Sure there's no sort of Affliction, or Misery i' this World, but what I've undergone; so many Troubles fall upo' me at once, which overwhelm, and tear me all in pieces. Poverty, and Fears possess my Soul, and I've no ground for hopes.—My poor Girl's fallen into th' Enemies Hands; and I can hear no tale or tidings of her.

What Stranger can that be, who's so mightily full o' Fears, and heavy Complaints?

They said, Periphanes dwelt some∣where hereabouts.

She talks o' me: I fancy she wants Lodgings.

I'd willingly hire a Porter, to shew me either the Man or his House.

Certainly I must know her. I've seen that Face before, but I can't tell where.—Is't she, that I ima∣gine or no?

Bless me! I must ha' seen that Man before now.

Sure enough 'tis the poor Woman of Epidaurus, I had formerly to do with,—

The Case is plain, 'tis he that first enjoy'd me at Epidaurus.

—And there had that Daughter by her, who's now at home wi' me.

What if I go up to him?

I don't well know whether I had best go see if it be she or no.

If it shou'dn't be he, as so many Years make me suspect,—

Length o' time makes me doubt o' the Person, and fills my Head wi' Scruples. For fear it shou'd prove otherwise, I must go cunningly to work.

—Then I must use all a Woman's Shifts.

I'll e'n up to her.

I'll fall into Discourse with him.

Good morrow t' ye, Mistress.

I thank ye, Sir, both for me and mine.

How then, Mistress?

A good day to you, Sir. There's your Com∣pliment return'd, you intrusted me withal.

I don't blame your Fidelity. Or indeed have I any Acquaintance wi' ye?

If I ben't mistaken i' the Person, Sir, I can rub up your memory o' former Acquaintance.

Where did I ever see you?

That's an unreasonable Question.

Why so, Mistress?

Because you'd ha' me put a Gloss upo' your Me∣mory.

You're very sharp.

No wonder for a Woman.

I dad, better and better?—D' ye remember me?

Very well.

In Epidaurus,—

Ah, that Word has brought me to life again.

—In your young days, how I relieved yours and your Mother's Wants.

Are you he, whose Love brought me so much Sorrow?

I am.—How dost thou do?

Very well, and the better to see you so.

Your Hand, my dear.

Take it; and with it, the most sorrowful, and miserable Woman alive.

What makes ye so sad?

My poor Daughter, I had by you,—

What of her?

———Since she's grown up, is lost: Fallen into th' Enemies Hands.

Chear up and be satisfied, I have her at home, safe and sound. As soon as my Servant told me she was taken Prisoner, I immediatly produc'd the Mony, and redeem'd her. He acquitted himself well and wisely i'this bus'ness; tho' he's a damnable Rogue in other things.

Pray let me have a sight of her, if you'd ha'me live.

Ho Canthara! Bid my Daugh∣ter Thelestis come out; for here's her Mother.

Now my Spirits begin to revive.