second volume, 
containing some good, and many more bad things, which the 
reader is however desired to peruse with great attention 
before he goes any further, for particular reasons therein 
assigned.

So much, then, of my life has passed with tolerable decency. I 
was the toast of the gay and polite world for two years and a 
half. I have spent my patrimony in playing the coquette, in 
angling for unguarded hearts, and I have been caught in the 
very toils I was throwing out for others. I lost my virginity 
when I thought I had secured a husband. All this may still 
appear under the veil of innocence. I have as yet been only 
the patient, not the agent of vice. My life has hitherto been 
a tissue rather of follies than crimes, and the consideration 
of them has thus far occupied me and my readers. So true is it 
that we pass one half our lives in doing nothing, and the 
other half in ruminating upon what we have done.

I do not intend, however, that this observation shall be 
completely fulfilled upon my account. I am going presently to 
open a new scene, full of business, plot, intrigue and 
dissipation. But let me remind the reader that if he or she 
should chance to be a staunch Puritan, or even a Methodist, I 
would not have him or her so much as think of perusing this 
second volume. For really, to own the truth, there are some 
things in it that are not altogether spiritual, though the 
clergy may perhaps have their share in them. But then, it is 
not the English clergy; they are altogether incapable of 
acting any part in the following drama.

I shall only premise that the reader must now suppose me to 
have attained nearly my twentieth year: that I have in a great 
measure, by good living and cheerful company, recovered my 
embonpoint: and that if he will refer back to the picture I 
drew of myself at fifteen, he has nothing more to do than to 
add the additional dignity which five years confer upon a 
woman at this particular period of life, to have my portrait 
now at full length.

A pretty woman in Paris is almost adored, and if she is 
English, they nearly deify her. Though I had not yet received 
the appellation of L'Ange Anglaise<167>, as some one of my 
contemporaries did, I had been constantly admired when I 
appeared in the public walks. And, to say the truth, I believe 
there was no small spice of jealousy in Lady Bentley's 
behaviour towards me which had more weight in my being 
discarded her service, than the influence of her French 
waiting-maid, or even the loss of Romeo; as I have frequently, 
when with her in public, attracted all the attention, whilst 
she could secure herself scarce an admirer.

Thus much for my charms, Lady Bentley, her jealousy, Romeo and 
the like. It is time to return to my worthy benefactress, as I 
cannot form the least hopes of making a single conquest in my 
present garb. If dress is not beauty, it is frequently much 
more than beauty. Charms may be artificial, but there is no 
such thing as an artificial good gown; and the finest face in 
Christendom without it will not command one gazer. Therefore I 
will even get myself dressed as fast as possible.



Chapter XXIX. 
An �claircissement from Maria's landlady--Accepts the proposed 
terms, and is dressed out--Receives the visit of a President � 
mortier--His behaviour and generosity--The estimable character 
of a bawd to society illustrated.

If the reader should chance to be not quite so great a novice 
as I was in the female commerce of the world, he or she may, 
perhaps, ere this have formed a shrewd conjecture that I had 
not got into one of the most sober houses in all Paris. In 
truth my worthy landlady was one of the most celebrated bawds 
of that great metropolis, and as such thought she did honour 
to the name of Laborde. When she found it had only been a 
stratagem of the maid to announce the arrival of the Baron, in 
order to put an end to the combat, she returned to me with an 
air of great satisfaction and seeming complacency.

'My dear girl,' said she, embracing me, 'I would not have you 
entertain a bad opinion of us from the little misunderstanding 
that you have been a spectator of. These are nothing more than 
trifling sallies of vivacity, and which the occurrence of the 
smallest incident is capable of appeasing. One cannot always 
govern the first emotions of one's passion. We are all more or 
less subject to its influence. Tread upon a worm and it will 
stir. In other respects, if you were acquainted with these 
ladies, you would be delighted with the sweetness of their 
temper. They are the best-natured creatures in the world. 
Their anger is like a straw fire, extinguished as soon as it 
is lighted: they forget everything that's passed the moment it 
is over. As for me, God knows, I am quite a stranger to 
anything like rancour. I have no more gall in me than a dove. 
I pity those that would injure me, for I would not hurt a fly. 
But let's forget all these matters and come to the point.

'Nobody will pretend to contradict that we make a shocking 
figure in this world when we are poor. "No money, no Swiss." 
says the proverb. One might with as much propriety say. "No 
money, no pleasure, no contentment in this life." Now, as it 
is quite natural for everyone to wish to live at ease, which 
can never be procured without money, I believe you must agree 
with me, that that person must be a great fool who would 
refuse obtaining a sufficiency, having it in his power to 
acquire it, particularly when the means that are used are no 
way detrimental to society. That would be a crime indeed, and 
Lord preserve me from any such practices. Yes, my dear child, 
the Lord preserve me from them. My conscience is as clear as 
crystal upon this score: and defy the world to reproach me 
with having injured any soul breathing. We are not barbarians 
that worship the sun: or disciples of those heathens who 
imagine all that belongs to us dies when our bodies are put 
into the grave. No, my life, we have souls to be saved; and it 
should be our chief study therefore to act uprightly in 
whatever station we are placed in. The calling we follow 
signifies nothing, provided we act honestly in it. I repeat it 
again, that we must be dupes, indeed, to our folly or our 
vanity, not to avail ourselves of those resources with which 
nature has furnished us. And to whom has nature been more 
provident in this respect, than to yourself? She has not given 
you those charms for nothing. She has put it in your own power 
to be happy, and if you neglect it, you can blame no one but 
yourself. How many girls, with not half your beauty, have 
obtained settlements that have made them easy all their lives. 
Not that I envy them their success, if they had more 
obligations to me than they have; though, to be sure, 
ingratitude will force one to think them not altogether worthy 
of their good fortune. This alone makes one backward in doing 
good-natured things.'

'My dear madame,' cried I with some earnestness, 'I hope you 
will never have reason to complain of my ingratitude.'

'We can answer for nothing,' replied she, 'they all said the 
same, and they all forgot what they promised. Grandeur and 
pomp change people's nature; they don't think the same in 
affluence, as they do in indigence. If you did but know how 
many opera girls I have trained and put in the right road, who 
seem now not to know me, you would be forced to own that 
gratitude is a virtue that is very rarely practised in the age 
we live in. But be this as it may, we have a satisfaction in 
performing kind offices, and there is no one more sensible of 
this pleasure than myself. � propos, my pretty dear, has so 
sweet a girl as you never obliged anybody?'

'Indeed, madame,' I replied very innocently, 'it has never 
been in my power to confer any great obligations; but--'

'Pshaw!' interrupted Madame Laborde, 'you don't understand me; 
have you got your maidenhead yet?'

At this very extraordinary and unexpected question, I turned 
as red as scarlet, without being able to utter a syllable of 
answer.

'I see,' said she, 'it is gone; but I have a secret to remedy 
that. However, you know that a merchant cannot deal in a 
commodity without he is acquainted with its goodness.' In 
saying this, she entered into an examination without any 
further ceremony, whilst I remained so astonished, that I was 
unable either to assist or prevent her. 

The dialogue and behaviour of Madame Laborde, ignorant as I 
was, had sufficiently opened my eyes to be convinced of the 
commerce I was to be concerned in; and though I had real 
chastity enough to have detested the thoughts of prostitution, 
the reflection of my present indigence, and the improbability 
of my getting an honest place that would suit me, undermined 
all the artillery of reason and virtue, which, at first, 
appeared a very formidable battery against the mercenary 
forces of this veteran female commander. In a word, the sight 
of a pink silk sack with silver flowers, and a pinchbeck gold 
watch, removed even the smallest scruple that I could suggest 
against the plan of life Madame Laborde had so artfully 
chalked out for me.

In this manner was I dressed the next day, when I was 
complimented by my companions upon the beauty and elegance of 
my person; and our worthy patroness completed these eulogiums 
in saying that I looked so ravishing, so irresistible, that I 
should have all Paris at my devotion. I must acknowledge I was 
not quite insensible to this flattery for, to own the truth, I 
could not avoid thinking there was some foundation for what 
they said, and I considered myself, every time I passed a 
looking-glass, with an admiration I was before unacquainted 
with.

To do justice to Madame Laborde, it must be acknowledged she 
was upon the foremost lists of the priestesses of Cytherea. 
Her foresight extended to everything. Besides the boarders 
which she kept at home, not to be unprovided in cases of 
accident, or when she had a more than usual demand for her 
merchandise, she had her corps de reserve in times of 
scarcity. She had also a complete magazine of all kinds of 
female wearing-apparel containing gowns and sacks of all 
colours and suited to all shapes. These she let out at 
stipulated prices to her boarders and occasional visitors. For 
instance, I, as one of her new poor proselytes, was to pay at 
the rate of a petit �cu or three livres a day for my wearing-
apparel, which she assured me everyone gave. This must have 
been no small addition to her perquisites.

Madame Laborde, not being willing that I should pay my petit 
�cu without reaping any advantage from my dress and 
appearance, had sent notice to some of her best customers of 
the new addition to her seminary. By this wise precaution. 
there was no danger of our languishing in expectation.

M. le M----, one of the Presidents � mortier<168>, who was 
always more punctual in keeping these assignations than giving 
audience to his clients, arrived just as I had finished 
dressing. I perceived a man of rather short stature, dressed 
in black, with one leg which I afterwards found of wooden 
manufacture; his neck as stiff as his artificial leg, a head 
that very rarely moved, lest the quantity of powder which his 
wig contained might have been in some degree diminished: 
which, notwithstanding all his care, his clothes bore very 
evident testimony of. But what he wanted in agility, he made 
up in fragrance: he was more odoriferous than a perfume-shop.

'Indeed, Laborde,' said he approaching me, 'I do you honour 
for this acquisition. This is fine, delicious, divine. Really, 
you have outdone your usual choice. Upon my word, this young 
lady is enchanting, she is a thousand degrees handsomer than 
the picture you drew of her, she is an angel. I am serious. 
Why, I am fascinated. As I am a magistrate, there is no 
containing myself. Heavens! what an eye! What a mouth! I must 
kiss it, I am in raptures.'

Madame Laborde seeing the negotiation so happily advanced, 
imagined it was time for her to retire, rightly judging that 
the presence of a third person was rather unnecessary to 
Monsieur le President.

She was no sooner gone than he began to make love to me with 
all the pomp and majesty of his station. I shall draw a veil 
over the latter part of this scene, lest it should be as 
disgustful to the reader as it was to me, and shall only add 
upon this subject, that having entertained the President for 
about three-quarters of an hour, I found myself two louis 
d'ors the richer, which, however, he told me not to mention to 
Mme Laborde, as he should make her the usual compliment 
besides, as well as the present he intended me, adding, 
'Adieu, my princess. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you 
again very soon, as I never met with a woman that gave me so 
much satisfaction.' He then retired in great haste, and was 
scarce gone before I had a visit from Madame Laborde.

Well, my dear,' said she, 'is the President a very good sort 
it a man? Has he given you anything?'

'No,' I replied, according to the injunction he laid upon me.

'Well, then.' said she, 'here is a louis d'or, which he has 
given me for you. I hope this will not be the only mark you 
will receive of his generosity, for he seemed to me quite 
enchanted with you. But, my dear girl, you must not expect 
that all our customers pay as well. There is profit and loss 
in all kinds of trades. The good pay for the bad. No trader 
always gains. You must lump posts and perquisites together. 
Indeed, our trade would be better and more inexhaustible than 
a Peruvian mint, if we were never disappointed. But patience, 
the clergy will meet soon, and then you will see money fly 
about here. Without any vanity, my house is in no little 
repute with them. If I had only as many thousand livres income 
as I have accommodated prelates and abb�s of rank, I should be 
able to make as great a figure as Madame Pompadour herself, 
who is the head of the profession. But I have no great reason 
to complain. Thank heaven! I have enough to support me without 
carrying on business any longer. But I look upon it as part of 
my duty to be useful to society, and I must amuse myself 
somehow. Laziness is the mother of all vice. If everyone was 
employed, they would never think of doing evil.'

Whilst Madame Laborde was thus expatiating upon the goodness 
of her trade and the rectitude of her conduct, I began to 
yawn. Which she perceiving, left me to go to repose, saying to 
be sure I must have undergone some fatigue, considering I was 
not yet much used to business.



Chapter XXX. 
The chapter of animadversion; being the balance of 
prostitution in the scale of truth.

Besides these comments upon Mme Laborde's character and 
conduct. I received such useful instructions from her in 
regard to the vocation I entered upon, that I began to 
consider whoredom as a complete science. She taught me to 
secure my health, improve my natural charms, and play them off 
on every occasion to the most advantage upon the men. These 
discoveries led me to some reflections upon the conduct of the 
modest part of the sex, and I concluded from experience that 
the woman of pleasure had taught them the secret of 
multiplying their graces and displaying them by foils and 
dress to so much advantage. I was convinced they had borrowed 
our look, our gait, our air, and that even modest woman strove 
who should most resemble a prostitute. We are upon every 
occasion the objects of their attention and study. It is from 
us that they receive every new fashion, and all those little 
artifices which enchant, and which no one can define. In a 
word, they have but little reason to upbraid us. for they are 
only amiable in proportion as they know how to copy us, to 
tincture their chastity with coquetry and to ape those they 
despise. May this digression turn out to the glory of so 
respectable and numerous a body as the prostitutes of all 
ranks and denominations, by compelling our envious adversaries 
to do us that justice we deserve, and repair our honour which 
they as well as our admirers have so violently attacked.

The reader will perhaps from hence conclude that I have 
already made no small proficiency in my calling, and that I 
shall very soon, under the auspices of so able and judicious 
an advocate as Madame Laborde, be able to plead the cause of 
prostitution at any court in Europe. I will not anticipate my 
merit on this occasion, but leave him to guess, by this 
sample, of my future abilities.

To resume. Madame Laborde, who had overnight inveighed so 
bitterly against laziness, was resolved that I should not make 
any acquaintance with vice by a familiarity with its common 
mother. She came into my apartment in the morning between five 
and six, saying in a tender voice:

'Arc you awake, my dear? I did not intend to disturb you so 
early. but all your companions are still engaged with a set of 
young officers, whose company I would not let you go into, as 
I knew them to be very bad pay, and I intended you only for my 
good customers. But there is a friend of mine below. He is a 
deputy farmer-general, an old acquaintance of mine, who brings 
me regularly his two louis d'ors a week, and I would not 
disoblige him, if possible. Get up, my dear, two louis are no 
such contemptible present--especially when they are so easily 
earned.'

I would fain have excused myself from this commission. But 
she, finding me somewhat backward, told me, 'he would not 
detain me a quarter of an hour, and then I might return to 
bed, if I would.'

This argument prevailed upon me to rise, and having dressed 
myself, I repaired to the parlour. where I found one of the 
most disagreeable figures that nature in her anger must have 
produced. He was between forty and fifty, hunchbacked and 
bandy-legged. But though his body was thus deformed, it did 
not equal the anti-beauty of his face. It appeared to be one 
general ulcer, without the distinction of any features except 
his eyes, which were discernible only by their peculiar 
redness and moisture. This man was I to fondle upon, to make 
love to, be in raptures with! I started at the sight of such a 
monster, which I imagined could never be a human being. Madame 
Laborde perceived my emotion, and brought me a glass of 
ratafia to recruit my spirits.

Let me draw a veil over his behaviour, which was still more 
nauseous and disgusting than his person.

When I reflect upon the cruel and extravagant whims which a 
woman of pleasure is exposed to, I cannot believe that there 
is any condition, however mean, however laborious, that is 
half so miserable. I do not except even that of a bailiff or a 
courtier. In fact, what can be more insupportable than to be 
compelled to indulge the caprices of the first man that offers 
himself: to smile and fawn upon a fool whom we despise in our 
hearts: to caress an object that creates universal abhorrence-
-in a word, to be constantly disguised with the mask of 
artifice and dissimulation; to laugh, sing, drink and give 
ourselves up to every kind of riot and debauchery, most 
frequently against our will, and often with extreme 
repugnance? Those who figure to themselves our lives as a 
tissue of pleasure and felicity are but ill-acquainted with 
our state! Those cringing, despicable slaves, who are 
continually paying their adulations to the great whilst they 
are only upon sufferance, at the price of a thousand shameful 
meannesses, the most dastardly complaisance, and a perpetual 
disguise of their sentiments, are not sensible of half the 
stings and mortifications which are inseparable from our lot. 
I should not have much difficulty to believe that if misery 
was any way meritorious in us, and could sent us in lieu of 
penance in this world, there would be few of us unworthy of a 
place in martyrology, and some of us might probably be 
canonized. As our prostitution is founded in base interest, so 
sovereign contempt, insult and outrage are our constant 
rewards. It is impossible for anyone who has not followed the 
profession to imagine half the horrors that attend it. I 
tremble when I reflect upon the hardships which I suffered 
during my novitiate. And yet how many are there that have been 
afflicted with still greater! She whom we today see triumphing 
in her gilt chariot, whose luxury and magnificence strike the 
eyes of the whole town, and who insolently dictates to her 
keeper when and how he shall think, speak and eat--even she 
was but late the refuse of footmen, chairmen and porters, the 
heroine of night-cellars and the concubine of link-boys. Have 
we not seen her traverse the streets with scarce a petticoat, 
who can now hardly move under a load of jewels to her 
equipage--and whose sight is offended at the shadow of any 
below nobility?

Such are the extraordinary transitions in the republic of 
fornication. As these animadversions seem to make a very 
proper sequel to the beginning of the chapter as an effectual 
counterpoise to our vanity and presumption, I shall extend it 
no further.



Chapter XXXI. 
Maria's being disgusted at Mme. Laborde, quits her house--The 
disaster that befalls her--The difficulty she finds of 
obtaining her liberty--The uncommon vocation she makes with a 
musketeer--An adventure that had like to have proved fatal to 
her, is relieved by a canon.

I continued this profitable trade at Mme Laborde's near six 
months, and might have remained there much longer, had it not 
been for the furious assault of a dozen musketeers, whom my 
landlady neither dared control or even remonstrate with. It 
was in vain for me to oppose their violent attempts. Force 
prevailed against all my entreaties, against all my outcries. 
I told Madame Laborde I would no longer expose myself to the 
repetition of such violence, and all her remonstrances were 
ineffectually used to induce me to alter my resolution. She, 
at length, consented to our separation, upon condition that I 
should continue an outdoor assistant, whenever I might be 
called upon for the good of the service. I laid out about five 
pounds of the money I had saved in some trifling goods, with 
which I furnished an apartment in the Rue d'Argenteuil, in 
order to avoid falling under the lash of the commissaries. But 
what avail human foresight when our stars combine against us! 
When I imagined myself in the greatest security, envious 
calumny disturbed my peaceful solitude and destroyed all my 
hopes at the very instant I thought of accomplishing them.

Amongst the number of rakes who paid their respects to me, 
there was one whom I admitted with great caution and 
circumspection. He was imprudent enough to devote himself to 
variety, and he wanted to foster upon me the lineal heir of 
his unrestrained gratification. This he did in so outrageous a 
manner as to disturb the tranquillity of the neighbourhood. 
For being conscious of my innocence, I rebuked him for the 
insult, which so exasperated him that he abused me at the 
window in the most scandalous and opprobrious manner. Some 
antiquated practitioners who lived facing me and were jealous 
of my success took advantage of this little disturbance, and 
gave information thereof to the police, and a night or two 
after I had a visit paid me by half a dozen carabineers of St. 
Come, who conducted me to the Bic�tre.

I was confined here for upwards of ten days, during which time 
I wrote to Madame Laborde, desiring her to use her interest in 
order to procure my liberty. But I received no answer from 
her, any more than from the rest of those to whom I wrote; and 
in all likelihood I should have ended my days there, or been 
sent to the plantations, if I had not luckily thought of M. le 
Pr�sident a mortier, whom I was first introduced to at that 
lady's. The very next day after I penned my letter, I was 
informed that I was no longer a prisoner.

Though this gentleman's generosity had restored me to my 
liberty, I found much difficulty to obtain another lodging, 
but upon condition of admitting no male visitors. This I was 
compelled to consent to, not without hopes, however, of 
eluding my promise. But my landlady was such an indefatigable 
Argus, and such an admirer of good hours and regularity, that 
I was very soon, in despite of my inclination, in the virtuous 
road to famine.

In this situation I had an offer made me by a painter to stand 
for a model at their academy. I was not arrived at such a 
pitch of indelicacy as not to be greatly shocked at the 
thoughts of exposing myself naked to a number of men at once. 
But that all-ruling passion, eating, surmounted my modesty, 
and I actually engaged with him according to his proposal. I 
have had the honour to be an object of study and amusement to 
all the painters and daubers of Paris. They have exhausted 
upon me every subject sacred or profane. At one time I 
represented a penitent Magdalene, at another Pasiphae. One day 
I was an angel, the next a Fury, according to the whim and 
caprice of the gentlemen of vertu.

The exposition of my charms were procuring me a comfortable 
subsistence, without running any other risk than that of 
catching cold, when I was rivalled by a sister expositor, who 
had no superior merit to me, except that of novelty. They knew 
me all over by heart, and they thought they no longer required 
any proof of skill to depict me. as I had by repetition become 
familiar. Whereas Mademoiselle Labette, though not near so 
well-proportioned as myself, had, by the force of variety 
alone, superseded me in my most advantageous calling. They 
were, however, soon convinced that her vivacity did not only 
prevent them drawing her precisely in those attitudes which 
were required, but also that it might be of dangerous 
consequences to their society by bringing upon them the 
resentment of the police. One day, whilst she was standing for 
chaste Susanna, in puris naturalibus<31>, a procession of the 
Carmelites passing by, she leaped from the table, and flew to 
the balcony to become a spectator. The attention of the 
populace was immediately diverted from the religious 
procession, and some overzealous attendants upon the monks 
gave her a salute of pebbles. Nor did this affair end here, 
for the master of the house narrowly escaped being sent to the 
galleys for admitting of such scandalous proceedings.

About this time I had an offer made me by a musketeer, who was 
really a fine gentleman. He proposed to allow me a hundred 
livres a month. I readily accepted of this offer, which I 
thought at this time very advantageous. It had besides an 
additional recommendation, for I really liked the man, and we 
accordingly took up our quarters in the Rue de Chaume. 
Monsieur Dubois, which was my friend's name, was fond of me to 
admiration, so that our esteem was mutual. This might be 
considered as a very extraordinary phenomenon in the course of 
prostitution, an insurmountable aversion being generally the 
only recompense of keepers. But with all this regard on my 
side, I will not pretend to aver that I was over-scrupulously 
constant to him. My hair-dresser was a handsome young fellow, 
and I found it both my interest and inclination to gratify his 
desires. However, Monsieur Dubois had no kind of suspicion 
upon this head, and I might have been said to live easy and 
comfortable for a woman in my condition, when an unlucky 
accident once more destroyed my repose. The court being then 
at Fontainebleau, and M. Dubois upon duty, my landlady 
concluding he would not return but with the King, begged of me 
to lend her my apartment for a particular acquaintance who was 
come from the country with his wife to pass two or three days 
in Paris. I did not make the least difficulty to oblige her, 
and I was to lie with her whilst the visitors stayed. The good 
folks accordingly took possession of my bed the same night.

M. Dubois had obtained leave of his commanding officer to 
return to Paris upon some pressing business. He had a key to 
the street-door, wherewith he let himself in when he would. He 
opened the door very softly, to avoid disturbing the family. 
He repaired to my apartment, but what was his astonishment at 
being asked, 'Who is there?' in a masculine voice! He 
approached my bed, trembling at once with tear and rage. He 
feels about the pillows, and finds two heads. It was now that 
the demon jealousy, the spirit of revenge, overpowered his 
reason. Without further enquiry, or ceremony, he falls upon 
the bedfellows with his cane, and gives them so hearty a 
bastinado that the unfortunate man, endeavouring to save his 
wife from this furious assailant, has one of his arms broke in 
the fray. It is easy to imagine what a scene must ensue. The 
house is presently in an uproar. Nay, the whole neighbourhood 
is alarmed at the outcries of the unfortunate pair. Murder is 
screamed on every side. The guet<169> came, and M. Dubois, too 
late discovering his mistake, is arrested, and conducted to 
the H�tel.

As this tumult was occasioned directly upon my account, I did 
not think it prudent to wait the issue of the event: but 
having slipped on a petticoat and a pet-en-l'air,<170> I took 
refuge with a canon of St Nicholas, who lodged under the same 
roof. This holy man had looked very kindly on me for some 
time, and I question whether he was much displeased at the 
adventure, which furnished him with an opportunity of 
testifying his regard for me.

I ingratiated myself so well in the canon's favour that he 
proposed to share with me the revenue of his living. Though 
this was no great amount, it would have been very imprudent in 
me at this juncture to have refused it: so that the same 
evening he put on me one of his old sacerdotal dresses, in 
which it was scarce possible for anybody to have known me, and 
conducted me to an acquaintance of his in the Rue Champfleuri.



Chapter XXXII. 
Is introduced to Madame Maillot--The accident that happens to 
the canon--His funeral orattion by Madame Maillot--The 
outlines of the character of Brother Lamoue.

The person to whom this pious father introduced me was one 
Madame Maillot, neither more nor less than a dealer in old 
clothes. This worthy lady had some time before served the 
canon in the capacity of housekeeper, and she left him to take 
for better for worse a water-carrier, who sojourned a short 
time after his nuptials in this transitory sphere. In a word, 
it was to the care of this venerable trader that I was 
recommended till such time as she could procure me a 
convenient lodging.

Madame Maillot was a lady of no small bulk in point of 
corpulence; but beneath this surcharge of flesh there might be 
discovered the vestiges of a tolerable good face, upon the 
strength of which she still carried on a small libidinous 
commerce with a brother of the seraphic order of St Francis.

The intricate mazes which lead to the temple of that blind 
goddess fortune are inexplorable to humanity. Would it be 
supposed that my first elevation to that sphere of grandeur I 
afterwards shone in is to be attributed to the acquaintance I 
made with a dealer in old clothes? Yet nothing is more 
certain. But what is confounds the human understanding, is 
that frequently the paths of felicity are pointed out by 
events in themselves shocking and dreadful. A poor countryman 
who relies upon the hospitality of his friend is broke alive 
whilst he is reposing himself in my chamber; and that I may 
not be called upon to be any way responsible for this tragical 
adventure. I escape to my neighbour the canon's, who privately 
conducts me to Madame Maillot's. This is not all. The next 
day, to complete my mortification, I am informed that the 
canon himself is crushed by the falling of a church and lies 
buried in the ruins: and by this unexpected disaster, there 
seems no other resource than for me to rely entirely upon the 
mercy of my landlady.

In such a situation it is not in the least surprising that 
tears should express the dictates of my heart, which Madame 
Maillot supposed a tribute I was paying to the dead. For some 
minutes our streams of sorrow flowed in concert. After which, 
this good woman being naturally no great friend to lasting 
affliction, attempted to administer consolation, in which she 
succeeded better by her ridiculous animadversions than the 
most learned doctor could have done with all his morality and 
logic.

'Come, my dear,' said she, 'it is time that reason should take 
place, for if we were to cry till doomsday, we could not bring 
him back to life. God's will be done! And, after all, it is 
not us that have killed him. It is his own fault if he is 
dead. Yes, that it is. What the plague had he to do at Matins, 
he who in the course of a whole twelve-month does not go four 
times? Was there ever a worse judged time for devotion? Might 
not Matins have been sung just as well without him?

'Are not the chorists paid for it? Ay, as gossip Guiltote 
says, "Death is a great traitor, as well as a great tyrant." 
Just when we the least expect him, he comes upon us. Who in 
the name of prophecy could have told the canon yesterday we 
shall have a fine goose tomorrow, but the deuce a bit will you 
be able to eat of it? He would have sworn it was a lie, and 
that he could eat his share. Yet this is the way we are 
mistaken every day. It is a thousand pities, to be sure; for 
it is as fine a goose as ever was served at the King's table. 
It must be so; and what signifies grieving? All the chagrin in 
the world won't make us a farthing richer; for, to own the 
truth, I believe if people were paid for mourning, I should be 
as sorrowful as the most weeping attendant upon a funeral. 
Between friends there's no great loss. 'Tis true he loved his 
wench, but then he promised ten times more than he performed. 
And what was worse, the rogue would not let them pasture in 
another's ground, though he could not allow them a handful 
more forage. And then, he was tinctured with no small spice of 
gluttony. And canon-like, he would now and then get mellow. 
But, what's worse than all, he ran in debt for it. What 
signifies hiding the truth? He is dead and gone; but, to be 
sure, never did a more worthless fellow, even of a priest, 
break bread.'

Madame Maillot convinced me by this learned funeral oration 
upon her master that our servants are nothing better than 
spies and critics of our conduct, who are the more dangerous 
in proportion as they are unable to discern our good 
qualities, though they have always too much malice not to 
discover our weaknesses and imperfections. She, however, 
talked to me in a very different manner with regard to Brother 
Lamoue. He was living, and his church newly rebuilt, so that 
there was no great likelihood of having an opportunity soon of 
displaying her talents in a funeral oration upon his account, 
by reason of a similar catastrophe. It must be acknowledged 
that he was of so agreeable a disposition that he deserved 
encomiums from all who knew him. He entered just as Madame 
Maillot was trussing the goose for the spit. I perceived a 
fine young fellow, robust and vigorous, with piercing eyes and 
an expressive countenance. My worthy landlady immediately 
acquainted him with the accident that had befell her and 
myself, in the person of the defunct canon. But he had already 
gained information of it; for what indeed else have the clergy 
in France to do but gather news, which they communicate by way 
of barter for more, save souls and increase bodies; without 
considering fornication as a vice, or cuckoldom as a crime, 
but in the pulpit? No one whoever wore the habit was better 
calculated for this traffic than Brother Lamoue. He was an 
adept at regulating nice interviews, removing obstacles, 
eluding the vigilance of the most penetrating Argus, cheating 
jealous husbands and relieving timid virgins from the 
tyrannical empire of relations. In a word, he was the king of 
prox�n�tes<171>, and the Mercury of the intriguing world.

Such an acquaintance could not fail of being agreeable to me, 
as Madame Maillot told me that he never undertook any girl's 
settlement without being sure to accomplish it. I therefore 
thought it my interest to be in every respect condescending to 
this amiable and useful brother. And as he was not possessed 
of any sort of bashfulness which prevented his soon coming to 
an explanation upon the score of Cyprian devotions, in which 
his greatest fervence was demonstrated, it cannot be supposed 
that I kept him long in dalliance. No, to acknowledge the 
truth, I made him as happy as he desired the very first night 
I saw him. Nor was Madame Maillot any way displeased at my 
condescension, though she considered Brother Lamoue, not 
without reason, as part of her property. Her maxim was that 
gluttony was a deadly sin, and that where there was a 
plenteous board, two guests might eat at the same mess, 
without either being in apprehension of want.



Chapter XXXIII. 
The good dispositions of Brother Lamoue towards Maria, which 
are frustrated by the sudden death of the Opera-manager--He 
promises her his further interest, whilst she remains under 
the direction of Madame Maillot--The pious advice of this 
worthy lady, etc.

Brother Lamoue was so well convinced in the morning of my 
talents, that he prophetically told I should certainly make my 
fortune. Continued he:

'I could easily recommend you to one who would immediately 
take you into keeping, but he would make no settlement, and I 
think you are deserving of someone better. Your figure and 
person will not let you long remain in a state of obscurity; 
and, everything considered, the Opera will be the best place 
for you to expose your charms to a fair market. I will use all 
my interest to get you engaged there. The only question is, 
whether you think yourself better qualified for a singer or a 
dancer.

To this I replied I thought my voice was not good enough, and 
perhaps they might have objections if they knew I was a 
foreigner, in regard to my pronunciation.

'As to your voice,' he resumed, 'I think it very elegant, and 
I do not imagine it possible for the nicest ear to determine 
that you are not a native. But I am of opinion you will 
captivate the most as a dancer: for really,' said he, viewing 
my leg, 'you will make a conquest of the whole parterre the 
first night.'

My orthodox friend was as good as his word. He spoke to the 
director of the Opera the next day and gave me a letter of 
recommendation to him: but he was taken ill of a malignant 
fever, which carried him off in a few days. Brother Lamoue had 
not yet established his influence with the new manager. But he 
had not the least doubt but as soon as he became acquainted 
with his merits and pretensions, he should have the same 
interest at the Opera as he had before, and he very sincerely 
assured me that as soon as he could rely upon it I might 
command it.

In this expectation, though I received scarce any 
gratifications from Brother Lamoue, I thought it prudent to 
keep up my correspondence with him. But Madame Maillot, who 
very well knew that an acquaintance of this kind would but 
little assist good housekeeping, gave me such advice as she 
thought would be of temporary advantage till things were 
brought to a crisis, when I might display my legs to double 
advantage to the parterre.

From the moment I had made an acquaintance with Brother 
Lamoue, I conceived the idea of making my fortune and of 
leaving my present hostess. But the disappointment I had just 
met with by the loss of the manager obliged me to defer 
putting my project in execution, and I therefore was compelled 
implicitly to follow the directions of Madame Maillot. She 
gave me directions where to walk; in what manner to behave to 
a cavalier when he accosted me; how far I should flatter his 
expectations; and in what manner I should dangle him home to 
her house, where she might make a proper advantage of him.

In the course of a week I had been lucky enough to obtain no 
less than five different lovers, every one of whom paid me 
handsomely, and my hostess began to treat me with peculiar 
civility upon my success. She said she found I was a girl of 
parts which only wanted a little cultivation; that her good 
instructions had not been thrown away upon me, but that she 
had one bit of advice to give me which had hitherto escaped 
her, to beware of the military; for those among them who are 
rich all keep mistresses. One half of the poor ones are in 
keeping themselves, and the other half are not able to keep 
either mistresses or themselves.

I acquiesced to everything my judicious and worthy gouvernante 
asserted, and promised to be guided entirely by her 
directions; whilst, in my heart I looked upon her as a most 
infernal jade, and had resolved to treat her as such the very 
first opportunity that offered.



Chapter XXXIV. 
An interview with a gentleman--The uneasiness Maria feels in 
his company. notwithstanding his politeness and regard--
Discovers him to be her brother at a very critical time--Mme 
Maillot's logic and counsel, which disgust Maria.

Whilst I was still at Madame Maillot's, I was one evening 
overtaken by a gentleman in the Rue St. Honor�, who after much 
solicitation I permitted to conduct me home. It cannot be 
supposed that my landlady was any of those squeamish women who 
would object to the admittance of a stranger, especially when 
his appearance bespoke him the man of opulence. No, she very 
readily lighted us upstairs. and as readily took his orders 
for the supper. Whilst this was preparing, he said a thousand 
tender things to me, --that I was the prettiest woman he had 
ever seen in France; and that if I had not spoke such good 
French, he should have been of opinion that I was an 
Englishwoman, I so much resembled them in my cleanliness and 
complexion.

Notwithstanding all these compliments, and the most engaging 
behaviour on his side, I was far from being entertaining or 
behaving with that complaisance he had reason to expect from 
me. I was seized with a kind of melancholy which, 
notwithstanding all my efforts to surmount, I could not get 
the better of. The application of the champagne was entirely 
void of effect and it was with the greatest reluctance that I 
indulged him with an embrace, and all his conversation, which 
tended towards amorous delight, shocked my ears more than it 
could have done before I had yielded to the proposals of my 
first vile seducer. He perceived my chagrin and was very 
solicitous to know the cause. I evaded giving an explicit 
answer for, indeed, I could not have done it.

At length the hour came for our retiring to rest, and Madame 
Maillot, who had perceived the plenitude of his purse, had 
taken the greatest pains to set off my apartment to the most 
advantage. I was already undressed and in bed, when he was 
taking off his stock and unbuttoning his shirt collar, I 
perceived a remarkable mole on the right side of his neck. 
This immediately brought to my recollection every feature of 
my brother Charles.

I jumped out of bed and, screaming, flew in my present 
condition to the room of Mme Maillot. She was unable to 
conceive the cause of my consternation and concluded that the 
house was on fire. So that without enquiring of me what was 
the matter, she immediately repaired to my chamber, where she 
found my brother in as much confusion as I had appeared. He 
asked her whether I was accustomed to fits, relating to her 
what had happened. and advising her to take care of me and 
give me what relief she could, as he imagined I was somewhat 
disordered in my mind, saying he had perceived a fixed 
melancholy in my countenance the whole evening, and that he 
had concluded I had something which violently affected my 
spirits.

Madame Maillot hereupon returned to me with an air of greater 
astonishment than either of us, and would fain have persuaded 
me to go back to my friend, as she called him, who she added, 
appeared very much like a gentleman, and could not possibly be 
guilty of using me ill. But all her persuasives were of no 
avail, and I could not be prevailed upon to return to my room, 
till such time as I found my brother was gone.

The news of his having put on his clothes and being retired 
gave me more real satisfaction than I was ever sensible of 
before. It delivered me from a load that oppressed me beyond 
description. I immediately breathed another ether. All my 
sorrow was expelled, all my anguish was dissipated. I was now 
possessed of spirits enough to acquaint Mme Maillot with the 
cause of my surprise and behaviour. But she treated it in a 
manner very different from what I expected. She attempted to 
reason casuistically upon the subject, and would fain have 
persuaded me, 'it would have been no sin to have committed 
incest, as we cannot suppose the children of Adam could have 
had any other wives than their daughters and sisters.' and 
advised me, in case he returned. 'not to be so prudish, as he 
was flush of money, and appeared very fond of me.'

This reasoning and advice completed my antipathy to Madame 
Maillot, and I resolved to profit of the first favourable 
opportunity to break the connection between us.



Chapter XXXV. 
The transition of Maria's fortune--Her grandeur and elegance--
Leads the fashions of the gay ladies of Paris, who 
scrupulously imitate her in every part of her dress.

It was but two days after that, walking in the Tuileries, I 
observed an English nobleman keep his eyes constantly upon me, 
turn as I turn and move just according to my motions. Madame 
Maillot, who was with me, told me I had made a conquest, but 
hoped I should not find him to be another brother of mine. She 
would have had more reason to have been of this opinion if she 
had understood English and had heard him declare. 'Egad! Tom, 
she is the finest creature I ever saw in my life. I'll have 
her if she is come-at-able, though she costs me ten thousand 
pounds.' I did not reveal this discovery to Madame Maillot, 
but failed not being in the Tuileries the next day, precisely 
at the same hour. I had taken particular care to dress myself 
to the greatest advantage, having employed three hours 
extraordinary that morning at my toilette, and exhausted the 
whole skill of three of the greatest artists in all Paris in 
point of hairdressing. If ever I was able to rivet the fetters 
which I had already linked, methought I could not fail at 
present.

I no sooner entered the gardens, than I perceived my admirer 
at the end of the walk. His eye caught mine in an instant, and 
he seemed to gaze with admiration and surprise. I appeared to 
take no notice of him, when he came up to Madame Maillot, and 
asked, with a faltering voice, if that lady was married. To 
which she answered she believed not. 'Then, Madame.' continued 
he. 'I should take it as a particular favour if you will 
inform me where she lives.'

Madame Maillot was too well versed in her trade to give a 
direct answer to this question.

'Sir,' said she, 'though she is not married at present, she is 
engaged, and it would be highly improper for any gentleman to 
wait upon her.'

This information did but double his curiosity, and though we 
made as many turnings and windings as half-a-dozen fiacres 
could trace, we were, nevertheless, dogged home by one of the 
gentleman's footmen.

The next day he sent me a letter, wherein he made me such 
proposals as it would have been very imprudent for me to have 
refused in my present situation, and, as an sample of his 
generosity he presented me with a repeating watch by Le Roy 
and a valuable ring.

A week's time made a complete transition in my affairs. From 
the scurvy dwelling of Madame Maillot, I was moved to an 
elegant lodging in a magnificent H�tel in Rue Colbert at 
thirty louis a month. A servant in livery, a valet de chambre, 
a maitre d'h�tel<172>, two waiting-maids and a brilliant 
carrosse coup�<173> by Martin, formed my retinue.

I might now be said to lead the fashion of Paris, at least 
amongst those ladies who shone forth with peculiar splendour 
at the price of their reputation. Every Opera singer and every 
kept woman of any eminence strove to outvie each other in 
imitating me. It was enough that Mademoiselle Brown had 
appeared in such a cap, or such a cloak. Their milliners were 
immediately set to work to product them the like. Monsieur 
Crapodine made his fortune by dressing my hair. He curled it 
in a peculiar form with drop-locks. Everyone immediately 
enquired who was my dresser, and he had presently more 
customers than he could wait upon, so that he fixed his price 
according to the hour, and would frequently make a dozen louis 
of a day by the folly and caprice of those who imitated my 
fashions.

When I was arrived at this pitch of distinction. Madame 
Maillot made great interest to come and serve me in quality of 
housekeeper: and, to this end, she engaged Brother Lamoue for 
her ambassador. But his negotiations proved fruitless, as I 
was resolved to have no connection with a person of her 
principles and disposition.



Chapter XXXVI. 
A sketch of the artifices used by Opera girls to gull the 
English gentlemen who go to Paris--The conduct of a British 
merchant's son in that metropolis--His folly and extravagance.

Thus did I continue moving in the highest sphere of luxury and 
grandeur in the metropolis of France, by the support and 
countenance of an English nobleman, whom the French themselves 
are impelled to acknowledge surpass their own noblesse in 
grandeur, generosity and magnificence. It is for this reason 
that an Opera girl in France no sooner hears of the arrival of 
a milord anglais, than she sets all her machines in movement 
and plays off all her artillery, as she concludes her fortune 
completed if she has the good luck to make a conquest of him. 
Whilst I remained in Paris, upon the Bon Ton,<20> there were 
no less than four Opera girls in keeping by English gentlemen; 
and if one might judge by their extravagance in dress and 
equipage. they could not be supported for less than a hundred 
pounds a week, besides presents of jewels and such-like 
superfluous ornaments. Mademoiselle Florezete, who was one of 
them, and with whom I was acquainted, gave me some account of 
the artifices she had practised upon her English lover:

'The first good man,' said she, 'that I attracted on my coming 
on the stage was a rich banker's son of London. His father was 
a baronet, and he was particularly solicitous of supporting 
the title and dignity of his family by his magnificence and 
appearance. No man in Paris had a finer equipage or more 
elegant liveries, and no man in Paris bid fairer for making a 
good keeper. Though he could not lay claim to any great 
excellence in person, as his stature was rather below the 
middle size, and his legs were not so perfectly straight as he 
could have wished, he had accomplishments which he piqued 
himself upon, and which, indeed, were somewhat extraordinary. 
No man kept better racehorses, was a greater master of boxing, 
or was better qualified to carry off a dozen bottles of 
champagne, without reeling. This gentleman, who was the hope 
and idol of his family, travelled in order to unite with his 
corporeal accomplishments such as are acquired by seeing the 
world and an acquaintance with the beau monde. However, the 
only connection he had at present in Paris was at his 
banker's, upon whom he had an unlimited letter of credit. And 
all his acquaintance was confined to two or three chevaliers 
d'industrie--pimps and hangers-on--and the charming Tha�ses 
they procured him.

'M. L----, who was then a pander-in-ordinary to the Opera 
girls, happening to fall in company with Mr B----, he 
expressed his surprise that a gentleman of his family and 
appearance should have so small a connection with the ladies: 
and, at the same time, threw out some hints that he could 
introduce him to one of the most accomplished women upon the 
stage; that they were the only acknowledged goddesses in Paris 
to whom the gay and polite all paid their adorations. The bait 
took. Mr B---- acknowledged that he had for some time had a 
very sincere desire of being engaged with one; that it was no 
other than Mademoiselle Florezete. "The deuce," replied Mr L--
--, 'you have as much genuine taste as if you had resided here 
a dozen years. Do you know that since the memory of man there 
never appeared a more divine creature than Florezete upon our 
stage! It is not above a month since she has been disengaged, 
and she has already so many proposals made her that she does 
not know which to accept. She is besieged on all sides, and 
her assailants, it must be owned, are very furious in their 
attacks. She is the very person I should have mentioned, and 
is--indeed--the only one at present that would be worthy of 
your rank and merit.'

'This was a modest representation of me, you will allow, for 
the first overture. But Mr L---- had like to have gone too far 
in representing my suitors so numerous, as Mr B------ was not 
fond of much trouble, and was not knight-errant sufficient to 
desire encountering more difficulties than he could surmount 
with his money. So that he was upon the point of giving up all 
hopes of me, when Mr L---- resumed his panegyrical harangue in 
the following manner:

'"But, sir,' continued he, 'she has so many obligations to me, 
and I have so much your interests at heart, that methinks I 
could soon make an impression on her in your favour, 
especially as she is in raptures with a foreigner, and as 
there is never a one at present upon her list of suitors. She 
is the least self-interested woman I ever knew, and would make 
an incomparable mistress to a man who would pay her proper 
respect. You cannot conceive how great her attachment was to 
her last lover. It must be acknowledged he was very worthy of 
it, and that no man ever behaved to a woman in a more noble or 
a more generous manner. It was in vain for her to hide her 
wants from him, for you know a pretty woman has always some of 
one sort or other. He had a most surprising penetration for 
discovering them, and they seemed to struggle who should act 
the most disinterested part, in a manner as extraordinary as 
it was agreeable.'

'Mr B---- was captivated at these great eulogiums which Mr L--
-- lavished upon me. He could no longer resist, strongly 
importuning him to furnish him with an opportunity of 
conversing with me. This Mr L---- told him would be very 
difficult to effect, till such time as he paved the way for 
him by representing him as the most amiable as well as 
generous character in the world, it being an invariable rule 
with me to admit no visitors but such who bore the best of 
reputations and were very strongly recommended.

'I was immediately informed of all that had passed, and 
resolved with Mr L----'s advice not to admit him to a visit, 
till such time as I had more strongly excited his passion by 
my appearance in a new ballet, which was at present in 
rehearsal, and which was to be represented in a few days. Mr 
L---- therefore informed him that I was at present so greatly 
taken up with learning this new dance that I had not a moment 
to myself: but that he had no reason to doubt but by the 
favourable representation he had given of him and the 
attention with which I had listened, he would be able to 
introduce him to me as soon as my present hurry was over.

He failed not to be present at the rehearsal of the new opera, 
and he took an opportunity of paying his obeissance by 
respectfully kissing my hand behind the scenes. I was very far 
from being displeased at seeing him at this rehearsal, for it 
is upon these occasions that the Opera ladies display their 
greatest magnificence by endeavouring to outrival each other 
in dress and appearance. This was his first advance and, no 
doubt, he imagined he had performed wonders in having ravished 
my hand and obtained from me a smile of approbation.



Chapter XXXVII. 
Sequel of the adventure between Mademoiselle Florezete and Mr 
Bennet.

'The Palais-Royal seems to be a territory whose property is 
entirely invested in we ladies of the Opera, and which we seem 
to have acquired by as ancient prescription as the foundation 
of the theatre itself. It is in this garden of freedom that we 
are authorized to take upon ourselves the airs of women of 
consequence, and to brave with impunity the eye of the 
spectator by our magnificent dress and our brilliant 
appearance. There it was that Mr Bennet came to meet me the 
next day and say all the tender things he could suggest, 
whilst I, with an air of triumph and disdain, seemed to give 
him not the least attention, being completely employed in 
ogling every petit ma�tre that passed, whose obeissances were 
as profound as they were continual.

'Notwithstanding the little encouragement I gave my English 
lover, he had fortitude enough to follow me out of the gardens 
and to entreat me to partake of his remise, as Monsieur L---- 
was to eat soup with him that day, and as my company would be 
particularly agreeable. I framed a hundred imaginary excuses 
to avoid going but, at length, I let myself be prevailed upon.

'We found Mr L---- at Mr Bennet's, who congratulated his 
friend upon his eloquence and good fortune in having prevailed 
upon me to be one of his guests. After dinner Monsieur L---- 
took an opportunity of retiring, that Mr Bennet might profit 
of it in form. I had got my cue, and I knew I might have my 
price if I did but stand out. He first began by offering me 
twenty louis a week and my table. I told him that would not 
pay for shoes and stockings. By degrees, he gradually mounted 
to sixty louis a week, where I found he stuck; for 
notwithstanding I still turned up my nose at the proposal, I 
discovered he was at present resolutely bent upon giving no 
more, so that I thought it was prudent to accept of this small 
salary regularly, in hopes that I might make it still worth my 
while by perquisites. And now that he engaged the premises, he 
was for entering upon them that very night: but I reminded him 
that he had not given earnest yet. Upon which he threw his 
purse into my lap, which contained upwards of seventy louis.

'The first week I squeezed from him, by drinking two toasts in 
English, fifty louis, and put him into so good a humour by my 
condescension that he went with me the next day to buy a new 
negligee, having previously praised his taste and judgment in 
point of dress. I took care to leave my purse at home, as the 
mercer's bill came to six hundred and fifty livres for thirty 
yards of rich gold and silver brocaded, and I borrowed as much 
of him to pay it.

'But this is nothing in comparison of the frequent expenses 
which I found opportunities to plunge him into. I had nothing 
to do but mention some remarkable acts of generosity of a 
foreigner to excite his jealousy and emulation to outvie him, 
as he would not let it be said that any man of whatever nation 
could surpass an Englishman in magnificence. Is it possible 
that there can be any man so stupid as to contest the merit of 
dissipating his fortune with a whore, for the honour of his 
country?

'One morning he waited upon me by appointment to breakfast, 
when I had ordered a jeweller of my acquaintance to call as if 
by accident. Norman was at the door just as the chocolate was 
ready. The servant told me he had something particular to say 
to me, but I seemed much dissatisfied at being disturbed. 
'However,' said I, 'with your leave, Mr Bennet, let's know 
what this man wants.' Norman was accordingly admitted.

'"Good morrow, Monsieur Norman, what has brought you here so 
early in this part of the town? How goes trade? I warrant now, 
you've got something new to show me."

'"Madam," he answered, "that was just the cause of my taking 
the liberty to wait upon you. I thought that being in your 
neighbourhood you would not be displeased at my showing you a 
curious cross which I am going to carry to a financier's lady 
in the Place des Victoires. I can venture to say, without 
vanity, that there never was a more masterly piece of work."

'"Really, Monsieur Norman, you are a very good sort of man not 
to forget your friends. I am much obliged to you for this mark 
of your attention."

'"Pray let's see it, Mr Norman, since you're so polite."

"On my word, Mr Bennet, it is vastly beautiful. The mounting 
is amazingly fine. The stones are of a very beautiful water, 
and most masterly cut! Do you not think it casts a very fine 
lustre? These insolent financiers' wives wear everything that 
is in the highest taste. I cannot say but what it mortifies me 
a little that such a pretty thing should be worn by a woman of 
her caste.'

'"Pray. Mr Norman. what may the price be?"

'"Madam." he answered, "eight thousand livres is the lowest at 
a word."

'"Well, if I were in cash,I certainly would have it: but--"

'"Oh! pray Madam, do not mention that; it makes no manner of 
difference."

'"By no means, Monsieur Norman: I cannot think of running in 
debt."

'Mr Bennet, with whom I had a little sham quarrel the day 
before, seemed highly pleased at so favourable an opportunity 
of recovering my good graces. He took up the cross in paying 
eighty louis ready money, which was all he had about him, and 
giving a draft payable at sight for the remainder.

'In a word, this ridiculous vanity of Mr Bennet was worth to 
me in the course of four months upwards of seven thousand 
pounds sterling. And if his father had not unluckily died at 
the end of that period, which occasioned his precipitate 
journey to England, I do not doubt that by this time I should 
have transferred two-thirds, if not his whole fortune, into my 
coffers.'

Such, then. was the account Mademoiselle Florezete gave me of 
the generosity and stupidity of her English lover, which was 
an excellent lesson for me, and I failed not to improve by her 
instructions. It is true my lord could not afford to squander 
away such large sums as it seemed Mr Bennet had at command. 
But then a hint was sufficient, and whatever he gave was with 
so free a will and so much good nature, that it added to the 
value of the donation. This elegant generosity on the side of 
my benefactor somewhat compressed my demands, and I had a kind 
of remorse at fleecing a man who took so much pains to make 
himself amiable. But, I reasoned, one must live. And so I 
succeeded in reconciling my conscience to my modus vivendi.



Chapter XXXVIII. 
The proposal his lordship makes--Sets out from Paris with him-
-Their arrival in England--Meets with a female relation--Her 
extraordinary politeness properly requited.

A short time after this, my lord's domestic affairs demanded 
his presence in England, and though he still continued 
expressing upon every occasion the greatest regard and 
affection for me, he left it to my choice either to accompany 
him or remain at Paris; saying, that as I had been so long out 
of my native country, and as I might have formed connections 
and acquaintance in Paris that might be agreeable. If the 
journey to England was not my choice he would continue 
remitting me such sums as should be necessary for supporting 
me. The offer was too generous for me to accept of it, as I 
should thereby have been deprived of the pleasure of the 
company of a man whom I greatly esteemed. And as I did not 
doubt but when I made as elegant an appearance in London as I 
had done in Paris, I should neither want for acquaintances nor 
even relations who would claim a kindred to grandeur and 
magnificence under the badge of prostitution.

My lord seemed highly pleased with the preference I gave of 
accompanying him rather than sojourn behind him in Paris; and 
upon our departure from that capital, he laid out near seven 
thousand livres upon me in clothes and trinkets. We set out on 
Shrove Tuesday for Calais, where we arrived the next night, 
and being embarked on board the packet, I had, in a few hours, 
the pleasure of beholding once more my native shore.

We landed at Dover. without having met with any other 
inconvenience in our passage than being a little sea-sick, 
which did not however prevent my making a very hearty 
breakfast. The manners and appearance of my countrymen seemed 
quite strange to me, after six years' absence: so prevalent is 
custom and use, however ridiculous and unnatural. It was with 
some difficulty I expressed myself in my mother-tongue, and it 
was with still greater that I could be prevailed upon to taste 
British burgundy, so much had my taste been vitiated by exotic 
beverage.

But these scruples and difficulties I in a great measure 
surmounted the nearer I approached the capital, where his 
lordship's servants were ready for his reception, and where a 
genteel lodging had been prepared for me in Bond Street, as 
his lordship could not introduce me at his own house, a 
superannuated lady old enough to be his mother, and whose only 
charms upon her marriage consisted in eighty thousand pounds, 
there calling him husband.

My first concern after my fatigue was over-centred in an 
enquiry after such relations as I had left in England. But, 
after all my researches, I could obtain no account of any, 
except my worthy aunt, who had fairly outlived all her 
friends, and was now reduced to the necessity of toad-eating 
for a livelihood amongst the great and charitable.

It may be with truth averred that my character was certainly 
at the time she was so much shocked at it much more 
unexceptionable than at present, as I had been deluded by my 
betrayer, and could be accused of no other fault than having 
had too much confidence in man. Yet now that she must have 
imagined I had frequently been compelled to gratify the most 
carnal of men's appetites, and that I actually lived in a 
state of prostitute-adultery, she was blind to all my vices 
and reconciled to all my guilt. My grandeur and magnificence 
had changed the very nature of vice and rendered criminality 
innocent.

She fawned upon me, praised my taste and adulated my beauty. I 
was the sweetest creature she had ever set her eyes on; I had 
more sense than all the rest of the sex put together. In a 
word, had I believed her, I was the phoenix of my kind. Her 
distress I pitied, but her dissimulation I despised. I could 
easily prevail upon myself to forgive her former perfidy to 
me, and which had in a great measure been the cause of all my 
misfortunes. But I could never be reconciled to her 
sycophantic flattery. I plainly told her that all her 
pretended praise was nothing more than deceit; that if I were 
possessed of any of those charms and recommendations which she 
so lavishly flattered me upon, they must certainly have been 
in much higher perfection before I set out for France with 
Lady Bentley, and before I had been compelled to follow a 
dissolute course of life, which I looked upon with horror.

Notwithstanding all her studied flattery and bespattered 
praise, she had not effrontery enough to withstand this reply. 
But finding I was not so devoid of sense as to be blind to her 
dissimulation, she had no other resource but to express her 
surprise at what I acquainted her with, saying she was greatly 
obliged to me for giving her this information, imagining I was 
married to a gentleman of fortune: but that if she had 
continued her visits to a person in the situation she found I 
was in, she would have lost her own reputation with people of 
the first fashion whom she had the honour of visiting.

In saying this she retired, and left me to ruminate upon an 
antiquated female's hypocrisy, which, of all others, is 
certainly the most unlimited and the most nauseating.



Chapter XXXIX. 
The death of his lordship, which leaves Maria in very 
disagreeable circumstances--The acquaintance she makes with 
Miss P--Her advice, which Maria follows--The outlines of Miss 
P----'s character--A discovery made by her keeper and its 
issue.

My elegant and luxurious life was of no great duration. Nor 
had I the opportunity, or at least not the inclination, of 
amassing any considerable sum during its continuance to 
provide for an accident which soon took place. His lordship 
was taken ill of a fever. During his illness I could gain no 
access to him, or by any other means recall to his memory the 
promise he had often made me of leaving me a handsome 
provision by his will. His lady and those about him took care 
to erase from his thoughts every object that had been 
desirable to him as a mistress, and, upon his demise, I found 
myself every way unprovided to support the elegant and 
sumptuous appearance I had for some time made. I began early 
to retrench my expenses and consider frugality as very 
essential to be pursued; when, falling in company with a lady 
who had been looked upon as the general toast of the gay and 
polite, she easily prevailed upon me to dismiss my economical 
notions and raise contributions on the male part of the 
creation without limitation.

This was no other than the celebrated Miss P---- who had for 
some time eclipsed the Murrays and Fishers amongst the 
votaries of Venus, and who having tyrannized for two years 
over the men, was now reduced to the necessity of gratifying 
their carnal desires when and wherever they chose to send for 
her. Miss P---- was genteel in her person, lively, and full of 
vivacity in her conversation. She had been debauched by an 
officer who was quartered at her father's house at Brentford. 
where he kept an inn. He brought her up to town, and she lived 
with him as his convenient, as long as he was able to keep out 
of the Marshalsea prison. But his tailor having thrown him in 
there for a bill of twenty-five pounds, Miss P---- was not so 
fondly attached to the Captain as to accompany him in his 
captivity. As she was a new face upon the town, she soon had 
many admirers and almost as many proposals. But as she had 
learnt some experience, and was resolved not 'to be fooled by 
man--a second time,' she prudently reserved her future favours 
for a commodore who was just returned from the West Indies. 
and who was as lavish of oaths as he was of Spanish dollars. 
He doted upon Miss P---- and gave her a carte blanche for 
whatever she chose in point of dress and expense. She was none 
of those conscientious females who think they are by gratitude 
and honour bound to be faithful to their benefactors. The 
commodore was rich, but he was very far from being handsome, 
and his want of youth was no great recommendation to him. 
Though her intimacy with her hair-dresser was pretty notorious 
in the house where she lodged, the son of Neptune had no 
suspicions upon that score, as she always met him with an air 
of great kindness and gave him all the satisfaction he could 
require. Unluckily, Monsieur Fricote, her tonseur<174>, was 
laid up with a disorder which she had very fortunately escaped 
contracting by the operations he performed, which induced her 
to think of some other person properly qualified to supply his 
place. A young lawyer's clerk, who lived in the two pair of 
stairs, had looked very smirking upon her for some time, and 
in the absence of M. Fricote he appeared to her as no 
contemptible acquaintance. She accordingly gave him an 
invitation to tea, and the youth was not so ignorant in the 
language of the eyes as not to understand the question which 
Miss P---- put to him, in that visual tongue. He answered them 
in the same manner, and a dialogue ensued, without a word 
being spoke. We cannot suppose that this conference lasted 
long before they came to more substantial proofs of their 
affection: nor can we imagine that these proofs were not 
frequently repeated.

The commodore had never yet had any suspicion of his fellow-
lodger, when he unexpectedly came one morning when Miss P---- 
and the young lawyer were at breakfast in his apartment. Miss 
P---- immediately descends upon hearing his voice, and he 
would not have surmised that she had been in her gallant's 
room if unfortunately the commodore had not wanted his 
breakfast. The tea things cannot be produced without her going 
upstairs, which creates a suspicion in her keeper, and he 
follows her up; when, finding things in the situation she had 
left them, he insults the quill driver, who retorts the abuse 
with threatening to turn him downstairs, which irritates the 
naval gentleman to that degree that he goes to a neighbouring 
justice, and takes a warrant against him.

The parties now are summoned, when the commodore endeavouring 
to charge the lawyer with a robbery, by having his teaspoons 
and china in his room, it is proved. by Miss P----'s own 
confession, that she carried them up; and the commodore has no 
other satisfaction for his expense and exposition than the 
revenge he takes of turning off Miss P---- .



Chapter XL. 
A short comment upon the usual adventures of girls of the 
town--The reader is introduced into a polite circle--The 
outlines of the character of Mrs W--Maria is introduced into 
her seminary--Some account of two veteran lechers, and an 
analysis of the Sapphic passion.

It maybe thought that there can be nothing very entertaining 
or amusing, much less novel, in the adventures of a girl of 
the town in London, as the histories of so many have already 
been published, and as they are little more than copies one 
from the other. The old round of Bob Derry's, Weatherby's, the 
Shakespeare's Head, the jelly-shops, Maulby's and Goulds, are 
now to be sure, think some, to come into play. We are to be 
informed how a citizen got drunk and was beat at one, was 
fleeced at another, and pimped at another: how Lucy C---- 
drank burnt champagne and danced till five in the morning, if 
she don't fall asleep before she gets home. All this dull 
beaten track I shall most cautiously avoid, as I am convinced 
that such trite narrations must be unentertaining, if not 
nauseating. I shall take the reader into politer scenes of 
action where his curiosity, added to five guineas, could not 
gain him admittance.

A certain venerable lady who lives in the purlieus of St 
James's, and provides the most elegant entertainment for all 
kinds of guests, young, old, vigorous and debilitated, has for 
many years had the constitutions and purses of the nobility 
and gentry of this metropolis at heart, and being a great 
connoisseur in point of delicacies, every one endued with a 
nice appetite may be accommodated here with les morceaux les 
plus friads.<175> She regales the army, the navy, the 
gentlemen of the long robe, etc., etc., agreeable to their 
different tastes, and entirely to their satisfaction. She has 
also seasonable repasts, suited to spring, summer, autumn and 
winter, and excels particularly in entertaining the East and 
West India gentlemen, and warm constitutions, � la 
fraiche.<176>

Miss P---- was at this time upon Mrs W----'s list, who having 
this evening a great demand for fresh hands, she was sent for 
in a vast hurry, and desired to bring anyone of her 
acquaintance who might be depended upon. I was accordingly 
invited, and accompanied her in a coach to the place of 
rendezvous.

We were introduced into the parlour, and a short time after 
were waited upon by Mrs W---- who acquainted us she had two 
very good customers above-stairs, but that they were somewhat 
whimsical in their way; that we must not, however, contradict 
them in anything, as they would do us no harm, but would pay 
us very handsomely if we pleased them.

We then walked upstairs, where I was greatly surprised to meet 
with an old gentleman whom I had known in Paris, when he was 
upon his way to Montpellier for the recovery of his health. He 
recollected me, and we entered into a pretty long conference 
together, wherein he acquainted me how great a martyr he had 
been to the sex, and that he had narrowly escaped with his 
life. 'But,' continued he, 'there is no resisting the 
bewitching devils, and if I am no longer capable of enjoying 
them myself, it still gives me great delight to see them 
concupiscentially happy.'

I was an utter novice to what he meant. But Miss P---- had by 
this time learnt of the old gentleman, with whom she had been 
in the meantime conversing, and she whispered to me the plan 
of bliss which these extraordinary lechers had chalked out to 
themselves, and which they styled the indulgence of the 
Sapphic passion.

Miss P---- made love to me with all the fervour of a young 
fellow that was in the ecstasies of enjoyment, and forced from 
me that acknowledgment which nature meant to be manifested 
upon a very different occasion.

As soon as they perceived that my female lover had completely 
effected her design, they appeared in the most extravagant 
raptures, which they expressed by the most uncommon howlings, 
as if they had been of the canine race. They then flew at us. 
and kissed those parts which had afforded them such ocular 
delight.

I must acknowledge I did not rightly understand the nature of 
their enjoyment. But methought ten guineas were easily earned, 
without any corporeal risk, and without being surfeited with 
the nauseating embraces of doting impotence.



Chapter XLI. 
The accident which befalls Maria in the course of her amorous 
commerce--The reason of its giving her particular uneasiness--
An essay towards cuckoldom properly recompensed; and an 
uncommon soliloquy of a bard.

These aged votaries of Venus were constant customers of Mrs W-
--- once a week, and we were sent for to divert them in this 
extraordinary way. We had therefore little occasion to seek 
out for other gallants. Nor indeed did we, except such as we 
were rather the supporters of than supported by. But this 
golden shower of folly did not long continue; for one of our 
benefactors being carried off in a fit of the gout, we were 
obliged to have recourse to a more natural, though a more 
dangerous, way of supplying our wants.

I had not been upon Mrs W----'s list above a fortnight in the 
usual walk, ere I had such convincing proofs that I had much 
occasion for alterative medicines that I thought it prudent to 
refrain from attending there, lest I should endanger the 
reputation of her house.

What gave me the most sensible mortification upon this 
occasion was that I had communicated my disorder to a young 
fellow that lodged in the same house where I did, and whom I 
had taken upon Miss P----'s recommendation as a very proper 
person to solace me after the ineffectual attempts of 
indulgence which Miss P---- had made in the Sapphic style.

This person's name was Williams. and though but twenty years 
of age, he lived by writing for the press, and was retained in 
fee at a moderate price by the fabricating booksellers of 
London and Westminster. Hence it may be concluded that his 
finances were not in the most flourishing state, or that the 
little douceurs I threw in to make life more comfortable were 
at all misapplied.

Upon discovering the accident which had befell us, he said he 
was no longer a stranger to these kinds of calamities, as ever 
since he had commenced an author and a beau, he had met with 
nothing but misfortunes.

'It was but a week before you came to lodge here,' continued 
he, 'that I must, forsooth, be attempting to cuckold a cit who 
returned home, unexpectedly, just as I was upon the point of 
getting to bed with his wife. In this situation there was no 
other resource than the window. The maid promised to throw out 
my clothes as soon as an opportunity offered: but I remained 
covered with nothing but expectance above an hour and a half. 
At length, she threw out my coat and waistcoat, but told me 
she could not get my breeches, which I had hung at the bed's-
head, without risking a discovery. There were five guineas in 
them, which was all the money I had in the world, and which 
arose from my copy of annotations. Though I could have found 
in my heart sorely to have wept, and remained till morning in 
hopes of getting my breeches, yet the cold was so intense that 
I could not continue any longer in that condition in the 
street. The watch-man coming up, he took me to the watch-
house, and I exchanged my waistcoat for a great coat to hide 
the nakedness of the lower part of my body, as it was now 
daylight, and there was no possibility of returning home 
without some such covering.

He concluded this story with a soliloquy, which he made upon 
the lamentable state of a poor bachelor. 'If I would cuckold a 
don, I must jump out of a window, at the risk of my neck, and 
with the loss of my breeches and my fortune. If I debauch a 
girl and get her with child, I must pay ten pounds to the 
parish, which perhaps are ten times more than I have in the 
world; ergo, I must go to jail. And if I even lie with you, 
the consequence, you see, is a clap. What course, then is a 
young fellow to take? If he marries, he is surely ruined as 
well as the girl he marries, and besides entails inevitable 
misery upon all his progeny. The whole thing, then, is reduced 
to this curious dilemma: if a man lives single his 
constitution is destroyed, and his health and purse are made 
the prey of quacks and empirics, or perhaps imprisoned for 
life for a suit of Crim. Con. If he marries a woman without a 
fortune, he is ruined beyond the power of redemption, perhaps 
to the third and fourth generation. What, then, Miss Brown, 
can a poor amorous author do?'

I must acknowledge I was at a loss what advice to give my 
friend. Had I told him he should have endeavoured to surmount 
all such passions till such time as he could meet with a woman 
who was capable of making him happy in the married state, he 
might have retorted the argument upon me with great justice 
and propriety. I therefore evaded entering into any debate 
upon the subject, and advised him 'to make the best of a bad 
bargain, and find out some skilful surgeon or apothecary, who 
might restore us to our former health.'



Chapter XLII. 
A learned dissertation upon the venereal disorder by a high 
German doctor of great repute and abilities--Is interrupted at 
Montpellier by Mr Williams--who makes a discovery no way to 
the doctor's advantage--A very curious apology for the loss of 
his nose, which will be of inestimable advantage to all 
mankind.

Mr Williams approved of my advice, saying there was more merit 
in an hour's practice than a twelvemonth's theory, as well in 
life as in morality. And he accordingly rose the next morning 
and set out before breakfast in pursuit of a certain foreign 
doctor, of whom he had lately heard very great encomiums. 
After near two hours' search, he at length found him in one of 
the new courts near Covent Garden.

Upon being introduced to this son of Hippocrates, Mr Williams 
was interrogated concerning the species of his disorder, which 
he acquainted him was neither more nor less than a virulent 
gonorrhoea. The doctor immediately entered into a learned 
dissertation upon the nature of the malady, its origin and 
progress, its primary seat and circulation.

'All this is very true, sir,' said Mr Williams; 'but had we 
not better come to the business in hand?'

'All in good time,' replied this successor to Galen, 'tis 
proper to attend a little to the subject under consideration, 
somewhat in the abstract. Now, sir,' says he, 'though this 
disorder is called the French disorder at London, and the 
Neapolitan disorder at Paris, it is evident to a demonstration 
that it is of American origin. and that Columbus was the first 
importer of it into Europe. Amongst the Americans. they treat 
it in a very different manner from what we do in Europe, and 
for a very evident reason, First, sir, we must consider that 
many of the West Indian islands are very near the equinoctial 
line, and consequently the influence of the sun must be much 
greater there than in any part of Europe. Secondly, sir, they 
are unacquainted with the property and virtue of many drugs 
and medicines which none can pretend to lay any claim to the 
knowledge of, without having studied at Montpellier. But, on 
the other hand, sir, they have some herbs which grow 
spontaneously, which are of great efficacy in palliating, but 
not in radically curing this disorder. All these reasons 
considered, sir, it is not at all surprising that we should 
treat this disorder in a very different manner here to what 
they do in its maternal country. And by the same parity of 
reasoning, sir, we must treat it in various manners, according 
to the climates we inhabit even in Europe. Now, sir, at 
Montpellier--'

Mr Williams. having no more patience. told him he could stay 
no longer, if he did not choose to prescribe him something 
proper, without examining the subject matter in the abstract, 
as he was pleased to call it.

Upon this the doctor begged his pardon, and desired leave to 
make an inspection of the parts afflicted.

'Indeed!' he cries, 'not the first, no, nor the second stage. 
Here is something, sir, that will require a small incision.'

Upon this Mr Williams stared at him for the first time, and 
espying he had no nose, he began to withdraw from any further 
examination, as he immediately was struck with an opinion that 
he could have no great skill in venereal cases who had not the 
talent to save his own nose.

The doctor perceived the cause of his surprise and behaviour, 
and without having the question put to him concerning the loss 
of that valuable and ornamental feature, he told Mr Williams 
that he was born so, owing to some infection that had been 
communicated between his father and mother in the very act of 
generation; and that this very deficiency had been the cause 
of his applying himself to the study of physic, as he was 
resolved to eradicate this fatal disorder from the face of the 
earth; that with this design he had travelled through almost 
all parts of Europe, and that this hydra-headed contagion 
always flew before him like smoke before the wind; and that as 
soon as he had completely vanquished it in England, which he 
hoped to effect in a very few months, he should set out for 
America. where he intended to destroy it root and branch.

Mr William could not refrain testifying the grateful sense he 
had entertained for the doctor's regard towards him and the 
rest of his countrymen, but, at the same time, made a very low 
congee,<177> and left the physician to pursue his elaborate 
design, resolving to be the last patient that should come 
under his care.

When the author returned and gave an account of his adventure 
with the learned doctor, I could not refrain from laughing, 
though it was upon so melancholy a subject; as he heightened 
the detail by a ludicrous description of the doctor's dress 
and appearance, which must have been very ridiculous 
considering his physiognomy, in a voluminous three-tailed 
periwig, and a short slash pocket olive-colour frock, with a 
broad gold lace.



Chapter XLIII. 
An account of an uncommon kind of lover, and his behaviour 
upon a visit to Maria--A few observations which naturally 
arise out of the subject--Is interrupted by a diabolical 
uproar overhead, when her intercession proves effectual.

We both soon got well, without applying further to the high-
German doctor, the aid of an incision, or even the loss of a 
nose. I returned to my former vocations, and Mr Williams 
scribbled enigmas, acrostics and rebuses, in hopes of 
restoring the five guineas which he lost in daring to attempt 
the virtue of a citizen's wife.

An acquaintance which about this time I made at Mrs W----'s 
used frequently to visit me once a week at my own lodging, and 
as his behaviour was somewhat singular and extraordinary, I 
shall give a little detail of it. Upon these occasions, he 
usually waited upon me of a Saturday morning in a dishabille. 
As soon as he came into my apartment I ordered the carpet to 
be taken up, placed myself in the settee at the corner of the 
room, and ordered pails, brushes, mops and soap, when he 
pulled off his coat, tucked up his shirt sleeves, tied on one 
of the maid's coarse aprons, and went regularly to work, with 
all the skill of the most professed house-maid. He usually 
scoured the room out perfectly clean in about three-quarters 
of an hour, whilst I continued in a careless easy attitude 
reclining on the settee. After he had performed this operation 
and obtained my approbation, he then put on his clothes, 
having previously replaced the carpet, chairs, tables. etc., 
in their primitive state, and approaching me with great 
humility, very politely kissed my hand, at the same time 
slipping a paper into it containing five guineas.

This gentleman might with great propriety be called the 
cleanly lover, and, I believe, there is scarce a woman in 
England that would be displeased at having her apartments well 
cleaned out, and receiving five guineas for the trouble of 
overlooking the operator. Nay, he did not only give 
inconceivable pleasure by his easy manner of making love, but 
even my maid also partook of the amusement by its saving her 
so much trouble, and she always received a genteel compliment 
for her preparing the necessary apparatus.

It is true this kind of gallants are very scarce, and I must 
acknowledge I never met but with this one, in the whole course 
of my Tha�sian practice. If they were as numerous and as 
frequently met with as the variety of other kind of cully with 
whom this metropolis abounds, a whore's life would absolutely 
be too happy. Nay, it is not clear to me that many women of 
more fashion than virtue might not take up the business, 
without having served a regular apprenticeship, to the great 
detriment of the fair trader. Hawkers and pedlars in the 
commerce of love might be as detrimental to the community as 
they are in the more regular vents of merchandise. Smuggling 
should be discountenanced in every branch of traffic, and no 
goods should be offered to public sale that have not been duly 
entered. Monopolies of lovers are as dangerous as those of 
horned cattle, and every woman of the town should pique 
herself upon being an honest carcase butcher.

Whilst I was ruminating in this manner, I was disturbed by a 
noise overhead, and upon listening on the stair-head, I heard 
Mr Williams calling lustily for help, I immediately ran 
upstairs, and opening the door saw a dirty ill-looking man who 
had got him down and was pummelling him without mercy. I 
immediately flew to his relief, and taking up a chair, knocked 
down the devil, who had already given his author a black eye 
and a bloody nose.

It seems this itinerant typographist had brought Mr Williams a 
proof from one of the magazine-mongers, and that he had been 
so indolent as to let it lie upon his table for two days 
without having corrected it, when returning upon the last day 
of the month, he was so provoked at the bard's negligence, 
that he gave him very abusive language, which the other 
retorting, a battle ensued, when the devil being a much better 
bruiser than the author, the poet was most infernally mauled.

By my assistance, however, victory now began to hover on the 
side of the Muses. And if the devil had not flown out of the 
room with more rapidity than he could have made his way upon 
the swiftest Pegasus, he might, in all likelihood, have paid 
very dear for his temerity.



Chapter XLIV. 
Some reasons why Maria does not marry Mr Williams--Is 
introduced by Captain H-- to Mrs G--by upon a very particular 
occasion--The harangue she makes thereupon--Maria's 
reflections, and the first groundwork of an acquaintance.

It should seem that I was very deeply interested in Mr 
Williams's welfare to engage upon his account with so very 
doughty an antagonist. But as I have made no secret of our 
connection, any more than the common accident that befell us 
through the channel of my public acquaintance, I considered it 
but a small reparation to take every opportunity of doing a 
kind office to him. And upon this principle not only my 
person, but even my purse was at his service, for he had but 
too much reason to complain 'que le metier d'un auteur, est un 
vilain metier' ('the trade of a writer is a wretched trade'). 
Now, if it is considered that I took upon myself to make up 
the deficiency of the Muse's subsidy, which was frequently 
pretty considerable, it may be imagined that these drawbacks 
upon my commerce greatly reduced my current stock-in-trade.

I mean this as some apology for not leaving off so dangerous 
and detestable a calling, which to a woman of any sensibility 
must be loathing and detestable.

Our connections were so well-known in the house that by this 
time I was as often called Mrs Williams as Miss Brown, and to 
own the truth, the former was a name that pleased my ear much 
better than the latter. If it should be questioned, then, 
whether Mr Williams ever offered me his hand and name in an 
honourable way, and if he did, why I should refuse them, to 
these questions I shall answer, that though by fate allotted 
to pursue a life of prostitution, it was very far from being 
eligible or agreeable to me, and that I should have preferred 
being really Mrs Williams with only one hundred a year 
certain, to being the mistress of the greatest monarch in the 
world with the most unlimited power and influence. But as our 
fortunes were at present situated, and as without submitting 
to the promiscuous embraces of the men, I could not command so 
many shillings a year certain, neither my conscience nor a 
certain remnant of delicacy in sentiment would permit me to 
lay so premeditated a plan for adultery, and so certainly 
planting the horns of cuckoldom upon my husband's brows.

These, then, being my sentiments upon so important a subject. 
I imagine they will plead my excuse for not accepting Mr 
Williams's hand, or attempting to transfer a heart that could 
not remain unsullied, unpolluted.

Whilst things were thus situated. I formed an acquaintance 
with the celebrated Mrs G----by, by the greatest accident 
imaginable. Captain H----, who was her intimate acquaintance 
and performed many good offices for her as well as himself, 
called upon me one afternoon, and invited me to a dinner which 
was to be given next day at a tavern in Bloomsbury, upon 
occasion, as he represented it, of a lady of his acquaintance 
having got the better of all the reformers of manners put 
together. As I knew Captain H---- was a man of too much taste 
to invite me to any regale that was not elegant, I readily 
accepted of the proposal.

We found Mrs G----by was the female president, and did the 
honours of the table to a very sumptuous repast, consisting of 
many courses which were succeeded by a most curious dessert. 
After dinner, she informed me of the cause of this 
entertainment, which she said was neither more nor less than 
the triumph of basket--making over pederasty. She said that 
some informers, who very improperly style themselves 
reformers, had given notice to a worthy justice that she kept 
a house of ill-fame, and that she had been summoned to attend 
the said magistrate in order to disprove the assertion, which 
she said she performed soon; and as she put her accusers upon 
the proof of what they had asserted, when it clearly appeared 
they had no manner of foundation for their allegation, as not 
one of them attempted to give evidence of his having himself 
made her house a brothel. 'For indeed,' added she, 'there was 
not one amongst them that seemed to have the heart to make a 
girl a present of one guinea, much less ten, which you know is 
the least that is ever offered or taken at my house. When,' 
continued she, 'I was asked what was my support, I thought it 
necessary to throw down five thousand pounds of bank stock, 
which the justices were of opinion was sufficient to support a 
single woman very decently.'

This account of Mrs G----by's adventure, though it might give 
me no very advantageous idea of her veracity, failed not to 
create in me a very high opinion of her opulence, and I was 
particularly complaisant in returning every civility she 
showed me, as I imagined it would be greatly to my advantage 
to cultivate such an acquaintance. I accordingly accepted of 
her first invitation and drank tea with her the next day, when 
she explained to me some mysteries in the course of her 
practice, to which I was before an entire stranger.



Chapter XLV. 
The mystery of pimping fully explained--together with some 
curious and interesting rules for a girl's conduct who 
proposes making the most of her person and qualifications; 
being the ne plus ultra of all that can be said upon the 
commerce of love.

Mrs G----by and I had a t�te-a-t�te together at tea, and she 
appeared highly diverted with the account I gave her of my 
travels and the behaviour of the women of pleasure in Paris. 
She found great fault with Madame Laborde's economy of her 
household, and permitting her boarders to take such liberties. 
'It is well,' she added, 'that she lived in a remote quarter 
of the town. If such a riot as you mention had happened in my 
house, it would have ruined me for ever. The French women may 
talk what they will, and pique themselves upon their vivacity 
and wit, but they always want prudence. Can you point out to 
me any woman in Paris that has carried on business so long as 
I have with reputation, and without a neighbour having the 
least reason for asserting that mine is a disorderly house? Is 
there a woman in France that has made so much by trade as I 
have in so short a time? The thing is, I have made it my 
particular study. I know how to suit every man's taste in 
England, from Lord ---- down to Sir ----. But then I have such 
resources as no woman would ever have thought of but myself. 
Did anyone before ever imagine to set up register offices upon 
her own account? I have no less than four now in town entirely 
at my devotion. They stand me in very little, besides the 
fools' pence, which amply pay the clerks. It is true they cost 
me a trifle at first for desks, chairs, pens, ink and such 
like trifles. But they have reimbursed themselves by their 
returns. Look ye,' said she, 'this is my way. Whenever an 
innocent, fresh girl applies for a place, she is directed to 
one of my ladies who, if she finds her agreeable and thinks 
she will do, hires her for a quarter and a month's warning. 
She then lays traps for her with some person who appears in 
the capacity of an apprentice, who promises her marriage and 
the like. If she is not caught in this manner, a fine gown, a 
pair of silver buckles, and even sometimes a watch, are 
brought into play. There are few girls that can withstand 
these temptations. But if she should still hold out, and 
nothing but downright stratagem will prevail, the gentleman 
who has engaged for her calls upon her mistress when she is 
out, and the maid is employed in making her bed. A purse of 
money, a promise of marriage from him, or downright force must 
now prevail. If she still rides rusty and offers to leave her 
mistress, she is then threatened with being forced to pay a 
month's wages; and this last argument has often prevailed when 
all the rest have been ineffectually tried. But upon the 
whole, in the course of my trade there have been but three 
escaped without doing business. Two of them had turned their 
brains with reading Pamela and The Whole Duty of Woman, and 
the last was so formed by nature that she was never intended 
to be made a woman of. But I have taken care to remove all 
such bad books out of their way and, in their stead. I 
generally leave The Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure with 
cuts,<178> for such lascivious prints for those who cannot 
read, as may tend to inflame their passions. When they are 
once broke in. I fail not to give them the best instructions 
for their future conduct.

'These are the general rules I inculcate into them. Every 
woman that is desirous of making her way into the world by her 
person should imitate the tradesman and have no other object 
in view but interest and gain. Her heart should always be 
inaccessible to any real passion. It is only necessary that 
she should seem to be enamoured with the man she proposes 
making her property, and to excite a real flame in her 
admirers. That it should be an invariable rule to give the 
preference to the best paymaster, without attending to rank or 
quality, as it frequently happens that a rich Jew merchant or 
a city plumb, will come down much handsomer than a peer of the 
realm who frequently thinks his title is a sufficient 
recompense for the enjoyment of every fine woman he chooses. 
But this is not the case with all. There are very good culls 
amongst the quality. I should be extremely sorry to say 
otherwise, for the reputation of my house entirely depends 
upon them. But then they are mostly married men, or have such 
attachments as make it necessary that their common amours 
should remain a profound secret and, in this case, they are 
obliged to pay generously for hush-money. As to the flighty 
young fellows and handsome men, who think their persons and 
appearance entitle them to every woman they see, they should 
be carefully avoided, as there is nothing to be got by them 
except sometimes a disagreeable and expensive connection that 
is not easily got rid of. Not that it can be expected a woman 
can be always prostituting herself without having some desires 
which must be gratified. But then she should take care to 
indulge her sensual passions with such persons who by their 
situation in life cannot pretend to lay any claim to her 
person any further than she may judge it prudent to gratify 
them.

'There are two rocks upon which most girls split, and which 
are still worse than even a particular man they are fond of. 
They either drink or ruin themselves by their extravagance. A 
girl that is not sober and has not economy will never be worth 
a groat, if she was to follow business to the Day of Judgment. 
She should, therefore, instead of thinking of nothing but 
squandering her money in trinkets, baubles and dress, lay it 
carefully up and, when she has saved a sum, put it out to the 
best advantage either in the funds or upon some mortgage, and 
take particular care that she has good security. And, to this 
end, she should endeavour to find out an honest lawyer, if 
such a thing is possible. And perhaps, this is the only man 
that she should indulge gratis, as he has it in his power to 
make her returns another way than by money.

'She should, in the course of her company, carefully avoid 
foreigners, at least such as are not known to be in any public 
character, as few foreigners come here who are not of a known 
quality, that are any other than sharpers, valets de chambre, 
language-masters and hair-dressers.

'If an accident should happen with respect to her health, she 
should carefully avoid quacks and pretended nostrums. and 
immediately apply upon the first discovery of the injury to an 
able surgeon, religiously follow his prescriptions and avoid 
all company till her health is completely restored, this will 
not only redound to her credit amongst the men (as nothing 
destroys a woman's reputation so much as communicating any 
disorder), but it will also preserve her constitution and, of 
course, her beauty.

'As to children, it were needless to say anything upon that 
head, as it cannot he supposed that a girl who goes into 
promiscuous company runs any great risk of being pregnant, so 
that we must suppose her to be in keeping when she becomes a 
mother and, in this case, all that is necessary to be observed 
upon this head, is that during her pregnancy she should be 
very careful of her health, in avoiding colds and the like, 
and that when she is brought to bed, she should never once 
think of suckling the child herself, as there is nothing more 
pernicious to health and beauty.

'And now that we have supposed her in good keeping, she should 
attentively study her lover's temper, inclinations and 
dispositions, so that she may form her own upon his pattern. 
and seem to see, speak and feel only through his organs. Such 
a conduct is sure to rivet a man's affections, and it may 
reasonably he supposed that when a man is once completely 
attached, he will not only allow her handsomely during his 
life, but make ample provision for her at his death.'

When Mrs G----by had finished these curious instructions, I 
could not help highly applauding her extensive judgment and 
great insight into human nature; and we parted perfectly 
satisfied with each other's conversation.

I had reason very soon after to be convinced of the justness 
of Mrs G----by's remark concerning foreigners. For though her 
observations and advice had made the greatest impressions on 
me, I thought at the same time I erred that I had all the 
evidences of rectitude for my conduct. But as this adventure 
was of a very uncommon nature, and as it would swell this 
chapter beyond its proper bounds. I shall here terminate it, 
that the reader, if he has already had a sufficient share of 
my adventures for the present, may lay by this volume till 
such time as he or she chooses to enter upon chapter forty-
six.



Chapter XLVI. 
An adventure at Vauxhall with a foreigner of imaginary 
distinction--His behaviour--The mistake he commits at his 
departure--A very curious epistle from him by way of apology 
for a sum of money, and other sterling indulgences.

I made an acquaintance one evening at Vauxhall, which I 
imagined would have turned out greatly to my advantage. A 
foreigner dressed in an elegant suit of clothes, green and 
gold, accosted me whilst the cascade was playing, and seemed 
highly delighted to find I could answer him in a language that 
he spoke. He prevailed upon me to eat a bit of supper with 
him, which was ordered in a very elegant manner, consisting of 
the best of everything the garden could afford. Upon which we 
regaled very harmoniously to the melody of French horns. The 
person who accompanied him in the capacity of an interpreter 
called him His Excellency, and I had no reason to doubt but he 
was a foreign ambassador. About two in the morning, he told 
his attendant to go and see if his servants were ready, and 
during his absence the bill was brought. He seemed somewhat 
angry that the interpreter waited so long, saying he was his 
purse-bearer, and he could not defray the bill till his 
return, imagining this would furnish me with an opportunity of 
displaying the weight of my purse. I pulled it out and begged 
His Excellency would make use of it. This he at first very 
earnestly refused, but by repeated entreaty he was, at length, 
prevailed upon to pay the reckoning, which amounted to upwards 
of five guineas.

He still appeared under great consternation that his 
interpreter should wait so long, and after sojourning almost 
an hour he consented to take part of my coach to town. He was 
too polite not to wait upon me home, and I was too civil not 
to compliment him with a night's lodging.

After breakfast he made me some very pretty compliments upon 
my person and behaviour, and took his leave, without 
recollecting that he had still my purse in his pocket. In the 
course of his conversation he threw out some hints that he had 
a large sum to receive that day, and I doubted not but I 
should have manifold interest for my loan upon His 
Excellency's return. But what was my surprise when instead of 
having a visit from him, according to appointment. I received 
the following very extraordinary billet:

Des Champs Elys�es pr�s de Vauxhall 
	Ma ch�re Dame. 
	Je me croirais I'homme le plus impoli du monde, si 
je manquais de parole a une personne de votre m�rite; 
croyez, mon ange, que j'ai essuy� une mortification des 
plus vives de n'avoir pas pu procurer des billets de 
Banque que vous avez si bien merit�es; mais j'ai eu le 
malheur de trouver que c'etait un jour des f�tes pour la 
banque, et on a voulu nous en faire un jour des jeunes, 
car en verit� je n'ai pas pu procurer aucun argent; mais 
l'ame noble trouve toujours des ressources en soi-meme, 
et voyant que l'affaire des billets ne pouvait pas se 
faire aujourd'hui, vous n'avez qu'a remplir le papier ci-
joint que je vous envoie, en qualit� de carte blanche, 
pour stipuler vos propres termes, etc. tout ce que je 
vous dois. 
	J'ai l'honneur et le bonheur d'etre, mon adorable 
	Votre tr�s humble et tr�s obeissant serviteur. 
	Le Marquis de Croc.

P. S. Vous pouvez compter, ma ch�re fille. Que la banque 
sera ouverte demain, si ce n'est pas un jour rouge, car 
dans ce cas-la, il nous deviendra un jour bien noir, 
malgr� la carte blanche ci-jointe. En attendant j'esp�re 
que vous ne m'avez pas rendu une mappe monde pour ma 
carte blanche, car les parties qui sont color�es vertes 
me blessent toujours les yeux; il faut avouer que j'ai un 
bon nez encore pour sentir ces choses la. Adieu, ma 
princesse, resouvenez vous toujours que la g�ographie de 
l'amour c'est une villaine science.

I shall attempt a translation of this very curious epistle, 
though I am apprehensive I shall not be able to do it justice 
in English:

My dear Madam. 
	I should think myself the most impolite man in the 
world, if I failed of my word to a person of your merit. 
Believe me, my angel, I have undergone the most grievous 
mortification by not having been able to procure the bank 
bills which you so highly deserved. But I have the 
misfortune to find this is a festival at the bank, and so 
they have a mind to make us observe it as a strict fast, 
for in truth I have not been able to get any money. 
However, a noble soul always finds resources in itself, 
and since the bank business could not be transacted 
today. I have sent you the enclosed, in quality of a 
carte blanche where you will please to stipulate your own 
terms, and mark what I owe you. 
	I have the honour and happiness to be, my adorable 
girl. 
	Your most obedient, and very humble servant 
	Le Marquis de Croc.

P. S. You may depend upon it, my dear girl, that the bank 
will be opened tomorrow if it is not a red day. In that 
case it will turn out a black one to us, notwithstanding 
the carte blanche annexed. In the interim, I hope you 
have not given me a mappe monde for my carte blanche, for 
those parts of it that are coloured green always shock my 
sight. It must be owned that I have a good nose as yet 
for smelling out these things. Adieu, my princess. 
Remember. I beseech you, that the geography of love is a 
nasty science.

I endeavoured to make enquiry after my imaginary foreign 
ambassador, and after much trouble and fatigue I learnt that 
he was a German sharper, and had quitted his lodgings that 
very day with his supposed interpreter in order to embark for 
Holland.



Chapter XLVII. 
Gains some intelligence concerning this foreigner--The 
affecting story of the Countess de ----, with whom Maria makes 
acquaintance.

An acquaintance I soon after made with a certain female 
foreigner who took upon herself the title of the Countess, 
with what right I shall not pretend to determine, gave me some 
insight into this stranger's character. She said he was a 
noted sharper; that he had personated an English nobleman at 
Lisbon, and had taken in a banker in that capacity for a very 
considerable sum: that he made ha escape from Portugal, and 
had robbed a convent at Toledo of all the sacerdotal plate, 
after being admitted by the hospitality of the friars who 
extend their beneficence to all distressed strangers; that he 
had narrowly escaped the galleys in France for forging a bill 
of exchange; and that he had for some months taken upon 
himself the title of a foreign minister in London, by which 
means he had imposed upon many tradesmen to a very 
considerable amount.

This intelligent female, who appeared to be so thoroughly 
acquainted with the characters of others, kindled in me an 
earnest curiosity to be somewhat acquainted with her own 
story. After some solicitation and, after having recited the 
greatest part of my adventures. I prevailed upon her to give a 
short sketch of hers, in nearly the following words:

'The place of my nativity I never yet could ascertain, for my 
mother dying when I was very young, and my father being 
banished on account of some curious essays he made for the 
improvement of the Portuguese coin, all I can assure you upon 
this head is, that my first recollection found me at Lisbon in 
a very elegant house, with servants to wait upon me, and every 
appearance of grandeur and nobility. But upon my father's 
departure, the scene was soon greatly changed, and I was 
presently reduced to a state of servitude. I was taken by a 
lady, who brought me up and gave me such instructions as she 
thought would be suitable to the part I was to act in life, 
without ever mentioning to me anything concerning my parents 
or my native country.

'At the age of fourteen. I found myself a very agreeable girl, 
and everyone in the house confirmed me in the opinion; but 
none so much as a young fellow, who was about seventeen, and 
who waited upon my benefactress's husband in the capacity of a 
valet-de-chambre. He was the first of the male sex that I had 
ever considered as any way differing from ourselves in person 
and appearance. I had observed his beard, which he constantly 
shaved every day and was from thence led to conjecture that 
there must be some difference between men and women besides 
their dress; and my curiosity was never completely satisfied 
upon this score, till such time as he manifestly convinced me 
of the distinction.

'Our correspondence continued for some time, without anyone in 
the house forming the least conjecture of our intimacy, till 
fate and nature imposed upon me the lot of a mother. I 
acquainted him with the discovery I had early made. He was 
struck with such a terror that he nearly swooned. I had never 
till now ruminated upon the precipice we were hanging over; 
but he soon opened my eyes, and displayed all my danger in its 
most glaring colours. He pointed out to me the only means of 
escaping the terrors of the clergy and all their dreadful 
chastisements. Says he, 'There is now lying at anchor in the 
Tagus, a Tuscan ship, which sails in two days for the island 
of Sardinia. We must pack up all our clothes and bribe the 
master to take us on board.'

'I acquainted him with the impracticability of my making such 
a voyage, the scantiness of my wardrobe and the emptiness of 
my purse. He told me to give myself no concern upon those 
heads that he should treat with the captain, and that I had 
nothing to do but get myself ready by the time appointed. 
Inexperienced as I was in the commerce of the world, I foresaw 
much risk and danger in such a project. But all my prudence 
and reasoning were stilled when I reflected upon the fatal 
situation I should be left in at Lisbon after his departure; 
so that finding him fully bent upon the voyage. I resolved to 
accompany him, however great the peril.

'We accordingly embarked without discovery being made, and got 
out of the Tagus with a fair wind for the straits. We soon 
passed Gibraltar and arrived in the Mediterranean. But we had 
scarce sailed four-and-twenty hours before we were attacked by 
a Turkish corsair, and after a faint resistance on our parts 
were taken and carried into Smyrna. My husband, for such I 
looked upon him, was cast into a dungeon. But the captain did 
not treat me with so much severity, though I would willingly 
have shared his fate for the sake of his company. I was 
carried to Constantinople, and was placed under the guard of 
two black eunuchs. After being dressed in the Turkish habit. I 
was introduced to the Grand Seignior, and the splendour and 
magnificence of his court so far dazzled me that I readily 
acquiesced to the gratification of his carnal passions.

'I now lived in all the Asiatic luxury of an emperor's 
mistress. Yet happiness was a stranger to my breast. I 
lamented the loss of my liberty, but more the loss of my 
husband. In vain were sumptuous banquets prepared for me; in 
vain were art and nature exhausted to gratify my senses. They 
could not administer that balm of life, content.

'Whilst I was ruminating one evening upon my wretched elevated 
lot, my door opened, and to my sight appeared one of my aged 
Negro eunuchs. But scarce had I cast my eye a second time upon 
him before I perceived a white hand seize on mine, and heard a 
voice that was dearer to me than life. In a word, my husband 
had escaped from prison, travelled to Constantinople, and by 
stratagem, contrived to represent one of the black eunuchs and 
gain admittance to my apartment. I caught him in my arms, and 
could for ever have held him to my breast but time was too 
precious to be lost even in bliss. We retired with 
precipitation, gained the frontiers of the city and having by 
long and tedious travelling on foot reached Scanderoon, we 
arrived just in time to embark on board a French ship that was 
bound to Marseilles.

Upon our debarkation at that port, I was taken in labour, and 
was delivered at an inn of a fine boy. We remained here some 
weeks, and were preparing to set forward, resolving to see the 
capital of France. We had occasion, as may be supposed, for 
money, by this time. The jewels I had brought with me from the 
seraglio had hitherto been our support; but we had been 
obliged to dispose of many of them under their value. A 
Venetian, who was a traveller at the inn, was introduced to us 
as a proper person to purchase any effects that we might have 
occasion to dispose of, and who would give us the utmost value 
for them. A contract was accordingly entered into, and we were 
to receive the next day a thousand pistoles for two diamonds 
of uncommon size.

'My husband had been prevailed upon to take an airing with the 
merchant a few miles from the city: I waited with great 
impatience for their return, till at length sleep overcame 
even my solicitude. Soon after the door opened, and I 
perceived a person in the habit of my husband come to my 
bedside. Being much inclined to repose. I examined no further. 
The door was fastened, the light was extinguished and my 
husband, as I supposed, came to rest. He presently, however, 
interrupted me with such uncommon warmth of fondness that I 
began to think the champagne of France would renovate his 
youth and repair that health which had been so greatly 
impaired by captivity and misfortune.

'He rose very early and retired whilst I was still asleep, and 
I was only awaked to be informed that my husband had been 
murdered the night before at some distance from the city by 
the merchant, who had returned in his dress and personated 
him. Messengers were dispatched on every side, whilst I was 
left with sorrow and despair to lament the loss of him who had 
escaped so many perils, to fall a victim to the hand of a 
treacherous Venetian!'



Chapter XLVIII. 
Continuation of the narrative of the Countess de--.

'The barbarous merchant, I found, had not only robbed me of my 
husband and polluted his bed under his resemblance, but had 
also robbed me of those very jewels for which he had agreed to 
pay me the thousand pistoles. He was overtaken a few leagues 
from the city, and being brought back, was tried and condemned 
to be broke alive upon the wheel. After I had assisted as a 
very necessary witness upon his trial, having recovered my 
jewels, I set forward to Paris, not being able to remain any 
longer at Marseilles, which had been such a scene of slaughter 
and was going to be still more so.

'Nothing remarkable happened to me upon my journey. Upon my 
arrival at the capital. I soon made many acquaintances, who 
endeavoured to dissipate my melancholy by all the arts and 
attentions of which the French are complete masters. I shall 
not dwell upon the beauties or magnificence of Paris, as you 
have been an eye-witness to them, but shall jump to an 
adventure which happened to me when I was one night at the 
Opera. I had been escorted thither by a young musketeer who 
was reckoned one of the handsomest men in all France, and as 
such, he thought, he was entitled to do or say anything. 
Whilst Madame Favart was singing a favourite air, he began to 
hum an Italian song so loud that he interrupted a gentleman 
who sat next him and prevented his hearing the performance. 
The gentleman could not help expressing his dislike to such 
interruption, and saying he wished he could espy an empty 
seat, that he might hear the opera out. The young musketeer 
took this in great dudgeon, and asked him whether he was a 
watchmaker or a jeweller. To which the gentleman replied he 
would give him an answer if he chose to follow him. I 
perceived the drift of this retreat and interposed my 
authority, telling the musketeer that if he advanced a step he 
forfeited my esteem forever, and that I would never take 
notice of him again. He was too polite not to listen to my 
remonstrance and, at the same time, asked me what I would have 
him do. I told him if he and the gentleman would refer the 
decision of the affair to me, I would give a very equitable 
determination. The gentleman, with much good sense, agreed, 
and the musketeer, who relied upon my friendship for a 
judgment in his favour, also assented.

'"Why then, sir," said I to the musketeer, "as you are the 
offender, you must ask the gentleman's pardon, and let him 
hear the piece out, uninterrupted."

'He consented, and the gentleman and he became very good 
friends. This affair did not, however, end here; for the 
musketeer having introduced this gentleman into my company, he 
became so enamoured with me that he in a short time offered me 
his hand. He was a man of very good family, but being of the 
younger branch, he enjoyed but a small patrimonial estate. 
This was the Count de ----, from whom I take my title, and no 
one can lay claim to a coronet upon better pretensions.

'We lived happily together for some years when, having 
commanded in the French army in Germany, he paid the great 
debt of nature at Minden amongst many brave men, for their 
general's temerity.

'A variety of fortune now succeeded to me. I was compelled to 
submit to such terms as the men pleased to impose. But even 
this scarce afforded a comfortable subsistence, and I was, at 
length, obliged to leave Paris, to avoid the horrors of a jail 
with which my creditors threatened me. I travelled through 
Flanders into Holland, and remained some time at The Hague and 
at Amsterdam. But I could not do anything at either of those 
places which promised an easy establishment. So that I at 
length came over into England, where I have now been about 
eighteen months, and in the course of this time I have found 
means by my good offices to foreign ministers and other 
travellers of distinction to gain a decent subsistence; and I 
am in hopes, by economy and prudence, to reap the advantages 
of my experience. And, my dear,' continued she, 'now that I 
have been thus ingenuous with you. I hope you will give me all 
the assistance in your power. That is to say, when you meet 
with a good man that will bleed freely, you will give the 
preference to my house before any other: and, on my part, I 
promise you when any fall in my way that I think will be worth 
your while, you may depend upon it that I shall not be 
forgetful of you.'



Chapter XLIX 
Makes an acquaintance with a generous foreigner--His 
behaviour--A breakfast adventure which Maria pays for very 
dearly.

Whilst I was one night paying a visit to the Countess, a sedan 
chair stopped at the door and a footman, in an elegant livery, 
gave the tattoo of nobility, when a foreigner entered and was 
introduced. He behaved with great politeness and civility, 
sent for an elegant supper from the tavern, and after my 
hostess was retired, began to make love to me with great 
fervency. The Countess had informed me before the arrival of 
this stranger that she should have a visit that evening from a 
foreigner of distinction, and that she should not fail to give 
me an opportunity of making a conquest of him, as he was fond 
of variety and she could not expect he would again compliment 
her with his company all night; that I should act prudently, 
as he was as generous as a prince, and as rich as Croesus; but 
that it would be necessary for me to behave with some sort of 
reserve, as he had declared to her that the forwardness of the 
English women who went into company gave him great disgust.

I accordingly received all his compliments with a coyness that 
ill became the reputation of the house I was in. The more 
backward I appeared to his solicitations, the more earnestly 
he repeated them: till, after a full hour's refusal, I thought 
it was time to accept his proposals, upon throwing his purse, 
which contained twenty guineas, into my lap.

Such uncommon generosity I thought required more than usual 
attention on my part to give him all the satisfaction in my 
power for his present: especially as I was not without hopes 
that though the Countess might not be possessed of charms 
sufficient to captivate him a second time, I was still 
mistress of such accomplishments and a sufficient share of 
youth to attract him once more to my arms. He rose extremely 
well pleased and made me many encomiums upon my person and 
behaviour.

Whilst we were at breakfast and were convening upon a variety 
of different topics, he at length asked me if I ever played at 
piquet. I answered sometimes, and that the Countess was 
pleased to compliment me with playing pretty well. He said he 
should be curious to see my play, and cards were at his 
request presently introduced.

I would fain have played for no more than sixpence; but he 
said he could not give any sort of attention to the game 
unless it was for at least a guinea. This assertion I did not 
much admire; but as I was very unwilling to give my generous 
lover the least reason to be displeased, I was easily 
prevailed upon to play for gold. The first game I was thirty 
points before him, when he repiqued me. The next game was 
similar to the first.

All this while I could not discover any superiority of play on 
my antagonist's side; but on the contrary, that he was 
entirely indebted to great cards for his success. After 
winning four or five games, he agreed to give me ten points. 
He still won. He then gave me twenty. I had no more chance yet 
than before. In a word, he continued to increase the odds. 
till they came up to seventy, and I never once got the point. 
My surprise continued till I lost the twenty guineas he had 
presented me with, without yet suspecting any foul play. 
However. I had curiosity enough to have him dogged home by a 
chairman, who brought me intelligence that my inamorato who 
had so generously paid me, and so genteelly fleeced me, was 
neither more nor less than the celebrated Doctor T----o, who 
made so much noise, and received such great applause in Covent 
Garden.



Chapter L. 
An event that throws Maria into despair--Captain H--'s 
tenderness and regard for her, which in some measure removes 
her melancholy--A thought or two upon ideal bliss.

Such good fortune as I last met with might be the ruin of a 
woman in a short time. Thanks to my stars, I did not often 
find lovers who were quite so generous. Indeed. I began to be 
more cautious how I went into promiscuous company for more 
reasons than one; having in the first place gleaned as much 
money together as might at any time put me above want; in the 
next place I became very solicitous about my health: and 
thirdly, on account of an intimacy which I had for sometime 
carried on with Captain H----, whose situation was so critical 
that an accident of the sort would have been his ruin. I 
suppose after this, it may be needless to say that he was in 
high keeping by an antiquated demi-rep of quality, who had the 
refreshment of the body more than the soul at heart.

An event which at this period happened, greatly affected me, 
as I had painted to myself a small prospect of contentment at 
least, if not felicity. An unexpected blast clouded all my 
hopes and distracted all my serenity. Just when methought I 
had scraped together a sufficiency to set me above the world 
and make me easy with my dear Williams, in a way both legal 
and rational, he was attacked with a fever, which in a few 
days brought him to such a pass that he was given over by the 
faculty. I attended him with unwearied diligence, till he gave 
up his last breath, and the grim inexorable tyrant tore him 
from my arms.

A dejection of spirits succeeded this unexpected shock: and 
though I endeavoured to hide my sorrow and its excess from the 
Captain, they were but too conspicuous not to be discovered by 
the most careless observer. As Captain H---- could not pretend 
to any fidelity towards me on his part, so he did not exact it 
on mine. But though he had suspected an intimacy reigned 
between Mr Williams and me, he had never been thoroughly 
convinced of it till now. If he might feel some slight 
satisfaction from the consideration of his rival being 
removed, he had at least the politeness and complaisance to 
dissemble a participation of my sorrow, and to take every 
opportunity of diverting it. For this purpose he took a 
lodging at Richmond, kept me a post-chaise, and profited of 
every convenient opportunity to accompany me upon every party 
or jaunt. The most pungent grief may be in some measure 
alleviated by a variety of objects and a diversity of 
recreations. Yet mine continued for a long time in its most 
formidable state, and he began to be under real apprehensions 
that I should fall a victim to sorrow.

Lady M----, who was the Captain's generous benefactress, had a 
near relation come to visit her from Ireland: and as she 
proposed making her cousin's stay in England as agreeable as 
possible, she proposed conducting her to all the public 
diversions which it afforded, and they had accordingly laid a 
plan for going to Bath, where they were to stay a month. Now, 
as the Captain's visits to her ladyship were to be 
discontinued during that time he had a vacation, which he 
proposed employing with me in a tour round England, being 
careful to avoid touching at Bath. We accordingly set out and 
visited most of the capital towns and cities in the East and 
North of England, and contrived to return to the metropolis 
about the time of her ladyship's quitting Somersetshire.

This tour had in a great measure its desired effect: and the 
Captain's generosity and regard began to work upon me much in 
his favour, as I considered him as a very agreeable companion, 
and was not without hopes that one day might unite us in a 
manner much more to my satisfaction. But this could not be 
effected till the death of Lady M----, as she was his 
principal support, and as the Captain had always led a very 
gay life and could never condescend to sequester himself in 
indigent obscurity, and as her ladyship's good health and 
cheerful spirits no way bespoke an early departure from this 
world; so that all my hopes, in this respect, were very 
distant, if not ill-grounded. However, the fool's paradise was 
a contemplative Elysium that frequently furnished me many 
agreeable hours of mental recreation, and I am still of 
opinion it matters not what is the cause if the effect is 
produced. I was happy whilst I walked in imaginary felicity, 
and forgot my real sorrows by the gratification of ideal 
pleasures.

There, in the dear delirium, let me live,  
Rather than know my wants, and grieve. 
[Horace, Epistles, Bk. II Ep. II l. 126-127 ]



Chapter LI. 
An analysis of modern lovers, in the characters of some 
remarkable men of pleasure and business.

A woman is no sooner known to be possessed of a little money, 
and to be above the world, but ugly or handsome, old or young, 
abandoned or virtuous, foolish or sensible--no matter which--
she may reasonably be expected to have at least a dozen 
suitors. There is a set of men who ambulate this metropolis, 
crowd the public walks, disturb pious congregations and 
interrupt the repose of families. They call themselves 
gentlemen, for no other reason than that they have too much 
pride or too little industry to follow any calling. They 
starve genteelly with a sword and laced coat, and if they are 
not carried off in a duel or a Covent Garden fever, they for 
the most part rot in a jail, or pay a penny to expose 
themselves in the London Gazette, in order to receive the 
benefit of an act of disgrace.

These are all, to a man, professed fortune-hunters. They no 
sooner get scent of a cast-off mistress with an annuity for 
life, or an amorous widow who has just buried her third 
husband, or a hoyden ready to run off with the coachman for 
want of another object, than they immediately prepare their 
artillery and unmask a battery in form. Their success, it is 
true, is very uncertain. Otherwise we should see these 
gentlemen, who are seldom more than the butterflies of a 
season, instead of returning to their insignificant 
caterpillar state, shine forth repeated summers in all their 
desirable gaiety.

Belvil was upon the foremost rank of this class of my worthy 
admirers. He wrote billets-doux with a pretty easy familiarity 
that might have imposed upon most women for originals who had 
never seen the Spectator, or read an English translation of 
Ovid's Art of Love. I answered him precisely in his own style, 
and when he wrote me a plagiarized letter, I sent him back a 
transcript of the identical printed answer. This drove him to 
the utmost despair. He had not courage to attack me afterwards 
from his own brain, and deserted me because I pursued him too 
closely. Upon which occasion I wrote him a definitive letter, 
in which I introduced pretty pertinently:

In love, the victors from the vanquished fly, 
They fly that wound, and they pursue that die. 
[Edmund Waller, To a Friend ]

But I contrasted the application, for he never rose 
afterwards. He fell a victim to the sharp arrow of ridicule, 
and gave up the ghost of a lover in the third month of his 
time, pregnant with the most promising hopes of making me 
capitulate at discretion.

Brainless was an animal of a very different cast. So far from 
stealing from our best authors, he had never read them, and if 
he had, it was impossible he could have understood them. No, 
he was guiltless of such impositions. He never attempted to 
write anything beyond a card, which I was afterwards very well 
assured that he employed his laundress to transcribe for him, 
that the orthography might be the less imperfect. Brainless 
did not pique himself upon his learning, or endeavour to make 
an unnecessary display of any talents but those that centred 
in dress. Though he was entirely ignorant of history or 
geography, nobody wore a newer fashioned buckle. And though he 
usually spoke nonsense, and generally bad English, nobody's 
hair was more classical. In a word, all his discourse was 
centred in dress, and his knowledge of fashions was almost 
unfathomable. Notwithstanding his extraordinary genius this 
way, his tailor wanted to be paid, and was so very 
unreasonable as to arrest him, after giving him three years' 
credit, as he was getting out of his chair to pay me a morning 
visit.

Brainless thus dispatched, I was besieged in form by the 
heroic Captain Bluster, who had been in twenty engagements, 
fourteen skirmishes and six pitched battles. The Captain 
fought, drank and swore as deep as any man in Christendom; and 
he had almost bullied me into marrying him, when considering 
that twenty pence a day would be but a very slender additional 
inheritance. I resolved to get rid of myself, in order to get 
rid of the Captain. I retired for two months into 
Northamptonshire and sequestered myself from the world, to 
avoid Captain Bluster's persecuting addresses.

Retirement, the native clime of love, produced fresh admirers 
for me. A parson and a lawyer, at once, declared themselves 
candidates for my affections. The parson, though he wore 
black, as Otway says, I believe was honest and sincere. He 
opened his mind to me in an easy, unaffected manner. He told 
me, though he could not attempt to enumerate my charms, he 
should offer his friendship and esteem, which were all he 
could pretend to talk of at his time of life. And if I could 
put up with a man of forty, he believed he should make me as 
good a husband as a woman of sense would reasonably expect; 
that to paint scenes of ideal happiness and visionary bliss in 
the marriage-state was both romantic and childish: experience 
exploded such chimeras and proved the honeymoon but of short. 
very short duration; but that if commonsense and some learning 
without pedantry, a sincere desire to be agreeable, founded 
upon genuine good-nature, bid fair to make matrimony eligible, 
he might, perhaps, be no unworthy member of that institution.

I answered the doctor with as little ambiguity as he declared 
himself, saying that I had no objection, either to his person, 
function, or sentiments; but, on the contrary, thought him 
worthy of the esteem of the most amiable woman alive; and that 
if I had not been under a prior engagement, I should not have 
hesitated accepting of so agreeable a proposal. The doctor 
received this answer with a becoming modesty, thanking me for 
the good opinion I entertained of him. I could find, however, 
notwithstanding his religious character and disposition, that 
he was not a little disturbed with jealousy at the lawyer's 
paying me frequent visits. He conceived him to be the powerful 
rival who had influenced me to reject his proposals, and upon 
his retiring, he said with some emphasis, after talking of him 
with no small degree of acrimony: An honest man's the noblest 
work of God.

I could not help being diverted at the parson's ill-grounded 
jealousy, and imagined that a conference between my lovers in 
my presence would be not unentertaining. I accordingly brought 
them together at tea the very next afternoon. They at first 
fought very shy, and scarce an expression was interchanged by 
them. But I soon brought them to a more communicative 
disposition by reading some letters I had received from town, 
and entering upon the topics of the times. The lawyer, who had 
come down owing the vacation, was a stranger to the parson as 
well as the neighbourhood. However, the doctor's curiosity had 
excited him to gain some intelligence concerning his character 
which, I believe, he found to be none of the best, and 
particularly, that he was a bad paymaster. The doctor, at 
length, interrogated him concerning his profession, by saying. 
'I think, sir, you follow the law?'

The attorney, who was somewhat nettled at this abrupt and 
unexpected question, replied with a sneer, 'No. sir, I make 
the law follow me.'

'Indeed,' resumed the parson, 'I believe you are frequently 
pursued by the law and its followers too.'

Though I did not approve of so much unprovoked severity in my 
religious lover, I could not, for the present, refrain joining 
with him in a laugh at the expense of the lawyer, who was so 
highly enraged as to give him an indirect challenge. I thought 
it was now proper to interpose, and I dismissed my two lovers, 
seemingly very well reconciled.

So much for suitors and addresses. It is high time for me to 
return to London and Captain H------, who is extremely uneasy 
at my absence, and greatly importunes me in his last letter to 
make my stay in the country as short as possible; and having 
in my answer promised to acquiesce, the reader may now very 
naturally suppose me once more in the metropolis.



Chapter LII. 
Maria's reformation and its cause--The virtuous and religious 
plan of life she pursues, which is crowned with a happy union 
to an amiable man--Some account of her present family and 
pursuits--The end.

The Captain was to meet me one evening at the Asylum chapel, 
from whence we were to go in our post-chaise to Richmond and 
pass the week. Little did I then imagine that the place of 
rendezvous for a criminal intrigue would prove the source of 
reformation from a desolate and sinful life. A sensible and 
pathetic discourse which I heard that night was the cause of 
my conversion. The worthy and pious gentleman who preached set 
forth in so striking and affecting a manner the sin and danger 
of a profligate course, that I was seized with all the horrors 
of a reproachable conscience. It was then my eyes were for the 
first time opened, and I saw my licentious and abandoned 
conduct in all its shocking and dread array. I was entirely 
lost to myself and drowned in a flood of tears, when the 
Captain approached my seat, without my perceiving him. He took 
hold of my hand, and enquired what was the matter with me. But 
I was incapable of making him any answer. He gave me his 
smelling-bottle, and was performing all the kind offices of a 
lover who finds his mistress in affliction. But I remained 
insensible to all he did or said, and we were at length left 
in the chapel quite alone.

He handed me out, and was for putting me into the post-chaise, 
which was in waiting. But I declined it, and notwithstanding 
he exhausted all the rhetoric that could be used in such a 
cause, I remained inexorable to entreaty, and returned over 
the bridge to my lodging all alone. From this time I 
discontinued associating with any of my former acquaintance; 
never went to any public place except church, and for upwards 
of a twelvemonth passed a life that was not unworthy of a 
Christian.

Nothing gave me now any sort of anxiety but the reflection 
that what I subsisted upon were the wages of prostitution. In 
these sentiments I would willingly have embraced any 
opportunity of gaining a livelihood in a manner suitable to my 
present way of thinking. I should have been happy to have 
disposed of all I was worth in the world in charity, if I 
could have had the least glimmering of hopes to pass the 
remainder of my days without control and without dependence. 
But as I was not so enthusiastically bigoted as to forget my 
past misfortunes, or the terrible situation a woman is in who 
is thus divested of the means of support, I did not pursue so 
very charitable a plan of reformation.

Accident soon after threw into my way a tradesman, who was 
sensible without severity, and religious without ostentation, 
who had philanthropy enough to overlook the weaknesses and 
failings of mankind, where they were not blended with 
premeditated crimes, and to esteem a repenting sinner as much 
as a constant devotee. His sentiments and mine were so very 
concordant that an agreeable intimacy soon took place, and in 
the course of our conversations, I was frank enough to own the 
disagreeable part I had been obliged to act upon the theatre 
of life. This account which I gave of myself did not diminish 
his regard for me. He said he was convinced of the thorny 
paths through which a pretty woman had to move, and the 
difficulty there was for her to avoid the many snares that 
were constantly thrown out for her by the profligate and 
abandoned of the male sex, if she was not endued with more 
than human prudence.

'But,' continued he, 'I am convinced by your frankness in 
acknowledging your former errors, and your present sentiments, 
that you will never pursue the same trade again. And to 
convince you that you have no way lessened yourself in my 
esteem by your sincerity, and that I am firmly of opinion that 
you are capable of making an honest and virtuous wife if you 
will accept of my hand, here it is. As to my heart,' he added 
with a sigh, 'that you have been possessed of for some time.'

There was so much honest good-nature and genuine sentiment in 
this declaration, which at the same time was very agreeable to 
me, that I did not long play the prudish part but accepted of 
his proposal with as much cordiality as it was made.

And now, reader, that I have brought you once more to a 
virtuous, honest plan of life, which alone can administer that 
balmy ease and satisfactory repose which we should be all 
desirous of obtaining, I shall leave you to contemplate these 
sheets, as I have at present other employment upon my hands 
than that of writing these pages, having all but this chapter 
been composed long before I entered into the holy and 
desirable state of matrimony. For I have now four children to 
look after, the youngest of whom is not a twelvemonth old. My 
eldest daughter reads and writes very well, and will, I hope, 
be an ornament to her sex, as she will, at least, have the 
advice of a mother to conduct her through this perilous world 
who, to her cost, has evinced the rocks and shoals which a 
female navigator must be so careful to avoid. And if any of my 
fair readers should be so lucky as to gain prudence and 
discretion enough to escape perdition by what they have learnt 
from these sheets, I shall think that the time I have employed 
in penning them has not been thrown away.

FINIS



The Magdalen by William Dodd (1780)

Dodd, William. The Magdalen; or, History of the First Penitent 
Received into That Charitable Asylum. London: Printed for W. 
Lane, 1780?   https://books.google.ie/books?id=960BAAAAQAAJ 



Title Page

THE 
MAGDALEN,
OR HISTORY OT THE 
FIRST PENITENT
RECEIVED INTO 
THAT CHARITABLE ASYLUM;
IN A SERIES OF 
LetterS TO A Lady.
WITH ANECDOTES OF 
OTHER PENITENTS,
BY THE LATE 
REV. WILLIAM DODD, L. L. D.
 DEDICATED TO THE REV. MR. HARRISON, 
CHAPLAIN TO THE MAGDALEN HOSPITAL.
============================================= 
WERE you, ye fair, but cautious whom ye trust, 
Did you but think how seldom fools are just; 
So many of your sex would not in vain 
Of broken vows and faithless men complain: 
Of all the various wretches love has made, 
How few have been by men of sense betrayed, 
Convinced by reason, they your power confess; 
Pleased to be happy, as you're pleased to bless; 
And conscious of your worth, can never love you less. 
Rowe. 
=============================================
LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR W. LANE, LEADEN-HALL 
STREET.



Dedication 
To the Rev. Mr. Harrison

Whose pious admonitions to the penitents, has justly merited 
their veneration and esteem, as much as his superior 
excellence in pulpit oratory, has gained the public applause. 
The following Historic Facts, penned by a late unfortunate* 
divine, to show the great advantage of an asylum for the 
repentant sinner, desirous of returning to virtue, and to 
peace, 
	Are respectfully inscribed, 
	By his most obedient 
	Humble servant, 
	THE EDITOR.

* The Rev. William Dodd was hanged for forgery in 1777. See 
https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng343.htm 



The Preface.

The following letters, written at the earnest request of a 
truly benevolent lady, by the first penitent who was received 
into the Magdalen Hospital, now make their appearance in 
print.

They have many years been read with pleasure and entertainment 
by the circle of that lady's acquaintance, and by many of them 
thought worthy of the public eye. It is presumed their 
authenticity will not invalidate them in the opinion of that 
public, to whom they are now candidly submitted, and it may at 
least be presumed, they will afford equal entertainment, with 
the generality of the books of amusement, which have lately 
been published; at least they will be found on perusal to 
inculcate that necessary caution, which the younger part of 
the fair sex, confessedly stand so much in need of.

The reality of a tale of woe, and of the greatest distress, it 
must be owned affects us much more sensibly, than that which 
we know to be fictitious:--or in the words of an elegant 
periodical writer,

"Our passions are therefore more strongly moved, in proportion 
as we can more readily adopt the pains or pleasure proposed to 
our minds, by recognising them at once our own, or considering 
them as naturally incident to our own state of life.

"Those parallel circumstances, and kindred images, to which we 
readily conform our minds, are, above all other writings, to 
be found in narratives of the lives of particular persons; and 
therefore no species of writing seems more worthy of 
cultivation, since none can be more delightful or more useful, 
none can more certainly enchain the heart by irresistible 
interest, or more widely diffuse instruction to every 
diversity of condition. 

"I have often," says he "thought that there has rarely passed 
a life of which a judicious and a faithful narrative would not 
be useful; for, not only every person has, in the mighty mass 
of the world, great numbers in, or possibly may be in the same 
condition with themselves, and to whom the mistakes and 
miscarriages, escapes and expedients, would be of immediate 
caution or apparent use, but there is such an uniformity in 
the state of man, if it be considered apart from adventitious 
and separable decorations and disguises, that there is scarce 
any possibility of good or ill, but is common to human kind. A 
great part of the time of those who are placed at the greatest 
distance by fortune, or by temper, must unavoidably pass in 
the same manner; and though, when the claims of nature are 
satisfied, caprice, vanity, and accident begin to produce 
discriminations and peculiarities, yet the eye is not very 
heedful, or quick, which cannot discover the same causes still 
terminating their influence in the same effects, though 
sometimes accelerated, sometimes retarded, or perplexed by 
multiplied combinations. We are all prompted by the same 
motives, all deceived by the same fallacies, all animated by 
hope, obstructed by danger, entangled by desire, and seduced 
by pleasure."

The authentic narrative, or history which is here submitted to 
the public, is the history of one of those unhappy women, who 
would have continued virtuous and innocent, blameless and 
easy, but for the arts and insinuations, of one whose rank and 
fortune furnished him with means to corrupt and delude her. 
Let the libertine reflect a moment on the situation of that 
woman, who being forsaken by her betrayer, is reduced to the 
necessity of turning prostitute for bread, and judge of the 
enormity of his guilt by the evils which it produces. It 
cannot be doubted that numbers have and do follow, this 
dreadful course of life, in the same manner she herself 
experienced, with shame, horror, and regret; but where can 
they hope for refuge? "The world is not their friend, nor the 
world's law." Their sighs and tears and groans, are criminal 
in the eye of their tyrants, the bully, and the bawd; who 
fatten on their misery, and threaten them with want or a gaol, 
if they show the least design of escaping from their bondage.

She was the first who by an immediate application, on the 
opening the humane, the laudable, the benevolent institution 
of the Magdalen Hospital, convinced the world, that there 
needed only a place of refuge for such a number of unhappy and 
miserable creatures, to impel them to an early application, 
before a long course of libertinism had taken such entire hold 
of their minds, as to render every virtuous effort abortive. 
What pity it is, that so useful an institution, is not made 
more general, by larger donations, and more universally 
subscribed to: but the novelty of the undertaking being at an 
end, it continues to dispense its salutary effects, under its 
original limitations, but under those limitations it has been, 
and continues to be the means, under the blessings of the 
almighty, of relieving great numbers of unhappy females from 
wretchedness, want and misery, and of placing them once more 
in the world, as useful members of society. This would 
eventually have been seen in the history of the Magdalen 
before us, who though the first received into its charitable 
foundation, is not the only instance that can be produced, of 
having afterwards rose to an elevated rank in life; the 
particulars of which it is not permitted us to relate.

Let the youthful mind of both sexes, have ever in 
contemplation: "That we rise in the morning of youth, full of 
vigour and full of expectation, we set forward with spirit and 
hope, with gaiety and with diligence; and travel on a while in 
the straight road of piety towards the mansion of rest. In a 
short time we remit our fervour and endeavour to find some 
mitigation of our duty and some more easy means of obtaining 
the same end

"We then relax our vigour, and resolve no longer to be 
terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our own 
constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to 
touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the 
shades of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilance 
subsides; we are then willing to enquire whether another 
advance cannot be made; and whether we may not, at least, turn 
our eye upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with 
scruple and hesitation: we enter them, but enter timorous and 
trembling, and always hope to pass through them without losing 
the road of virtue, which we for a while keep in our sight, 
and to which we purpose to return. But temptation succeeds 
temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another; we in 
time lose the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet 
in sensual gratifications. By degrees we let fall the 
remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only 
adequate object of rational desire. We entangle ourselves in 
vice, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the 
labyrinths of inconstancy, till the darkness of old age begins 
to invade us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We 
then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, with 
repentance; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had 
not forsaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they, who shall 
learn from such examples not to despair, but shall remember, 
like the penitent, the particulars of whose early life is here 
depicted; that though the day is past, and strength is wasted, 
there yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is 
never hopeless, nor sincere endeavours ever unassisted, that 
the wanderer may at length return after every error, and that 
they who implore strength and courage from above, shall find 
danger and difficulty give way before them, Go then, my child, 
commit thyself to the care of omnipotence, and when the 
morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy 
life."

The lady who is the subject of the following sheets, (for kind 
providence has now raised her to an elevated rank in life) 
availed herself of this admirable lesson; and though it will 
from her own relation appear, that she passed some years a 
drudge of extortion and the sport of drunkenness; sometime the 
property of one man, and sometimes the common prey of 
accidental lewdness; at one time tricked up for sale by the 
mistress of a brothel, at another begging in the streets to 
relieve from hunger and wretchedness herself and a beloved 
infant, without any reflections at night, but such as guilt 
and terror impress upon such wretched and unhappy creatures, 
yet if those who pass their days in plenty and security, could 
visit for an hour the dismal receptacles, to which the 
prostitute retires from her nocturnal excursions, and see the 
wretches that lie crowded together, mad with intemperance, 
ghastly with famine, nauseous with filth, and noisome with 
disease: it would not be easy for any degree of abhorrence, to 
harden them against compassion, or to repress the desire which 
they must immediately feel, and like the patron of this once 
wretched female, attempt to rescue such of their fellow human 
creatures, from a state so miserably dreadful.

To restore them to peace and virtue, and render them not only 
happy in themselves, but make them, as members, again useful 
to society.



Letter I.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	Madam, 
	The favour of a request from you will ever operate in the 
nature of a command, to one who has been so highly honoured 
with confidence, with sympathy, and with the most salutary 
advice, in the future conduct of a life rescued from distress 
and infamy, by the favour of your kind recommendation to this 
happy place, and the further favour of your generous 
countenance since I was placed here.

I therefore cheerfully comply with your request, in relating 
the circumstances of a life, which you were pleased to 
consider as a warning to the younger part of my sex.

My father was a clergyman in the West of England, he served 
two curacies and one living, all which together did not bring 
him in one hundred pounds per annum, but entirely engrossed 
his time, as he endeavoured to do his duty in each parish, to 
the utmost of his power, which obliged him to be at the 
expense of keeping a horse: this, with the continual repairs 
necessary to his parsonage house, which was much decayed, and 
the ill state of health wherewith my mother was afflicted for 
many years, made his income but barely sufficient for himself 
and his family, though it was not large, for of many children 
my mother bore him, one elder sister and myself only lived to 
grow up.

When I was about fourteen years old, my mother died, which 
occasioned my sister's return home; she had spent three years 
with an aunt, who was a milliner in a large town in the county 
of Devonshire, but by the loss of my mother, became necessary 
to take care of my father's house, whose health declined so 
fast, that nursing him was her chief employ. In a little more 
than a year, we lost my father, a great misfortune to us both, 
but particularly to me, who was thus left to my own guidance 
and support, when I was but fifteen years of age; my 
appearance indeed was womanly, I had been bred up in religious 
principles, but at that age they were not deeply grounded, nor 
so fixed as to stand against the temptations of the world, 
into which I was now thrown.

My father's effects when sold, and all accounts settled, 
yielded us but a few pounds; my aunt was dead, and we had no 
near relation who could assist us, but a lady in the 
neighbourhood, who had always professed a great regard to my 
father, called upon us, when the first agonies of our grief 
were over, so far as to be able to perceive the forlornness of 
our situation. My sister applied to this lady for her 
protection for me, for whom she was most uneasy, being as she 
said able to provide for her own support, but my youth and 
person, which perhaps she beheld with too partial eyes, filled 
her with apprehensions on my account.

The lady assured us she would do the utmost to serve me, that 
if she had no sons, or I was less handsome, she would receive 
me into her own house; but that was now impossible, however 
she would enquire among her friends if she could find anything 
proper for me, and hoped to succeed before we were obliged to 
quit the house.

This lady was as good as her word, and not being so much 
afraid for other people's sons as she was for her own, she 
prevailed with a lady of her acquaintance, who lived in the 
next county, to receive me as her woman: she had suffered me 
to assist in the dressing of her daughters several times, that 
I might be qualified for my place, and at the time appointed, 
gave me a letter of recommendation, to secure still a better 
reception.

To take leave of my sister, was like losing my only parent; 
for such she was to me, though not above five years older than 
myself. I think I could not have felt much deeper affliction 
for her death, our separation appearing to us not much less 
grievous. I was frighted at the thought of going among entire 
strangers, and into a new employ, and my sister's 
apprehensions were such as were but too well verified in the 
sequel. She spent the last day we were together, in warning me 
against the temptations which would perhaps fall in my way, of 
which I remember the following words were part, for they made 
a strong impression, though to little purpose, and the 
misfortunes into which I fell from disregarding them, fixed 
them stronger in my mind.

"My dear Emily," said she, "I cannot fear for your honesty nor 
sincerity, though I have said so much on those subjects, your 
nature is superior to any offences of this kind, but my 
apprehensions are numerous, in another respect; I would not 
attempt to tell you, you are not handsome, your own eyes in 
such particulars, gives you sufficient evidence, and we seldom 
doubt their truth; besides the less persuaded you are of this, 
the more you will be ready to hear it. Such a person as yours, 
in your situation, will attract many admirers, for while the 
one charms, the other will excite hopes which I would flatter 
myself will be disappointed, but I confess my apprehensions 
arise as much from the tenderness of your heart, as from the 
snares that will be laid in your way; if that does not betray 
you, all the rest may be easily baffled: but what can I say 
that will steel your heart with indifference. Alas! it is 
above my power, He only who made it can correct it. To him, my 
dear Emily, you must apply, and bear constantly in mind, that 
your present and eternal happiness, on the proper regulation 
of your affections will ultimately depend."

Advice to this purpose she repeated the whole day, with many 
tears and anxious prayers for my preservation.

The next morning parted us, never to meet again with the same 
satisfactory melancholy as that last interview appeared to us.

You perceive, my dear Madam, that I have in this first letter 
confined myself to my departure from my sister, and the lady 
who had professed so much friendship for myself and family, as 
to take care of placing me in a comfortable state, and of 
providing for my future support, by a reputable servitude.

I now beg leave, my dearest Madam, to conclude my first 
letter, and to assure you that I shall continue my narrative 
at every vacant opportunity, for no pleasure to me is equal to 
that of convincing you, by a ready compliance with every 
request of yours, that I am, 
	Madam, 
	Your grateful humble Servant, 
	M. S.



Letter II.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	My first letter, my dear Madam, concluded with my 
departure from my deceased father's friend, with a 
recommendation from her to Lady Markland to whom she had 
engaged me.

One day's journey brought me to that lady's house, as my new 
mistress; I was immediately introduced into the parlour, where 
she then was sitting, with Sir George her husband, Mr Markland 
their son, a young gentleman of twenty-five years of age, and 
another lady and gentleman, who were then with them on a 
visit; my confusion was so great, I was scarcely able to 
answer the questions she put to me, or even to deliver the 
letter with which I was charged; while her ladyship was 
perusing the epistle, my distress increased; for the rest of 
the company fixed their eyes so entirely upon me, that I could 
find no place for my own, and began to think the questions 
which had before distressed me, were a great relief, in having 
attracted my attention. I have reason to believe the lady took 
compassion on me, for she called me to her, asked me how I had 
performed my journey, and such sort of questions, in which she 
seemed to. have no other intention but to encourage me; then 
turning to Lady Markland, said, "I see your ladyship is not of 
a jealous disposition."

"No indeed," replied my lady, "I am not, but if I was, it 
would be no reason why I should be plagued with an ugly face 
about me, for Sir George must see handsome ones abroad, if I 
suffered none but Hottentots to be about my person."

This short dialogue increased my confusion, and no words ever 
sounded more acceptable, than the orders Lady Markland gave to 
the servant who introduced me, to show me to her housekeeper.

This housekeeper was one who had lived a great many years in 
the family, and as I afterwards found, was held in great 
estimation: She understood all the necessary parts of a 
housekeeper's office, and none better than flattery, which 
perhaps gave a great charm to her other qualifications, for 
she was not without her defects, though she was an useful 
director in the kitchen, and an assiduous watch over the other 
servants, yet her first attachment was to her own interest, of 
which she was never neglectful; she was no bigot to truth, and 
in her lady's absence, made herself amends for the flattery 
she thought proper to bestow on her before her face, falling 
as much short of what she deserved at one time, as she went 
beyond it another; nor did she excel more in chastity, than in 
other virtues, for she had for some years been suspected of an 
intrigue with Sir George's valet-de-chambre, but being both 
thought excellent servants, it was winked at, though all the 
family were certain that it was well known to their master and 
lady. Indeed, being often present when they conversed freely, 
I found they made a jest of it, not from disbelief, but from 
thinking it of little or no consequence.

This greatly shocked me at first, and the familiarities 
between these two lovers, who were my only companions at 
meals, and on evenings, were very distressing, however as they 
gave me reason to think my absence would not be disagreeable, 
I sat with them as little as I could.

My lady was very good-natured to all her servants, to me among 
the rest, though I had no hopes of becoming a favourite, when 
I saw by her housekeeper's practice, how much she loved 
flattery, she would often say when I omitted an opportunity of 
imitating her, that I was dull, and sometimes that she fancied 
I could think nothing commendable in any one but myself, but 
all this without any bitterness.

I seldom saw Sir George, but in his lady's presence, he would 
often talk to me and compliment me, calling me Lady Markland's 
Venus, and when I entered the room, would cry, here comes your 
goddess my dear, but all with so much mirth, and so little 
design, that in time I learnt not to mind it, and answered to 
the name of Venus as readily as to that of Emily.

Mrs Markland was much less free, but more attentive, he 
treated me with much respect, so that his mother would 
sometimes tell him she believed he thought I was a goddess in 
reality; he would answer that a fine woman was much better; 
that no situation in life should make a man fail in politeness 
to one of the other sex, and that really there was a modesty 
in my appearance that was truly respectable. These sort of 
compliments he would make me, before his parents, and often 
gave the conversation such a turn, as afforded him 
opportunities of applying others to me, by his eyes, which 
were unobserved by everyone else. He found excuses to come 
into the housekeeper's room, where he would rally her and her 
lover on their mutual passion, taking occasion from it to vent 
some libertine sentiments, wherein they were sure to second 
him, and sometimes to behave with a tenderness and gallantry 
to me, which I ought with shame to say, rather alarmed than 
offended me; so little was I the better for my sister's good 
advice.

 I was much surprised at a manner of life which I thought 
could be found only among the reprobate, whereas Sir George 
and my lady appeared universally respected, she behaved with 
good humour to her servants, and he with humanity to his 
tenants, that is, he did not require more of them than they 
could possibly pay, and chose rather to turn them out of their 
farms, than support them in gaol, in short, they committed no 
vices, and had constitutional good nature, their characters 
might be well drawn by negatives; but as for positive virtues, 
they thought them unnecessary, they would declare they never 
did any harm, and did all the good they could: a strong 
assertion and difficult to be made good by the best people, 
for as every action is an example to somebody, and has 
numerous consequences, many that the actor esteems innocent, 
will prove pernicious; thus Sir George and my lady, by winking 
at the intrigues of their servants, and speaking lightly of 
religion and virtue, banished both from their family, and 
became, not only answerable for their own faults, but for 
those which their examples encouraged in their domestics.

My sister was as much vexed with the account I sent her of the 
family, as I was surprised at what I related, she wrote me 
word, she wished me in a worse place, if I had but a better 
example; she had been taken into a milliner's shop in the town 
where her aunt had lived, and where her good conduct had 
recommended her.

I had not been a month at Sir George's before Mr Markland 
began to make real love to me, he took every opportunity of 
finding me alone, which my practice of avoiding the 
housekeeper's room rendered more easy: I was sensible of a 
new-born partiality for this gentleman, and not having forgot 
what my sister had said to me, resolved to endure more of the 
housekeeper's company, that I might be less alone: this did 
not make much alteration, for Mr Markland was too quick-
sighted, not to know that interest had its due weight with the 
housekeeper. He began therefore to make her presents, which 
his behaviour to me explained the reason of, and she willing 
to deserve his bounty, multiplied opportunities for his coming 
into her room, and was continually in his absence, telling me 
of his passion for me, and of my good fortune, and how much it 
might turn out to my advantage, without my understanding in 
what manner she meant; I could comprehend no other method of 
being benefitted by his love than marriage, everything else to 
me appeared attended with guilt and ruin.

I was now much at a loss how to avoid Mr Markland, and what 
was worse my heart was ready to furnish me with excuses for 
not doing it. My religious principles grew weaker every day, 
piety was treated as enthusiasm, strictness of manners as 
folly, for "our maker was merciful, and designed to make us 
happy, which we could only be by following our pleasures, that 
our tastes and passions were given us for benefits, that we 
might receive happiness from gratifying them."

My lady having found me several times reading in a religious 
book, at last snatched it out of my hand, and throwing it 
down, said, "the girl will turn her head, she never knew a 
puritanical servant, who did not turn out a whore or a thief, 
and that she wanted not to have her jewels stolen to feed 
Methodist parsons, or her clothes pawned to furnish out their 
weekly contributions." As I had never seen her so angry 
before, I began to think there must be some crime in religion 
which I did not know of, to make it appear so offensive.

The housekeeper one day caught me at prayers, this was told in 
the room, as a most ridiculous circumstance, much laughter 
ensued; she asked me if I was praying for a husband, Mr 
Markland called me his fair faint, told me I mistook the 
matter, for I was made not to pray, but to be prayed to.

To find religion both the object of serious censure, and of 
ridicule, made me think there was something very uncommon in 
it, and that in having it, I was certainly guilty of a great 
peculiarity; my religion was rather founded on habit than 
reason, I had been told what I should do, but my father's 
continual occupation abroad, had prevented his teaching me, 
why I should do so. Thus I was unprovided with reasons for my 
practice, and Mr Markland, whose understanding furnished him 
almost at one view, with all that could be said on every 
subject, was diligent in removing, what he called the 
prejudices of education.

Every frailty that had been committed by any person who 
professed some regard for religion, if it had come to their 
knowledge, was repeated by them with triumph. But I was not 
weak enough to think this availed them much, for I had never 
been taught to believe that any common degree of piety, would 
always conquer natural disposition, or be a certain defence 
against the temptations of the world; nor that the most 
religious were infallible. While they were mortal they must be 
frail, and none pays so great a compliment to religion, as 
those who imagine everyone who professes it, must or should be 
a faint, but often wide is the profession from the practice.

In this manner we went on for near half a year, that we 
continued in the country, Mr Markland grew more assiduous, and 
more open in his courtship, and I listened to it every day 
with more pleasure, and fewer fears. Nor did my companions 
suffer his cause to lose in his absence, they continually 
contrived to leave us alone together, when he would lavish all 
the vows and oaths that ever lover broke, with such tender 
importunity, that I sometimes wondered how, with a heart so 
filled with frailty, I had resisted, but principle still got 
the better of my passion, though it was risen to the utmost 
excess of tenderness. But this principle, notwithstanding it 
was so carefully planted by the best of fathers, and so 
frequently brought to my remembrance by the kindest of 
sisters, was not in the end sufficient to guard me from the 
too fatal effects of such free conversation, countenanced by 
people in so superior a line of life, with the additional 
temptation of the constant solicitations of young Mr Markland. 
Were people of condition to observe equal caution that is in 
every department observed in your house, my good lady, 
respecting their servants, I am persuaded there would not 
prove many unhappy instances of female frailty. I have the 
honour to be, 
	My dear Madam, 
	Your obliged humble servant, 
	M.S.



Letter III.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	IT was, my dear madam, very unfortunate for me, that in 
the predicament my last letter described my situation at Lady 
Markland's, I had no friend, no sister to advise with; young 
and foolish as I was, not to attend to the evil consequences 
of admitting the freedom of Mr Markland's addresses, whose 
situation in life, so much elevated above my humble sphere, 
might have given a person of less consideration than myself, a 
necessary caution, but Mr Markland was too well acquainted 
with the human passions, and I too little with the arts of 
concealment, for him to remain ignorant of the state of my 
heart; and had he not perceived it, his faithful assistants 
would have informed him of it, for they would in their 
discourse, wind me in such a manner that sometimes my blushes, 
and sometimes my fears explained it, more fully than words 
could have done; on the knowledge of my weakness Mr Markland 
built his hopes of success. He often wondered at my 
resistance, but for ever expected it to fail, I sometimes had 
nothing but tears to answer to his tenderest professions, I 
wept for shame at listening to them, and for grief at thinking 
it necessary to reject them.

When we were in London, Mr Markland had still more 
opportunities of seeing me; Sir George and my lady were always 
abroad, or engaged with company, they seldom inquired after 
their son, thinking it the duty of polite parents, to suffer 
him to take his own way, or if they happened to ask any 
questions, the servants knew what to answer. Thus almost all 
his time was spent with me, while I was busy in attending my 
lady at her toilette, he made his necessary visits, that the 
rest of the day might be his own.

I confess I was not always desirous of avoiding him, but if I 
had, I could not easily have contrived it, for every servant 
was bought to his interest, I desired the housemaid, who had 
leisure in the afternoons, to come and work with me, thinking 
thereby either to prevent his coming, or at least to put some 
restraint on his addresses; but he no sooner entered than she 
retired, and I found upon questioning her, that every servant 
had felt his bounty either to procure their secrecy, or their 
assistance.

Sensible of my own weakness, and how far everyone was combined 
for my destruction, I had still virtue enough left to wish 
that I could find some refuge against myself, but could see 
none, unless I could attain it of my lady; filled with this 
thought, I determined to apply to for advice and assistance, 
acknowledging my own excess of passion, and giving her as 
little reason as possible to be angry with her son.

I waited with impatience for a summons to attend my lady at 
her toilette, and took no small pains to keep up my 
resolution, which, perhaps, I had never been able to form, had 
not Mr Markland been obliged that morning to go abroad with 
his father.

The time at length came, but to my great disappointment, I was 
followed in by a country neighbour of her ladyship's, who 
immediately desired to speak with her alone.

I was accordingly dismissed, and not recalled till the arrival 
of more company, upon whose appearance the first lady took her 
leave, my purpose was equally disappointed, four visitors had 
taken the place of one.

One of the ladies observed, that she who was gone away, looked 
very melancholy: "had you been mistress to the King, or his 
prime minister added she, I would have thought you had just 
refused a petition."

"The most ridiculous woman," said my lady, "surely that ever 
was born, what do you think is the subject of her affliction?" 
here her ladyship laughed so violently, that she could not 
immediately answer their inquiries, though they all expressed 
great curiosity to know what it was.

"Would you believe," continued lady Markland, "that all the 
excess of grief you see painted on the poor woman's 
countenance, proceeds from having discovered that her son, a 
young man of about three and twenty, keeps a mistress, and she 
came to communicate her sorrows to me, hoping that from my 
friendship she should receive some compassion:" here they all 
joined in such peals of laughter, as Comus's crew can scarcely 
equal.

"And pray," asked one of the ladies, "what consolation did 
your ladyship give her?" "Consolation!" replied my lady, "I 
asked the woman if she expected her son to be a Joseph, that 
no man of spirit was without intrigues, it was a male 
privilege."

"Is this the person," said I to myself, "to whom I meant to 
apply for refuge, against her son's gallantry, and my own 
passion."

"A male privilege indeed," answered one of the ladies, "we may 
see the men not only made laws, but customs, they have carved 
themselves out pretty lives, they the primrose path of 
dalliance tread, while they would confine us to the thorny 
way."

"Do not be so severe upon them," said another, "you forget 
that if none of our sex were in that path, it would not appear 
so flowery; they cannot exclude us."

"That," interrupted my lady, "is an advantage to women of an 
inferior rank, but people of fashion cannot well make use of 
it. If Spenser's Sir Calidore had been a real character, and 
the Blotant Beast Slander in fact killed, the case might have 
been different."

"If it is not killed," interrupted another lady, "it has 
barked so long, that nobody regards it, for really women now 
are under almost as few restraints as the men; but pray what 
is the woman this very unfortunate lady's son has pitched 
upon, perhaps somebody very expensive, and that may have its 
inconveniences."

"No," replied Lady Markland, "the young man has been humble 
enough, he has contented himself with one of mama's maids." 
Here again the ladies were highly entertained, but one of them 
observed, that she thought the lowness of his taste might be 
mortifying to an affectionate parent, there was a want of 
spirit and proper pride in it.

In this manner the conversation continued, till the arrival of 
two gentlemen, my office being ended, I withdrew,

I heard with surprise so many women of character, who were so 
much my superiors in age and experience, and consequently I 
thought in wisdom, treat that as a privilege, which I had 
looked upon as the greatest misfortune that could befall me, 
and against which I wanted a defence, that I might better rely 
upon than my own resolution. What Mr Markland had said to me 
upon that subject, had less power over my judgment, than my 
affection gave him over my heart. His arguments came from a 
suspected quarter, his interest was visible, and therefore 
they had less weight, but when ladies, who had no such 
inducements, confirmed his doctrine, how could I avoid 
suspecting myself, of those ill-grounded prejudices of which 
he had so often accused me. My heart took advantage of this 
opportunity, and with the assistance of such strong 
authorities, silenced my reason and my principles.

Full of these thoughts I returned to my chamber, where I found 
Mr Markland waiting for me, he received me with a transport 
beyond what so short a separation could make me expect. The 
joy so visible in his countenance, communicated itself to my 
heart, and I, who two hours before wanted to find a means of 
avoiding him for ever, was charmed at seeing him again. He 
told me, that; no longer able to live without me, he had left 
his father at a chocolate house, and returned home with the 
utmost impatience. Fatal impatience!

We had now been in London above four months, I had continued 
corresponding with my sister, though not daring to communicate 
the thoughts that were uppermost in my mind, my style grew so 
constrained, and my letters so short, that she took notice of 
it, and more grieved than offended, expressed fears for my 
health, attributing to some defect in that the alteration in 
my manner, for it wore the appearance of melancholy, but if 
shame for the weakness I felt in my heart made writing to her 
so difficult to me, it is not strange, if when guilt took its 
place, I was no longer able to write at all: I feared her 
advice, which was now the severest reproach to me, looked on 
myself as unworthy to address her, so much did I reverence a 
conduct which I had not been able to imitate. From this time 
my correspondence ceased, as it had slackened so much before, 
she did not immediately observe it, but when a letter of hers 
had remained above a month unanswered, I received another from 
her, filled with the kindest anxiety, and most alarming 
apprehensions.

They did not appear without foundation, for my health was now 
impaired, I grew pale and thin, my cheerfulness was changed 
into tears, and self-reproaches; for the little colour I 
retained, I was obliged to my blushes, which every eye that 
gazed on me, raised in my cheeks.

My lady and Sir George observed the change, and very 
obligingly inquired into the nature of my complaints, I could 
by no means answer them with sincerity, but invented such 
disorders as I thought they could not disapprove. In this 
situation I continued some time, and it was impossible to 
describe the anguish of my mind: you my good madam whose 
sympathetic feelings are called forth on every occasion, will 
excuse my dwelling longer on a subject, which now gives me 
pain in the recollection: I therefore beg leave to conclude 
myself, Madam, 
	Your faithful humble servant, 
	M.S.



Letter IV.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	The state of my mind at the period I had brought my 
unfortunate life to, in the last letter I had the honour to 
address to you madam, was such, as I could with difficulty 
describe, and such as only the compassionate can feel, a state 
of fluctuation betwixt good and evil, to a delicate and a 
susceptible mind, is of all states that of a pitiable one: you 
my dear madam will guess at my feelings, when the kind letter 
I had mentioned receiving from my sister having remained 
unanswered, was followed by another which informed me she was 
coming to town, that the milliner with whom she now was had a 
daughter now grown capable of managing the business, and 
therefore she had got from her a recommendation to one of the 
same trade in London, and as soon as the terms were settled, 
she should come there with great satisfaction, as it would 
bring her near me.

This news filled me with distress, how could I, who was not 
able to take courage to write to her, bear her sight, who 
would so circumstantially examine me about every particular of 
my situation and conduct, and whose eyes would no less exactly 
observe my person, which I had reason to believe would soon 
appear as visibly altered as my face.

I could not conceal my uneasiness from Mr Markland, who was 
both the cause and consolation of all my sufferings. He told 
me, it only confirmed him in a purpose, which he intended to 
propose to me, which was to place me in a house where I might 
live free from the continual apprehensions I now was in, and 
enjoy the ease and affluence I so well deserved; that it was 
but reasonable, that she who possessed his whole heart, should 
at least share his fortune. To see me so settled, would render 
him very happy, as he could then enjoy my conversation without 
restraint or interruption, and he flattered himself, that he 
should see less melancholy mixed with my love and tenderness, 
which was now an abatement to my felicity. He added, that he 
had considered of the impossibility of my attending his mother 
into the country since a few months must affect my shape, so 
as to render it apparent to her, and therefore he had intended 
to desire me to find some excuse for giving her notice, that I 
should leave her, before the true cause should be perceived, 
and he was glad that while he was gratifying himself, in 
withdrawing from a state of servitude, the woman who in all 
eyes, but those of the priest's, must be looked upon as his 
wife, (for as such he would ever esteem me in the tenderest 
sense) he should remove me from a sister, whose prejudices I 
might be the occasion of much trouble to me.

This proposal was indeed a great relief to my spirits, I 
longed to be removed from the eyes I feared, but could find no 
good excuse for leaving my lady; however as the best I could 
invent, I took the first opportunity of informing her, that a 
relation in the country, whom I durst not disoblige, insisted 
upon my coming to live with her.

Lady Markland suspected the truth of what I said, and told me 
she wished it was not another kind of invitation that carried 
me away: "But girl," added she, "depend upon this, all your 
beauty will not keep one lover, though it may gain you a 
thousand; after a short possession, a woman not half so 
handsome will appear preferable, and you will be left on the 
common."

Though I had no reason to suppose her ladyship inspired with 
any spirit, but that of experience, I could not help being 
shocked at so dreadful a prophecy.

Scarcely capable of answering her, and utterly unable to 
insist on the lie I had made, I with much difficulty and with 
tears starting from my eyes, said I hoped my behaviour had not 
given her ladyship grounds for such suspicion.

"No, no," replied my lady, "I have no fault to find with your 
conduct, you seem mighty sober, and modest, but I never in my 
life knew a very demure girl come to any good."

I was glad to come off with so general a reflection, for I was 
not without my apprehensions, from what she had said, that she 
suspected part of the truth, as for the fears she had excited, 
as soon as I had told them to Mr Markland, he dispelled them 
all, by the kindest assurances of constancy, and unalterable 
love; professions, which contrary to all experience, will I 
fancy be believed, while love and folly exist.

Lady Markland having soon got another servant recommended to 
her, I obtained liberty to depart, before my sister came to 
town, and was guarded by Mr Markland's servant to my new 
house, which was very pretty, and furnished in the neatest 
manner imaginable, though not expensive; Mr Markland was there 
to receive me, and was delighted with seeing me so well 
pleased, and with perceiving it was so much beyond my 
expectation, for vanity had not yet found its way into my 
heart, love too entirely filled it all.

 I was desirous of putting my lover to as little expense as 
possible, therefore took but one servant, and endeavoured by 
the regularity of my menage, to persuade the neighbourhood 
that I was his wife, but obliged to conceal that circumstance, 
during Sir George's life. This opinion Mr Markland gave all 
the colour to that he conveniently could, and indeed might 
safely do so, for whatever comfort my inexperience might draw 
from it, thinking I thereby avoided slander, he must well know 
that such indulgencies to women in my situation are so common, 
that they find credit with none but the very lowest people: 
and that instead of making a mistress pass for a wife, they 
often occasion one who is really a wife to pass for a 
mistress.

Sir George and Lady Markland did not stay long in town after I 
left them, their son excused himself from going into the 
country with them, and by various pretences prolonged his 
stay. 

He was now always with me, and always equally a lover; his 
tenderness continued unabated, though my frequent 
indispositions cast a languor over my countenance, and 
deadened my complexion. Whenever I was tolerably well he 
carried me to some of the places of public diversion, most 
frequented during the summer season, they were entirely new to 
me. His conversation would have rendered any place pleasing. 
It is not strange then that I was delighted with places so 
calculated to entertain. He thought the satisfaction I showed 
in them a sufficient reward for the trouble of attending me, 
for he had been so long accustomed to them, that they had in a 
great measure lost their charms to him. 

Mr Markland was. extremely pleased to see me attract the 
notice of the company, and would with particular satisfaction 
make me observe the admiration that was paid, which was 
entirely overlooked by me, so wholly was my attention fixed on 
him: at first I was pleased with being admired, as I thought 
the approbation of others might recommend me the more to him, 
but at last I liked it for its own sake; vanity, which had so 
long worked unseen in my heart, began to grow perceptible, and 
the pleasure of being admired, made the greatest charm of a 
public place.

Mr Markland was sometimes obliged to go down to his father, 
for about a week, but short retirement urges sweet return. He 
always left me with regret, and returned with impatience. 
These little absences were great afflictions to me, for having 
been so long habituated to his company, I knew not how to live 
a day without him, a week was an age, and I became almost as 
insensible as a statue, till again cheered by his presence: I 
every moment regretted the loss of him, and sometimes, I 
confess, lamented that I was deprived of admiration, for when 
he was away, I never went abroad, unless some family business 
carried me, so that I not only lost the pleasure of my heart, 
but the delight of my vanity.

Towards the end of Autumn, during one of those short 
excursions, I walked out to make some small purchases, in my 
way, I went through a street, which I had not been in before, 
and going by a milliner's shop, I stepped in for some little 
thing I wanted, when the first person who offered to serve me, 
happened to be my sister, we were both so affected, that we 
became motionless for some time, my sister recovering herself 
the soonest, ran to me to embrace me, when casting down her 
eyes, she perceived the alteration in my shape, and instead of 
coming up to me, sunk down in a chair, where a flood of tears 
relieved her.

I stood in no less want of relief, but could find none. I was 
almost suffocated with the struggle in my breast, between the 
various passions that affected me, my sister seeing the 
condition I was in, cried out, "Oh! my poor Emily," and 
leading  me into a parlour, behind the shop, called for some 
hartshorn, and when she had brought me to myself, "Oh! my 
child," said she, "what can I say to you, how can I bear to 
see you in the condition you are in, and yet how dare I say, 
what I would, when I fear that even the sight of me, may have 
done your constitution irreparable mischief; I would not 
increase the shock I have given you, and yet can I with any 
degree of propriety see you again; the account I received at 
Lady Markland's door, when I went with the utmost tenderness, 
and anxious impatience to enquire after you, is but too well 
confirmed, oh, thou fallen angel! how can my fond heart 
support the sight of thee thus involved, both in present and 
future misery."

I could answer only with my tears, I threw myself on my knees, 
and catching hold of hers, my streaming eyes begged for 
pardon, but my words could find no utterance, till at last I 
got power enough just to say, "Forgive me, my dearest sister! 
My parent! Best of friends! Forgive me!" "My dearest sister," 
says she, "ask not forgiveness of me, ask it of him who you 
have most offended, and who not only can pardon the past, but 
preserve you from all future crimes."

My sister thus continued her exhortations for some time, till 
she asked me if I would quit the way of life wherein I was 
then engaged, and never see the man again, who had led me into 
a state of ruin and destruction; promising that if I consented 
to this, she would take all possible care of me, and provide 
me with every convenience; for though she was then going to be 
married to a young man, who was a very advantageous match for 
her, and whom she sincerely loved, yet if he disapproving of 
her conduct in this particular, should attempt to restrain it, 
she would for ever forego all her expectations, and should 
think herself greatly rewarded by saving me from eternal ruin.

What could I say, when I could not resolve to accept of so 
kind, so generous an offer; I begged her not to oppress me 
with her goodness, that I was not deserving of her care, and 
would never suffer her affections for me, to prevent her happy 
establishment, wished heaven might shower down all its 
blessings on her, but that as for myself the die was cast, I 
was too far gone to retreat; she again pressed her offers, I 
told her I could not deprive the child I went with of a 
parent, nor was it possible to forsake a man whose whole 
happiness was centred in me, and who deserved everything from 
me, having no aim but to promote my felicity. When my sister 
found me unalterable in this respect, then said she, "My dear 
Emily, I will not urge what I might properly say, because I 
fear for your health: I will not now endeavour at what I see 
your passions would render ineffectual to any purpose, but 
that of making you uneasy, when ease of mind will be most 
necessary for your recovery. I can only pray that your life 
may be spared, till you are fitter for another world, and that 
He alone who can turn the heart, will take compassion on 
yours, but it is impossible for me to see you any more: it 
would only be increasing my wretchedness, and creating yours. 
The thought of the situation you are in will embitter my most 
prosperous days: but it is my duty not to suffer it to 
disgrace them."

I cried out in an agony which no words can express, "My 
dearest sister! Do not hate me, do not despise me, your hatred 
or your contempt would break my heart." "No, my dearest 
Emily," replied my sister, "be assured I can never hate or 
despise you, I shall pity, grieve and pray for you, but with 
all your faults must love you, love you with a tenderness none 
but a parent can know, for such I have always felt myself for 
you, and whenever you will love yourself as truly as I love 
you, shall with joy receive you, forget the past, hope for the 
future, endeavour to relieve your griefs, and confirm your 
happiness."

With many tears and embraces we parted with each other, a 
chair was called, for I was not able to walk, my body felt so 
strongly the effects of the agitation of my mind, for in my 
way home, every tender, every endearing advice she had 
formerly given me; the affectionate letters I had received 
from time to time from her, the neglect, not to say unkindness 
with which I had treated her, during the latter part of my 
continuance with Lady Markland, crowded on: my memory, and. it 
was with difficulty I could support myself home; it is at this 
period of my life that I feel the force of your intimation, my 
good lady, that my unfortunate fall might prove a warning to 
many young and inexperienced females, and that it may prove so 
is the sincere wish and prayer of Madam, 
	Your very humble Servant, 
	M.S.



Letter V.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	I repeat the observations I made in the last letter I did 
myself the pleasure of writing to you Madam, that I never was 
so sensible of the sacrifice I had made Mr Markland, as when I 
returned home, and reflected how true, how amiable a friend I 
had given up for him. When I considered my sister's whole 
conduct, how little did I appear in my own eyes. I do not know 
how I could have supported the view of my own meanness, had 
not Mr Markland arrived in town, and restored me to my vanity, 
for nothing but vanity could preserve me from my own contempt; 
for I think I may properly give it that name, to an opinion 
that succeeds what we deserve.

A young woman called at my door to enquire after my health for 
two or three days successively, after this interview with my 
sister, who I judged was sent by her in kind anxiety, least 
the great flutter of my spirits should have impaired my 
constitution; after that, I heard nothing of. her, nor durst I 
make any enquiries at that. time.

No change happened in my way of life till I was brought to bed 
of a very fine boy, nor did this make any alteration, but my 
temporary illness, and the addition of this lovely child to 
our family, which was an increase of happiness; our fondness 
for it was equal, and instead of out affections being lessened 
by having a third to share it with us, each seemed to look 
upon the others being parent to this little darling, as a new 
pledge which caused if possible, an increase of fondness. 
	The winter altered, not lessened our attendance on public 
amusements, but we were obliged to go in a more private 
manner, as there was a greater chance of meeting with some of 
Mr Markland's graver acquaintance; this caution if I had not 
been lost to shame, must have shocked me, but the violence of 
my passion, the extreme tenderness of Mr Markland's behaviour, 
and the care he took to furnish me with books, that should in 
his absence keep alive my infatuation, made me regardless of 
everything else, and no one was ever more disposed to say more 
cordially from her heart

Fame, wealth, and honour, what are you to love?

A second year passed away in the same madness of the mind, but 
at the beginning of the third, I thought I perceived an 
alteration in Mr Markland, he endeavoured to appear the same, 
but the tenderness of his behaviour, instead of being the free 
emanation of his heart, seemed forced and constrained; the 
impediments to his coming to me were multiplied.

One would have thought that people were now making themselves 
reparation for having lost much of his company, and were 
determined to engross him entirely. Even his child grew less 
dear to him though more engaging every day.

At first I endured this change with silence, and I may add 
with tears, for weeping was now my principal employ in his 
absence, and I believe nothing could have prevented its being 
constantly so, but the fear of rendering myself odious in the 
eyes of him, to whom it was too grievous to be looked upon, 
even with indifference.

At last I gently hinted my apprehensions, but I found I gave 
offence, for having seen too clearly, and to avoid anything 
which might make me lose the little of his company I now 
enjoyed, I determined hereafter to bear all in silence; but it 
is not in the power of language to describe the anguish of my 
heart, nor the difficulty I found in concealing it.

In this wretched state I continued for three months, a state 
which seldom changes for the better, unless when it arises 
from indifference in us, which to some women, is almost as 
difficult as to conquer that of their lovers, and to add to my 
misfortune, I was one of those who can,

Doubt yet dote; despair yet fondly love; 

Cruel as I thought my situation, yet I found there was a state 
of abstraction beyond it, for into such was I thrown, by a 
letter brought me from Mr Markland, wherein he acquainted me, 
that he was then at his first stage towards Harwich, where he 
was going in order to embark for a foreign port, having 
accepted an employment, under one of our ambassadors.

The shock I experienced at the reception of this letter, was 
of so violent a nature that I cannot even now call it to mind, 
without an extreme perturbation of mind. The distress of my 
mind was now beyond what anyone can comprehend; who has not 
sacrificed all she did, or ought to hold dear, to one man, 
whose tenderness seemed for some time, to recompense her for 
all she had relinquished; whose love constituted all her 
happiness, and who at last, by the most cruel inconstancy, 
threw her from the airy height of bliss, to which he had 
conceived he had exalted her, into the lowest abyss of misery.

Before the receipt of this cruel letter, I thought my grief 
could not admit of increase; to lose Mr Markland's affection, 
appeared to me the heaviest misfortune. I did not then 
understand how soon a woman who cannot possess a man's esteem, 
losses all his regard when he ceases to love her, but to be 
left with such indifference with a child, abandoned without 
one parting kiss, was a shock too great for my constitution to 
bear. My weak understanding was so shaken, that for two days I 
was quite out of my senses: to this a fever succeeded, which 
was violent, but not lasting.

As soon as my shattered brain grew a little composed, anxiety 
for my child, made me desirous to preserve a life, which 
seemed to promise me nothing but misery, but what would I not 
have undergone, rather than leave that dear babe, friendless, 
and defenceless, in a world, which now was very low in my 
estimation! For it is the way of us all, if one person uses us 
ungratefully, to quarrel with the whole human race, never 
sensible of universal faults, till we suffer by one to whom we 
are tenderly attached.

Care for my child, rendered me obedient to all the orders of 
my physician, who told me, I must not hope for recovery, 
without I could compose my mind to some degree of resignation. 
This argument made me use every means, to change the natural 
current of my thoughts.

My little boy, as the only object now of my affection, (and 
the only inducement for my endeavouring to raise myself out of 
that state of despair,) I would have always with me, but how 
often did that increase my grief, by reminding me of his 
father. If he smiled on me, I thought I saw his father's 
sweetness, which had charmed my soul, in every endearing 
action he brought to my remembrance his father's tenderness: 
if he was diverting I said to myself, how would these once 
have delighted his father? if he looked pale, how would this 
air of sickness have alarmed his father's fondness?

The length of my letter puts me in mind of concluding it, and 
I am fearful, it may have already trespassed on your patience; 
should that ever be the case, I must beg it as a particular 
favour, Madam, that you would acquaint me therewith, and I 
shall in consequence, endeavour to draw the narrative of my 
late unhappy life, into a narrower compass, for believe me 
Madam, it is only with a view to give you pleasure that I 
sometimes dwell on particulars, which to you, perhaps, may 
appear uninteresting.

I have the honour to be Madam, 
	Your truly obliged Servant, 
	M. S.



The History of Miss ----

Our worthy chaplain having just stepped into the ward, 
discovered it in my countenance, and in the most pathetic, and 
feeling manner, cautioned me from too frequently calling past 
transactions to mind, unless with a view to draw a comparison 
of my distressfully unhappy situation at that time, and the 
calm composure of my present state, with every hopeful 
prospect of being received into the world again, a worthy 
member of society; and with that true philanthropy, which you 
Madam, have ever noted marked his countenance, told me he had 
made you a promise of writing out the particulars of the 
history of a sister penitent of whom you used to take such 
singular notice, and said that as he had also promised a copy 
of it to Lady ----, he would wish me to transcribe it in my 
letter as I acquainted him I was writing to you: I therefore 
beg leave  to break of at present, from the thread of my own 
narrative, more particularly as it will be some relief to 
myself in my present state of mind, and begin the particulars 
of this young lady's life.

She was the favourite daughter of her father, a person of a 
decent and respectable character in life, who though he had 
several children, regarded this with eyes of peculiar 
tenderness and affection. Pleasing and delicate in her person, 
she had always hitherto shown an equally amiable mind, and 
returned her father's regard with becoming attention. But 
alas! an insidious seducer soon found the way to her heart; 
and under the delusive pretensions of courtship and marriage, 
in an unguarded hour, ruined and withdrew her from her 
father's house. He, in all the frantic rage of distress, 
sought the child of his tenderest affection. He found, 
forgave, and brought her home. But, whether through an 
infatuation for her seducer, (which however strange, is found 
but too often the case,) whether through the admonitions of 
her afflicted parent too repeatedly urged, or through 
restraint, not known before! once more, in an evil hour, she 
left her father's house, and soon, abandoned by her seducer, 
plunged into total licentiousness and debauchery.

Her father, who felt such anguish as none but the parental 
heart can in any degree conceive, now gave up his child as 
irretrievably lost. Happening, however some time after, to 
pass along the street, he saw a young creature, highly 
dressed, throw herself into a chair, which waited at the door 
of one of those many infamous houses in this city, to convey 
her to her lodgings, after the debaucheries of the place. Let 
the parent guess what he must have felt, when he perceived 
this gay victim of licentiousness to be--his child! his 
favourite child,--his daughter! He stood struck with horror 
and amazement, whilst she, pierced no doubt to the heart, yet 
unwilling to humble herself, and confess her guilt, turned 
from him, and by her immediate order, was carried off, leaving 
the parent who had passed so many solicitous hours for her, 
almost petrified with grief, and unable to move!

There is great reason to believe that this occasional but 
affecting interview touched her to the quick, and was the 
foundation of that resolve which she soon after found put in 
practice. For, the fury of unbridled passion beginning to 
abate, and the distresses of her detested course of life daily 
increasing; the early impressions of parental tenderness 
naturally coincided with these to awaken reflection, and to 
show her herself.

Alarmed at the view, she wished, she determined to return, and 
try what repentance could do. For which purpose she applied to 
the Magdalen House, and found a ready admission. For how could 
admission be refused to one so young, labouring under such a 
burden of misery, and with such probable expectations of 
sincere amendment?

Those expectations were not disappointed: she continued three 
years in the houses during the whole of which her behaviour 
was decent, consistent, and commendable. But, though 
reconciled to God, though conscious of the sincerity of her 
heart, she could find no solid satisfaction, till reconciled 
to the father whom she had so much injured, and to whose soul 
she had given such unspeakable anguish. The father, however, 
was now deaf to all her solicitations. In vain she wrote, in 
vain she pleaded: every effort proved ineffectual to procure 
her pardon, without which her heart can never know peace.

A person who deeply interests himself in favour of the objects 
of the charity, wrote to her father. The following was the 
answer he received.

"Sir, I had the honour of yours, and with it a renwal of 
my sorrow of heart; which proceeded, not from your 
relation of an amendment of life in a long lost and 
abandoned child, but from the remembrance of her unhappy 
fall. Did you but know, Sir, with what care and industry 
an affectionate father and mother (possessed of but 
little, perhaps worthy of more,) have discharged their 
duty, there is nothing but your great goodness of heart 
could induce you to be so generous an advocate for one, 
that has forfeited so much. But what can I say on this 
afflicting subject, with any degree of propriety, to keep 
clear of offending the fathers of an unhappy many; while 
my indignation for the conduct of one, causes such 
perturbation of body and mind, as renders me defenceless 
both in words and actions.

"Un-neglected by precept and example, unprovoked by want 
or ill usage, she sacrificed all that was binding, to a 
lawless unruly passion, and plunged herself into that 
long scene of misery, which must have been longer still, 
were she not rescued by the humane hands of this noble 
charity. Happy is it for her, that you, Sir, have 
condescended to say, she has approved herself worthy of 
it; and happier still will she be, if she continues to 
deserve, from those bountiful hands which protect, and 
have led her back to those paths of virtue from whence 
she strayed.

"Pardon me, Sir, that I detain you so long on a 
melancholy subject, persuaded as I am, that your 
tenderness of heart has suffered by many such doleful 
tales; and I hope you will forgive me when I say, that I 
am not sufficiently prepared for the sorrowful interview 
you desire, with my once most tenderly beloved daughter. 
But as your kind and fatherly letter has conveyed some 
consolation to a long disturbed and afflicted heart, by 
telling me that her repentance has begot compassion in 
you, and the rest of the worthy governors of that blessed 
charity; I will not appear so obdurate and unrelenting to 
say, that I will never see her; but, in time, on her 
persevering in good works, and finishing her reformation, 
agreeable to the time instituted by that excellent 
charity; I may not only see her, but also have pity, and 
restore her to that care and protection, which never 
departed from me, until she departed from them.

"Thus far, and no farther, am I capable, overflowed with 
sorrow, to deter mine at present; and as virtue is its 
own reward, I know you expect no more than the thanks and 
prayers of a grateful heart, which shall publicly and 
privately be paid by me, for the prosperity and 
advancement of that best and most humane of charities; 
for the preservation of all its members; and particularly 
for you,: Sir, to whom I have the honour to be, &c."

Those who are acquainted with the human heart, will not be 
surprised to hear that the heart which dictated this letter 
was afterwards reconciled to a daughter once so much beloved, 
and returning, like the prodigal, with true contrition, both 
to her earthly and her heavenly parent. This happy event soon 
after taking place, the daughter wrote with joy to the same 
gentleman to whom the father's letter was directed: and we 
subjoin a part of her letter, as it demonstrates the goodness 
of her mind.

"Sir, 
	"The enclosed will show that the happy 
reconciliation with my dear father, is, to my unspeakable 
joy, at last effected: and as you, Sir, have been the 
kind instrument of bringing it about, I should be guilty 
of the greatest ingratitude, were I to omit the first 
opportunity of returning you the thanks that such an 
important service merits: and believe me, Sir, that in 
whatever station it shall please the almighty hereafter 
to place me, I shall retain the deepest sense of the many 
mercies I have had vouchsafed me, while life remains, 
&c."

She did not forfeit these promises. Her heart was sincere, and 
her reformation real. Received home with joy, she
e proved by her whole behaviour the truth of her repentance, 
and conducted herself in every manner suitable to her 
circumstances, and agreeble to her parent. Solicitous for her 
welfare he soon after gained her an establishment in a family 
of worth and distinction, where getting an unfortunate scratch 
upon the leg, and through attention to her duty neglecting it, 
bad consequences ensued; a mortification speedily came on, and 
an amputation of her leg was found unavoidable.

She bore the dreadful tidings with great composure and 
resignation; sent to the chapel of the Magdalen Hospital, 
earnestly requesting the prayers of all her sister penitents 
for her, and underwent the cruel operation with a patience and 
resolution which surprised those who performed it.

It is easy to conceive, from a habit of body so wretched as 
that which rendered the amputation necessary, what must have 
been the consequences of such an expedient: a total 
mortification came on: and in a few days after she expired; 
expired with blessings on the charity, as the great means of 
her salvation: expired with all that serenity of soul, with 
all that humility, yet confidence of hope, which nothing but 
true Christian principles can inspire; but which those 
principles will always inspire into the breast of the real 
penitent. The worthy doctor's reflections on this recital is 
truly pathetic.

Upon this narrative, says he, which is in every particular 
conformable to truth, I would only beg leave to make one or 
two observations. The first and most natural one is the great 
utility of the Magdalen Institution, without which, this young 
creature, thus preserved, and now we trust, amongst the 
blessed, in all probability would have been lost; lost in 
early youth, before she had seen her twentieth year; lost in 
the extremity of suffering here, and lost to all the rewards 
and comforts of futurity: and not only herself thus deplorably 
undone, but her wretched father would have been left to mourn 
with bitterest sorrow the temporal, and the everlasting misery 
of his beloved child. Who can be insensible to the value, the 
importance of an institution, which thus prevents the direst 
woe; which not only in the present case, but in a variety of 
others, we have all possible reason to believe, has saved, and 
will continue to save, many souls from eternal loss!

Let a second observation from this mournful narrative, be 
carried home to the hearts of those daughters, who are blessed 
with worthy and affectionate parents. Let them learn from 
hence, what horrid consequences--consequences, in a great 
degree, irremediable in this life, however their ill effects 
may be totally cancelled in the next,--attend a deviation from 
filial duty. Let them settle it in their hearts, that no love 
can be equal to the parental; and that whatever the siren 
voice of seduction woos them to forsake a tender father's 
roof, however sweet the sound, however alluring the promises, 
destruction awaits the fatal step, and ruin stands ready to 
close her gloomy doors upon them!



Letter VI.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	You make me happy my dear madam, in condescending to 
assure me the more I dwell on, and lengthen out my unhappy 
narrative, the more I oblige you and that you are pleased to 
think, the more it may answer your good intention as a warning 
to the young and incautious of our sex. I therefore proceed to 
say that in spite of my grief, my fever left me, and I found 
it necessary to resolve on some means for my child's and my 
own support. Mr Markland had left no provision for us, but as 
if he justly thought, that after the loss of his affection, 
everything else was insignificant, he was as regardless of 
lesser particulars for me, as he imagined I should be for 
myself. 

While Mr Markland loved, he was generous, and as I was a good 
economist, I had near one hundred pounds by me, and having 
some clothes, which were better than would be required in the 
way of life into which I intended to enter, I converted them 
into money, and turned the parlour, with little expense or 
alteration, into a haberdasher's shop, laying out all my money 
in stock. I sent my landlord warning that I should quit his 
house after the necessary notice, intending to take myself a 
cheaper habitation.

The execution of this purpose was of service to me, it 
employed my attention, and gave me a subject to think of, 
which though productive of no pleasure, yet gave me no pain. I 
had not ease of mind sufficient to be anxious about my 
success, everything appeared too trifling to move me much: as 
for my child, I wept over him instead of rejoicing, in him I 
had now no affection but what gave me uneasiness, what I 
fancied was the source of sublime happiness, I found was 
productive of the greatest misery, but my sorrows were grown 
quiet, and I was composedly wretched.

I did not succeed ill in my business, the humbled air which 
grief gave me, I believe softened the rigid virtue of my 
neighbours, and as I sold rather cheaper than most people in 
the same way of trade, in order to incite them to deal with 
me. I seemed well established in about two months after I had 
furnished my little shop.

But great was my surprise, when one morning two men entered my 
house with a distress, and immediately seized my goods.

I was more amazed at this insolence than frighted, for I was 
sure I had incurred no debts, and therefore told them they 
must have mistaken the house and person, of which I had no 
doubt, but greatly was I shocked, when they informed me that 
they were employed by my landlord, who; had never received any 
rent from the time Mr Markland took the house, nor payment for 
the furniture, which by being a cabinet maker and upholsterer, 
he had furnished him with, and that he could easily prove that 
whatever I had, belonged; to Mr Markland. All the horrors of a 
prison now presented themselves to my imagination, I easily 
perceived my stock could not dis charge this debt, and with 
little ceremony was told by these men, that nothing else could 
save me from a goal, and that I must go with them. What now to 
do with my child, I knew not; to expose it to the colds and 
damps in so nauseous a place, shocked my nature; as for myself 
(had no other depended on me), I should have been less 
anxious, I had resigned myself to misery, and which way it was 
brought upon me seemed of little consequence, One relief I 
immediately felt from this misfortune: the love which I had 
till now borne to Mr Markland, whose inconstancy I almost 
forgave as a weakness in his nature, was entirely obliterated, 
by so mean and cruel an action, as leaving me exposed to such 
infinite distress, for he could not but know that his absence 
would determine the landlord to take care of his own interest, 
and probably I should not have been left so long in quiet 
possession of the house, but that he might the more certainly 
get all I had, when my shop was furnished in the best manner I 
was able.

I now despised the man I could not hate, and no longer felt 
the pangs of slighted love; but the terrors or my approaching 
fate, took their place. I was weeping over my child, who 
frighted at my agonies, was more clamorous in his grief, hung 
round my neck, and screamed he knew not why; only he perceived 
the men were the cause of my affliction, and as they, provoked 
at the noise he made, began to swear at him, he grew more 
terrified, and with the assistance of the lamentations my maid 
uttered, who thought the degree of grief was to be measured by 
clamour; the uproar was great enough to bring in an old lady, 
who came to hire a house the next door to me: she had seen it 
the day before, and had taken notice of my child, with whom I 
was standing at the door, and asked me some question about the 
neighbourhood, more in appearance for the sake of conversation 
than curiosity.

This lady, as I said, was attracted by the clamour she heard 
in my house, and came in to ask the cause of it.

The bailiffs were the most able to speak, and gave her. a 
surly answer, but one which was so much to the purpose, that 
in a few words they made her understand the whole matter.

She came up to me and asked if the balance against me was 
great, I told her I could not tell how that might be, as I 
knew not what difference would be made in the valuation of the 
goods, when they came to be appraised, from what they 
originally cost, but that it ought not to be considerable, for 
the damage was small they having been always used and kept 
with great care: that except this difference, the balance on 
either side, could be but trifling, for my stock would answer 
the rent, but that to one who had nothing, a debt of thirty 
pounds was as bad as one of three hundred, and must render me 
equally insolvent.

She then asked the men what they designed should become of me, 
till the affair was settled, they replied I must either go 
home with them or to gaol.

"Have you nobody," said she, "to be bail for you?" "No one," 
answered I; for my sister was the only person to whom I could 
apply, and I could not harbour a thought of making her a 
greater sufferer by my ill conduct than she already had been, 
or of running the least hazard of causing any difference 
between her and her husband, for long before this I imagined 
she was married. I was sensible that if she knew my distress, 
she would be anxious to relieve it, and as her husband might 
not choose to give his money, to one who appeared so unworthy, 
disputes and disgust might arise on the subject.

"It is hard," said the old lady, "that you should know no one 
who will perform such an act of humanity, and though I am not 
fond of having anything to do where the law is concerned, yet, 
(turning to the bailiffs) I cannot withhold my assistance from 
one, who is in so very distressful a situation, and who seems 
born to suffer from the cruelty of mankind: I will bail this 
young woman," said she, "and will take upon myself the 
settling her affairs."

Words are too weak to describe my feelings on this occasion, 
but the sequel will show that hitherto fatal experience had 
not yet taught me sufficient caution to distinguish a real 
benevolent disposition from its too often destructive 
semblance; it has ever been my misfortune, my dear Madam, to 
judge too hastily from appearances, except in the instance of 
my happy and ever to be remembered introduction to you, my 
temporal saviour! May heaven bless and preserve a life of such 
universal philanthropy, is the ardent prayer, of Madam, 
	Your grateful humble Servant 
	M.S.



Letter VII.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	Circumstanced as I described myself in my last letter, my 
dear madam, I was all gratitude; a thousand blessings and a 
thousand thanks I gave the person who thus interfered; but the 
men were not so ready to accept her offer, they said they must 
first inquire into her character and substance, and know 
whether or not, she was sufficiently responsible.

"If you have any doubts of that kind," said she, "let the 
goods be appraised directly, the day is long enough for 
settling the whole affair." This proposal was agreed to; my 
landlord was sent for, my stock in trade was valued by the 
bills of parcels to which I had receipts, and appraisers 
determined the value of the furniture. My benefactress had 
left me before my landlord came, and as evening drew on I grew 
under apprehensions, lest prudence should get the better of 
charity, and prevent her return, but before the whole was 
entirely settled, she came, the balance was drawn, and I 
remained debtor, but about twenty pounds: she paid the money, 
and said she should require no consideration of me, but a note 
of hand, in case I should ever be able to pay her, and as I 
was at a loss where to go that night, offered to take me home 
in the coach with her.

This additional kindness charmed me, my heart was 
inexpressibly relieved by such generosity; for the present, I 
forgot the destitute condition I was in; I was delivered from 
immediate distress; and Mr Markland's baseness had relieved my 
heart from the tenderness, which till then oppressed it; so 
that I think entirely penniless as I was, these were much the 
happiest hours I had enjoyed from the time Ms. Markland's 
affections began visibly to decline. 

My benefactress took me and my little boy into the coach, and 
we soon arrived at her house, she told me that as my spirits 
had undergone a great deal of fatigue, and she was to have 
some company that evening, it might, perhaps, be more 
agreeable to me to retire to my own room, to which she led me, 
and ordered a servant to see that I had everything I wanted, 
and then taking her leave of me wished me a good night, 
saying, she feared she should not be able to get to me again 
that evening; I repeated all the acknowledgments that 
gratitude could suggest, and wished her a rest, equally 
refreshing, to the infinite relief she had given to my 
despairing mind.

When I was left alone, and began to reflect on the various 
events of that day, it seemed a general scene of confusion, 
that had passed in such quick succession that the recollection 
made me giddy.

The variety of thoughts which all these things suggested to my 
mind, would have engrossed my attention a long time, had not 
my little boy interrupted me; the bustle of the day had 
wearied him, I put him to bed, and that being done, I began to 
observe the furniture of the room.

The furniture was old and tattered, and everything very dirty, 
but had once been handsome. I was surprised at the condition 
it was in, as I imagined the mistress of the house to be a 
lady of fortune from the generosity she had shown towards me, 
and from her age, I expected such a degree of economy as would 
prevent so much dirt and rags; I wondered, therefore, what 
could occasion this appearance, and flattered myself I might 
be of some use in doing my best to repair the destruction, 
which seemed less owing to the ravages of time, than to want 
of care.

A servant not much more cleanly than my chamber, came to ask 
me what I pleased to choose for supper; I told her anything 
the family had, I begged I might give no additional trouble; 
"My mistress," said she, "thought you might be weary, and want 
to go to bed before their supper time, so ordered me to 
inquire."

"At what time do they sup then," I asked, "it is quite 
uncertain," answered the servant, "sometimes it is vastly late 
but never before eleven."

I had been used to late hours at Lady Markland's, so was not 
surprised; I thought I had got again into the house of a fine 
lady, but since that was the case, desired a piece of bread 
and butter, which would be a sufficient supper for me.

My request was not soon complied with, but as I heard many 
raps at the door, I easily guessed that the servants were 
busied by the arrival of so much company, or it had made them 
forget me, it was near eleven o clock before any one appeared 
again in my apartment, and then then the same maid brought me 
part of a fowl, with some punch and wine, telling me that as 
she had found the company came earlier than common, she 
thought she had better stay till she could offer me a more 
comfortable supper, than what I had ordered.

I asked her if they had often much company, to which she 
answered in the affirmative, and added with an air of pride 
and satisfaction, she did not believe there was a house in 
town that had more.

I had observed while I lived as Sir George Markland's, my 
lady, and many others, piqued themselves on having a great 
concourse of people at their houses, and that to acquire the 
more honour, they would often stretch the truth, as to the 
numbers that had been there the night before, but I was 
diverted to find this pride descend to a servant, who, by her 
appearance must be in the very lowest place in the house, and 
wondered what advantage she could find in her lady's drums 
being more frequent, or more crowded than other people's.

Being heartily tired, I went to bed as soon as I had supped, 
but had not been long asleep before I was startled at a 
variety of noises; some seemed laughing, others scolding, 
others at romps: I was terrified with the clamour; the first 
effects of which was jumping out of bed, and bolting the door; 
and then I could attend to it with a little more composure, 
but not without a thousand apprehensions, which, though the 
house grew pretty quiet about four o'clock in the morning, 
would not suffer me to get any sleep.

I rose early, but found the family were making themselves 
amends for the time they had stolen from the night, for nobody 
came into my room till near ten o clock, nor had I courage to 
go out of it, to see if anyone was up. The same servant whom I 
had seen the night before, now made her appearance, I asked 
her if any disaster had happened, which occasioned so much 
noise at so late an hour? "Nothing particular," she answered: 
"Is your company always so loud," said I. "Not always," said 
the girl, "but sometimes still more so." "Indeed!" cried I, 
"and pray how often may, you have company?" "Oh! every night," 
answered the girl, "whatever house may be empty ours is always 
full."

My apprehensions had increased during the whole of this 
dialogue, and now they were risen to their greatest height, 
but to remove all doubt; I asked her whether their company 
consisted mostly of gentlemen, or ladies?

The girl laughed at the foolishness of my question, and told 
me they had few ladies came there: not but a gentleman might 
if he pleased bring a lady, and they would be very genteelly 
accommodated; but they seldom chose it, as all her young 
ladies were so handsome, it would not be easy to find any 
equal to them.

I was indeed now past any doubt; uncertainty, however anxious, 
would have been a blessing to this certainty: I thought I 
should have fainted, and indeed I believe nothing could have 
recalled my senses, which were just fled, but the screams of 
the servant, who was so used to clamour, that she did not 
think any moderate noise could be sufficiently expressive of 
fear; and set up her pipes with such violence, at seeing me 
sink pale and breathless into a chair that stood by me, that 
she not only called back my departing spirits, but brought two 
or three of the young ladies, whose beauty she had been 
boasting of, into my room.

As my colour had not returned with my senses, I still looked 
more like a corpse, than one alive, the girl was asked the 
occasion of this disorder, but could give little account of 
it, she told them the young gentlewoman had been asking her 
questions but the minute before, and she could not imagine 
what was the matter. My poor little boy, frighted to see his 
mama look so pale, ran to me, and by his tender amiable 
caresses, did more to recover me than all the attention of the 
young ladies, who held salts to my nose, rubbed my temples, 
and did all they thought requisite for my relief: but their 
appearances counteracted their care, by terrifying me more 
than the other could revive me.

Uncombed their locks, and squalid their attire. 
Unlike the trim of love, or gay desire. 
[Dryden, The Knight's Tale l. 339-340 ]

The dirty rags in which they were clothed, showed their 
wretchedness; their faces, which in the evening were to shine 
with borrowed charms, were now the emblems of decay and 
sickness, swollen excess, riotous intemperance, and foul 
misrule were imprinted in each countenance.

I do not believe I could have quite recovered myself while 
they were in my sight, but fortunately for me they were called 
to breakfast, from which my indisposition excused me, and I 
was indulged with a dish of tea in my own room. When I 
recollect the wretched situation I was unfortunately drawn 
into, and reflect on the horrors of mind which then surrounded 
me, I can never enough bless and praise my God, that he gave 
me strength of mind, sufficient to prevent me from laying 
violent hands on myself; but it was his good pleasure to 
preserve me for further trials, and at length, through his 
mercy, to guide me, by your means, my good lady, to this 
heavenly place of safety. Adieu my dear Madam, and believe me 
ever the 
	Most grateful of your Servants, 
	M. S.



Letter VIII.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	To describe what were my thoughts my dear Madam, on being 
left alone, as mentioned in my last letter, is a difficult 
task; suffice it to say, the distraction of my mind found some 
vent by tears and lamentations: I now felt a degree of 
distress beyond what I had yet experienced, or ever feared. 
How severely did I arraign myself of folly, in having 
conceived no suspicion of this wretched woman, and quarrelled 
with my heart, for having seen her action in no such very 
strange light, as to suppose it must arise from anything but 
generosity. I thought that in the same situation, I should 
have done like her, and therefore was grateful, but not 
surprised: so far was my candour in thus judging of her, from 
administering any comfort to me, that I wished my temper more 
suspicious, though rendered so by defects in my own heart, 
from which I was now free; indeed in this case, the most 
common prudence might have preserved me, but I was rendered so 
senseless by the terrors of my situation, that I was blind to 
every other danger.

I shall not tire you, Madam, with endeavouring to describe the 
agitation of my mind, which was far beyond all power of 
description, hut shall only say, that the prison I had so much 
feared, now appeared to me an eligible asylum, and all the 
hopes I had, were that if I was found refractory to the 
purposes of the person who had thus bought me of myself, 
resentment might tempt her to throw me into the goal, from 
which she had so cruelly relieved me.

After breakfast was over, the woman whom the night before I 
had beheld with reverence and gratitude, as my noble 
benefactress, came into my room, and taking hold of my hand, 
with a fawning affectation of kindness, told me she was sorry 
to find I had been so ill, she supposed it was occasioned by 
what I had suffered the day before, but she did not doubt but 
I should soon recover, as my mind would forget all past 
disasters, in her house, which was a temple dedicated to 
pleasure, and continued to speak in such intelligible terms, 
that no farther explanation was necessary.

To sit and hear the profession of such abandoned sentiments, 
was really shocking beyond expression: criminal as I had been, 
my detestation to this way of life, was as great as if I had 
been more consistently virtuous; I informed her, that she was 
disappointed in her views, but offered if she would forbear 
all attempts to induce me to comply, that I would with 
pleasure submit to the lowest offices in her house, or rather 
what she esteemed the lowest, and perform the part of a menial 
servant, till she herself should acknowledge that I had amply 
paid my debt.

She told me that every word I spoke, more fully proved my 
folly, for I must be extremely silly indeed, to think she 
would be contented with my saving her three or four pounds a 
year, when she did not despair of my gaining her as many 
hundreds, for the first year at least, and after that, by 
paint and dress, I might make a very attracting figure among 
her girls.

All that prayers and entreaties could do, I tried without 
success, and when that failed, I endeavoured to provoke her to 
send me to prison, but all to no other purpose, than as she 
said, to show my folly, in supposing she had not taught every 
passion as well as every principle to be subservient to her 
interest.

All I uttered had no other effect, than to make her give 
orders, that I should not be suffered to stir out of the 
house.

While I opposed her she set me at defiance, and threatened me 
with immediate revenge, which she was too well able to 
execute, having everyone at her command, and no one to defend 
me. I therefore tried to delay what I could not repel, and by 
promising to endeavour to get the better of my reluctance, 
prevailed upon her to allow me time to learn to command my 
behaviour, which in my present disposition, might disgust 
those she chose I should please.

Under this pretence, I obtained liberty to live entirely in my 
own chamber for a whole month, hoping still that some 
fortunate accident might relieve me, but all in vain; at the 
end of that time, she assured me she would not be fooled any 
longer, and made me dress myself with more than usual care, in 
a gown and ornaments, which she had provided for me, and told 
me she would absolutely bring a gentleman to see me that 
evening, whose generosity she so much extolled, that I had 
some hopes I might find him generous indeed, not in lavishing 
money on a bawd, but in relieving the distressed; I found I 
had been promised to him, which though it proved that he paid 
high, was but a poor dependence for my expectations.

This wretched woman kept her word with a diabolical exactness, 
she introduced the gentleman pretty early in the evening; for 
expectation made him come sooner than her visitors usually 
did, and she retired. I was sorry to see how much this man was 
struck with my appearance, it in a great degree damped my 
hopes, but despair encouraged me to proceed, and I began to 
attack his compassion in the strongest manner I could, by 
uttering all the sentiments of my soul; I kneeled at his feet, 
used tears and prayers to soften him, and did my utmost to 
excite his generosity.

At first he seemed to think all this was mere hypocrisy, with 
a design to raise the value of his conquest, but he soon found 
I was perfectly sincere, and with joy I perceived him 
affected: this animated me still more, and I pursued my 
entreaties till he granted them, and told me he would desire 
no more of me, than that I would inform him, how in such a 
disposition I could come into that house.

I then related to him the whole affair, suppressing only, the 
manner in which I had lived with Mr Markland, whom I called my 
husband, not I think out of pride; I was too much humbled to 
attempt to conceal even my crimes, but I feared if he knew 
this circumstance, he would have less regard to my petition, 
and think my having offended with one man, gave every other a 
right to expect a ready compliance with their expectations.

When I had ended my story, the gentleman told me I might judge 
of his compassion from the mortification he had inflicted on 
himself; for that though he was much attached to the sex in 
general, and had always been so, he had never seen a woman he 
thought half so lovely as myself, that she who had the 
disposing of me, was sufficiently sensible of my charms, as 
appeared by the price she had set upon me, which however he 
was much more willing to lose, than to give up his title to 
me, but to show me he could be generous to virtue as well as 
to vice, he would relinquish both, and at my desire, pretend 
himself better satisfied with my conduct, than he had reason 
to be; for I had begged he would not betray me to the woman, 
whom I now looked upon with as much horror as I had once done 
with joy and gratitude.

That he might be the better credited, he sat with me near two 
hours, after he had made me this promise, I wished. he would 
have secured me from persons less generous than himself, by 
redeeming me from this horrid place, but durst not hint my 
desire for fear of offending him, and he stifled my hopes by 
observing to me, how impossible it was for me to escape out of 
it, for that the money she had laid down for me, would be but 
a small part of. my debt, she would charge much for my board, 
and the clothes I then had on, that would run it up to a much 
more considerable sum.

After having represented all this to me, and the impossibility 
of my prevailing with other men as I had done with him, he 
endeavoured to persuade me to submit patiently to my lot, and 
not to grant to one less generous, what I denied to him, 
promising that I should share his bounty, whereas it commonly 
was only dispensed to the person who claimed the power of 
selling us.

He bore my refusal of this proposal as generously as he had 
done the first, and took his leave of me in the politest 
manner; and if I may be allowed to form any judgment from his 
appearance, with real concern for me.

As soon as the gentleman was gone from the house, the old 
woman, and some of the young ones, who were disengaged, came 
to me, and carried me down into a small room to supper, where 
none but ourselves were admitted, not so much to indulge me, 
as a reward for my good behaviour, because I was thought too 
valuable while new to be exposed to common eyes.

My odious companions, were in very good humour, and I was so 
delighted with, and encouraged by my success, that I had never 
before appeared so easy, I flattered myself I should continue 
as fortunate as I began, and the effect this hope had upon me, 
gave room for a supposition that I was grown better reconciled 
to my way of life. I was not to continue long in doubt whether 
my arguments would be always equally prevalent; the next day 
brought fresh occasion for my rhetoric, the appearance of the 
man was less encouraging, he wanted the politeness of manners, 
and good natured countenance, which was remarkable in the 
other, I was not however turned from my purpose, by my fears 
of failing in it: on the contrary, I was animated by despair 
more than before by hope, and by my tears and aversion, 
extinguished all thoughts of pleasure, or of love from his 
rugged breast: but leaving me with curses, he went to the old 
woman, and bestowing some oaths on her, made her refund the 
money she had received from him.

This threw her intoa violent rage, and not being able to vent 
it on him, I must necessarily fall the victim: she brought up 
with her into my room, three of the young women, who, angry 
that I should, by my conduct show a dislike of theirs, were 
fit to assist her in executing her wrath oh me, accordingly 
they fell on me with the utmost fury, and beat me in the most 
merciless manner, till one of them hit me such a blow on the 
temples, as struck me senseless to the ground.

How long I might continue in this situation, I cannot acquaint 
you, Madam, but against I have the pleasure of writing my next 
letter shall endeavour to recollect every particular 
circumstance which happened after my being brought to myself; 
I must now beg leave to conclude this letter by assuring you, 
Madam, that I shall ever retain the most grateful sense of 
your repeated kindness to me, and am, 
	Madam, 
	Ever Yours 
	M.S.



Letter IX.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	My last letter, my dear Madam, brought my unfortunate 
life down to that period of it, where the wretched females of 
the infernal house I was in, had wreaked their vengeance on 
me, by the vilest and most opprobrious language, and by blows 
which finally bereaved me of my senses, and I fell motionless 
to the ground: but as murder was a crime which they were 
fearful of committing in this infamous house, they were 
alarmed least they had killed me, and: fearing the 
consequences of their rage, put me to bed, and took all 
possible care to bring me to myself.

As soon as they had done so, I found my person was one general 
bruise, I was so sore I knew not how to lie or move, but my 
greatest pain was in my eye, near which the last blow was 
given: it was soon so swelled up I could not see, and as 
defacing me, did not at all answer these wretches' purposes, 
they omitted no care to remedy the ill they had done, 
plastering me up in the manner, they thought most likely to 
hasten my recovery.

I was in hopes they had put out my eye, shocking as the 
thought was, it appeared in a desirable light to me, as I 
might reasonably expect from it a total dismission from that 
house, where I could be of no value when so disfigured. I had 
suffered too much by my beauty to be anxious for the 
preservation of it, and one eye might guide me to a more 
comfortable livelihood than I was likely to gain in the house 
where I then was.

These thoughts made me take off the things they applied to my 
eye, whenever I was alone, if possible to prevent my cure, but 
in spite of my endeavours, the swelling abated, and I found my 
sight had received no hurt, but the blood settling round it, I 
had such a black eye, as rendered me too rueful a spectacle to 
be produced.

This accident obliged me to be concealed above a month, for it 
was thought imprudent to show me, till I was in full beauty.

This delay was precious, and I would have endured another 
beating for the like benefit; but they had suffered too 
severely already for this exertion of their power, therefore 
they resolved upon a method less detrimental to my person

 As soon as I was thought to look tolerably well, the infernal 
woman told me that all my resistance would be in vain, that my 
ingratitude had quite disgusted her, and that she was resolved 
no longer to show me any indulgence; but would expose me to 
the addresses of people too low and brutal, to regard my 
tears, till I was broke of my niceness, and would send my 
child to the officers of the parish, to which it belonged, for 
she would no longer gratify me with its company, when I showed 
so little consideration for her.

These menaces were dreadful indeed, and to talk of exposing my 
little darling to the cruelty of parish officers and nurses, 
was too much to bear; enraged at such a monster, I replied the 
law would grant me some redress, against such inhumanity.

"The law, thou idiot," answered she, "dost thou take lawyers 
for knight errants, who have nothing to do but deliver 
distressed damsels; know that money only can obtain justice; 
those who cannot buy, must go without it: the redress of the 
law is out of the reach of poverty, content yourself, there is 
no law for you. But I shall not give myself the trouble; of 
saying any more to you, I give you till to-morrow to choose, 
either determine to conquer your squeamishness or I must send 
your brat away, and deliver you up to the first man who will 
disregard all your tears and entreaties, your will shall make 
no other difference in the case than in the degree of your 
lovers, and your brat's fate.

With these words she left me to consider the alternative; the 
dear babe understood something of being sent from me, and 
running to me, hung round my neck crying he would not go away 
without me, and begged me not to let that woman take him.

Alas, dear innocent! I did not mean it, I could much sooner 
have parted with my life. The wretch had now found the mean of 
subduing my resolution; delicacy, for by that name, not by the 
sacred one of virtue, I must call my resistance, after a 
conduct so criminal as mine; delicacy I say gave way to 
maternal love, nor could the latter boast any great triumph, 
for I had no prospect of gaining any advantage by my farther 
perseverance, on the contrary, I was only like to be exposed 
to the greater insults.

This declaration of my resolution was received the next day 
with great satisfaction, I was flattered and caressed, and my 
child fondled, but I could not be sensible to kind treatment 
so obtained.

In this detestable house I had remained about a month after 
this, when the old woman was taken ill of a violent fever, 
occasioned by having eat and drank immoderately, for some 
nights successively: this illness put a stop to her trade, and 
three days carried her into a world, where one cannot think of 
her without horror. As soon as she was dead, a relation came 
to look into her effects, who had been ashamed to own any 
connection with her infamy, but at her death, was willing to 
receive the profits arising from her crimes.

By this accident we were all set at liberty; what became of 
the rest I know not, I was too glad to get clear of them all, 
to make any enquiries, but for my own part, my joy at this 
release was beyond expression.

The best clothes that were worn by us were sold; but those of 
less value were given amongst us; and the notes of hand, and 
such other obligations as had been used as means of getting us 
into her power, were cancelled; the purpose of them being too 
well known to her relation.

I was quite destitute of money, for as our pockets were 
searched every morning, what presents any gentleman made us, 
were sure to be taken away; therefore I sold the best gown 
that had fallen to my share, in order to support me, till I 
had found some other means of gaining a subsistence.

Sensible that I should find great difficulty in maintaining 
myself and child, I took the cheapest lodging I could find, 
only mending it by cleanliness. I then inquired for plain 
work, but received everywhere for answer that they should not 
trust their things to a stranger; they were acquainted with 
people enough who wanted such employment; they need not give 
it to a person they knew nothing of.

This was a melancholy answer; and I now thought I would try to 
get a place; but when I offered myself, one said I was too 
handsome; another said that I appeared too genteel for such a 
place as I offered for, (not daring to attempt any high one, 
as having no hopes to get it,) and there must be something 
very bad in my conduct, or I could not be reduced to such low 
services, Those who were not deterred by my appearance, asked 
what recommendation I had? or who would give me a character? 
In this manner I was repulsed from every door, and found that 
one who can do no work, but what great numbers of others do as 
well, maybe reduced to want of employment. I now wished I had 
learnt of my sister, a variety of works, some of which might 
have afforded me a support; people being less cautious with 
those they employ for things which they cannot easily get done 
elsewhere. Those wishes were however vain. Oh! my dear madam, 
think what must have been the situation of mind, of an 
unfortunate young person, willing to earn a livelihood by the 
most humiliating employ, and yet from one false, one imprudent 
step, brought to a situation that no one would even condescend 
to give a civil answer to, much less take her into their 
houses, in any sort of employment. What blessings therefore 
(if not in this life,) must hereafter be in store, for persons 
of such enlarged minds, who, contrary to the general practice 
of the world, has the generosity of sentiment, to rescue a 
helpless, and unfortunate female, forsaken of all the world 
besides, and in the end, placing her in an eligible situation 
of life; such as you madam, and such as you only who are in 
the daily practice of this virtue, can feel: may heaven ever 
watch over such exalted goodness, is the constant prayer of 
Madam, 
	Your faithful humble servant. 
	M. S.



Letter X.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	You would perceive, my dear madam, at the conclusion of 
my last letter, that I was reduced to the manifest danger of 
starving; I would have attempted the most laborious work, but 
no one would try me, as to what I am afraid I should have 
acquitted myself but ill in, though I offered my labour at 
half price, but even my industry was made an argument against 
me; I must, said they, be very bad to be reduced to that, and 
they supposed I intended to steal the other part of my wages.

In this deplorable condition, I determined to apply to my 
sister. I did not now live in actual sin, and therefore could 
do it with the more courage, by enquiring at the milliner's 
where I had seen her, I learnt her abode and thither I went. 
Variety of misfortunes had altered me extremely; my sister was 
in her shop, and rejoiced to see me, hoping by my venturing to 
her again, that I had reformed my conduct; but my changed 
countenance shocked her, and rendered her reception of me more 
melancholy, but not less kind. Before we had time to 
interchange many words, her husband came in, who guessing at 
me by the description she had given him, very abruptly told 
me, I was not fit company for his wife, and desired I would 
not frequent his house, for all the ties of kindred were 
broken by my infamous way of life!

My spirits were lowered by distress, and I may say by hunger, 
for I had tasted nothing for above twenty-four hours; this 
cruel reproach, so ill-timed, struck me to the heart; I was 
not able to make any answer; but to avoid increasing his 
anger, which seemed falling on his wife, for having received 
me, I withdrew almost drowned in tears, and scarcely able to 
support the weight of my afflicted body.

A good woman passing by me, as I was dragging myself along, 
and sobbing as if my heart would break, being moved at my 
distress, put her hand into her pocket and pulling out a 
shilling, asked me, if that would do me any good. It is easy 
to be imagined that I received it with joy and gratitude: in 
my distressed condition a less sum would have been a great 
relief: she seemed happy in the good she had done, and said, 
she wished she had more for me; I blessed her for what she had 
given me, and we parted.

I stopped in my way to buy some food for myself and child, 
with this timely supply, and was there overtaken by a young 
woman, who told me she belonged to my sister, who having given 
her a wink after I went out of the shop, she guessed it was 
designed as a command to find out where I lived, and therefore 
had followed me.

I soon satisfied her curiosity, and then inquired into the 
temper of my brother-in-law, which alarmed me for my sister's 
happiness; she told me she had never seen him so out of humour 
before, that it was easy to see he was of a very jealous 
disposition, but her mistress's conduct was so extremely 
prudent, that he had never had an opportunity of taking 
offence, and the entire confidence he had in her, and his 
sincere affection for her, got the better of a warmth natural 
to him; so that by the excellence of her behaviour, and the 
sweetness of her disposition, no married people lived more 
happily together; and she attributed his treatment of me to a 
sort of jealousy, which made him dislike my having any 
intercourse with his wife, as he imagined me not so prudent.

I could not from my heart blame him, but said I hoped my 
future conduct would plead my excuse; and expressed the fears 
I really felt, lest my going there should occasion any 
uneasiness between him and my sister, or make her unhappy by 
awakening her affection for me.

"Oh Madam," said the young woman, "it will admit of no 
awakening; for my mistress is continually talking of you, and 
weeping over your remembrance whenever my master is not 
present; for he does not like to hear her mention you. Some 
time ago shne sent me into the street where you did live, to 
inquire after you, but the account I received was such as 
increased her affliction!"

"What was told you", said I.

"I do not know how to answer you," replied she, "but I was 
informed you was gone to a bad house."

"I was indeed," said I, "but not knowingly: however blameable 
I have been there, I am sure I deserved compassion; and 
whoever knows all I have suffered, if they are not strangers 
to pity, will forgive me my faults, in consideration of the 
punishment they have brought with them."

The good-natured girl could not forbear joining her tears with 
mine; and perhaps curiosity would have detained her longer 
could she have hoped to have learnt any farther particulars; 
but she must see I was not in a condition to talk much, and I 
was in haste to return to my child, and carry him home some 
food; though he stood not in the same need as myself, for 
having a little bread left, I had given it him that morning, 
and that sufficed for a tolerable meal.

The same young woman came to my lodgings the next day; though 
it was a wretched hole, it pleased her by its cleanliness; my 
poor little boy she admired extremely, but I could not help 
feeling distressed at having reason to be ashamed of a child 
of which so many great families would be vain; but his charms 
could not wipe off the infamy of his birth; an infamy, which 
in justice belongs only to the parents.

As soon as we were seated, she delivered me a letter from my 
sister, wherein she acquainted me, that she could no longer 
find any comfort in plenty, since she might not impart it to 
me. That as all her stock in trade belonged to her husband, 
she could not without being guilty of a criminal injustice, 
attempt to appropriate to herself, anything out of what she 
sold: and that as her expenses had always, by choice, been 
very small, it was but little she should be able to assist me 
with at present, as her husband would be watchful; but that 
she hoped in a month or two, he might have me less in his 
thoughts and then she should find the means of supplying me, 
more suitably to her own inclinations.

This was mixed with expressions infinitely kind, and very 
valuable as coming from the sincerest of hearts. She had, I 
found, never been used to ask him for any money; when she 
bought anything, the bill was brought to him and he paid it, 
and would have done so with pleasure, if it had been a much 
greater sum. If she had had any immediate call, she took it 
out of the produce of the shop, and in settling the account, 
told him what it was for. There was such entire harmony 
between them, that this became her custom as the easiest way; 
but now she regretted it extremely, and yet knew not how to 
break through it.

I saw her difficulty plainly; it was insurmountable, and I had 
nothing left me, but to entreat her to run no hazards for me, 
for that nothing could recompense me for causing the least 
uneasiness between her and her husband.

She desired me not to write, lest the letter should fall into 
his hands, and told me she should venture at nothing more than 
a verbal message, till she had brought him into a better 
disposition towards me: so in compliance with her request, my 
answer was only by word of mouth.

Few questions was requisite to inform my sister's messenger of 
my great poverty, so she remained not long with me.

From time to time she visited me, bringing such little relief 
as my sister could secretly bestow, but what scarcely sufficed 
to pay for my lodging. However this was a great consolation to 
me, for little as the expense might sound, it was a heavy 
burden on me, who neither had anything, nor the means of 
gaining it, and my landlady's provident spirit, made her 
require a week's pay in hand, not choosing to give any a 
credit; nor could I blame the woman; for where they are forced 
to let their rooms to such indigent persons as I was, if they 
were not to be rigidly exact, they would seldom receive any 
rent.

My sister's situation being now added to the other impediments 
which prevented me from obtaining any support, I was reduced 
below hope: willing and able to work, and yet to starve for 
want of employment, seemed a hard fate: but it touched no 
heart but my own. In this extremity, the humanity shown me by 
a. stranger in the street, determined me to try if casual 
charity would afford me any relief: and in the bitterness of 
my soul, I set out with my child, to ask the charitable 
benefactions of passengers.

But here my success was small, I found that beggars had a 
society among themselves, that the town was divided into so 
many shares, and to everyone was appointed their particular 
district, from whence they drove every interloper, by means 
too formidable for me to contend with, who feared almost 
equally, their oaths, and their more forcible methods. Thus I 
had no places left me but such as were so little frequented, 
they were not thought worth their notice: like the first 
planters in a colony, they divided amongst themselves all but 
the barren lands.

Among the few who passed, where I durst attempt to beg, I 
seldom obtained anything but reproaches for my idleness, in 
begging at an age when I was so capable of working. It was to 
no purpose that I told them I desired nothing so much as work, 
and entreated them to try me, by giving me any employment. 
They would answer that they saw I was newly entered upon that 
trade, and it would be a shame to encourage me in it, as then 
I should never leave it off.

Sometimes I should be so fortunate as to obtain a few 
halfpence from people whose compassion got the better of their 
reason, and who durst not give me an absolute refusal, for 
fear I was indeed as near starving as I said I was: but these 
small and uncertain benefactions, would not preserve two 
persons alive, though used in the most sparing manner. 
Sometimes for two or three days I should not procure a 
farthing.

One time when I was thus reduced to the last extremity, myself 
almost starved, and my child in the same condition, and 
piercing my heart with his cries, as the last effort I dressed 
myself neatly, and went out to try if I should have any better 
success, as a higher degree of beggar, and left my poor boy 
with an old woman in the same house, who used to take care of 
him in my absence, though she was too poor to relieve his 
necessities.

I attacked many of my own sex, who told me they never gave to 
begging gentlewomen; I then addressed myself to the other, and 
received a refusal from the first; the second told me if I 
would go with him to the next tavern, I should be satisfied 
with his generosity. I answered him that he mistook my 
purpose; the smallest alms would content me, but that I could 
not leave that street: this occasioned some altercation; each 
kept to their resolution till at last he produced five 
shillings to my view, to strengthen his arguments: a sum then 
in my estimation so considerable, at length prevailed.

I returned home to my famished child, as soon as possible, 
carrying food with me, that I might receive some reward for 
money so ill gotten; and I confess my recompense was great in 
seeing the dear babe almost at the gates of death, revive as 
he eat, and the smiles of joy, by degrees take place of the 
anguish which the pains of hunger had imprinted on his lovely 
face.

To you ye ungenerous of my own sex, let me appeal, and let me 
tell you there are many unfortunate females in this very 
predicament, who are daily and nightly under the dire 
necessity of prostitution, for the sake of bare support; and 
who would gladly be encouraged to embrace any situation, 
rather than continue in that which they have unfortunately 
been brought into by the same arts, which had they been used 
to many of you of the most rigid cast of mind, would have 
proved successful.

Would such, my dear madam, copy your benevolent commiseration 
for their own sex, what numbers might be reclaimed, and what 
numbers rescued from inevitable prostitution. Would to God, 
that the delicacy of your mind, would condescend to make the 
benevolence of your daily transactions, a public pattern for 
our sex, who have less feeling, and consequently less 
humanity.

I have the honour to be, Madam, 
	Ever your grateful servant, 
	M. S.



Letter XI.

Magdalen Hospital, 1763. 
	Humiliating as my situation was, which I described in my 
last letter, my dear Madam, I preferred the trade of begging 
so much to the making a traffic of my person, that I 
endeavoured, by pursuing it, to make this little fund hold 
out, but without success. I was at last attacked by the 
beadles, who receiving no gratuities from me, declared they 
would execute the rigours of their office if they saw me there 
again. Thus the little liberty I before had in this 
occupation, was much restrained, and my gains sunk almost to 
nothing.

The only consolation I had, was in the hope that my sister 
would be allowed to countenance me so far, that by her 
recommendation, I might obtain some employ; but every time her 
messenger came, disappointment accompanied her. But still I 
hoped on, and was often led by it, to the utmost extremity of 
famine, till no longer able to support it, I resolved to try 
the means which had once succeeded, when I did not aim at it. 
How often shocked at the odiousness of my purpose, have I 
turned back, determined to suffer myself to die, rather than 
preserve my life in such a manner! But when I returned home, 
and saw the distress of my poor child, every other evil 
appeared light in comparison of his sufferings: and I again 
fled from the anguish I felt at the sight of him.

I seldom had far to go, before I met with some gentleman, who 
though hard-hearted to my distress, would be indulgent to his 
own vice: I often thought the cleanly simplicity of my dress, 
(for I had no ornaments,) pleased more than the tawdry 
decorations of the women who generally follow that course; for 
while a man courts our vice, his reason hates our impudence.

I was sensible that by entering into a society of prostitutes, 
I might gain a settled subsistence; but I could not think of 
engaging in a way of life I detested: I still hoped some means 
would at last relieve my necessities, and that I should not 
always be reduced to a prostitution, to which I could not 
bring myself to consent, till the severe pains of hunger, and 
the still sharper pangs I endured from those my heart's 
darling felt, got the better of the little delicacy I still 
had remaining; there could not be a more sparing manager than 
I was of what I gained, as while it lasted, I was freed from a 
course of life most odious to me.

In this manner I lived for near three months; the sobriety of 
my behaviour at home, giving no suspicion to the people where 
I lodged, who were not used to be over-curious in prying into 
the lives of their lodgers, which perhaps would seldom bear a 
strict scrutiny. I concealed it equally from my sister; 
sensible that if she knew it, the desire of bringing me out of 
such infamy and suffering, would drive her to any extremities, 
to the hazard of all her conjugal happiness: the vexation I 
had given her, and still gave her, was one of my strongest 
afflictions; therefore I could not for any consideration, make 
her a greater sufferer.

One day when I was reduced so low, that I had not sufficient 
to purchase a supper for myself and child, my landlady came up 
into my room, and invited us to drink tea and sup with her, it 
being her birthday. Never did a royal birthday give such joy 
to the vainest lady: I do not suppose the birth of a child, 
ever was more welcome to the person most anxious for an heir, 
than this good woman's anniversary rejoicing was to me: we 
readily obeyed her invitation; and I was too well pleased with 
the entertainment, to criticise the conversation of my 
company.

A little before supper a man entered, who said he was just 
come from the new hospital; so he called it, and that 
everything was now completely finished, but he fancied it 
would be a long time before it was full.

"Do not talk of it;" said my virtuous landlady, "I have no 
patience with the gentlemen who give encouragement to such 
wicked wretches; starving is too good for them."

 I, who knew so well what starving was, thought this was 
almost too cruel a sentence for any crime; and begged to know 
who the wretches were she spoke of.

I was answered with all imaginable plainness, and felt, that 
coarse as the name was, I had too good a right to it, and 
therefore was enough concerned in the conversation, to enquire 
what gave my landlady's virtue such offence. I then first 
heard of this blessed charity, I made all necessary enquiries 
about it; and could scarcely contain the joy I felt, at the 
smallest hopes of being one of the objects that should be 
relieved by it.

Sorrow had robbed me of many night's rest: joy had a good 
title to a tribute I had so seldom paid it: I could not shut 
my eyes that night, and the next morning, as soon as I thought 
the secretary's office would be open, I went thither, not 
without fears that my child would be a bar to my admission, 
for I had heard of no provision being made for children.

My good fortune was without allay (by the means of meeting 
with you there, my good lady), I was not only accepted, but 
was told I might come the next day but one after, and my child 
should be taken care of.

To form an adequate notion of the rapture I felt, a person 
should have been reduced to the same excess of misery: my soul 
overflowed with gratitude, and my countenance shone with joy. 
It is true I found I must part with my child, but then I could 
have no doubt but he would be far better taken care of, than I 
could ever expect he should be while he depended on me. For 
his sake, I could part with him, and should find a constant 
consolation for the loss of him, in thinking how well he would 
be educated and provided for.

The satisfaction of my heart was so visible, that at my return 
home, my landlady enquired what had made so great an 
alteration in me, for she had before often taken notice of my 
melancholy: and used to tell me she wondered what could make 
one so young, and so pretty, look so dismal. I once told her 
very frankly, that being so young, and so pretty, were the 
very things that made me so; but this I found was a riddle to 
her, which I did not choose to explain; nor did I now think 
proper to acquaint her with the real reason for the alteration 
she observed: but informed her, that within two days I was to 
go to a good place, which I had obtained that morning.

I wrote a letter to my sister, acquainting her where I had 
applied for an asylum and of the success my application had 
met with; and added, that a course of regularity would so far 
wash out the infamy from my reputation, that her husband might 
in time, suffer me to see her; which would always be necessary 
to my happiness, but could never contribute to it, till she 
was at liberty to act in that respect, according to the 
dictates of her own heart, without the least chance of giving 
offence to the man on whom her happiness then depended.

This letter I gave to my landlady, the morning I left the 
house, desiring her to deliver it to the young woman who used 
to come from my sister, the next time she called there; and 
then I delivered my child where I was ordered, which I confess 
cost me many tears; for the tenderness of the mother, got the 
better of true maternal love, which should have made me 
rejoice in this separation: that severe pang over, I came 
hither, and was received with a degree of humanity beyond my 
expectation. I expected relief, but I found from this good 
matron tenderness and pity, of which I was the only object: 
but a very short time increased the society, and rendered her 
humanity the more extensive.

Thus you see, my dear Madam, in compliance with your desires, 
I have exposed all my crimes and follies, and given a strong 
proof, how much evil one bad action draws along with it; nor 
was I sensible of my wickedness, when I applied to be received 
into this place: I sought it as a refuge from distress and 
misery, my heart grieved, but did not repent till I came 
hither, where I was shown my sins in their black colours, 
awakened to repentance, by a sense of guilt, and was taught to 
apply for pardon to him who came on earth to save sinners.

Having thus, my dear Madam, gone through the narrative of that 
unfortunate life, which you was the blessed means of 
preserving from utter ruin and destruction; I shall, as you 
requested me, proceed to mention some few circumstances of 
other unfortunate females, who have been rescued from 
destruction, by timely application to this blessed place, with 
such reflections and observations thereon, as you were pleased 
to flatter me I was so capable of, the merit of which if any 
there are to be found in them, I am in a great measure 
indebted to the worthy gentlemen who at your request, so 
frequently condescends to converse with me on the subject.

Since I had the good fortune of being placed here by your 
means, my dear Madam, many are the numbers which have been 
reclaimed, by being admitted; a great part of which do not 
appear to deserve, or to have been ranked amongst veteran or 
incorrigible sinners.

It is true, many of them have not had the unspeakable 
advantages of education, the tender care of parents, nor the 
wise directions of solicitous friends; but left to be tossed 
on the billows of this world, have been shipwrecked on vice, 
and no wonder! having no friend in their early years to set 
them aright.

Others again have been deluded into the road of ruin, by the 
most flattering, and delusive promises, (as was my own case) 
such as few unsuspecting hearts perhaps could have withstood, 
and when undone have been left by their cruel seducers, a 
miserable prey to infamy and distress, and some so very young, 
that it is impossible to conceive their minds hardened against 
good impressions. Indeed I may with truth say the most part of 
those who have been taken in here, have shown themselves so 
far from being hardened, that they have expressed the utmost 
detestation of their way of life, and some with such tender 
and affecting sentiments, as would do no discredit to the most 
rigid virtue.

But alas! wretched and ruined, introduced to shame and sorrow, 
reputation and virtue lost, cast off and abandoned by all, 
whither could they fly, or where obtain relief? Perhaps too, 
(as was also my own case) their anguish and misfortune have 
been aggravated, by the necessity of supporting a helpless 
infant, heir to its mother's infamy and suffering! Oh dreadful 
alternative to the mother, either to see her child, her much 
loved though unfortunate child, perish with hunger and with 
thirst, or to obtain its support by the horror of 
prostitution! Yet to this dire necessity many broken-hearted 
mothers as well as myself, have been reduced, and thus the 
best and most tender parental affection, has reigned in the 
poor woman's breast, while the poor afflicted wretch has been 
compelled to a way of life most detestable and shocking to 
her.

You, my dear Madam, would not doubt of the reformation of such 
a one, if an opportunity to reform, and to regain her credit 
in the world could be given her; but to you, and such as you, 
my dear Madam, it is only given to think thus generously of 
the unfortunate of your own sex. Those of the most rigid and 
the most obdurate kind, were they to behold a poor harmless 
animal, fallen into distress and suffering in misery, and were 
able to reach out their hand, and to help it, would I am sure 
have so much compassion, as not to suffer themselves to pass 
by it unregarding. How much more docs it behove them then, to 
reach out their hands to the relief of the unfortunate part of 
their own sex, when in their power, and if fallen into the pit 
of extreme distress, without any hand to relieve, with but few 
hearts to compassionate, and if unrelieved speedily perish in 
the utmost misery, and breath out perhaps from polluted 
bodies, more polluted souls, into a world of utter and 
everlasting woe; when by a timely interference of such 
benevolent persons as yourself, Madam, they would be preserved 
from those scenes of horror! To you who have happily 
persevered in the pleasing paths of virtue, you can best tell, 
the comforts arising from so delightful a conduct, and may 
easily guess the miseries of a different state.

You who have known the fatal pleadings of passion, can more 
easily pity them whom those pleadings have seduced and 
destroyed.

And you who are possessed of all the sweetnesses and 
delicacies of a tender mind, and a happier state, can more 
easily guess the extreme misery which must arise to a female 
heart, from the foulness and horror of promiscuous 
prostitution, and surely will on these accounts, be ready to 
reach out your pitying hand, to save from distress, such of 
your own sex, whenever hereafter a favourable opportunity may 
offer, and while those who are happily married, feel the soft 
yearnings of the mother for her child that was suckled at her 
breast, or glow with the tender warmth of a sister's love, and 
the generous affection of a beloved friend and companion: 
think of the many unhappy mothers who are weeping for their 
lost daughters, some of which may be lost beyond all 
possibility of hope:--think of the joy you yourselves would 
feel, on the recovery of a child or a friend, thus saved from 
destruction, by the benevolent hand of commiseration. Some 
here are, who by the base and treacherous arts of merciless 
seducers, were overcome by every unlawful method, by vows, by 
promises, and by oaths won their unsuspecting honest gentle 
hearts, unpractised and estranged by guile! Won and abandoned 
them to sore destruction.

Let me not omit giving you, Madam, an account of a most 
amiable young creature, just in her sixteenth year, who was 
admitted into this house some time ago. Her conduct was humble 
and blameless, such as became and denoted the penitent. After 
her admission, she had the happiness to be reconciled to a 
mother, who had felt the severest sorrow for her misconduct, 
who affectionately loved, and was beloved by her child. Not 
long since she was seized with a mortal disease, which she 
bore with cheerfulness, fortitude, and resignation. When she 
perceived the hour of death approaching, she earnestly desired 
to see her widowed parent, and to take her last farewell. As 
soon as it was possible, the afflicted mother came: the soul 
of the daughter seemed to revive at the voice of her parent. 
The interview was pathetic and affecting: none present could 
refrain from tears. But it was scarcely passed, scarce had the 
tender parent pressed the cold and trembling lips of her 
child, before the fluttering soul quitted its earthly 
habitation; as if it had only stayed to pay this tribute, and 
to perform this last office of filial duty and love.

Parental affection then, and Christian joy strove with each 
other in the mother's breast. For a while she spoke not: she 
could not speak. Tears at length burst forth; she wept: she 
could not but weep for her daughter once lost, but now doubly 
precious to her, by having been found, and restored to 
obedience and virtue. She could not but weep for her only 
daughter, thus early cut off from her, when she had formed 
pleasing views of their happiness and comfort together. "Yet 
let me not weep," said the parent; "rather let me rejoice, and 
bless the goodness of God! Had my child perished in her state 
of sin, had she been cut off amidst prostitution, disease and 
misery, what could have supported my soul? Now by the 
blessings of this heavenly charity, I have seen her die in 
such a manner, that I cannot doubt her happiness with God. I 
will not weep for thee, therefore my child, my dearest child! 
Blessed, for ever blessed be God, who has saved thee from 
destruction, and reached out his merciful hand to rescue thee 
from woe everlasting! Blessed, for ever blessed be those, into 
whose hearts he put it to open the doors of this house of 
repentance: may those our benefactors forever be blessed: and 
may their good hearts be refreshed with the knowledge of many, 
many daughters dying true penitents like mine: may they live 
to have the constant and fervent prayers of many, many parents 
made happy like me!" It is impossible for me to add anything 
to this interesting relation, (which I received from our 
worthy chaplain,) but again repeating my wishes, that the 
ladies in general would according to their abilities, 
encourage this laudable, this charitable institution, which is 
daily the production of so much real good.

Some few of those who are now in the House, were abandoned by 
the cruel hand of obdurate parents on the commission of the 
first offence, though drawn thereto by designing artifice, and 
under the most faithful promise of marriage, one in 
particular, deserted in the hour of distress, by the father 
who begat her, (her mother being dead.) His obdurate heart 
would not again receive her to his home, though pressed 
thereto by a near kinsman: in this situation she had no 
alternative, she fled her native county, she came to town in 
hopes that some relation or other would receive her, and 
endeavour to fix her in servitude. Obdurate relations, 
obdurate friends; none would acknowledge her, none would 
succour, none would recommend her: in this situation what was 
to be done? She could not starve! She became too easy a prey 
to prostitution, whilst she happily was relieved by the open, 
the charitable benefactors of this asylum.

What would that relation have merited, whose liberality of 
mind overlooking little delicacies, would have had the 
generosity to have rescued such a female from the oppression 
of an unnatural father! From prostitution! From the inevitable 
hand of destruction! Had not his doors been open for her 
reception. What would that relation have deserved, who by 
patronising this child of misfortune, had placed her in a 
reputable service, or perhaps got her reputably, if not 
elegantly, at least honourably married; no doubt in such a 
case, an amiable woman, with her mind as yet untainted with a 
continuance in vice, would have proved a good wife, a tender 
mother, and a worthy member of society.

I have, my dear Madam, I fear, dwelt much too long on this 
subject, and must therefore beg leave to draw this long 
epistle to a conclusion.

It remains only, that I return you, my dear Madam, my most 
grateful thanks for every good your kind notice has introduced 
me to in this place, and for every good it may be productive 
of in my future life: and with a heart replete with the utmost 
gratitude. I conclude myself, Madam,

Your most obedient, 
	and grateful humble servant. 
	M.S.

THE END.



Notes.
1. Pottle: a half-gallon.
2. Pantables: dignity.
3. Vails: perquisites of employment.
4. Finifies: adorns.
5. Her ways are moveable, &c.: Proverbs. 5:6.
6. Yellow boys: gold coins.
7. Whoremongers, &c: Hebrews 13:4.
8. Dear-joy: an Irishman.
9. Choused: swindled.
10. Tom-turd man: a man who emptied privies and cesspits, and 
carried away the excrement.
11. Sennight: a week.
12. Black man: a man with black hair, not black skin.
13. Tyburn-top: a wig with the front combed over the eyes.
14. Bunter: a rag-picker.
15. Purl: a mixture of hot beer, gin and sugar.
16. Capillaire: sugar syrup flavoured with maidenhair fern.
17. O finis, &c.: "God is without beginning or end; he is the 
beginning and end of all things." Robert Clarke, Christiados, 
Or The Passion Of Our Lord And Saviour, Book 17.
18. Bulks: platforms outside shops, where goods were displayed 
during the day, but used as sleeping places by the homeless at 
night .
19. Il vero est, &c.: "I have found out the way by which a 
young man may be enabled to learn the dispositions and manners 
of courtesans, so that by knowing them betimes, he may detest 
them ever after."
20. Ton: the fashionable world.
21. Capuchin: a hooded cloak.
22. A certain premier: Charles James Fox, who married the 
famous courtesan Elizabeth Armistead.
23. Avanturier de dames: ladies' man.
24. Filles de joye: prostitutes.
25. Gusto: taste.
26. Trollopee: a loose gown.
27. Bona roba: a brazen wench.
28. La bagatelle: trifling.
29. Patter les tetons: fondle the breasts.
30. Diantre, quel fracas pour une maison si bien regl�e: "The 
deuce! What a fracas in such a well-run house!"
31. In puris naturalibus: stark naked.
32. Tetons pastiches: falsies.
33. A la sourdine: secretly.
34. Qui pouvait faire une petite bouche auroit un mari: "(she) 
who has a little appetite should have a husband."
35. Est-il possible?: "is it possible?"
36. Qui pouvoit faire une grande bouche auroit deux: "(she) 
who has a big appetite should have two."
37. Embon point: a round belly.
38. Qu'elle croiroit que mr hawkins fut un tres habile 
chirurgien: "that she believed that Mr Hawkins was a very 
competent surgeon."
39. Un petit �cu: a 5 franc coin.
40. Miss Butterfield: accused of poisoning her lover in 1775, 
but acquitted: see 
https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng448.htm.
41. Bourreau: executioner.
42. Cantharides: Spanish fly, a cure for impotence, but 
dangerously toxic if overdosed.
43. The Perreaus: hanged for forgery in 1776; see 
https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng336.htm.
44. Dr. Dodd: hanged for forgery in 1777; see 
https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng343.htm.
45. Il m'a rat�: "he disappointed me."
46. In medio tutissimus: "in the middle way, you are safest." 
Ovid, Metamorphoses 2.137.
47. Magnum bonums: double sized wine bottles.
48. Grizettes: low-class girls.
49. Secundum artem: by the principles of their art.
50. Tout ensemble: completely.
51. Elle s'abandonne tout a-fait: "she abandons herself 
completely."
52. Mr Hackman: Hackman murdered Miss Reay and was hanged in 
1779. See https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng355.htm.
53. Jetty: black.
54. Selon la mode du jour: "according to the current fashion."
55. Plumb: �100,000.
56. Caput Mortuum: worthless remains.
57. Crummy: attractively plump.
58. Latitats: court summonses for debt.
59. Groats: a payment of fourpence a day made to imprisoned 
debtors.
60. Agr�ments: agreeable traits.
61. Aretino: pseudonymus artist who produced a book of 
engravings of sexual positions.
62. Hauts rem�des.: the most powerful medicines.
63. Harris's List: a guide to London's prostitutes produced 
annually from 1757 to 1795. See 
https://www.exclassics.com/harris/listintr.htm.
64. Femmes moiti� entretenues,: half-kept women.
65. Caro sposo: dear husband.
66. Lex talionis: an eye for an eye, &c.
67. Sanctum sanctorum: Holy of holies.
68. Brightelmstone: Brighton.
69. Bijoux indiscrets: Sex toys.
70. Sans faire attention &c.: "without reference to what has 
already happened."
71. Passe-partout: Master key.
72. Son Excellence a Quatorze.: His Excellency of Fourteen.
73. Propria persona,: his own person.
74. On commence par �tre Dupe, et l'on finit par �tre Fripon: 
"We start by being dupes, and end by being knaves." Not by La 
Fontaine, but Antoinette du Ligier de la Garde, Madame 
Deshouli�res.
75. Beaux Garcons: fine boys i.e. gigolos.
76. passe-paroles: subjects of conversation
77. Ponto: The ace of hearts or diamonds, if that suit is 
trumps.
78. Equivoque: pun or play on words.
79. Pintle: penis.
80. God of the Gardens: Priapus, God of Fertility, whose 
statue adorned Roman gardens. He is depicted with an enormous 
penis.
81. Si c'etoit comme cela -- a la bonheur. "If it's like that 
-- I'm happy."
82. Jeu de mot: pun or play on words.
83. Argentum: Money.
84. Festino: Festival.
85. Tambour battant, meche allum�e: Drums beating and matches 
lit, i.e. fully ready for battle.
86. Cordwainer: Leatherworker or shoemaker
87. Bal d'Amour: Love Ball.
88. Rouleau,: A roll of gold coins.
89. Que de baiser trop fut tres pernicieux a la sant�: "That 
too much lovemaking was very injurious to the health."
90. Spankers: Gold coins.
91. Furor Uterinus: Nymphomania.
92. Tourbillion: a whirlwind.
93. The Diaboliad: a satire on Simon Luttrell, Lord Irnham,  
and other statesmen, by William Combe, 1777. see 
https://archive.org/details/diaboliadapoemd00combgoog
94. Factor: merchant.
95. Au dernier gout: in the height of fashion.
96. Assez badinant: frivolous enough.
97. Bagatelle donc, foutaise: Then it's a trifle, unimportant.
98. Torpedo: or Electric Eel by "Adam Strong" (James Perry), 
1777. https://books.google.ie/books?id=RwoVAAAAQAAJ
99. Man�ge a la St. George: horse-riding skills.
100. Femmes Couvertes: covered or confined women.
101. Pucelage : maidenhead.
102. Ma foy, &c: "My faith, ladies, you are each as pretty as 
the other! I cannot choose, I will have to take you in turns."
103. Semper eadem: always the same.
104. Porte cochere,: courtyard archway.
105. En morpion,: like a crab louse.
106. Cicisbeo: kept gigolo.
107. Grossi�ret�: coarseness of language.
108. La mani�re fa�onner: The way of doing it.
109. Beaux esprits: bright sparks.
110. Petite soupes,: little suppers.
111. Quid non mortalia, &c.: "To what dost thou not compel 
mortal hearts, O accursed hunger for gold!" Virgil, �neid, Bk. 
3 l. 56-57.
112. Toujours pr�t.: Always ready.
113. Bunter,: ragpicker.
114. Golden shower: i.e. a shower of gold coins.
115. A revoir son enemi,: to meet his enemy again.
116. Chamade: a special drumbeat signalling an intent to come 
to terms.
117. Probatum est: It is proven.
118. Podosophy: the science of the feet.
119. Faggot: a stick of wood.
120. Atlasses: fine silks.
121. Rem in re: literally, "the thing in the thing" i.e. full 
sexual penetration.
122. Mump: swindle.
123. Diablesse: she-devil.
124. Country put: a yokel.
125. Ecce signum,: behold the sign.
126. Solamen miseris &c.: "It is a comfort to have companions 
in suffering." Ovid, Metamorphoses xv. 47.
127. Purputeos spargam, &c.: "Let me strew bright blossoms, 
and these gifts at least let me lavish on my girl's soul." 
Virgil, �neid. 6. 856.
128. The Dispensary: A satirical poem on the medical 
profession, by Samuel Garth, 1699.
129. Ut supra: As above.
130. Hans-en-kelder: Dutch, "An unborn child."
131. Noverint Universi: "Let all men know," legalese jargon 
used at the beginning of a formal declaration.
132. Mundus mulieris: women's finery.
133. Dryden: sic--actually from A Letter from Artemisia in 
Town to Chloe in the Country by the Earl of Rochester.
134. Gossips: godparents.
135. Bolus: A lump of medicine formed into the shape of a 
ball, much larger than a normal pill.
136. Il diavolo e venuto questa notte: The devil came this 
night.
137. Chevalier de l'Industrie: a swindling imposter.
138. Tent: a sweet weak red Spanish wine.
139. Audaces fortuna juvat.: fortune favours the brave.
140. Credo pudicatiam, &c.: "I believe that chastity lingered 
long on earth in Saturn�s reign." Juvenal, Satires VI, l 1-2.
141. Non omnis moriar, &c.: "Not all of me shall die; and a 
great part of me will escape the grave." -- Horace, Odes 
Bk.III Ode 30 l.5-6.
142. Tu quoque, &c.: "You to whom nature has denied the 
sensation of love, should counterfeit the sweet bliss with 
lying sounds. Unhappy the woman for whom that place, whereof 
man and woman ought to have joy alike, is dull and unfeeling. 
Ah, for shame!" Ovid, The Art of Love, Bk. III l.797-803--Ed.
143. Contra alius nullam, &c.: "Some will only touch women who 
frequent stinking brothels. Seeing someone he knew leaving a 
brothel, Cato's noble words were: 'Your deeds are virtuous, 
since it's better, when shameful lust swells youngsters' 
veins, for them to wander down here, and not pound other men's 
wives.'" -- Horace, Satires, Bk. I., Sat. 2, l.30-35 Ed.
144. Peter Paragraph: his real name was George Faulkner.
145. My son, &c.: Proverbs Ch. 5 v. 1-5.
146. Coadjutors: associates.
147. Entire: a kind of beer.
148. Rotation Office: a court which was kept permanently in 
session for remanding prisoners.
149. Bugles: glass jewellery.
150. Custos morum: custodian of morals.
151. Contra bonas mores: against good morals.
152. Premium prostitutionis: the price of prostitution.
153. Tirewoman: a dressmaker.
154. Battledore: a badminton bat
155. Rowe: sic -- actually Edmund Waller, The Maid's Tragedy, 
Act V.
156. �claircissement: a frank statement of the situation.
157. Parament: decorated robe.
158. Matadors: the top 3 trumps in the game of ombre.
159. Sansprendres: to play with the hand as dealt, without 
drawing any new cards, thereby increasing the difficulty and 
scoring value of the game.
160. Hotel-garni: furnished lodgings.
161. Tricheurs cheats.
162. Jets-d'eau: fountains
163. Air-riant: an elegant air.
164. Ruelle: private apartments, including her bedroom.
165. Crim. con.: "Criminal conversation" i.e. adultery.
166. Andouille: a sausage.
167. L'ange Anglaise: the English Angel.
168. Presidents � mortier: judges of the Supreme Court.
169. Guet: patrol of street watchmen.
170. Pet-en-l'air: a jacket which fits closely around the 
waist, and has flounces which hang loosely to just below the 
hips.
171. Prox�n�tes: go-betweens.
172. Maitre d'h�tel: a butler.
173. Carrosse coup�: a two-seated, four-wheeled coach.
174. Tonseur: a hairdresser.
175. Les morceaux les plus friads: the daintiest morsels.
176. � la fraiche.: In the cool of the evening.
177. Congee: bow or curtsy made when leaving someone.
178. Cuts: woodcut illustrations.

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