The declamations of Quintilian being an exercitation or praxis upon his XII books concerning the institution of an orator / translated (from the Oxford Theatre edition) into English, by a learned and ingenious hand ...

Oddi Potio, OR, The Hate-procuring Potion.

DECLAMATION XV.

The Argument

Is contain'd in That of the former Decla∣mation.

For the Miss against the Young Man.

THô, my Lords, it be Natural to us, to grieve for nothing so much, as when we are ill-requited for our Kindness, so that nothing more inwardly afflicts good Men, than to see their Merits fall to the ground: ••et this hard Case of mine, wherein I may seem ••uilty of so horrid a Fact, shall ever make me, ••oor Woman as I am, not glad at heart, that his Fellow dares now to prefer a Bill against me. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 unhappy Woman, was miserably afraid, lest the ••oor Fellow would have been so little wrought ••pon by his Potion, that he wou'd ha' Lov'd me ••e more, after; lest the Poor Fellow, I say, who ••as always stout and stubborn, would have de∣••ated the Strength of his remedy, for the very ••rief that he was cur'd against his Will. But ••ow it makes very well of my side, that he is so ••••rrible, forsooth, and minacious, that he would ••ave me punish'd, even with the loss of my Life. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 can't be expected, he should give me Thanks ••••esently, when I cur'd him, perforce. Yet, my ••ords, when I thoroughly consider the present ••••mper of the poor Fellows Spirit, methinks I ••ave hardly cur'd him, no not yet; so that if I ••m any whit acquainted with his former furious ••its of Love, the Hate he is now in, is rather a

Fretting, than any Hatred at all. For if my R••∣medy had done him any good, to quit him fro•• his former Mad-cap Tricks, he wou'd be sensib•••• of his Recovery, and wou'd have avoided eve•••• the very sight of his Mistress still; he would n•••• have trusted himself in my Company, so far as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pretend to do himself right and he wou'd ha•••• been afraid of giving me a visit, even before you Lordships. I find at last, I was strangely mist••∣ken, when I thought my Potion had cur'd him. H•• is in Love, my Lords, he is in Love still, who com∣plains he is not belov'd.

What shall I do, my Lords, in this Case? U••∣der what Temper shall I enter upon my defen•••••• I am afraid, if I begin to commend my o•••• simple disposition, and to tell you a long Story 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my good Nature, the poor Fellow, that was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 will begin again. For, my Lords, whether it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the common malignant Opinion to call a L•••••• Beauty, that hath no Suitors, by the name of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Mistress; or else some Lover or other first p•••••• that name on a poor Woman, to whom Fort•••••• had not given enough of her exteriour perfection•• to provide for a strict Chastity Matrimonial; a•••• therefore she labours to keep up fair deal•••• under her Necessities This I am sure of, no Ma•••• Marriage-Bed was ever in the least disturb'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her: No Gentleman ever complain'd, that she ha•• debauch'd his Son. No Man ever sung Lacrym•••• for his Estate that was quotted away into her g••••∣dy Lap. And thô this ungrateful Friend of mi•••• endeavours to cast the Odium of his former A••∣fection on my poor Self, yet he can never tw•• his Miss in the Teeth with both, that she fi••••

••ade him in Love with her, and afterwards made ••im give over, too. And therefore let not this ••ccuser of mine deceive you with his Grand be∣••ailing of his Fortune, as if he were undon by ••ancying a Miss: You may be sure of my Inno∣••ence, for he was but a Shab when he came ••••rst to me, and in the same poor Condition he ••ersisted in his Love; I never knew any thing ••e had to lose amidst all his Transports, but the ••uts of his Brain. For you saw, that he was ••e neediest Fellow in the whole Town, that he ••vou'd wait at the Civil-Houses (shall I call 'm) ••ight and day: And thô he had his Will upon a ••imple too indulgent Girl, yea, thô one while he ••as assaulted with the reproaches and taunts of the ••abble, and otherwhile he got many a bang by ••is bickering with his Rivals, he could never be ••••ept or stav'd off from us. The truth is, when I ••••w this unhappy Passion of the poor Fellow, my ••ood Nature toward him did work; seeing him ••••n such a Case, I was willing to relieve him by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 matorious Embraces, but the more I made of ••im, the more was he inflam'd; and he was easi∣•••• perswaded, in this Impatience of his Affection, ••hat, because his Mistress gave him so much Free∣••om gratis, therefore she could be no other, but in Love with him. But when I saw, that my Pity ••nd my Civility did no good, then I tryed rougher ways. I charg'd him to be gon, I shut him out of doors. I us'd also Entreaties to the poor Fellow, ••nd gave him good Counsel, drawn from the To∣••ick of his low Condition. But he was too hard for all these; and the Remedies, that should ha' ••indred his Love, were all lost upon him, till at

last, I bethought my self, that a Man, who wou'd n•••• be cur'd by Reason, must be cur'd by Force. I did b••∣lieve, my Lords, 'twas in vain to give taunting an•• reviling words to a poor Man in his excessive Cou••••∣ship. The Woman Lov'd the Man the more, who•••• Love she refused. And therefore, when the Go•• Woman had try'd all her Methods of Fair an•• Foul means, and when every Body complain'd of he•• needy Shabby Servant, she light upon a Remedy that, she was told, had cur'd such another po•••• Customer, in the like case. This then is the first Ple•••• she makes for the harmlessness of the Medicine, an•• the Innocence of the Administ'rer; she do•••• not deny, but confesses, she did give it him: Nay, she further'd also what she gave; she laid 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Charge and Command on her self, to hearken n••∣ver more to his Entreaties; yea, that she migh•• not be mov'd a whit with his Complaints or Tears un∣der her Nose, she shut him quite out of door•• Wou'd you know, my Lords, what is all the Passio•• wrought in him, by the Draught I gave him 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Whoever ministers an Hate-Potion, does what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 can, from that time forward, to deserve to b•• Lov'd. Prithee, Younker, when didst thou eve•••• come in better plight into this Court, than nou•• Now thou beginnest to act a serious Person and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 grave; now, I wis, thy talk is of Laws an•• Statutes; now, thô upbraid'st and reproach'st th•• Things, call'd Misses. Thou hadst none of thi•• Humour, when thou were lately amongst th•• Lemmans in Brothel-Houses; then thou wert ta∣ken notice of by thy scraggy leaness, thou we•••• as white as a Clout, and the Talk of the To•••••• for thy High Amours. Poor Man, thou hadst bee••

••uite undon, hadst thou not drank that, which ••••ou call'st Poyson.

He impleads me of Witch-craft, forsooth. I ••elieve, my Lords, the Ears of this grave Court ••ill be very erect and attentive at the hearing of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 high an Accusation. There's a Word with all ••y heart, what strange Impiety will it proclaim 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the World? How great would the Company 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of those who have lost their Children, ready ••••pannelled, to inquire into such black deeds, us'd ••••ly by Step-mothers? And how great would be ••••e Family of Mourners for their Heirs, that have ••een destroy'd by damn'd Cups of Poyson? Are you ••••t then ashamed to fit here, about the brangles 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Bawdy-Houses, and to hear the squabbles of pi∣••••••ul Whore-masters, brought before you? Do you ••••e yonder Fellow, with his terrible accusing Face? ••••as, he wants only a Kiss or Two, his great com∣••••aint to you, is, that his Mistress, forsooth, has ••••••sook him. Would you not advise us rather, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 into our privacies, and there produce our ••••s and grievances, and end all amongst our∣••••••ves, when the Case is altered? Laws and Courts ••••e not to be troubled with the complaints of ••••th pitiful Shabs. None, but seri••us Grievan∣•••••• are to be heard in this place. He is not ••••rthy to be righted here, where only a Miss is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Wind. My Lords, did you ever hear any ••••dy in the World before, complain of being Be∣••••ched and Poysoned, and yet alive in Court ••ore you? Such Accusations are always abomi∣••ed upon the account of the Deaths, that fol∣•••••• them. If you Impeach one of Rob bery, you ••••st prove it, by some Blood shed or Wounds giv∣en;

if of Sacrilege, you must shew the spoils 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Deities and the plunder of their Temples: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 if you accuse a Man of Impoysoning, you m•••• produce the Carkass rotten and black and ble•••• and the Corps streaming with Gore, as it is ca••¦rying out to its Sepulchre. And wherever y•••• may object that, yet the Person must haven s••••¦fred something, when he was alive, that mig•••• be equivalent to the Odium of his Death. C•••• that, Impoysoning, that rages inwardly, which argued by the debilitation of some Limb or oth•••• Come away then, and shew me some Marks thy. Body, where the heat of the Poyson hath s••••¦ter'd it self up and down in noxious Effects; a•••• where, the surface of the Body being consumed, settles inwardly, and destroys the vitals. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 your Body, I see, is lusty enough to work, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 your Limbs are intire; your Mind is able for rious businesses, and strong enough to accuse lustily. Believe it, my Quondam Friend, all us, that knew you before, do perceive, t•••• your Senses are brisker and livelier than ever, a•• that your Complexion is more Sanguine, tri••¦phing in a New Edition, as it were, of your Y•••• You cou'd never ha' prov'd, you had taken y•••• Dose, but that your Miss confesses it. But, Lords, if you allow the vulgar to descant in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fashion upon all Recipes, that are prescrib'd a••••¦tle out of course, they will misinterpret e•••• Cure to be done by Witch-craft; and it will look'd upon as an Odious Crime, to do a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 good, when he don't know't. Whereas our L•••• call that only true Poyson, which works no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but One. There's no reason in the World,

••••uld seem Poyson, which he that drinks it may ••••ke an Antidote, if he please, My Lords, the ••nker knows, that the Crime, he lays to my ••arge, comes not within either the Letter or the ••aning of the Law: And therefore he aggra∣••es it, on the account of what Men please to ••••••l me; Tis a Whore, says he, I accuse. Believe 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Friend, yon don't consider, what grand proof 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ought to bring to make good your hor∣•••• Accusation of Witch-craft against me. I pro∣••••, I expected in the first place, that my coun∣••ance should be terrible, and my hue dismal; ••t my frowzy hair should be disordred, and that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wild Melancholy should be cruelly and merci∣•••• bent upon Mischief. A Crime, which, they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by its dismal Charms disturbs the very Gods ••••ve, and troubles the Constellations in the ••••nament; that does conjure up the dead out of it Graves, and does make Men arm themselves Villany, even to the mangling of dead Carkas∣•••• 'tis impossible but the Party accus'd thereof ••••t discover himself at first sight. But you see, this ••••••h of yours has no such horrid countenance, has a smooth and gentle Face. If you look ••ard, and consider her Plots and Designs, all Conjurations are to make herself look Fine and ••••dsom. All her Incantations tend to this, to ••••m Men with a look, and to bind 'm fast with ••••plemental blandishments. Sometimes, 'tis ••e, I spend whole Nights amidst the Bottles of ••e with my Paramours, where they draw one ••n another, and some of the Gentlemen make ••••erate Challenges. A Poor Miss hath no Witch-••••••ft but this, how to engage her Customers to

Fancy her, still. I hope, my Lords, you d•••• think it unjust for me to expect, that so hey•••• an impeachment should be carryed on agai•••••• me, not by my Mis-name, but by my Na•••••••• disposition? Consider, I pray, did ever y•••• Witch, as you call her, do the same, or any th•• like it, before? Where's the Man, that can 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this is the Woman that drove me out of my w•••••• Where's the Young Man, where's the Old M•••• where's the Rich Man, that hath any thing say against her? Yea, where's any other 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Man can complain, besides yourself? So t•••••• she is a Witch, forsooth, only to you in parti••••¦lar; to every body else, she is an Innocent M•••• Would you have me demonstrate the Innoce•••• of this Young Woman, in a word? The very s•••••• Person, which the poor Fellow abominates, a••••¦sues for her Life, he had rather be dallying 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her, as before.

All Offences, my Lords, if I mistake not, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their rise either from Love of Money, or f•••••• Variances. Now what Hatred can a Miss 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to her Creature? Or, what Booty can she get fr•••• a poor Servant. She gave me, says he, an H••••••¦ful Recipe. What, my Lords! Sure, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Name of a Recipe may sufficiently acquit from the Infamy of Poyson? Nor do I see 〈◊〉〈◊〉 reason, why that should seem the same t•••••• that can't be call'd by the same Appellation. go too, Young Man, make out the Immanity this Potion, to the full: Tell us, I took this H••••¦ful Drench against my Wife, against my own C••••••¦dren, that I might be turn'd aside from my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 affection, and that I might utterly cast off

••••car Pledges of Matrimony. That Hate-Potion 〈◊〉〈◊〉 if you'l call it so) is ill in a Miss, if she use it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 acquire Love. So that this Plea alone is suffi∣cient to excuse her, that she gave it only against ••erself. She gave me Hatred, says he. Now here desire you, Young Man, to make the same Re∣••ection on my Condition, as you did but now. ••ell us, that 'twas a Miss that gave it you, that was a Common Strumpet bid you take it. Oh, ••••w was I afraid, lest you should have said, 'twas 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Love Potion. Come on then, stand up, my ••riend, and make good the Horrour of the Accu∣••••tion, you have undertook, with all your might ••nd main. You may cry aloud, that the Ears 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the Town may hear, Oh some Charitable ••eople, pity me, help me for Heavens sake, lend ••e some relief. I have drank Cruel and Merciless ••yson, so that now, poor Wretch, I can Love my ••••••iss no longer: Farewel all my Happiness, for ••••w I shall be no longer kick't and beaten up and ••••wn the Streets, by every Varlet, in my trouble∣••••me Night-walks; nor shall I stand cooling my ••••els any longer, before the Doors of Bawdy∣••ouses, till the next Morning. Now I am at li∣••erty to do any thing, I can go to Sea, I can ••••rn Husbandman, I can enter my self a Soldier; ••••w I am come to my self so far, that I may 〈◊〉〈◊〉 an honest Husband, and may provide both for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 self in my Old Age, and also for my Children. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Heavens! What greater Remedy could ever ••••ve been given, if we take in the Condition of ••••••m that took it? That Potion had made thee ••appy, if the poor Wench, that gave it, could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made thee as Rich. So that, 'tis not this a∣lone,

my Lords, that is sufficient for the defence of the Innocent Girl, that she did nothing of what she did for her own sake? No, she deliver'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Servant of hers from Bondage, she disengag'd him who, they say, makes it her business to hold him faster, to solicite and entice Men to Love, and to corrupt their dispositions. Oh ungrateful Fellow▪ How much art thou bound to her? 'Tis true, you bring nothing with you, you are at no Cost 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not of a Farthing, but you like my Company you follow me, you stay by me, you go along with me wherever I go, you favour me, you admire me, you cry me up in all places. And therefore you have a pique against Misses, be∣cause that even Poor Men are admitted to them because they have such easie access, and are ••••∣cused from tedious Attendances. What dost thou do, that art a Lover, but seek to accuse us 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that for a great Crime, which is really and in∣deed a high Courtesie, so that even the Rich ma•• think well of us? No Man is forc'd to break 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his wanton Love by any, but by him that doe really Love him.

What says my Young Man? Hast thou dra•••• the Potion, saist thou, which gave thee a Qu••••••¦est from thy Passion, which quell'd thy heat, and extinguish't thy Lust? Go thy ways, withdraw 〈◊〉〈◊〉 while, whilst we give thanks in the Name of a•• Mankind to this Madam, who ha's demonstrate to us, that such a thing was possible. That F••••••¦ous Affection, which (if we believe Old Stories hath brought the Gods down from their Sta•••• Seats into the Earth, that hath made Monsters, Fable, even of the Sacred Deities, I say, that l••••¦ful

heat, that hath coupled and confounded Man with Beast, that hath made its way, thrô Iron-gates, ••in midst of Flames, that hath rov'd far and near beyond the Seas, is now check'd and defeated Yea, hearken, I beseech you, to what's a greater wonder, The Remedy against Love is found out by a Woman. No more now let Mortals be afraid of Incestuous Crimes, let no chast Affection be afraid of such abominable filthy desires. That which the Threats of Parents, that which neither our grave Kindred, nor Poverty, nor Necessity itself could bring about, one short and easie Potion has admi∣••ably effected. Oh that a Man could drink an Anti-potion to all vices, as well as this? Happy were Mankind, if we could restrain all the other ••xorbitancies and unlucky wandrings of our minds, by one Infusion. Pity 'tis, that so great a Reme∣•••••• should lose its Esteem, because of the Mis-name of its first Inventress. We should have admir'd ••ny Man, if he had found out such a Potion to de∣••••at his Whore. Yet 'twas you, Young Man, that ••••••t Inflam'd with thy immoderate lust beyond o∣••hers, that stood in need of this special Remedy, more than any. Prithee, what was thy Condi∣••••on, that thou shouldst fall in Love? We have ••eed of an Estate, lest, when we are in Love, we may be in a miserable case; thô perhaps Men do ••ot see the inconveniences of that unruly Passion, who are buoy'd under or discharg'd from the scorns ••nd contempts of their Paramours by the Riches, which undo them. Happy is he, that loses nothing ••ut a little Estate in a Stews. Thou losest thy un∣••erstanding, he his money only; thou drink'st a ••rovocative and Love-Potion, thou begg'st with piti∣ful

Tears in thy Eyes, thou su'st by the wanness of thy Cheeks: and that which is the worst of all thou must be a wretched miserable Man, that thou mayst be reckon'd a kind Gentleman. Sup∣pose thou feelest no such Torment of this thy Af∣fection, yet thou, that art not worth a Groat, ha•••• thou not reason to be ashamed of the very thing call'd Love? Thou art a Person, who canst not be at leisure to pine and languish for his Love, and thô Sick for Love, yet it becomes not thee to rest all Night; thou canst not be excused, if thou losest the day-time only; thou maintain'st thy self by thy hands, thy Estate comes by thy dayly La∣bour at thy Fingers ends, which thy dayly bread doth more than exact from thee, thou would•••• spend more thou if couldst get it; yet you, for∣sooth, must go a madding; you must mind Cares•••••• and Dalliances, which are due only to the Rich and, for which you can never be pardon'd, you make your self miserable on the account of you•• Love and Pleasure. 'Tis true, I Iook'd when Wa•••• and pinch-belly Hunger would have taught the•• better Manners. But thou began'st thy Ar••ours forsooth, when thou wert a downright Begg•••• and what room was there left then for Co••••s•• and Advice? He whom Poverty cannot Cure, th•• best way left to Cure him is, by an Hate-potion Yet now I think on't, 'twas not only the Poverty of thy Person, I tell thee, thou didst not wa•• Means only and Estate; for ought I see, thou hadst neither Kindred, Acquaintance, or Friends if thou hadst, they might have Cur'd thee better than my Antidote; or at least, if they had nev•••• heard of the vertue of this Ingredient, they mig••••

ha' bound thee hand and foot, to have kept thee at home. Why dost thou clude an Outragious Af∣fection, by kind Flattering Complements? I have given thee a Remedy for that Passion, which hath oftimes made Men hang themselves, throw them∣selves down a Precipice, and which has let out their Labouring Souls by the Port-hole of their Wounds. How far Love can Tyrannize over a Man, they best know who are Engaged.

Now let me consider, with your low Fortune, what Person 'twas you doted upon. Poor Pil∣••arlick, you lighted indeed on a Young Gentle∣woman, far from proud and far from scornful. As ••or some Whores, a Man can never come near ••m. How many things do they call for, on the ••ccount of their tender Sex; how many more, ••ecause they are Young and Handsom? They are ••lways in need of this and that; of this suit, that ••tire. A Miss is always chargeable and craving. ••he Poor Shaveling must wait all day long at his ••istresses door, that one time or other she may be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 leisure for him. He is put off and excluded 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Emulation of those Gallants, that send their ••••esents afore 'm, so that he must stay till she has 〈◊〉〈◊〉 body else. When she refuses to be kind, then ••ou art mad; if she refuse not, thy satisfaction ••••does thee. Thy joys prepare thy hope, and ••••y disappointments make thee mopish; thy de∣••••es on both sides are Inflam'd. You may believe 〈◊〉〈◊〉, who saw with our Eyes, what a State of Body ••••u were in? How pale didst thou look? How ••••••••ful and shameful was thy Melancholy? How of∣•••••• hadst thou a mind to drink Poyson? You must ••t therefore complain, Young Man, that the

gentlest Passion of your Soul is lost, 'twas not Love but Madness; not thy Delight but thy Vexa∣tion; not thy Passion but thy Whore. The Deity of Love (if we may believe the first Writers of Philosopby) is a most Antient Power, to whom the everlasting Duration of Nature owes itself▪ But that Love is gentle, grave, rejoycing in Ho∣nourable desires, and in the puissance of a Sacred Charity. It was that which first severed all things, envelop'd in the darkness of their Original Chaos, and then cemented them together agai•••• But this Flame of Love, which makes our re••••¦less hearts seek forbidden Unions, is tumultu•••• and troublesom by the woking of our yet lascivi∣ous Blood, and is armed with Killing Weapon and Funeral Torches. The former helps us to P••••¦pagation by the Accustomed Piety of Wedlock; b•••• the other drives to nothing but Incestuous L•••• to Adultery, and, in a word, to Harlots. No•• may I relate the monstrosity of mad Love in Fa∣ble, as the strong and strange fancy of a Ma•• they never saw; a Youthful Beauty that was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Love with itself; Virgins that have desperately d••••¦ted on their Aged Fathers; and the shapes of M•••• and Beasts brought out into the World, mixt a•• confounded together by our Monstrous Cop••••¦tions? Yet of all the Mischiefs, that our Pass•••••• but too too willingly, runs us into, none m•••••• grievous or crueller than this, we can meet w•••••• no Man, that desires to be cured of his Love.

But, says he, I had rather be in Love 〈◊〉〈◊〉 'Twas for that I gave thee the Potion, Man. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Reprimands would serve, no Prayers could p••••¦vail: Advices were all lost. A wanton L••••••

must be set free by some Dose, if his Mistress be his Physician. Pray, let me ask you in this place, could you have accus'd the Woman, if she had cur'd you any other way, as well as by her Potion? 'Twas in her power to demand, what you could never have paid; and then to scorn and contemn you as the dirt of her Feet. And are you now angry, because she had rather cure you by a kind gentle remedy, than by an heart-••••exing one? The Woman might have discharg'd ••er self of Thee, only by hating thee herself; but ••ow she has contrived a device, that thou shouldst ••ather hate her. But suppose, thou most pre∣••••mptuous Wretch, thou feel some grudge of Pain 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy Cure; cou'd you expect to be perfectly ••ur'd of an immoderate Passion, in an Instant? What 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Sick Man should complain, he is cured by ••••e smart of Abstinence? Some Vices have been ••riven out by the severe discipline of the Lash, and ••ave been covered or restrain'd by being brought ••••w: Help hath sometimes been administred by ••••re and Lancing; and that, which would have ••een a disaster in time of health, hath been ad∣••anced into the repute of a remedy, in compari∣••••n of greater hazard that attended. For you all hardly ever see a Man go away merry and ••••cund from this unruly Passion, that recedes there∣••••om out of modesty, or satiety, or upon the ac∣••unt of Penitential Thoughts. Never any Man ••ill retreat from those Evils without regret, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 can enjoy with such pleasure. 'Tis a point of ••••ve again, to cease loving and be quiet. There ••as need of as much bent to the t'other side, of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 much strength as made you love at first, for

fear you should bethink yourself, and stand and muse, when you are perfectly well. I tell you, we see what Remedy should have been given to the Young Fellow, even by the Condition he is now in. If any manner of Cure was to be applyed to a Man that after an Hateful Drench complains he cannot Love, 'tis but a small thing, if he only cease h•••• Passion. Hearken then, thou most ungrateful Wight, seeing thou wilt have our secrets brought into o∣pen Court. I did give the Potion. For what else, says he, should I do, when so many other Reme∣dies were lost? I protest, I cou'd not abide, that all the Whores in the Town should begin to f•••••••• at thee. Remember, prithee, the discourse we had in those Nights, wherein I frequently admit∣ted thee to my Bed and Embraces, when another, and perhaps a better Man than you, was fain t•••• wait; did I not advise you, poor heart, not t•• strive or struggle with a Woman of my mean Con∣dition? Favour me and my low Fortune, for we are both very Poor. And thou thy self, how of∣ten didst thou cry out, weeping without intermissi∣on, and bedewing my Bosom with thy Tears, I am sensible, dear Madam, that I am mad for Love but I can't help it for my life; I am overborn by my Passion, I can't command my Eyes nor rule my Heart? Woman! I would most willingly h•••••• thee, if I could. Why then, thou most ungratef•••• of Mortal Wights, should'st thou blast my kind¦ness with the name of a Raskally Potion. I ga•••• you a Remedy, but the Hatred comes from your self. 'Tis true, you rave, you revile, you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 out, but those are not the effects of my Potion but of your Old Passion, Love. You were such

before. Those are quite other gates kind of Men, who flote in pleasure being buoy'd up by a great Estate. But poor Scraps are impudent, when they think of a Miss. I remember, you kept a pother as well as the best, when I gave you admittance before; you could not endure to stay, nor to be stav'd off, you curst all the Gentlemen that came to me, you rail'd at every one you saw. What Man in the World has his Condition happily chang'd for the better, more than you? Time was, when you cou'd abide no body at all; but now, poor Man, you hate but one simple Girl. Why do you not rather give ear and hearken to some good and wholsom Counsel? Consider, where∣abouts you are? Seeing your Health is but new∣ly recover'd, why will you put it in hazard a∣gain, by such a over-eager desire of Quarreling? I protest, and declare, you squander away my wholsom Potion, the virtue of the Medicine hath not yet diffus'd itself over your whole Heart and Soul: There are Two very great Passions yet strug∣gling about you. Of the Two, I beseech you take the Potion's part. Come on, Check and run Coun∣ter to whatever appears against it, and makes such troublesom huffs and bustles in your heart. Let a perfect recovery settle all about you. Then we shall know, you are cur'd of the Passion of Love, when you have put off the Passion of Hate.

Thus, my Lords, I hope I have defended the Innocency of this Gentlewoman, well enough; yet the Greatness of her danger calls upon us to beg and beseech; Rise up, then, thou miserablest of Women, abet and make good the remainder

of thy Plea, with thy Tears. O thou, that do'st Indite her, what do'st hope for? What do'st ex∣pect? She shall never fall down on her Knees be∣fore thee. Thô thou accostest the poor Woman with all thy terrible menaces, yet she shall not kiss thy hand. Thô thou threaten her with death and destruction, yet she shall never petition thee for her Life. Don't mistake your self so far, as to promise yourself any advantage from our dan∣ger and Fear. Alas, let me tell you, the poor Girl hath no Remedy for Hatred Suppose it comes from the strength of thy Portion, that thou accusest the Innocent: Is it not sufficient satisfaction to you, that you see her look so pale for fear? Is it not sufficient to hear her sigh and groan? remember this is she, that you would not hearken to in your Youth. What do you do? Let me ask you? Can you endure to have her call'd in Question, and her very Life in so much jeopardy? Will you reckon the Votes of the Court: And if they Cast her, wilt thou, wicked Wretch, skip and rejoyce. I shall say then, thou didst never Love her at all. Perhaps you will follow her to her Execution, will ye? Will you stand by, when the Executioner touches those pretty Eyes? Can you look on, whilst that Neck, that you have so oft Kiss'd and Embrac'd, is laid bare, for the last Blow? Will nor you leap toward her? Will you not put your own breast to receive the Stroke? Will you not call out for help of God and Man? Wilt thou re∣ceive her body after Execution; and stand over her Limbs, yet panting and quavering after the Blow? Canst thou behold this? Canst thou en∣dure it? Then I'le say, thou art perfectly reco∣vered.

But if the Event of this Sentence prove yet more sad, the Gods, who are always the Revengers of Courtesies soon forgotten; the Gods, I say, (whom this Cruel Fellow, in the Arms of his Miss, did oft beseech, with Mourning and Tears, to put an end either to his Love, or to his Life,) give a just revenge on this ungrateful Youth, yet without maiming him. I don't imprecate lame∣ness, nor drowning, nor sickness on him. No, but I pray he may be poor still, and that he may love the meanest Drab in the Town, and that he may never have his belly full, nor give over.

Notes

• Iron.
• Iron.
• Iron.