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When they were gone, the affectionate tender Bridegroom could by no Means be perswaded by any Gentlemen, his Neighbours, to hunt with ’em, or to take any Divertisement, tho’ but for half a Day; esteeming it the highest Unkindness imaginable to leave his Lady: Not that she could be alone neither in his Absence; for she never wanted the Visits of all the Ladies round about, and those of the best Quality; who were equally charm’d with her Sweetness of Temper, as the Men were with her outward Beauties. But in a Month’s time, or thereabout, observing that he was continually solicited and courted to some Sport or Pastime with those Gentlemen of his Neighbourhood, she was forc’d to do her self the Violence to beg of him that he would divert himself with ’em, as before their Marriage he us’d: And she had so good Success, that he did allow himself two Days in the Week to hunt: In one of which, coming Home about five a Clock, and not finding his Lady below Stairs, he went directly up to her Chamber, where he saw her leaning her Head on her Hand, and her Handkerchief all bath’d in Tears. At this Sight he was strangely amaz’d and concern’d. Madam, (cry’d he in an unusual Tone) what means such Postures as these? Tell me! For I must know the Occasion. Surpriz’d, and trembling at this his unwonted Manner of saluting her, she started up, and then, falling on her Knees, she wept out, O thou dear Author and Lord of all my Joys on Earth! Look not, I beseech you, so wildly, nor speak terribly to me! Thou Center of all my Happiness below, (return’d he) rise, and make me acquainted with the dreadful Occasion of this afflicting and tormenting Sight! All you shall know, (she reply’d) dearest of human Blessings! But sit, and change your Looks; then I can speak. Speak then, my Life, (said he) but tell me all; all I must know. Is there a Thought about my Soul that you shall not partake? I’m sure there is not; (he reply’d) say on then. You know, Sir, (she return’d) that I have left my Parents now three Years, or thereabouts, and know not whether they are living or dead: I was reflecting, therefore, on the Troubles which my undutiful and long Absence may have caus’d them; for poor and mean as they may be, they well instructed me in all good Things; and I would once more, by your dear Permission, see them, and beg their Pardon for my Fault; for they are my Parents still, if living, Sir, though (unhappily) not worth your Regard. How! (cry’d he) can that Pair who gave my Dearest Birth, want my Regard, or ought I can do for them? No! thou shalt see them, and so will I: But tell me, Peregrina, is this the only Cause of your Discomposure? So may I still be bless’d in your dear Love, (she reply’d) as this is Truth, and all the Cause. When shall we see them, then? (he ask’d). We see them, (cry’d she) O! your Goodness descends too much; and you confound me with your unmerited and unexpected Kindness. ’Tis I alone that have offended, and I alone am fit to see them. That must not be; (return’d her affectionate Husband) no, we’ll both go together; and if they want, either provide for them there, or take them hither with us. Your Education shews their Principles, and ’tis no Shame to own virtuous Relations. Come, dry thy dear lamenting Eyes; the Beginning of the next Week we’ll set forwards. Was ever Disobedience so rewarded with such a Husband? (said she) those Tears have wash’d that childish Guilt away; and there is no Reward above thy Virtue.

In a few Days, Monday began the Date of their Journey to the West of England; and in five or six Days more, by the Help of a Coach and Six, they got to Cornwall; where, in a little Town, of little Accommodation, they were oblig’d to take up their Lodgings the first Night. In the Morning (said his Lady to him) My Dear, about a Mile and a half hence lives one Sir Francis Fairname and his Lady, if yet they be living, who have a very fine House, and worth your seeing; I beg of you therefore, that you will be so kind to your self as to walk thither, and dine with the old Gentleman; for that you must, if you see him; whilst I stay here, and send to my Father and Mother, if to be found, and prepare them to receive you at your Return. I must not have no Denial; (added she) for if you refuse this Favour, all my Designs are lost. – Make Haste, my Life; ’tis now eleven a Clock; In your Absence I’ll dress, to try if Change of Cloaths can hide me from them. This was so small a Request, that he did not stay to reply to’t, but presently left her, and got thither in less than half an Hour, attended only by one Footman. He was very kindly and respectfully receiv’d by the old Gentleman, who had certainly been a very beautiful Person in his Youth; and Sir Lucius, fixing his Eyes upon his Face, could hardly remove ’em, being very pleasantly and surprisingly entertain’d with some Lines that he observ’d in it. But immediately recollecting himself, he told him, that having heard how fine a Seat that was, his Curiosity led him to beg the Favour that he might see it. The worthy old Knight return’d, that his House and all the Accommodations in it were at his Service: So inviting him in, he satisfy’d his pretended Curiosity; and after he had shewn all that was worthy the Sight of a Stranger, in the House, he led him into his Gardens, which furnish’d Sir Lucius with new Matter of Admiration; whence the old Knight brought him into the Parlour, telling him, that ’twas his Custom to suffer no Stranger to return, till he had either din’d or supp’d with him, according as the Hour of the Day or Night presented.

’Twas here the affectionate Husband was strangely surpriz’d at the Sight of a Picture, which so nearly counterfeited the Beauties of his dear-lov’d Lady, that he stood like an Image himself, gazing and varying; the Colours of his Face agitating by the Diversity of his Thoughts; which Sir Francis perceiving, ask’d him, What it was that so visibly concern’d him? To which he reply’d, That indeed he was concern’d, but with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, since he had never seen any Thing more beautiful than that Picture, unless it were a Lady for whom he had the most sincere Affection imaginable, and whom it did very nearly represent; and then enquir’d for whom that was drawn? Sir Francis answer’d him, ’Twas design’d for one who was, I dare not say who is, my Daughter; and the other two were drawn for her younger Sisters. And see, Sir, (persu’d he) here they come, following their Mother: At which Words Sir Lucius was oblig’d to divorce his Eyes from the charming Shadow, and make his Compliments to them; which were no sooner over than Dinner was serv’d in, where the young Knight eat as heartily as he could, considering he sate just opposite to it, and in Sight of the two Ladies, who were now exactly like his own Wife, though not so very beautiful.

The Table being uncover’d, Sir Lucius desir’d to know why Sir Francis said, He doubted whether the Original of that Picture were yet his Daughter? To which the Mother return’d (big with Sorrow, which was seen in her Tears) That her Husband had spoken but too rightly: For (added she) ’tis now three Years since we have either seen her or heard from her. How, Madam! three Years, (cry’d Sir Lucius) I believe I can shew your Ladiship a dear Acquaintance of mine, so wonderfully like that Picture, that I am almost perswaded she is the very Original; only (pardon me, Madam) she tells me her Parents are of mean Birth and Fortune. Dear Sir, (cry’d the tender Mother) Is she in this Country? She is not two Miles hence, reply’d Sir Lucius. By all Things most dear to you, Sir, (said the Lady) let us be so happy as to see her, and that with all convenient Expedition! for it will be a Happiness to see any Creature, the only Like my dearest Arabella. Arabella, Madam! alas! No, Madam, her Name is Peregrina. No Matter for Names, Sir, (cry’d the Lady) I want the Sight of the dear Creature. Sir, (added the worthy old Knight) I can assure you it will be an eternal Obligation to us; or, if you please, we will wait on you to her. By no Means, Sir, (return’d Sir Lucius) I will repeat my Trouble to you with her, in an Hour at farthest. We shall desire the Continuance of such Trouble as long as we live, reply’d Sir Francis. So, without farther Ceremony, Sir Lucius left ’em and return’d to his Lady, whom he found ready dress’d, as he wish’d he might. Madam, (said he) where are your Father and Mother? I know not, yet, my Dear, she reply’d. Well, (return’d he) we will expect ’em, or send for ’em hither at Night; in the mean Time I have engag’d to bring you with me to Sir Francis Fairname and his Lady, with all imaginable Expedition. So immediately, as soon as Coach and Six and Equipage was ready, he hurry’d her away with him to Sir Francis, whom they found walking with his Lady and two Daughters in the outward Court, impatiently expecting their Coming. The Boot of the Coach (for that was the Fashion in those Days) was presently let down, and Sir Lucius led his Lady forwards to them; who coming within three or four Paces of the good old Knight, his Lady fell on her Knees, and begg’d their Pardon and Blessing. Her affectionate Father answer’d ’em with Tears from his Eyes; but the good ancient Lady was so overcome with Joy, that she fell into a Swoon, and had like to have been accompany’d by her Daughter, who fell upon her Knees by her, and with her Shrieks recall’d her, when she strait cry’d out, My Daughter, my Daughter’s come again! my Arabella alive! Ay, my dear offended Mother! with all the Duty and Penitence that Humanity is capable of, return’d the Lady Lovewell. Her Sisters then express’d their Love in Tears, Embraces, and Kisses, while her dear Husband begg’d a Blessing of her Parents, who were very pleasantly surpriz’d, to know that their Daughter was so happily marry’d, and to a Gentleman of such an Estate and Quality as Sir Lucius seem’d to be: ’Twas late that Night e’er they went to Bed at Sir Francis’s. The next Day, after they had all pretty well eas’d themselves of their Passions, Sir Francis told his Son-in-Law, that as he had three Daughters, so he had 3000l. a Year, and he would divide it equally among ’em; but for Joy of the Recovery of his eldest Daughter, and her fortunate Match with so worthy a Gentleman as Sir Lucius, who had given him an Account of his Estate and Quality, he promis’d him ten thousand Pounds in ready Money besides; whereas the other young Ladies were to have but five thousand a Piece, besides their Dividend of the Estate. And now, (said he) Daughter, the Cause of your Retreat from us, old Sir Robert Richland, has been dead these three Months, on such a Day. How, Sir, (cry’d she) on such a Day! that was the very Day on which I was so happy as to be marry’d to my dear Sir Lucius.

She then gave her Father, and Mother, and Sisters, a Relation of all that had happen’d to her since her Absence from her dear Parents, who were extremely pleas’d with the Account of Sir Christian and his Lady’s Hospitality and Kindness to her; and in less than a Fortnight after, they took a Journey to Sir Lucius’s, carrying the two other young Ladies along with ’em; and, by the Way, they call’d at Sir Christian’s, where they arriv’d Time enough to be present the next Day at Sir Christian’s Daughter’s Wedding, which they kept there for a whole Fortnight.

FINIS

Notes: Critical and Explanatory:

The Wandering Beauty

p. 451 two Pinners. A pinner is ‘a coif with two long flaps one on each side pinned on and hanging down, and sometimes fastened at the breast.. sometimes applied to the flaps as an adjunct of the coif.’ —N.E.D. cf. Pepys, 18 April, 1664: ‘To Hyde Park.. and my Lady Castlemaine in a coach by herself, in yellow satin and a pinner on.’

THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE; OR,
THE IMPIOUS VOW PUNISH’D

THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE, &c

The Effects of Jealousy have ever been most fatal; and it is certainly one of the most tormenting Passions that an human Soul can be capable of, tho’ it be created by the least Appearances of Reason: The Truth of which this following Story will evince.

Sir Henry Hardyman was a Gentleman of a very large Estate in Somersetshire, of a very generous Temper, hospitable almost to Extravagancy; a plain down-right Dealer, wonderfully good-natur’d, but very passionate: Whose Lady dying, left him only a Son and a Daughter; between whom there were about six Years Difference in their Age. Miles Hardyman (for so the Son was call’d) being the eldest; both of naturally virtuous Inclinations, which were carefully improv’d by a generous and pious Education. Miles was a very tall, large, and well-proportion’d Person at Two and Twenty; brave and active, and seem’d to be born for War, tho’ he had a Heart as tender and capable of receiving the Impressions of Love as any of our Sex. He had been bred for some Years at the University; where, among other Things, he learn’d to fence; in which, however, he was mightily improv’d in a Twelvemonth’s Time that he stay’d here in Town. Lucretia, his Sister, was beautiful enough, her Father designing to give ten thousand Pounds with her on Marriage; but (which is above all) she was incomparably good-humour’d.

At his Return to his Father in the Country, young Hardyman found Madam Diana Constance, a most beautiful Lady, with his Sister, at that Time about 16 Years old; somewhat tall of her Age, of happy and virtuous Education, of an indifferent Fortune, not exceeding two thousand Pounds, which was no Way answerable to the Expectations he had after his Father’s Death; but it was impossible he should not love her, she was so prodigiously charming both in her inward and outward Excellencies; especially since he had the Opportunity of conversing with her at his Father’s for above a Month. ’Tis true, he had seen her before, but it was then five Years since. Love her he did then, and that most passionately; nor was she insensible or ungrateful. But our young Lovers had not Discretion enough to conceal the Symptoms of their Passion, which too visibly and frequently sally’d out at their Eyes before the old Gentleman; which made him prudently, as he thought, and timely enough, offer his Daughter Lucretia the Liberty of taking a small Journey with Diana to her House, which was not above 20 Miles thence, where that young Lady’s Aunt govern’d in her Absence; for Diana had no other Relation, so near as she was, living in England, her only Brother Lewis having been in Italy and France ever since her Father dy’d, which was then near five Years past.

Lucretia, over-joy’d at her Father’s pretended Kindness, propos’d it to the young Lady, her Friend, who was very fond of the Proposal, hoping that Lucretia’s Brother might bear ’em Company there for some little Time; but old Sir Henry had quite different Thoughts of the Matter. The third Day, from the first Discourse of it, was assign’d for their Departure. In the mean Time young Hardyman knew not what to think of the Divorce he was going to suffer; for he began to have some Apprehensions that the old Knight was sensible, and displeas’d, that they lov’d each other: Not but that the Family of the Constances was as ancient and honourable as that of Hardymans, and was once endow’d with as plentiful an Estate, tho’ now young Lewis Constance had not above 1200l. a Year. (O the unkind Distance that Money makes, even between Friends!)

Old ’Squire Constance was a very worthy Gentleman, and Sir Henry had a particular Friendship for him; but (perhaps) that dy’d with him, and only a neighbourly Kindness, or something more than an ordinary Respect, surviv’d to his Posterity. The Day came that was to carry ’em to the young Lady Constance’s, and her Lover was preparing to attend ’em, when the old Gentleman ask’d him, What he meant by that Preparation? And whether he design’d to leave him alone? Or if he could think ’twere dutifully or decently done? To which the Son reply’d, That his Care of his Sister, and his Respect to a young Lady, in a Manner a Stranger to him, had misled his Thoughts from that Duty and Regard he ought to have pay’d to his Father, which he hop’d and begg’d he would pardon, tho’ he design’d only just to have seen her safe there, and to have return’d at Night. With this the old Gentleman seem’d pacify’d for the present; and he bid him go take Leave of the Lady; which he did with a great deal of Concern, telling her, that he should be most miserable ’till he had the Happiness of seeing her again; however, he begg’d she would converse with him by Letters, which might (happily) a little palliate his Misfortune in her Absence: Adding, that he would be eternally hers, and none but hers. To which she made as kind a Return as he could wish; letting him know, that she desired to live no longer than she was assur’d that she was belov’d by him. Then taking as solemn a Farewel of her as if he had never been to see her more, after he had given his Sister a parting Kiss or two, he led ’em down to his Father, who saw ’em mounted, and attended by two of his Servants. After which he walked with ’em about a Mile from the House, where he and young Hardyman left ’em to persue their Journey.

In their Return to the House, said Sir Henry, I find, Son, I have hitherto mistaken your Inclinations: I thought they had altogether prompted you to great and manly Actions and Attempts; but, to my Sorrow, I now find my Error. How, I beseech you, Sir? (ask’d the Son.) You are guilty of a foolish lazy Passion, (reply’d the Father) you are in Love, Miles; in Love with one who can no Way advance your Fortune, Family, nor Fame. ’Tis true, she has Beauty, and o’my Conscience she is virtuous too; but will Beauty and Virtue, with a small Portion of 2000l. answer to the Estate of near 4000l. a Year, which you must inherit if you survive me? Beauty and Virtue, Sir, (return’d young Hardyman) with the Addition of good Humour and Education, is a Dowry that may merit a Crown. Notion! Stuff! All Stuff (cry’d the old Knight) Money is Beauty, Virtue, good Humour, Education, Reputation, and high Birth. Thank Heaven, Sir, (said Miles) you don’t live as if you believ’d your own Doctrine; you part with your Money very freely in your House-keeping, and I am happy to see it. ’Tis that I value it for; (reply’d the Father) I would therefore have thee, my Son, add to what in all Likelihood will be thine, so considerably, by Marriage, that thou mayst better deserve the Character of Hospitable Hardyman than thy Father Sir Henry. – Come, Miles, (return’d he) thou shalt think no more on her. I can’t avoid it, Sir, (said t’other.) Well, well, think of her you may, (said Sir Henry) but not as for a Wife; no, if you mean to continue in your Father’s Love, be not in Love with Madam Diana, nor with any of her Nymphs, tho’ never so fair or so chast – unless they have got Store of Money, Store of Money, Miles. Come, come in, we’ll take a Game at Chess before Dinner, if we can. I obey you, Sir, (return’d the Son) but if I win, I shall have the Liberty to love the Lady, I hope. I made no such Promise, (said the Knight) no, no Love without my Leave; but if you give me Checque-Mate, you shall have my Bay Gelding, and I would not take 50 Broad Pieces for him. I’ll do my best, Sir, to deserve him, (said the young Gentleman.) ’Tis a mettl’d and fiery Beast (said Sir Henry.) They began their Game then, and had made about six Moves apiece before Dinner, which was serv’d up near four Hours after they sate down to play. It happen’d they had no Company din’d with ’em that Day; so they made a hasty Meal, and fell again to their former Dispute, which held ’em near six Hours longer; when, either the Knight’s Inadvertency, or the young Gentleman’s Skill and Application, gave him the Victory and Reward.

The next Day they hunted; the Day following, the House was fill’d with Friends, and Strangers; who came with ’em; all which were certain of a hearty Welcome e’er they return’d. Other Days other Company came in, as Neighbours; and none of all that made their Visits, could be dismiss’d under three or four Days at soonest.

Thus they past the Hours away for about six Weeks; in all which Time our Lover could get but one Opportunity of writing to his adorable, and that was by the Means of a Servant, who came with a Letter from his Sister Lucretia to Sir Henry, and another to him, that held one inclos’d to him from the beautiful Diana; the Words, as perfectly as I can remember ’em, were these, or to this Effect:

My Hardyman,

Too Dear! – No, – too much lov’d! – That’s impossible too. How have I enjoy’d my self with your Letters since my Absence from you! In the first, how movingly you lament the unkind Distances of Time and Place that thus divorces you from me! In another, in what tender and prevailing Words your Passion is express’d! In a Third, what invincible Arguments are urg’d to prove the Presence of your Soul to me in the Absence of your Body! A Fourth, how fill’d with just Complaints of a rigorous Father! What Assurances does the Fifth give me of your speedy Journey hither! And the Sixth, (for no less methought I should have receiv’d from you) confirms what you last said to me, That you will ever be mine, and none but mine. – O boundless Blessing!– These (my Life) are the Dreams, which, for six several Nights, have mock’d the real Passion of

Your forgotten Diana.

He read it, smil’d, and kiss’d it, and then proceeded to examine his Sisters, which held a great many Expressions of a tender Affection, and withal gave him Notice, that there was a mighty Spark lately come from Town into those Parts, that made his Court to the young Lady Constance; desiring him therefore to be as sudden in his Visit, if he intended any, as Possibility would permit. This startled and stung him: Wherefore, taking the Opportunity of his Father’s Retirement, to write to the young Lady and his Sister; he dispatch’d a Letter to Lucretia, wherein he thank’d her for her Intelligence and Caution, and promis’d to be with her the next Night at farthest, if alive; and, at the same Time, writ to this Purpose to Diana:

Thou only Blessing for which I wish to live,

How delightfully do you punish my seeming Neglect! I acknowledge I have not sent to you ’till now, but it was because it was utterly impossible, my Father continually keeping so strict a Guard over me himself, that not even Mercury could evade or illude his Vigilance. Alas! my Soul, he is now no Stranger to my Passion for you, which he pretends, at least, is highly offensive to him, for what Reasons I blush to think. But what signifies an Offence to him of so generous a Nature as my Love! I am assured I was born for you, or none other of your fair Sex, though attended with all the Advantages of Birth and Fortune. I will therefore proceed in this Affair, as if we were already united by the outward Ceremonies of the Church, and forsake him and all the World for you, my better Part! Be certain, therefore, that to-Morrow Night, e’er you sleep, you shall see (my Life, my Soul, my All)

Your most sincere, and

Most passionate Lover,

Hardyman.

This, with the Letter to his Sister, he convey’d into the Servant’s Hand that came from ’em, undiscover’d of his Father; who likewise dismiss’d the Messenger with his grave Epistle, full of musty Morals, to the two young gay Ladies. But he had an unlucky Thought, that he was overseen in giving his Son the Opportunity of retiring from him, whilst he was writing to his Daughter and t’other fair Creature, having a Jealousy that young Hardyman might have made Use of that very Article of Time to the same End. This made him very uneasy and restless. On t’other Side, the young Gentleman though he was extreamly satisfy’d with those endearing Expressions of Love which he found in Diana’s Letter, yet he was all on Fire with the Apprehension of a Rival, and the Desire to see him, that he might dispute with him for the glorious Prize.

The next Day, at Four in the Afternoon, they went to Bowls about a Mile off; where, after several Ends, the Knight and his Party lay all nearest about the Jack for the Game, ’till young Hardyman put in a bold Cast, that beat all his Adversaries from the Block, and carry’d two of his Seconds close to it, his own Bowl lying partly upon it, which made them up. Ha! (cry’d a young Gentleman of his Side) bravely done, Miles, thou hast carry’d the Day, and kiss’d the Mistress. I hope I shall before ’tis dark yet, (return’d he.) Sir Henry overhearing him, said, (his Face all glowing red with Passion) How dare you, Sir, express your self so freely in my Hearing? There, (persu’d he, and struck him a Blow on the Ear) I first salute you thus: Do you know where you are, and who I am? Yes, you are my Father, Sir, (reply’d young Hardyman, bowing.) If you see her to Night, (said the passionate Father) resolve to see me no more. By Heaven, and all my Hopes, no more I will, after this Minute, (return’d the Son, being retreated some Distance from him, out of his Hearing.) So taking his Leave of the Company, with the usual Ceremony, he went directly Home, where immediately he order’d his Servant Goodlad to saddle their Horses, whilst he himself went up to his Chamber, and took all the Rings and Jewels that his Mother had left him, and the Money that he had then in his Possession, which altogether amounted to near twelve hundred Pounds; and packing up some Linnen in his Portmanteau, he quickly mounted with his Servant, and made his Way towards the Lady Constance’s.

’Twas near seven a Clock e’er they got within Sight of his Mistress’s, when our Lover perceiv’d a Gentleman and his Servant mounted at some Distance on t’other Side of the House, as coming from London: This unfortunately happen’d to be Lewis Constance, just return’d from his Travels, whom young Hardyman had never seen before, and therefore could not know him at that Time: Observing therefore that they made to the same Place for which he was design’d, he halted a little, taking Covert under a large Elm-Tree, within a hundred Paces of the House, where he had the unlucky Opportunity to see his Mistress and Sister come out; whom Lewis perceiving at the same Time, alighted, and ran eagerly to embrace her, who receiv’d him with Arms expanded, crying, O my Dear, dearest Brother; but that last Word was stifled with Kisses. Do I once more hold thee in my Arms! O come in, and let me give my Joys a Loose! I am surpriz’d, and rave with extream Hapiness! O! thou art all to me that is valuable on Earth! (return’d he.) At these Words she, in a Manner, hal’d him in. This Sight was certainly the greatest Mortification to her Lover that ever Man surviv’d! He presently and positively concluded it could be none but that Rival, of whom his Sister had given him Advice in her Letter. What to do he could by no Means determine; sometimes he was for going in, and affronting him before his Mistress; a second Thought advis’d him to expect his coming out near that Place; upon another Consideration he was going to send him a Challenge, but by whom he knew not, for his Servant was as well known there as himself. At last he resolv’d to ride farther out of the Road, to see for some convenient Retreat that Night, where he might be undiscover’d: Such a Place he found about two Miles thence, at a good substantial Farmer’s, who made him heartily welcome that Night, with the best Beer he had in his Cellar, so that he slept much better than he could have expected his Jealousy would have permitted: But the Morning renew’d and redoubled his Torture: But this jolly Landlord, hugely pleas’d with his good Company the Night past, visited him as he got out of his Bed, which was near two Hours after he wak’d; in which Time he had laid his Design how to proceed, in order to take Satisfaction of this Rival. He suffer’d himself, therefore, to be manag’d by the good Man of the House, who wou’d fain have made a Conquest of him; but he found that the young Gentleman could bear as much in his Head as he could on his Shoulders, which gave Hardyman the Opportunity of keeping a Stowage yet for a good Dinner: After which they fell to bumping it about, ’till the Farmer fell asleep; when young Hardyman retir’d into his Chamber, where, after a Turn or two, he writ as follows to his Mistress’s Brother, whose Name he knew not; and therefore the Billet is not superscrib’d.

SIR,

You have done me an unpardonable Injury; and if you are a Gentleman, as you seem, you will give me Satisfaction within this Hour at the Place whither this Messenger shall lead you. Bring nothing with you but your Sword and your Servant, as I with mine, to take Care of him that falls. – ’Till I see you, I am your Servant, &c.

An Hour before Supper, his kind Host wak’d, and they eat heartily together that Night, but did not drink so plentifully as they had since their first Meeting; young Hardyman telling him, that he was oblig’d to be mounted at the fore-mention’d Morning, in order to persue his Journey; and that, in the mean Time, he desir’d the Favour of him to let one of his Servants carry a Letter from him, to one that was then at the young Lady Constance’s: To which t’other readily agreed. The young Gentleman then made him a Present of a Tobacco-Box, with the Head of King Charles the First on the Lid, and his Arms on the Bottom in Silver; which was very acceptable to him, for he was a great Loyalist, tho’ it was in the Height of Oliver’s Usurpation. About four a-Clock in the Morning, as our jealous Lover had order’d him, one of the Servants came to him for the Letter; with which he receiv’d these Instructions, that he should deliver that Note into the Gentleman’s own Hand, who came to the Lady Constance’s the Night before the last. That he should shew that Gentleman to the Field where young Hardyman, should deliver the Note to the Servant, which was just a Mile from either House; or that he should bring an Answer to the Note from that Gentleman. The Fellow was a good Scholar, tho’ he could neither read nor write. For he learn’d his Lesson perfectly well, and repeated it punctually to Lewis Constance; who was strangely surpriz’d at what he found in the Billet. He ask’d the Messenger if he knew his Name that sent it; or if he were a Gentleman? Nay (Mass, quoth the Fellow) I warrant he’s a Gentleman; for he has given me nine good Shillings here, for coming but hither to you; but for his Name, you may e’en name it as well as I – He has got one to wait a top of him almost as fine as himself, zure. The surpriz’d Traveller jump’d out of his Bed, slipt on his Gown, and call’d up his Servant: Thence he went to his Sister’s Chamber, with whom Lucretia lay: They both happen’d to be awake, and talking, as he came to the Door, which his Sister permitted him to unlock, and ask’d him the Reason of his so early Rising? Who reply’d, That since he could not sleep, he would take the Air a little. But first, Sister (continu’d he) I will refresh my self at your Lips: And now, Madam, (added he to Lucretia) I would beg a Cordial from you. For that (said his Sister) you shall be oblig’d to me this once; saying so, she gently turn’d Lucretia’s Face towards him, and he had his Wish. Ten to one, but he had rather continu’d with Lucretia, than have gone to her Brother, had he known him; for he lov’d her truly and passionately: But being a Man of true Courage and Honour, he took his Leave of ’em, presently dress’d, and tripp’d away with the Messenger, who made more than ordinary Haste, because of his Success, which was rewarded with another piece of Money; and he danc’d Home to the Sound of the Money in his Pocket.