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YOur continual Bounty so obliges me, that my Inclinations are wholly to serve your Ladiship.
You are not to reckon the Present I make you now for any part of my former Promise; Nor shall I think the Two hundred pound a sufficient Reward for your trouble, if you can prevent this Marriage.
I use all the Skill I have.
I am convinc'd you do, I have some faithful Spies about the Collonel, and they tell me already, the Countess hath declared, That she will never Mar∣ry him; but whilest my old Man lives, I cannot have the least pretension ima∣ginable; yet what from what you have often told me, I have flatter'd my self all along with the hopes of his Death, for then nothing will hinder, but that I may own my love for the Collonel.
Though your old grey Beard is not underground, yet I assure that in few Months you shall be a Widdow, and that the Collonel shall not Marry the Countess.
But I have one scruple yet, which I had like to have forgot, and that came in my head last Night as I was going to sleep▪ which if you clear, will add much to my Satisfaction.
What is that?
You have assured me that my Husband shall dye shortly, but not that he shall dye before me; I fear you took his life into consideration, but concern'd not your self with mine.
'Tis right as you say, I did not indeed, but your Youth and Health gives you fair assurance in that point: However my next scrutiny into the Se∣crets of Fate shall be to know who shall dye first, you or your Husband; is not the question stated to your mind now?
Yes, Pray be speedy in't—
I'le send to you in few hours.
Adieu then for the present; some one is coming to you—
Your Ladiship may rest assur'd of my Service.—
Here's one will press in, he wou'd take no denial.
GOd give you good Den, is it you, I pray, that is call'd my Dame Dobson?
Yes pretty Maiden, I am she.
I intreat you then to dispatch me quickly, for I am to return to my Aunt who stays for me with her Husband, who is a Servant to as great a Lord as any belongs to the Court; I told 'em I wou'd but step and see a Cousin of mine, who is out at Nurse-keeping at this end of the Town, and wou'd come to 'em presently.
Very good! and what wou'd you with me?
What wou'd I?—
Yes.
I am mis-inform'd I see,—but perhaps you won't do any thing for me because I am but a Country body.
No, no, Sweetheart. I'le do as much for thee as for any Dutchess 〈◊〉〈◊〉 what's your Business?
Nay, but you are not that Dame Dobson that is the Cunning Woman.—
Come, come tell me your business, I am she you look't for; I am the Cunning Woman.
Nay surely but you are not, for she that I lookt for, knows every thing; for when I have been at our Landlord's house, where I promise you great Per∣sons come every day, I have list'ned at the Doors, when they have been talk∣ing, and have heard 'em say, she could tell every manner of thing in the World.
They said true, and there is none of my Name professes the A•…•…t but my self.
Why don't you divine then for me, I don't ask you to do it for nothing, for you can tell well enough that I'le pay you for't, and that a certain Person gives me Money unknown to my Mother, or any body but my own sen.
I know that very well, and also that that person has a great Kind∣ness for you.
Nay, since you know that, you know all.
Yes, I know all, and you wish well to that certain person too, you know something.
Shou'd not I love them that love me? he has told me so a hundred times, and will sigh and be as melancholy as any thing, and sayes if I don't love him agen, I shall be the death of him; And he being a fine handsom Gentleman, I wou'd not have him dye for ne're so much, no indeed.—
It wou'd be a great deal of Cruelty.—
And it wou'd go near to break my Ladies heart, he's her only Son.
But what do you do now to hinder him from dying?
I meet him sometimes in the Barn, and let him play with me, and put his hand down my Neck, and into my Bosom, and chuck me under the Chin, and kiss me; and sometimes he'll kiss me till he almost stifles me.
And sometimes unties your Garter.—
I see you know it without my telling; but that was never but once, when he askt me to see my Leg.—And then he pincht me by the thigh that it was black and blew agen.
Wou'd he hurt you then?——
O, but he did not mean any harm, for all the while he lay kissing me, as if he wou'd have kiss'd the breath out of my body, and call'd me his Dear life and Soul; he did so tremble, and his hand was so soft and warm me thought.
And this is all you ever did for him!—He never askt you any more?
Only to love him.—
And that you do to be sure.—
Yes; but it is but two dayes since I told him so, for I had a mind to know first if he lov'd me indeed and indeed; but when I told him he was so pleased, so pleased.—
I believe it, you found him very Courteous.—
O then he hug'd me, and squeez'd me, and suckt my very breath out, and said if I wou'd do something, as that he'd tell me another time, he wou'd Marry me.—
But when my little Maiden?
You can tell me when, and that's it I come to know of you.
Hark you Sweet heart! don't let him have his will of you till thou art his Wife.
I am too young yet, he sayes; and therefore I have such a mind to—have▪
Have a care of your self, or you'll be undone.
Why? what harm can it be for me more than all the great Maids in o•…•… Parish? why may not I have 'em as well as they?
I am at a loss agen, I am more puzzled with this silly Girl, than w•…•… the cunningest Customer I have.
How much must I give you pray now for doing it? If you will have Money before hand, see I have brought a piece of Gold here.
I know what 'tis you'd have, but persons that come to me for any∣thing, must ask me for't by Name, that I may be sure I have their full consent and liking to what I do.
An't it all one if I tell you afterwards?
No, there is a great difference in that.
I can't abide to ask you, do something for me without—there's my Piece of Gold for you. I'le give it you all if you'll do't for me without naming.—
Be not asham'd, out with it, nobody hears.
No, give me my Money agen, I had rather never have great Bubbies as long as I live, than ask for 'em my self.—
There 'tis out at last.—The thing that you'd ask of me is, that you may have full-Breasts, that I wou'd make 'em grow for you, that they may rise up round and plump, like some of your Companions.
O dear, O dear, I am so asham'd—
I have such a Kindness for you, that I promise you, you shall, and for a Charm to make 'em grow, you must stroke 'em every morning before you get up, and say three times fasting, Grow Breasts, grow; Rise Bubbies rise; Can you remember this?—
Grow Breasts grow, Rise Bubbies rise; Methinks they begin to swell a little already.—
Go your ways, Pretty one, assure your self that within three or four Months your Breasts shall rise and be as round and as hard as the very Turnips that grow in your Garden.
O dear—that you shou'd know we have Turnips grow in our Garden too.
You see I know every thing.
Well, now my heart's at ease, 'twill be but a little while now before I am Married, for Mr. Ambrose told me when my Breasts were bigger and—Give you good Den, and thank you forsooth.
Fare you well, poor Simplicity, this young Landlord will ruine her▪ But who comes here? Ah Mr. Hartwell!
I met a pretty young Country Lass going out.
You see I have to do with all sorts. But where have you been that I han't seen you all this while?
In the Country; where betwixt Love and Jealousie, I have been al∣most distracted; I have been as Unfortunate as you foretold.
What's the Matter?
The young Widdow that I told you I courted, after all her assurances of Kindness to me, was perswaded at last to admit other Pretenders, I sigh'd and •…•…ade my Complaints, but she insulted the more.—
Why did you not come to me to know what to do?
At last I was perswaded by a Relation of hers, who stands up for my •…•…nt'rest to see what effects my Absence wou'd work on her: In order to it, I •…•…ook a solemn leave, told her that I remov'd my self from her sight, that my Complaints might no longer be troublesom to her.
That sudden Resolution startled her.
No, she was stout, and ne'r so much as askt me to stay, I have been this Month at Tunbridge, I came to Town but last Night, and my Friend tells me, that several of her Acquaintance that came thence inform'd her I made Love to a certain Lady there, for whom she has no kindness, at which s•…•…e was much surpriz'd, and is grown jealous.
That's a good sign.
My Friend took the hint, and perswaded her, that her unkindness and slights, had forced me to this remedy, to put her out of my thoughts; at which she is so piqu'd, that she has but this morning resolv'd to come some∣time to day to know of you how I stand affected.
Let her come, Does she know you are in Town?
No, nor shall not till I see how her inclinations are to me. It lyes in your power to do me a particular kindness, by assuring her I am the truest, faith∣ful'st, constant Lover.
I warrant you.
But let me tell you, she has no great opinion of Persons of your Pro∣fession, and you will not very easily bring her to believe what you say, unless you can do'•…•… by some extraordinary means.
Because I have many Businesses in hand that requires hast, and lest she shou'd come before my Art can be prepar'd for her reception, I will do it by a Trick that will very much surprize her, and be extream pleasant.
Do so, if you are sure it will not fail.
I warrant you. Ho Beatrice, call Mrs. Francis to me presently.
Here she is, we were talking together at the Stairs head.
Come near, Mrs. Francis, I have a word to whisper in your ear.
I'le about it presently.—
Hark you once more—
I'le be sure to take care.
Do every thing just as before, and let Decoy be in readiness near hand. Beatrice let it be your care to see 'em enter in due order.
Yes.
Now that you may not take any body else for my pretty Widdow, I'le show you her Picture in a Minature, Take good notice of it, 'tis very like her.
You have reason to love her, she is a great Beauty, a delicate Brown.
Hear me Dame, If you wou'd have her credit you, I fear she will re∣quire good proofs of your Skill, for her Kinsman tells me, that she comes at the perswasion of a Countess, where she was a Visiting not an hour since, who has assur'd her, that she can ask you nothing, that you can't satisfie her in.
She absolutely believes you are not in Town.
She sent a Lady of her Acquaintance a Letter at Tunbridge an inquisitive▪ Letter about new Amours, and but yesterday received an Answer; I hapned to be of that parties particular Acquaintance, unknown to her, and prevail'd with her at parting to write her word of my continuance there, that she might not know any thing of my coming away; So that she does not in the least▪suspect I am so near.
Since 'tis so, I'le prompt her curiosity to see you. There's a Look∣ing-glass I prepar'd for another Business, it shall now serve for this; when your Mistress is here, and you hear me make a sort of Invocation, steal softly forth behind her, as she is looking in the Glass, and be kissing her Picture, and this she will take for a great proof of your Love and Constancy.
I understand you.
After a Minute retreat, and if I demand any thing else (which you will guess by my words) come forth and perform it.
She has no belief of Spirits at all, and has a great presence of Mind; therefore have a care how you proceed.
Relye upon me. I'le not be mistaken I'le warrant you.
There's a very pretty Lady—
Desires to speak with you.
If it shou'd be her now.
Of what Complexion is she?
A lovely Brown.
Get you gone quickly, and be sure to listen to our Discourse, and remember about the Looking-glass.—Now bring her in, and be you near me, I'le give you the sign when you shall send Mrs. Francis in. That is a piece of management to amuze both the Lady and the Gallant that is absconded, that he may not think all I do is Legerdemain. This must be his Widdow, she is so very like the Picture. Now let me see if this incredulous Lady cannot be wrought upon by my Practice. You are welcom, Lady.
I Am come to you at last, you are in Vogue, and 'tis now grown a fashion to visit you on all occasions; and I cannot but follow the Mode as others do.
My Knowledge is so very scant Madam, that perhaps you'l think your coming not worth the trouble.
Even in deceiving your knowledge is much; Because you know how to deceive persons of good discretion and parts.
To do that, wou'd cost me more trouble than to tell the truth.
See what you can tell me, here's my hand.
There's not a Line but denotes you a very fortunate Lady, born un∣der a Planet of Benign influence, and good luck will attend you.
Pass by what is so general.
You are a Widow. The grief for the Death of your first Husband is almost worn from your Heart, by the hopes of a Second; You have many Pre∣tenders: But there's one loves you above the rest in a high degree, and he is very jealous, impatient if you but look upon another man, and quarrelsom with you, if access of Passion may be call'd so.
There is something in that—
He has been absent some time, and you have treated him so ill, that now he is from you, you are apprehensive lest you shou'd lose him.
It may be so.
But fear nothing, he has an Inclination to no person but your self, and if you Marry him you'll be the happiest Woman in a Husband of all your Sex.
This is no very ill beginning; but let me freely tell you, that I am one of small faith, and if you wou'd have me believe you to be a Woman of such Knowledge as you pretend to, you must tell me something more remarka∣ble than you do to others.
There's a Gentlewoman without brought to you in a Chair. She says she is come a great way to speak with you.
Can't you tell who she is? run and desire her to come agen an hour hence, I am not at leisure to speak with any body now.
If you did but see her, you'd have Compassion for her, she is in such a sad Condition, and so full of Pain that I have not the heart to send her away. Be pleas'd to see her Dame, I never saw the like in all my life.
She may need your speedy help. Hark yonder how she shrieks; I'le have patience awhile.
I am very sorry I shou'd make you wait. Call her in.
MAdam, your Reputation is so great, and your Doings so wonder∣ful, that I am come to desire you—
You're under a mistake, Madam. I am not the Person you mean.
Pardon my Error, I am in such pain, and so afflicted with what I un∣dergo, that—
You are vastly swell'd indeed, your Tympany is very extraordinary.
Eh, hi, hi, oh—
Alas, good Gentlewoman.
Pray do what you can for me, I am inform'd that you not only can tell by Astrology things past, present, and to come; but that also you have Charms to cure all Diseases, not cureable by the Physicians, and Counter∣charms for Witchcrafts and the like.
I am acquainted with some such Secrets, but yours is a very strange Distemper.
I don't ask you to make an absolute cure at present, but only to asswage the pain, and give me a little ease.
You ought not to refuse her that Kindness.
Tell me true, Do you not think it above my Skill.
I'le believe you an able Woman indeed, if you can do this.
It is Charity to ease the afflicted, and it concerns my reputation to comply with you.
Then you'll Cure this Tympany.
In your presence, your Ladiship shall see it done, before the Gentle∣woman goes hence, she shall not have the least pain, swelling, or appearance of any such thing.
You promise largely.
Good Madam.—
Dame if you please Call me Dame.
Good Dame then, don't promise any thing you are not sure to per∣form; I have been thus above these three years, and I shall be content to be cur'd in three months. The Doctors, Apothecaries, and Chyrurgeons have tryed their Skill to no purpose. Some say 'tis Witchcraft, and that I am un∣der an ill Tongue.
I'le let you see that I know more than all of 'em. But you must find out somebody so Charitable as to be willing to take your swelling on them, for as it came by Witchcraft, so I cannot transmit it from your Body but to ano∣ther, be it Man or Woman, as you please, that matters not.
I see your Evasion, because no body will be willing to be tortur'd, you hope to come off and save your Credit.
'Tis apparent enough you don't know how to cure me, therefore ne'r go about to keep me in suspence.
I intend no such thing, do but you find out a Person, and I'le cure your •…•…ympany.
Where shou'd I find out one, if your Servant there wou'd be willing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 do me that Kindness, I'de reward her well for't.
I Madam, I wou'd not have it for all you are worth; what wou'd the World say of a young Woman as I am? If I shou'd be seen with such a great •…•…elly, they wou'd not believe I came by it in that manner.
Your Servant is well vers'd in your Business, she has her lesson, and wou'd bring your Skill into Reputation by seeming afraid of your Charm, and by that wou'd make us believe you can do it.
You mistake Madam; No body here has any such designs.
I wou'd gladly see this Experiment.—Can you think of nobody that will do you such a curtesie? there are enough to be found for Money.
I will endeavour, but that requires time. Now I think on't, a Te∣nant's Man of mine is below, that I got to come up to Town with me, perhaps he'll do so much for me.
Quickly call him up.
Yes, Madam.—
If the Fellow be willing, I ask but a half quarter of an hour, the Gen∣tlewoman shall be eas'd of the Tympany.
I'le believe it Dame, when I see it.
Upon that point rest my Credit with you.
HArk you honest William—
I thank you with all my heart Londlody, for your good will to me, the Gentlewoman here has told me the Business. I have no mind to have a Tympany. There's a Belly with all my heart; why all the folk wou'd call me Bursengut; no I thank you.
But hear what I say, if you'll do't for me I'le give thee Twenty Pieces, and be bound to maintain you all your life, without doing any manner of work, and here's Ten of 'em in hand.
Hark you friend, don't be such a Fool to refuse 'em. Are you so sim∣ple to think this Woman can remove the Tympany from her to you, 'tis im∣possible.
So I think to tell you true forsooth; Well, well, give 'em me, I'le venture.
It shall depart from her, but scarce be perceivable in you; Come sit you down here.—
I begin to tremble.
This goes on, and I begin not to know what to think on't.
Let no body speak a word.
Ah, ah.
Ah, ah.
Eh, good Dame Eh.
Ah, ah, ah, What a rumbling and grumbling I feel in my Gu•…•…▪ Oh 'tis coming, 'tis coming.
Ah, ah, ah, the Tympany is going, 'tis going, Eh, eh, eh, I feel it, I feel it. 'Tis going, going, going; Ah ah.
Ah, it Comes, it Comes, it Comes; ah, it Comes, it Comes, it Comes—
Ah my swelling, ah my swelling, Eh, eh, eh.
Oh I burst, I burst, oh I burst; O-la, O-la, la, la, la, Ah, ah, ah, 'tis enough, enough, enough.—Eh, I am half as big agen as my Landlady was; Oh, oh my Belly is as big as a Tun.
Ah, how much at ease I am now!
Ah you are a most rare Woman—
Well, what say you now Madam?
My wonder is above expression.
Methinks I am not the same person, may I credit my sences, I feel not the least pain, I am well and lightsom, I am overjoy'd. Ah good Dame here are Thirty Guinneys, but that is not sufficient, let me present you with this Ring, and hope yet a better reward than all this. Adieu Madam, your most humble Servant, I am impatient till I go and show my self to my Friends and Acquaintance, I fancy none of 'em will know me, William come follow me, good William.
Nay, marry I am in no such hast, you are lighter than you were, and I am so much the heavier, I shall be finely laught at for my pains, here's a Cure with a Poxt to't. Wounds, I can hardly see my way for my Belly.
How you waddle along, you are as slow pac'd as a Snail.
Marry none but such a Calf as I wou'd have been blown up thus like a Scotch Bagpipe.
Farewel Friend.
SUre I have a mist before my Eyes.
Your Ladiship has seen a small Essay of my Skill.
I am quite astonish't; since you can do such, feats as these, don't sene
me away barely with words; but let me see something in relation to my Lover.
Explain your self, have you a Curiosity to see what he is a doing at this instant?
Ay, that if you please.
Wou'd you see him by your self, if you will I'le pronounce but two word•…•…, and retire, and his likeness shall appear to you in his posture, and doing the same actions that he's imploy'd about at this instant, where e're he is.
And shall I see nobody but him?
That is according as he is alone, or in Company.
Let me see him then, but be you here, not that I am afraid; perhaps 〈◊〉〈◊〉 very well pleased where he is, and troubles not his thoughts about me.
You Spirits that are Subject to my Charms, Obey, Obey, Obey, And let there to this Ladies eyes appear the form of him she loves. Beatrice, draw that Curtain, he'll stay but a moment.
'Tis he, my Lover himself!
What is he a doing?
His eyes are fixt upon a Picture.
'Tis my Picture, I know it by the Ribbond.
I hope you are well pleas'd now, he kisses it with a great deal of Devotion.
I am surpriz'd, but now he's gone; my Satisfaction of seeing him was but very short.
There's not a more faithful Lover in the World, nor one that has so great a Passion for your Ladiship.
Having seen what I did, I need no longer doubt it; now I wish with all my heart he were in Town.
I cou'd do your Ladiship such a Kindness if you wou'd but write to him.
Nay, I believe he'd come with Writing, but I can't send my Letter till to Morrow; And 'twill be two or three dayes before he can be here.
But I have a nimbler Post of my own, write but to him to come away presently, and I'le send an Express with't that shall bring you an Answer in half a quarter of an hour, and he shall be here himself to Night.
Bless me sweet Heaven! what do you mean?
Nay, I say it, if your Ladiship be so minded.—
How! Shall I have an Answer of my Letter presently.
As soon as it can be writ.
'Tis thirty Miles to Tunbridge, where he is.
If it were a hundred, my Messenger wou'd be there and back again n a moment.
This is more than I ever heard of you yet.—The like sure was •…•…ever done.
Step to the Table, there's Pen, Ink, and Paper; Now please to write what I dictate:
Sir, I can no longer endure your absence; Send me word by the Bearer if you resolve to put an end to my Trouble, by letting me see you in Town to Night? That's enough, Subscribe as you please—Now give it me to S•…•…l, a
little Ceremony is required which you cannot see without being extremely frighted; I'le wait on you again in a minute.——
I have been Couragious hitherto, but now I begin to have an ugly ap∣prehension.
Madam, you need not fear any thing.
How do you do to live with her, and not be frighted.
O Madam, I am us'd to't.
But was not you horribly scar'd at first?
Alas, Madam, my Dame took me in Fatherless and Motherless; I was left quite friendless, and was glad to be any where. But now I am us'd to it, 'tis nothing to me.
Whither is she gone now?
To her Familiar.
What is it like?
'Tis a sort of Hobgoblin which she has above, 'tis hellishly ugly; but never does any mischief.
I protest I am confounded at all she does.
She is a Prodigious Woman, and if you shou'd but know all.
Your Letter is there by this time.
What already?
Go to the Glass and see—
Spirit by all the Power I have over thee, Obey, obey, obey; And let the same Person again be visible.
He comes agen, he's Reading my Letter, he seems transported with Joy.
'Tis a great Confirmation of his Passion.
Now he takes a Pen in his Hand.
He's going to write to you▪ and that very minute he gives the Messen∣ger the Answer, he'll quit that Phantastical Body he appear'd in, and bring it here to you.
To me, let him not come near me, I entreat you.
Be in good chear, it shall fly to your feet without being seen who brings it, or whence it comes.
Now they bring him a Candle.—He's going to seal it, I am all over in a cold sweat.
Methinks every thing is done very gently. See now he's gone to de∣liver it to my Messenger, I took particular care you should not be frighted.
'Tis true, though I am not naturally timerous, yet I have seen so many things, that I did not believe possible to be done; that I confess to you I am scarce in my right Senses.
But pray oblige me to say nothing of all this. But see my Messenger has made hast, here's an Answer come—
Here Madam, take it, be not afraid.
How, touch a thing that came by the Devil!
Read it, the force of my Conjuration is spent, and my Spirit's Com∣mission is now at an end, you need not fear any further effects.
'Tis his Hand-writing, who cou'd have believ'd this possible?
Dear Charming Creature—I shall take Post immediately, and doubt much whether you'll see me, or the Messenger first. A Lover when summon'd by the Person he adores, rides commonly the forehorse, Yours.
I must take my leave without Ceremony.—I am in a manner struck Dumb with •…•…dmiration, I'le see you agen very suddenly, though I make you no acknow∣ledgment for the present trouble, your favours shall not go unrewarded.
As you please, I only require your secresie; Beatrice wait on her •…•…wn, and shut the door.
•…•…ome forth, Sir.
Well Sir, how is't with you? Have I done you good Service?
I am so oblig'd to you, I shall never be able to come out of your Debt.
This Slight show'd as well as if I had show'd the deepest mystery in my Art, That wou'd have taken up time, and your occasions required expe∣dition.
This was as well—Here are Ten Pieces, let that excuse me till a further opportunity to express my Gratitude.
Get on your Boots and Riding garb, to appear in to her at Night, I have perform'd my part, the rest depends on your management.
I'le go and prepare for't. Adieu.
DAme Dobson—Ha my Dear Devil of a Dame, Do you know me agen Dame!
Who are you: What Mr. Gillet?
How do you like me Dame? Am not I Heroically equip't? don't I look like a Bully of the Field?
You are one already for certain.
View me round, have I not the right air and meen of a Warriour?
As if you had been in twenty Champaigns, and fifty Assaults, besides Attaques and Sieges.
Wou'd I were amongst 'em. Mortblue the Habit makes the Soldier, it puts life and courage into me; methinks I am inspir'd with valour, I cou'd beat the Devil now; I'le Pawn my Soul to Old Nick but I'le be the Death of a Hun∣dred men e're long.
You must not be too fierce on the suddain.
I can't forbear, if I shou'd be hang'd, I went e'n now to show my self to my Mistress, where I met three or four of my Rivals, the young Officers I gave you an account of; and they at their old rate began to jeer, and told me I was a Coxcomb, for putting my self into such a Garb; I presently whip'd out Poaker, plac'd my Thumb as you gave me directions, firm, Close said I, They star'd upon me, and •…•…eigning to laugh, retreated, and but one of 'em du•…•…st so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as draw his Sword.
I believe it, they found themselves mistaken in you.
'Tis a rare Sword Dame, with this and my Thumb thus, I defie a whole Squadron.
You have it right, but let me advise you to moderate your Courage, and never to use it: But upon just provocation, and in your own defence.
I shall have much ado to govern my self, let them look too't that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 voke me,—Ha, Stand off—ha.
Hold, put up, Somebody is coming.
At their Peril be it if they anger me.—
TWo words with you Dame, about a thing I had forgot to speak to you of.
I'le take care.
If I shou'd come to be known, it wou'd spoil all.
It wou'd prejudice my reputation as much as your int'rest; therefore look you be secret your self.
Nay, it shall ne'r be known for me.
Then you need say no more.
But if any of your Servants?—
Why are you importunate, when she tells you, You need say no more.
What's that to you Sir, Do you think I don't know my own business?
And do you think my Dame Dobson don't know a little better than you? She tells you, you need say no more, and 'tis an affront to her Art not to be∣lieve her; and I'le not see my Dame affronted.
Eh, Mr. Gillet.
No, No quarter, I'le Hamstring him.
Ha! Is the fool so brisk? have at you then.
Whoh, you push too hard—Hold a little; Pish, the Devil's in you; See there now my Sword's down.
He that can defend his life no better, shou'd not be so insolent and impertinent.
Pough Dame, ne'r be dismay'd, this was some mistake in my Thumb—it was not put right.
Sir, Pray use your Conquests with moderation.
'Tis well for him that he's in your House, had he been any where else, I'de have us'd the fool as he deserved; but I'le not occasion any disturbance here. There's his Sword.
Your discretion obliges me.—You don't understand your self, Mr. Gillet, I gave you warning before.
Dame, you must teach me once more how to place my Thumb right, I was mistaken—but for the future.
No, that's not the Business—your Thumb was right enough.
What then?
Did you not see me make signs to you to retreat? 'twas nothing for him to get the better of you.
Why so?
Because he had a Sword of me with a Charm too, he has had i•…•… this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Months, and the eldest Charm still Conquers the other.
Oh! I wondred indeed where the fault lay, The Devil on't how he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Along, and clatter'd his Sword about mine, his is a damnable strong •…•…m.
You see you are not to fight with every one at a venture.
Well, now you have given me warning, I'le be sure to ask that first.
You'll do well; for if your Enemy has an Inchanted Sword too, yours will signifie nothing unless it be elder.
I'le go now and fight the rest of my Rivals from my Mistress, and if she won't Marry me then, I'le be gone for Tangier, where I'le kill my Fifty Moors aday for my diversion till they are all destroy'd, and then I'le re∣turn the great Hero of Great Britain, and be made a General. Adieu Dame.
The man will go mad for certain. At last I am got clear of Visiters, I must make use of this opportunity for other Affairs.—