NEver did Men more affect an appearance of Honesty than in our days, yet never was Age more fruit­ful in Cheats; they grow in all Countreys, each Sex and Condition produces new in­stances; and those who Converse in the World, quickly find, there are not subtler Knaves, or greater Masters of Craft than some who are taken for the Simplest of Men.

[Page 2] The Gallant I write of, was a Hero of this Make: The best ac­count of his Pedegree, (being somewhat obscure) is, That he was of the Race of Melchisedec, and knew no Father, but a Coun­try Curat, whose Nephew he past for, though strongly suspected to be his Son; being so very like him, it gave cause to believe, that when he was Begot, the Curat had more than a finger in the Pye.

The Curat in his younger days, had been taken for a Gamester; having a Complexion and Mein, that discovered an inclination in him to labour no less for the In­crease, than the Salvation of his Flock: However, the great care he took of his Nephew, and the kindness he had for him, made Men (who judge according to Appearances) easily believe, The Curat had no small interest in him. [Page 3] And the rather, for that a con­siderable part of the Revenue of the fat Benefice he had, was bestow'd yearly on the Education of his Nephew John Le Brun, for so was his Name: And, as to his Qualities, he was handsom and witty; but from a Child, a little given to Cousening and Chea­ting.

The good Inclinations of Youth must be Cultivated with continual Care to bring them to perfection; the ill, grow up of themselves. Thus the hopeful Nephew did constantly exercise the patience of his good Uncle, by doing every day one shrewd turn or o­ther, and playing a thousand wild pranks, attended with as many Complaints from the Neighbour­hood; so that the Curat despaired at last of ever bringing him to Good. But John (at length) be­ing [Page 4] about three and twenty years old, and moved by the Remon­strances of his good Uncle, or growing more sober with Age, was so far Reformed, as to give some hopes of Amendment. There was no more talk of his Foole­ries, no Complaints for his Fro­liques; not but that he continued as very a Rogue as before, but that he was grown up to the Wit of covering his Knavery, and concealing his Extravagances.

The good Curat thought it the work of Heaven, and gave God thanks for the blessed Reforma­tion. John, who knew himself a handsome Lad, was willing to try his Fortune in Gallantry: The Village he was born in, could not furnish him with a Beauty suitable to his own; which, he thought, might expect a civil Respect from a Lady of greater Merit, than a [Page 5] Countrey Girle could pretend to: And to compass his Design, he resolved the Scene of his first Ad­venture, should be a Castle be­longing to the Lord of the Man­nor: There he soon met with a Chamber-maid, who might serve very well for his first Essay in Gallantry; being a very pretty Wench, and of a very good Fa­mily. He had no sooner disco­vered his passion to her, but he promised himself Success. The plain Countrey Lovers, use com­monly very little Formality in their Amours; 'tis but telling one another they are in Love, and the business is done. But our Gallant had read Romances; and strictly observing the Punctilios of Gallantry, made his Declaration in due time and place, and was kindly received by his excellent Mistress.

[Page 6] Diana, the Nymph I am spea­king of, was more honest and in­nocent, than those of her Cha­racter ordinarily are: Chamber­maides in the Country, having not the Advantages incident to those of the Town; who, in a short time, become such Profici­ents in the Mysteries of Gallan­try, that they quickly Commence Mistresses of the Art. John Le Brun had the Dexterity to per­swade her, That his Passion was arrived to that height, that no­thing but her pitty cou'd secure him from present Death. The good-Natur'd Girle, who would have been troubled in Consci­ence, to see a young Man (who lov'd her so tenderly) dye for want of her help, easily resolved to give him Ease. This Scene of Love was to be acted in a Garden; where, under pretence of eating [Page 7] Cherries, Diana took John with her to shake the Tree. I know very well (said she, with a Coun­terfeit Modesty) that what I do here is contrary to my Duty, and a blemish to my Honour: But see­ing the necessity of losing you, or my self, I find the Consideration of my Life a great deal too light to be ballanced with yours: But I hope I shall have to do with a Man of Honour, and Honesty, who will take care of my Reputation, and not abuse me for that which Love forces me to in kindness to him. The Gallant, you may imagine, fail'd not on this occasion to make use of the deepest Oaths, and the highest Protestations of Love and Fidelity, to strengthen the In­clination, and settle the mind of so kind a Mistress.

John, being so nearly related to the Curat, needed no other [Page 8] Recommendation to gain liberty of Access to the Castle, and main­tain a-while his Correspondence and Familiarity with the Cham­ber-maid, without Interruption: But by degrees, notice was taken of a particular Kindness between them, though no body dreamt of their being so intimate, as they really were. Among all the Fa­mily, Diana made choyoe of the Lady of the Place, to be her on­ly Confident: But, though she had singled her out from a mul­titude of others, she daily Con­verst with, she did not think fit to trust her with the Adventure of the Cherry-Tree; being so Ro­mantique, that she judged it not proper to be Communicated to any; but especially, to her Mi­stress.

The Lady was Handsome, and very Inclinable: and to cover [Page 9] her Sins, had taken a Husband advanced in Years; who, warn'd by some Visions concerning his Honour, had taken a Resolution to quit the Town, and retire in­to the Country; in hopes, by the benefit of that Aire, to be cured of the Head-ach, that trou­bled him in the Town. But let us do what we can, we shall all have our Fortunes; and he that is born to have a kind Wife, is sure to go to Heaven, if Horns can help him thither. The poor Lady confined to a Village, where she could scarce see once in a Month a Man any way Tollerable, had no other Pleasure in her Solitude, but to meditate sometimes on her good Actions past; and relate them to Diana, whom she found a very good Girle, and capable of a Se­cret.

[Page 10] This Lady being a very expe­rienc'd Lover, was the first that discovered the Amour of the Chamber-Maid, and the Curat's Nephew, and was so far from op­posing it, as some proud ill-na­tur'd Mistress would have done, that she favour'd their Intrigues, by taking frequent Walks into the Garden, and the Fields; and making Diana partaker of that pleasure, gave her the opportu­nity of meeting John Le-Brun al­most every day, and took singu­lar delight to see these Country-Lovers Court and make Love; but made as if she knew nothing of the business, nor took the least notice of it to Diana. But the good natur'd Maid, thinking her self obliged by these favours from her Mistress, (to let her know something) she took the occasion as they were sitting under a Tree, [Page 11] discoursing of Love, to discover to her a Secret of mighty impor­tance (wherein she pray'd her ad­vice) that the Curat's Nephew had a great passion for her, and that she found her self pretty well inclined, but apprehended some Consequences which per­plext her mind, that she knew not what to resolve on. Her Mistress smiling, and with an aire of kindness, laying her Arm over her Neck, desired her to tell her truly if she were gone no further. Diana blusht, not knowing what Answer to make.

The Mistress taking advantage of the Confusion of the Lover, told her she had too good an opi­nion of John Le-Brun, to believe he had so long left her in a Con­dition to doubt in this point; and that if she would confess the truth, she must acknowledge, she [Page 12] asked Counsel too late about that particular, that she need not hide it from her, being already as­sured she Lov'd him, and willing to serve her in any thing for her advantage. So much Compleasance, and so extraordinary Kindness from a Mistress, in whose power it was to do very much for her, did so charm Diana, that it en­gaged her at the same time to speak a little more freely of the affair: So that the Lady, who was very dextrous at pumping out Secrets, made her confess that what at first she had term'd a bare inclination, was in truth a settled Passion. That if John Lov'd Diana, she Lov'd him no less; and descending by degrees to matters of fact, they discours'd of some favours she had not had the power to deny him.

[Page 13] The pretty Maid (in the end) ingeniously confest they were come to some close Familiarities of Love, but she would take care he should find it a hard matter to proceed any further, unless he would Marry her.

The Mistress, who had never descended to those fondnesses of Love, but where she design'd to grant her Lover all he could wish, knew well enough what to think of the business, yet was unwil­ling at that time to press that point any further, but had the Curiosi­ty to know the beginning and progress of the Amour, and fully informed her self of the smallest trifles and fooleries which gave her a very pleasant divertisement, till at last she perfectly learnt the whole state of the affair, their Rendezvouz and places of Assig­nation, to the very Conclusion.

[Page 14] The easie Diana knew not what a person she had to deal with, and to whom she had imparted her Secret. There is nothing whereof a Woman ought to be more distrustful, than of another Woman, especially in matters of Love; there being nothing in the World whereof a Woman is more jealous, than of the good Fortune of another. This was not the first time, that the Mi­stress became Rival to her Maid. The Lady was not only of a ve­ry susceptible Nature, but had al­ready cast her Eyes on the Illu­strious John Le Brun; who, for Handsomness and Wit, was (with­out Contradiction) the Flower of the Village. But the many Mea­sures she was to take, the haz­zard she was to run in trusting a Raw young Fellow, a meer No­vice in Love; and the perpetu­all [Page 15] Watch of her Husband kept o­ver her Actions, so startled her Rea­son, that till then, they had mo­derated (if not smother'd) the Transports of her Amorous Soul. But the Inclination this Gallant had entertain'd for a Chamber-Maid, had highly fomented in the Heart of the Mistress those Seeds of Rebellion, and Revolt from her Duty, long since im­planted there. And the Story she had newly heard of the state of their Amour, made her absolute­ly resolve to make use of the oc­casion, for sharing with her Maid in the Pleasure she had to see John Le Brun.

You may easily believe, the Lady design'd not to engage in the Conquest of her Chamber-Maids Gallant; but was very willing Diana should have the Honour of it, allowing her Mistress [Page 16] a share in the use of it, to satis­fie Nature, and no more: And Nature is commonly content with the Use, not troubling her self a­bout the Property.

We have all our Infirmities; and those of this Temper are the more pardonable, in that it is almost impossible to master them: and this passionate Lady was not disposed to offer any Violence to her Inclinations. She thought of her Pleasure, and the Joy that attends it, not troubling her self with scruples and doubts; and had formed in her Mind a thou­sand Designes to obtain her De­sires.

John was lookt upon in the Castle, as Diana 's Servant; which gave the Lady a fair occasion to laugh, to speak, to walk with him when she pleased, without any suspition, if Diana were in [Page 17] Company. But the old Gentle­man, whether searing the A­mours of these two Lovers would set his Wife alonging, or that he was jealous of all the World, as of her, began to dislike the great Familiarity and Freedom John used in his House. He went to the Curate, and told him, It was pitty a young Man as his Nephew, who had so good Parts to make him useful in the Church, should lose his time as he did: And that, be­ing lookt upon as worthy to suc­ceed him in his Benefice, and be one day the Pastor of his Flock, should think of nothing but making of Love: That this proceeding did not edifye at all: That he must begin betimes to implant in him a Contempt of the World, and an Af­fection for Retyredness. In a word, that Prayer and Study ought to be the principal Business of the Ne­phew [Page 18] of so honest a Gentleman as he was: That he told him this as a Friend, and hoped his Advice would be well taken.

This Sermon being ended, the Curate gave his Worship hum­ble Thanks for the Favour he did him, and his Nephew; and when time served, both should acknowledge it: But he knew well enough where his Worship was pinched. He had not kept his Jealousie so close, but the Cu­rate knew the Disease he was troubled with; and might very well judge, That his Nephew (Young and Handsom as he' was) could not spend his time so constantly in the Castle, without giveing him some Umbrage. However, he forgot not to give his Nephew a Lecture when he came home at Night; and to forbid him (on pain of his Displeasure) to go any more to [Page 19] the Castle, for Reasons not to be made known at present; but received from so good a hand, there was no cause to sear he that gave them could be mista­ken. John knew not what this meant; but meeting Diana on the Morrow (having watched a­bove an Hour for an opportunity to speak to him) she told him the News, that clear'd all doubts: acquainting him, That her Master had charged her Mistress, and her, to see him no more, nor take him along with them to walk; his Uncle having made it is Re­quest, searing his Nephews han­kering after Women, might hin­der him in his Vocation; and as for him, he was resolv'd it should not be said, he was spoyl'd in his House.

John Le Brun was not a little astonisht so see himself deprived [Page 20] in a moment, not only of the sight and Conversation of his Mistress, but of the lovely Company of his Lady; who had already discove­red some good Inclinations, which (cultivated with Care) promised him more Good than could be expected from the Love of a Chamber-maid. The Vanity of his Nature, and the good Opinion he had of him­self, made him apt to flatter him­self on any occasion: and, as to this Lady, he had certainly rea­son enough for it: For, the kind­ness she exprest for his Person, accompanyed with that obliging Behaviour she seasoned it with­all, gave him ground enough to hope for some Favour. But then, when he thought himself the hap­piest of Men, or (at least) in a fair way to be so; he received the sad News, which blasted his Pretensions, and made all his [Page 21] Hopes vanish. You might have expected to find him Irrecovera­bly swallowed up by Despair; and he had certainly been so; had not the simple Diana bid him not trouble himself for the matter; and told him, Her Mistress, and she, had thought of a way to see him; if not by Day as former­ly, it should be at Night: That she had for that purpose, been that Morning betimes with one of her Friends, a Lock-Smith, and carried him in Wax, the print of the two Keyes, to the Back-gate of the Castle; and that, before Night, she would give him an account of them, if he would but take the pains to be at that Place about Nine in the Evening. The Spirits of our afflicted Gallant were not a little raised by the hopes she gave him; and you may believe, he promi­sed [Page 22] faithfully not to fail the Agssi­nation.

The poor Girle was in earnest, and thought her self extreamly obliged to her Mistress; who all this while, laboured nothing more than to do her the worst Office one Woman can do another in Love; which is, to rob her of her Lover. But it was her Fol­ly not to see, that the Concern­ment her Mistress exprest for Johns misfortune was too great, to be free from Suspition. She had not made such hast to find the means to let him into her House by Night, but that she was Particularly and Personally concern'd. And it was apparent enough, that, running an equal Risque in all Dangers with Diana, she did in Justice expect to share in her Pleasures.

[Page 23] The Lock-Smith made ready the Keys the same day; and was payd so nobly, as to oblige him to keep their Counsel. John was at the place of Rendezvouz at the Hour Diana had appoin­ted him, who was as punctual as he; and told him, All was well, and that she just came from trying the Keyes; and that, at Eleven a Clock, when the Old Gentle­man was a bed: He had no more to do, but come to the Back-gate, which she would then open for him.

This Gate opened to a back Stair to the Ladies Apartment, where the Gallant might attend without any danger: At Eleven a Clock he stood Centinel, as appointed, and was introduced. John, who perhaps was a little cloy'd with the easie Possession of Diana, when he found her Mi­stress [Page 24] lookt so kindly upon him; yet, ravished with the opportuni­ty, found the Fire within him kindled so strongly at his being so near her in the Dark, with her Slippers under her Arms; that he could not stay till he came in­to the Chamber, to let her know how much he loved her; but put off his Shoes, to find some other Warmth for his Feet.

The Lady, who expected them, growing impatient at their stay, would needs go see what stopt their coming: She went to the Stair-head, without Shooes or Light; and hearing nothing of them, had a mind to go down to the Gate. The two Lovers were careful not to make a Noise, be­ing not well assured it was she, or else to conceal from her the Trade they then drove. They scarce breathed; so that, the La­dy, [Page 25] whom the spirit of Curiosi­ty pusht on to her Ruin, in going down Stairs, unfortunately made a false Step, and tumbled over them down several Steps. And how little soever she was beholding to Love for the Accident, she was certainly much obliged to For­tune, in that she escaped so well from so dangerous a Fall. You may imagine, what a peck of Troubles John and Diana were now in: The Noyse her Mistress made in her Fall, was enough to raise all the House, but that it was in a Lodging, a part from those of the Servants: much more might it have awaked the good Man, where the greatest Danger lay, but he had the good Qua­lity to sleep very soundly; and, by good Luck, heard nothing at all.

[Page 26] The first thing John did, was to get to the Gate for fear of misfortune; and, almost at the bottom of the Stairs, he found the Unfortunate Lady; which, had he had a Candle, would doubtless have been a very rare sight. Dia­na came to help her up the Staires, which she had so nimbly gone down. She had happily saved her Face, which gave her some Comfort: but for the rest, there was not a part of her Body but was sensible of her Fall.

The Gallant, judging they had business enough for that Night, to apply Remedies for the Brui­ses, without further use of him; with-drew softly, and went his way Home: He had Newes at his Rising, that the Lady was better; and that she was not so ill, but she desired to see him a­gain that Night. He came the [Page 27] same Hour to the Gate; which being opened, he resolved not to lose time with Diana on these unfortunate Staires, for fear of a­nother ill Accident, but went strait, where the Lady expected him: She had told her Hus­band a fair story of her Mis-ad­venture; and made that advan­tage of it, that she obtain'd leave to lye alone for three or four Nights, in a Chamber near his. The good Man could not have imagin'd, that his Wife, in the Condition she was in, could think of Love: But this Passion takes away the sense of any other Affliction.

John Le Brun was Conducted to the Chamber, where he found the fair Lady dressed in her Bed, like a Goddess: Some of the Servants were yet up; and Dia­na was ordered to hold them in talk, till they went to their Cham­bers, [Page 28] for fear they should come and hearken. Unless you will be­lieve, the Mistress found out this sleeveless Errand for Diana, that she the while might have the Liberty, to speak a Word in Pri­vate to the Curate's Nephew. Well, John, (said she, with a Smile, as soon as the Chamber­maid was gone) you see what we do for you; We expose our selves to be talked of: We give our selves trouble for you: We almost kill our selves for you, and you (perhaps) haeve not the least Sense of it. You should do me wrong, Ma­dam, (answered the Crafty Ne­phew) to accuse me of that: I was grievously troubled at the un­happy Accident befell you last Night: It is, impossible any Man could be more concerned than I was: I swear t' you, I could not sleep a Wink all Night; and this [Page 29] Morning, as soon as 'twas day, I burn'd with Impatience to hear Newes of you. Say what you please (Replyed she) I will not believe you; you are a Dissembler, and this is not the first day I knew you such: But let that pass. Do you know (said she, letting fall her Voyce, as if she would have told him a Secret) that I have had a great Quarrel for the Love of you. For the Love of me, Madam, (said he, much amazed at her Discourse!) Yes (Replyed she) for the Love of you: My Husband hath been told, that you were in Love with me; And further, that you were not hated. I, (said John, with very great Humility) I Madam; should I, the Nephew of your Cu­rate, lift up my Eyes, and fix them on the Wife of his Lord? Ah Madam, if there were cause, I could easily justifie my self: I know too [Page 30] well the Respect I owe you, Madam.—Respect (Replyed she) is nothing in this Case; Poor Shepheards have been in Love with Queens, and Queens with Shep­heards. You are Young, Handsom, and Witty; 'tis too well known. I am not satisfied with a Husband I was forted to Marry against my will: And the constant Resort you have for some time had to our Fa­mily, was more than enough to raise a Jealousie in the Parties concerned, you came upon design. But, Madam, (Reply'd the Gal­lant, charm'd with this obliging Newes) 'tis very well known, I came for Love of Diana. Dia­na (said she) Alas poor innocent Soul! 'Tis easie to judge, a Youth such as you, if at Liberty to make his Court where he pleas'd, would sooner address himself to me, than to her. I thank Heaven (added [Page 31] she, blushing a little) you see, I want not what may render me a­miable; and what is such a Girle good for, but to serve for a Colour when I am in place?

John had by this time an ea­ger desire to draw some advantage from this pleasant Discourse: Till now he stood in the Chamber, like a dutiful Vassal, in Presence of his Lords Wife, his Hat un­der his Arme, and at three or four Paces distance from the Bed: But the kind Lady was pleased to make him draw nearer, and sit upon the Bed, that (as she said) she might not be obliged to speak so loud, for fear of awaking the good Man. The Door was shut, and no cause of Fear on his side; but rather on Diana's, who might chance to be frighted at so much Familiarity between John, and her Mistress; who, notwithstanding, [Page 32] never troubled her self for it, knowing Diana could not return very quickly.

John having taken his place at the Beds-Feet, after twice or thrice bidding, and absolute Com­mands reiterated for doing so: And who, think you (said she) hath done you this ill Office with my Husband? Alas Madam (an­swered he) how should I know? There is no want of wicked Peo­ple in the World, and I have e­nough in the Village, that envy my Happiness. It would surprize you (said she) to be told it is my Chamber-maid. Who Diana (an­swered John, astonisht to hear it)? Ah Madam, it cannot be; I know her too well, to believe her capa­ble of such Treachery. Make not so much hast (Replyed the Lady) to take her part: You have not, perhaps, more reason to defend her [Page 33] than I. Consider if ever I had cause to suspect her: She was al­wayes my Confident; I trusted her with all my Secrets: And though I knew you frequented my House for Love of her, I could not but let her understand, I loved your Wit, and took pleasure in your Conversation. I did more; and, perhaps, was guilty of too much Imprudence, when I bid her assure you from me, that I had Kindness for you, and that you might de­pend upon me as your Friend: That I desired very much to do for you, and advance you: That you could not want the thing I would not furnish you with for asking: And that I would have you speak to me freely. 'Had she been your Friend, she would not have con­cealed from you the kind and ad­vantageous thoughts I had for you: But I see well enough, 'twas her [Page 34] Jealousie hindred her, and made her Reveal the Secret to some one of the House; who, without doubt, hath told it my Husband. The Gallant, who clearly saw what this Discourse tended to, answe­red, I assure you Madam, she ne­ver did me the favour to acquaint me with these obliging Evidences of your Goodness; otherwise, I had not been now to thank you for them: and now, me-thinks, I begin to believe what you say. The Lady, Ravish'd with Joy that John was of her mind, pusht on her Amorous Design; and made him absolutely believe Diana guil­ty of what she was accused; and that the best way to revenge her, was, to make a Fool of her. I know (said she) you love me: [John durst not say other-wise] and, though you never told me so, I have perceived it by your Eyes: [Page 35] But to make our best of this busi­ness, Diana must not know any thing I have told you; but use her as formerly, and you shall find you cannot be unhappy: To prove what I say, (added she, shewing him a Purse taken from under her Pillow) here are fifty Pistols for you: Assure your self, while you love me, and are discreet, you shall want for nothing. What Heart of the Temper of John 's, could have resisted such a Favour? Never did a Mistress in Romance acquit her self better: Ladyes that dare not rely on their Charms of Beauty for Conquest, if they make use of this course, shall ne­ver want Lovers. The Gallant was so transported with the Pre­sent received, that (forgetting the Respect due to the Lady) he embraced her Knees a thousand times through the Bed-Cloaths. [Page 36] She, out of Modesty, would have put him off; but it was, that he might apply himself else-where. The Gallant, though naturally bold, durst not at first venture a­ny farther: Yet he had the bold­ness to steal a Kiss, which he took, finding her so nigh him, that she seem'd to offer it him. 'Tis enough (said she, with a lan­guishing Voyce); However, do not think, though I give you the Liberty to see mee by Night, to be alone with me in my Chamber, and to sit on my Bed without Wit­ness or Danger, that I will grant you any more. John Le Brun was too Intelligent, not to compre­hend the Meaning of these Words; But Diana coming in, interrupted the course of this sweet Conversation.

There past nothing more at that time worthy Relation: John [Page 37] retiring presently after, so incen­sed against poor Diana, he had not the Patience to Caress her in the least, taking leave at the Gate, whither she accompanyed him to lock it. But how could he longer Love a Chamber-maid, which had given him at most, but some Knots of Ribband, and two or three Cravats, or some other Trisles of inconsiderable Va­lue; when he had sound a Mi­stress, who, for her first Com­plement, honoured him with a Purse of fifty Pistols.

He had never been so Rich in his Life; nor could he take any rest that Night, for thinking with what grace of Address she had made him that Present, and how he should lay it out: All these Fancies vanish'd at the Approach of Day; and he was no sooner up, but he wisht with Impatience, [Page 38] that Night were come. His Thoughts were wholly taken up with the Charms of the Lady: He could not sufficiently admire, with what address she had made him understand she loved him, and desired that he should love her again: But that which Charm'd him most, was her Grace in performing a Generous Action. He was ready to dye with longing to see her again, as if all his Visits were to be paid with ready Money. He knew very well to make use of Op­portunity, which, at this Day, is the best Science in the World, and the true use of Things. Night came at last, but it was long to Eleven a Clock; and in Con­junctions of this kind, Moments are tedious.

Diana, who knew not the rea­son he had entertained her so [Page 93] coldly the Night before, waited with as much Impatience as he, to see him again: But he was so cruel, that he made no more account of her this, than the for­mer Night; nor would be per­swaded to stay a moment to hear her; and when she reproacht him for it, he answer'd her with Slights. The Poor Girle was a­mazed at the Change, and could not imagine any thing less than such a Perfidiousness, especially in her Mistress.

John entred the Ladyes Cham­ber, whom he found on a Bed of State, finer than ever he had seen her. Poor Diana was sent again to amuse the People of the House, though there was not the least need of it: But the truth is, they had no need of her there, and were willing to amuse her. Ne­ver till then did she know what [Page 40] Jealousie was, having loved in peace, and in a full Tranquili­ty; in Confidence, her Gallant had loved her as faitfully: The Indifference of a Lover, is an ap­parent Mark of Perfidiousness. The Distaste we have of one Ob­ject, is commonly the Effect of Pleasure taken in another. Love is an incurable Disease; and he that hath been once in Love, will ever be so with one thing or other.

The dejected Diana went mu­sing with her self, what cause she had given her Lover to use her thus: But the more she thought on what was past, the more she found he had nothing to reproach her with, but too much Love; and that the Change she observed in him, must be a pure Effect of his Inconstancy, which inclined him another way. [Page 41] This put her upon examining who should be her Rival: Is it (said she) the Stewards Daughter? No. Is it the Scrivenars Daughter? No. Is it such a ones Neece? or such a ones Sister? No, no. [Thus she ran over all the hand­some Girles in the Village, with­out finding any just Ground of Suspition.] Did he Love any of those I am thinking of? Or had be some new Inclination, where I cannot imagin; What had he to do here? And yet, What cause can he have to use me, as he does these two dayes past? 'Tis but three dayes since he swore to me, it were Death to him, to let him go to Bed without a sight of me; And this Evening he runs away from me; he will not speak to me; he will not so much as hear me: Whence comes this cruel proceeding? If he loves me no longer, why comes [Page 42] he so punctually to the Gate? He waited there before the time ap­pointed; and as soon as he saw me, he thought no more of me. O Heavens, me-thinks I see the beginning of all this disorder: He is in Love with my Lady. I ob­serve, she hath of late more Care than ever of her Person, and Dress; especially at Night, when he is to come; so much Dressing, so much Curling, so much Patching, so much Powder, so many Scents, are not for nothing. I am sent hither; What to do? Heavens! How in­nocent am I? My Love of him, and Confidence in her, have blinded me quite.

These were stinging Reflecti­ons for a Girle in Love, to fancy her self not only betray'd, but made a Fool. She needed no more to make her leave the wor­thy Employment they had given [Page 43] her; and to go softly, to spy through the Key-hole, the Po­sture of those she suspected: She sees her perfidious Lover, and her honest Mistress so closely joyned, she had reason to think them both of a piece: What a sight was this for the poor Dia­na! She wish'd her self blind, and was ready to dy for Grief; and in this distress, fetched two or three deep Sighs, which those within might easily have heard, but that they were busie about some-what else. This turn'd Diana's Grief into Despair; and now, nothing but Revenge can give her Satisfaction; which she might soon obtain, by giving the old Gentleman notice of what was a doing, and inviting him to see the Comedy in Action: This she resolved upon; but had scarce given too Knocks at his Cham­ber-door, [Page 44] but she relented into a tenderness, that moderated her Fury: [An Irresolution to which Persons in Love are usually sub­ject, amidst their highest Tran­sports.] She considered her Lo­ver should be utterly undone, if the Old Gentleman found him with his Wife; and that it would be a means to lose him for her self, as well as for her Mistress: This Consideration prevailed over her Resentment: She pittyed him, and thought it sufficient to go, and make them ashamed, by reproaching them to their Faces, for their Infamous Treachery.

The good Man, who had half heard the last Knock, not know­ing whether he had heard, or only dreamt of a Noise; to be satis­fied, goes to the Door; and hearing some Body go back very [Page 45] softly, thought there were Thieves in the House. He runs to his Sword, which had not been drawen since the Warrs of Paris, where he had served in Person: He takes his Captains Pike in his Hand, and puts his Helmet on his Head; which carryed be­fore, a sufficient load of his Wives putting on.

Diana in the mean-time, gro­ping on the Wall; and conside­ring how to take John and her Mistress in the Act, that they might not have any colour of Denyal; met a Man, whom she presently took for her Perfidious Lover. Are these your tricks Iraytour (said she▪) Canst thou think such Falseness can escape unpunished? If none else, Hea­ven will Revenge me. The Old Gentleman, in the Emotion he was in, never minding on what [Page 46] side he had heard the Noyse of the Thieves, Ran in his Shirt without any Light, towards where he heard Diana's Voyce; holding his Pike at full length, and before him; and making a Noyse with it enough to raise the whole House: Who goes there, cryed he, as loud as possible; which so frightned Diana, that, quitting him she had laid hold on, she went to hid her self, for fear her Masters Anger should all light upon her, if found with her Gallant. Who is there, said he once more: No Person stir­red. In the mean time he bran­dished the Pike the one way, and the other, till at last he felt some-thing under it: Then did he double his Fury, and with a thundring Voice, Speak (said he) who is there? or you dye. Ah Sir (answered the Wretch that was caught, with a lamentable [Page 47] Tone) Pitty your poor Curate, and do not kill him. No Curate, Replyed the Cholerick old Man, who, in the trouble he was in, understood not what was said, nor perceived that it was the Curate that spoke; but cryed out, Thou shalt dye like a Robber as thou art: Confess quickly, that I may dispatch thee: This he said, seconding every Word with a Blow.

John Le Brun, and the Lady, frightned with this bustle, thought it high time to look about them: They knew not whether the Noyse were raised about them, or on some other occasion; But the Gallant, for more Surety, held it best to save himself: They put out the Candle; and, open­ing the Door softly, he thought to slip away through the Croud in the Dark; but (unfortunately) [Page 48] fell foul on the good Old Man, and laid him along on the ground, Pike, Helmet, and all. Then did he cry out to purpose; Thieves, Thieves; Help, help▪ I am dead! All the People of the House (ha­ving already heard part of the Noyse he had made) ran to him thick and three-fold: His Lady too, having had Leasure enough to alter her Dress (making as if she were in mighty hast in her Night-Gown); no sooner saw the Light, but she came to know what the matter was: Amazed to see her Husband guarded round with all his Domesticks in Arms, from the Kitchin; which made such a Clattering, that they un­derstood not one another. But that which was most pleasant to see, was. The Old Man (like a Sta­tue) laid flat on the Ground; his Helmet on his Head, his Pike [Page 49] in his Hand, a Belt over his Shoul­der two Inches thick, a Rapier at his Side four or five Foot long; and all this in his Shirt only, which was an excellent Equipage, to draw a Pourtrait in ridicule by. None of the Servants, but had a Moneths mind to Laugh; But the Lady Acted her Part best: She cry'd, the wept, she afflicted her self for the unhappy Accident besain her dear Hus­band, not knowing what Vision had appeared to him. The rest did their Master the best Service they could; some taking off his Helmet, others his Belt, others his Sword. The good Man took on grievously, extreamly concer­ned lest the Thieves should escape; and Commanding his Ser­vants to pursue them; telling them, there were (at least) half a dozen in the House, and that [Page 50] had seen them, though all this while in the Dark. But his Wife having long since represented him, and made him pass for a Man much subject to Fancies, and Va­garies; his Servants, who knew what he affirmed was impossible, could not look at one another with­out Laughing.

Just thus (said the Lady) when I fell the last Night, I thought there were Spirits in the House. Death (answered the old Man, in a Rage) these were no Spirits; witness my Pike, with which I have killed one, or (at least) mis­sed but little of killing him; for, he called for the Curate to take his Confession. This Discourse set all the Folks a Laughing; which so vexed the Old Man, that, han­dling his Pike again, he threat­ned to be Revenged of them all, as so many Thieves within doors, [Page 51] holding Correspondence with those without, unless they would pursue them. To satisfie him, they took upon them to make search for them in the Castle: But whether it were that the La­dy reserved her own Quarter to be free from search, or imploy'd them at distance, no notice was taken of; the back-gate being the Place of Rendezvouz.

Diana, at length appeared be­fore her Master; and, though much out of Humour, forgot not her Duty in making fast the Gate: This done, she went up to her Ladies Chamber, where she lay: Here was Acted the Scene that discovered the whole Plot. The Lady Laught, and wondered Diana was so sad: And both being laid, What (said the Lady) you are troubled I warrant you, that your Lover is gone without seeing you? [Page 52] Fool, thou shalt see him to Mor­row: Would you have had him stay till they had search'd my Chamber? Ah Madam (answe­red Diana) I would to God they had found him here. And why, (replyed the Lady, much surpri­zed at the Answer) Why (said Diana) You know well enough; and that he came not hither for my sake. The subtle Lady, fell a Laughing; and Embracing Dia­na, told her, She now saw she lo­ved John in good Earnest, since she was jealous of him, and upon her account, whom of all the World, she had least cause to fear; but she would pardon her unjust Sus­pition. Diana unwilling to be altogether fool'd, replyed, That her Suspitions were too well groun­ded: And seeing her Lady con­tinue Laughing at her, What Ma­dam, said she, (with that Ardor [Page 53] and Vehemence Truth usually in­spires into those who maintain it) have not I seen you with John in such and such Postures? Did not you tell him this? did not you tell him that?— Which the Lady hearing, How now Insolence (said she) are you a Spy on my Actions? May not I do what I please in my Chamber for you? Who in the middle of the Gar­den— and pausing at that Word, she afterwards proceeded, Witness the Cherry-Tree. Diana grew paler, and more confounded than ever: But knowing they were but equally match'd one to one, she recovered her Courage; and with as much heat as her Lady, gave her story for story; and re­proach'd her with all the Gal­lantries of her Life past, which she had the goodness to relate to her. The Lady, not able to en­dure [Page 54] it, without a transport of Rage, beyond what is allow'd to Persons of Quality of her Sex, was not content to make use of her Hands (finding Diana as good at that Sport as her self) but ran for a stick, which she had in the Chamber. Diana perceiving it, thought it time to with-draw into a place of Safety; and find­ing no other than the Bed, as she was going under it, she sees a Mans Leg, and then another; and by degrees, the rest of the Body, drest after the old Fashion: What a fright was she in? Her Mistress running after her, stum­bled on the Feet of the Spirit, and fell to the Ground: Thus was the Anger of these Female Combatants appeased on the sud­dain; and they look'd one on the other, to inquire who the Man should be; and how he came [Page 55] thither: Have you ever seen two Enemies joyn Forces at the Ap­pearance of a Third, stronger than both? Just so did these Rivals agree in a Corner of the Chamber, where they durst scarce breath; taking the sight of this Object, for an Effect of Divine Justice: and believing it could be nothing else, but an Evil Spirit, sent from the other World to put them in mind of their Sins. At last, this Spirit spoke; and putting off an old Gray Hat he had upon his Head, Madam (said he) you must pardon your poor Curate, unhappi­ly exposed to the Hazard both of Life, and Reputation; the Loss of both could not have been preven­ted, if (by good Fortune) he had not found your Chamber-door open; where he came to hide himself, when you were gone forth. The two Females, hearing the Voyce and Name of their good Friend, [Page 56] the Curate, recovered a little Courage, but durst not yet ad­venture going nigh him; because Spirits are apt to Lye: And they had reason to fear, this same had a mind to abuse them; it being not propable, that Mr. Curate should be in their Chamber that time of Night, and in such an Equipage: But finding him at length a very peaceable Spirit, they ventured to go nigh him, and knew him. It was so surprizing, and so pleasant a sight to see him in a great Gray Wastcoat, and a Hat drest like a Sow-Gelder, that they could not forbear Laughing. 'Tis indeed a Laughing Business, said he, (some-what angry for the small Compassion they had for him); but you have your share as well as I, in the Adventure: 'Tis true, I bear the Blowes; But un­less you would have me discover all, [Page 57] do your Endeavour to help me out from hence, that I may go Home. Mr. Curate (answered the Lady) what is written is writ­ten: You have been Young as we are; and you know, you should do so to others, as you would they should do to you. We have every one his part in what hath hap­ned this Evening. I have too much to my share (said the Curate), and I feel it I am sure. Therefore (said the Lady) let us keep one anothers Counsel: Diana shall go open you the Gate; But let us know first what Misfortune brought you hither, where you have so lit­tle Business. 'Tis true, Madam, (answered the Curate) I might very well have let alone the Bu­siness I had here; but the too great Affection I have for that Rogue, my Nephew, hath brought me to the fine Condition you see me in: [Page 58] For, three or four Nights last past, I observed he went out of his Lodg­ing at an unseasonable Hour, and returned very late: The Care I have alwayes had of his Education, and the Charitable Remonstrance I late­ly had from my Lord your Hus­band, made me think my self ob­liged to follow him this Night, to see where he went. I saw him en­ter the Castle, at the Back-Gate; and intended to wait his Return, to ask him, What he had been do­ing? But growing impatient at his stay so long, I took the Pains to get up hither by the same Gate: And now I cannot but think it was by the Instigation of the Devil: For, as I came groaping along the Rooms, I met Diana, who put me into a bodily Fear, and mistook me for my Nephew: Presently after, came in my Lord, your Hus­band, who frightned me to the pur­pose; [Page 59] For, not knowing whether to flye, I threw my self like a sim­ple Sott under his Pike, with which he thought to kill me: At last, Madam, to conclude in a word, (said the Curate, Smiling when he saw them Laugh) I came, I saw; but the Mischief is, I was over-come, and soundly beaten.

The Curate had a pretty Fa­culty at Railing, which gave the Lady occasion to shew him some Kindness; and pray'd him, He would not ill use his Nephew. As to that, Madam, (answered he) I know what I have to do: I am willing for your sake to forget what is past; but must intreat you to take order for the future, that no Mischief come of it. Could my Nephew pay you his Respects with­out Consequence, and that my Ho­nour were not concerned as well Yours, I should give him up to [Page 60] your dispose, to do with him what you pleas'd: But 'tis a wild Youth, who, in the end, will Ruin Ton, and Me; and 'tis (absolutely) ne­cessary to let him go and Travel for some time, and learn to get his Living in another Country. The Lady would press him no further, hoping the Affection he had for his dear Nephew, would make him alter his Resolution.

The Curate in the mean time takes his leave; and, Diana ha­ving opened the Gate for him, he went Home, where he found the Gallant in a very sweet Sleep: But his good Uncle having a­wak'd him, he was amaz'd to see him at that Hour in his Cham­ber; and ask'd him, What he pleas'd to have? I come to tell you (answered the Curate) That my Lord would fain speak with you. Speak with me (replyed [Page 61] John!) Yes, with you, (said the Curate) about some Froliques that have been done this Night in the Castle, for which a Freind of yours had like to have been well beaten. John was not a little surprized at the Discourse; but however, he swore and protested, He knew no­thing of the Matter; That it was three Dayes since he had been in the Castle; and they did him wrong to charge him with their Disorders. They have done you wrong indeed (replyed the Curate) but it was, in letting you escape as they did. Tell me, you Arch-Rogue, Went not you into the Castle by the Back-Gate, at Eleven a Clock this Evening? You think no body has seen you play your Pranks with the Lady; You came not out of her Chamber at the Noyse made by the old Lord, whom you thought to have dispatched: [Page 62] All this, I know to be false; there­fore, get you up, and clear your self before him; 'Tis Hanging matter if you do it not. The un­happy Nephew was sufficiently troubled; not able to defend himself from Conviction, where the Proofs were so clear: He knew the Kindness his Uncle had in store for him, throwes him­self at his Feet, confesses all, and begs his Pardon. There is but one Remedy (said the Curate) you must put on your Cloaths, and be gone immediately for Paris, where they will teach you more Wit; for if you stay till Day, it will be too late; there is a Warrant for Apprehending you.

John, who was very willing to be fairly quit of the business, and go Travel, took this as a Favour, rather than a Banishment from his Uncle: He gets up, makes up [Page 63] his Pack, takes a little Money, and gets into Paris; where he soon made himself known. He resolved to set the best Side out­wards; takes a Boy, changes his Name from Le Brun to Le Bel: And, having laid out part of the Money he had from the Lady to put himself in Equipage, he visited the great Ones, and went every Day into the best Compa­nies; And had Wit and Impu­dence enough to bring him off well; being not so Raw, as to be taken for a Country Squire.

He soon gain'd considerable Acquaintance of the one Sex, and the other: But he was a little Knavishly given; and had in his Nature, an Inclination to Chea­ting, he could never get rid of, which spoyl'd all.

He had many Adventures, both good and bad, Paris being a place [Page 64] proper for that; But the Adven­ture of his Lodging, was the worst of all, and sent him pack­ing out of Town. You shall hear it in few Words:

After several Cheats he had Acted here and there, his Mo­ney growing low; and, finding himself no longer in a condition to visit the Ladies, and keep the Company he had done at first, he was forced (for maintaining his Gallantry) to submit to make Love to his Landlady: She was a Wo­man not Unhandsome, and had pleased other Men. He was in her Debt; and in what Respect soever he considered the Con­quest, he could not but think it of advantage. Women of her Character, are quickly familiar; their Calling obliges them to al­low Men some Liberties, which [Page 65] make them believe, They will deny them nothing.

Mr. John Le Bel, who, after the good Fortune he had met with in the Village, thought no­thing so Impregnable, but it must yield to his Charmes; found so much Kindness from his Landlady, from the first Day he spoke to her of Love, that he thought the Business done; and that she was deeply in Love with him; and that it was not for his purpose to be ill-conditioned to her. His Chamber was neer that of his Landlords, and he could hear him go out to Market every Day, as soon as 'twas Light, and leave his Wife in Bed, to take her Morn­ing Rest: The happy Monsieur Le Bel thought it the most favou­rable Occasion in the World: He gets up one Morning, puts on his Night-Gown; and, with­out [Page 66] farther Ceremony, goes to his new Mistresses Chamber, and was at her Bed-side before she awakt: He slips boldly into Bed; what he did there, I know not, it is not written in his Story; but certain it is, he was there above half an Hour with her, and no Noyse at all; without doubt, she took him for her Husband: But at last (having known him I cannot tell how) finding her Mistake, she cryed out withall her Force. It was in truth a great piece of Folly, and our Gallant paid dearly for it; For, the People of the House running in, armed Cap-a-pe, some with Broaches, some with Forks, some with Knives, and other Arms from the Kitchin-Ma­gazin, enough to frighten a more dangerous Pallet, than the sieur of John Le Bels; Scarce gave [Page 67] him time to take his Breeches, and his Hat, the Blowes flew so thick about his Ears: And this was that Jolly Combat, which he published so much for his Honour where-ever he went; and got him the Sir-Name of Monsieur du Joly Combat.

He was glad to get to the door without Stockings, or Wastcoat; but, by Good Luck, he was not far from a Broakers, where, with the little Money remain'd, he bought a few Cloaths, to set him out as well▪as an ill Suit could do, for a second Adventure; and, at the same time, chang'd Quarters, for fear of new As­saults.

Paris is large; and those who would hide themselves, may ea­sily do it: Monsieur Le Bel stood in need of such a Place; not on­ly in regard of his Landlord, but [Page 68] of those Persons of Quality he had had the Honour to be ac­quainted with; being not then in a condition to maintain the Port he had appeared in. How­ever, he must live; and every Day will not furnish us with the kind Lady of the Castle: But Folks sometimes meet with cross­grain'd Landladies.

By good Luck, there was hard by his new Lodging, a Bath-keeper, who wanted a Boy: The Em­ployment was somewhat mean; but those in Necessity, stand not much upon Terms and Punctilos of Honour. He offers his Ser­vice, and is entertain'd: And changing his Condition, would also change his Name, and calls himself, Champagne.

And now John Le Brun, and John Le Bel, is become Champagne, a Bath-keepers Boy: He was na­turally [Page 69] Ingenious, and very fit for that Trade, and might have done very well in it, but that he thought it beneath him: He did but wait the Hour to bid his Master adieu; and as soon as the good occasion was offered him of a Gentleman belonging to Court, that came to Bath himself at his Masters; he took the pains to seize all his Cloaths, leaving him his Rags in Exchange. You may believe, that, being new rigg'd by this Shift, he made hast out of his Lodging, and travers'd the Streets a pretty round Pace: He had not then formed any Designe. Ca­valiers of his Order, commit themselves to Fortune, Espouse all Adventures, and think every Country their own: But meeting, as he past along with a Stage-Coach; and seeing a handsome Lady in it, he asked the Coach­man, [Page 70] What Place he was bound for? He told him, For Amyens. As Lucky as may be (answered our Gallant) 'twas the very thing I look'd for; and, without more adoe, steps into the Coach. Then did he begin at leasure, to exa­mine the Prize he had new ta­ken; but found it not so Rich, as he had promised himself. The Gentleman whose Cloaths he had borrowed, was a Man of Estate; but had newly lost all at Play, to Champagnes great Grief; who scarce found in his Pockets, e­nough to carry him to Amyens: But the worst Luck now, the better another time. The Lady in the Coach, was none of the least Beauties: There was but they two, and he was in hopes, his good Mein might Charm her to bear the Charge of his Jour­ney, [Page 71] while they travell'd toge­ther.

He set himself out, he play'd the Wagg, he talked of Love; and perswaded the fair Lady (who was an Honest Picard) so far of his particular Merit, that she be­liev'd what he pleas'd: But, as ill Luck would have it, she was a Person more beholding to Na­ture than Fortune; and had the same Designe upon him, he had upon her: So that, having felt one anothers Pulses, they soon perceived, they must Club for their Journey: Having found out this Secret, their Love grew cold, and they parted at Amyens with a great deal of Indifference on either side.

This Gallant, whom I dare no more call Champagne, Habited as he was, failed not to Lodge at the best Inn in the Town, and [Page 72] to Eat with some Officers who were all Persons of Quality; and among the rest, the Count De Brion.

The Dress he was in, became him huge well; and no Man but would have taken him for a very honest Gentleman: But having neither Baggage, nor Servant, and no more known in the Town, than at his Lodging; the Inn­keeper, who had learnt not to trust any Passenger three dayes after his Arrival, came to bid him Good Morrow, and tell him, He was going to Market. The Cava­lier presently understood what the Complement meant; and begin­ning to Huff, asked, How much he wanted for Provisions for his House? That if fifty Pistols would do, he should speak the word, and have them within an Hour, down upon the Nayle. In short, That [Page 73] he should give himself no trouble; That he would just dress himself, and pay him what he owed him. It was alwayes his Maxim, to promise lustily, though he knew not how to perform; especially, at this time, when he could go neither backward nor forward to furnish himself.

The Count De Brion Lodged in a Chamber hard by him: He was a generous Person, and one whom our Gallant had Courted above the rest, with designe to make use of him in case of ne­cessity. He never scrupled to Complement him, and let him know, he was a Gentleman ill used by Fortune; and had Re­course to him, as a Person to whom he would choose to be ob­lig'd rather than any other. Count Brion took pitty of him; and having bid him not trouble him­self [Page 74] for such a Trifle as what he ow'd his Host, offer'd him a Place in his Troop; telling him, A young Man as he was, should not lose the Occasion of this Warr to ad­vance himself, but endeavour to make his Fortune: As for him, he would serve him with all the Credit he had; and assur'd him, he should never want as long as he saw him do his Duty.

Mr. Champagne was no great Lover of Warr; He was not born under the Planet of Mars: How­ever, for Honour, or rather, for Necessity, he accepted (with much Joy) the place offered him by the Count De Brion; and within two Dayes, went along with him towards the place of Rendezvouz, for the Kings's Ar­my.

That Champagne, though Glo­rious as the rest for that great Mo­narch, [Page 75] proved unfortunate for Count Brion, who was killed that Year. John Le Brun, as if he had been unwilling to Serve longer in the Warr, after the Death of his Captain; or ra­ther, aweary of the Service, as too hard for him, thought of no­thing more, than how (handsom­ly) to run away: He was then in very ill Equipage; but Hea­ven provided for him.

One who waited on Count Brion in his Chamber, and after his Death, had Listed himself in the Troop; having some Cloaths of his Masters, as he was going out on a Party one Morning, delivered them to Monsieur Cham­pagne, to keep for him. Our Cavalier would not let slip the Occasion, but fastens his Port­mantle behind him; and, in a time, when it Rain'd as if Hea­ven [Page 76] and Earth would come to­gether, falls off from the Ar­my, and gets into Valenciennes; where he was very wellcome, as all French Deserters are. From thence, he passes to Gaunt, where he Sold his Horse to furnish him­self with Money, to carry him to Brussels. He goes into the Boat; And knowing of what Consequence it was to gain an Esteem in the Place, by the Ha­bit he should appear in at his Arrival, he took out of his Port­mantle one so very fit for him, as if it had been made for him; besides clean Linnen, he found there a Belt, Silk Stockings, and every thing he wanted, save only a Hat; his own being not suitable to the Habit he wore, It was his good Fortune, to find in the same Boat a Merchant, who furnish'd him with a very fine Hat for some [Page 77] things he gave him in Ex­change.

Our Cavalier once more new fitted, entered Brussels in Try­umph, and as fine as a Bride­groom; And, according to his Custom, took up a Lodging in one of the best Inns in the City; having his Port-mantle carryed after him, by a Boy he met ca­sually in the Street: He made his Entry into his Lodging, un­der the Title of A discontented Officer of the French Army. He presently called a-loud for a hand­some Chamber: Then he began to enquire, Whether there were in the Town any French Tay­lors to make him Cloaths, and Drapers, and Hosiers, and Shoo­makers? He sent for some of all these Trades, and set them all to work, as well for himself, as his wor­thy Valet; giving them order to [Page 78] have all ready in three Dayes; that he would give them Con­tent, and pay them with In­trest.

All the Discourse that Day in the Inn, was of the French Of­ficer: He had already gained the Reputation of a Person of Qua­lity, that was come to spend some time at Brussels. Besides, the Gallant had made it his Business, to enquire of the Persons of Quality there; and to inform himself of those in particular, who would give a Civil Reception to Persons of Me­rit and Birth like himself; with such other Particulars, as are ne­cessary to be known by them who intend to visit the Great Ones. He had one of the best Rooms in the Inn; and the Ordinary he Eat at, was a Patacoon a Meal, which was some-what high for an ordinary Officer.

[Page 79] But our Gallant made a Bustle after the rate of a thousand a year: But the Maid going up at Supper­time to make his Bed, had the Curiosity, (or it may be a design, to finger some Spare Utenfill or other for her use) to Ransack his Port­mantle, which she found open, and to see the fine things he had there: But was very much Sur­prized, to find it only a poor Sol­diers Wardrope, containing onely an old Gray close Coat Lin'd with blew, worn thred-bare with­in and without; a Greasy pair of Leather Breeches, a pair of Ri­ding Stockings, all botched up with white Thred; an old Leather belt, and a black Taffity Cravat, with a Ribband of so extraordina­ry a Colour, that none knew what to call it then, though it had pro­bably been formerly, a straw-Co­lour or scarlet. The Maid found [Page 80] none of these rich Accoutrements for her turn; but was so Officious, to bring her Master the Newes of the discovery she had made; who presently went up to take a View of these Goods, and easily guest how matters stood with our Offi­cer; having before had to do with some Officers of the same kind; and having dearly bought his experience, he had no mind to be Cheated any more. He Let him sup quietly; but as he rose from Table, he took him a­side, and pray'd him Civilly, To pay him for the two Meals he had eaten there, and to take another Lodg­ing more Convenient for him; telling him, he had expected that Evening a person of quality, who had hired for a year the Chamber he had taken; and that when he came, he could not deny it him; that he was much troubled at it, but knew not how to help it. If [Page 81] that be all, (answered our Officer, without standing on point of ho­nour to be put out of his Chamber, to accomodate another) we must Comply; have not you other roomes in the Inn? You are honest people; And I should be sorry to Leave you; because I am to stay a pretty while in this Town. I am obliged to you for the favour (replyed the Host) but let it be, if you please, at some other time when we are not so full. What (said he, smiling) would you have me go seek a Lodging at this time of night, when I know not as much as the Streets of the Town? Tis no matter Sir (answered the Host) my Sheets are too fine, and I am not such an Asse to let them be Stolen. Your sheets, (replyed the Of­ficer Knitting his browes,) What's the meaning of that? Whom do you take me to be? I take you, answered the Host somewhat loud­ly, [Page 82] to be a discontented Officer, who may go to seek a Lodging elsewhere, with your beggarly Wallet, and your Port mantle full of Rages. How now inso­lence, replyed the Officer, is this your course to Ransack my Boy's Clothes. The Host was so provo­ked at his Calling him insolent, that he ran for a stick; at the same time the Officer ran for a Fine Silver Sword, that was upon the Bed, and not only stood upon his Guard, but fell upon his Landlord so briskly, that he wanted the help of his Servants, who Coming in to his rescue, the Bustle increased. Never did Monsieur Le Bel ap­pear so Courageous, as on this occasion; but the reason is, he was newly come from the Army. The Guests of the House ran in to see what the matter was, but sound such a Confusion among the [Page 83] Men and the Maids, (crying out for being hurt, or for fear of being so) they knew not what to make of it. In the midst of this bustle, our discontented Officer, whom Fortune never fail'd at a dead lift, took his opportunity, and got away with his Silver Sword naked; ha­ving lost nothing in the skirmish, but his Hat, without any harm but a few dry blows of no Great Con­sequence. This Jolly Combat was better than his former, having come off here with honour, and a good Sword for a trophy: The fear he was in of being pursu'd, made him take Shelter in a house, where he Spyed the door standing half open; where, without more ado he boldly went in, Hoping to find a way to pass further; or at least, a place of refuge from his Enemy: There he could see but one lit­tle Stair-case, which he got up [Page 84] softly; and found in the Chamber, a very handsom Lady, sitting all alone, and leaning on a Table, with a Book before her. The fair Lady was so surpriz'd at his unex­pected Arrival, that she fell down half dead at his Feet: Ah Sir, (said she) do what you please, on­ly save my Life. This Action caused no less Astonishment, than Pitty, in our Hero: And letting fall his Sword to the ground, like a Person disarm'd, he took up the Lady in his Arms; and Embra­cing her with a great deal of Re­spect, lift her up from the Ground▪ Your Life, Madam, (said he) is too precious, to be in danger with a Man of Honour: Had any one a Designe upon it (added he, ta­king his Sword into his Hand) he should soon find, I stand here in your Defence. But Madam, to put you out of the pain of guessing the oc­casion [Page 85] of my being here (which I am very sensible, cannot but sur­prize you, seeing me in your Cham­her at this time of Night, with my Sword in my Hand); give me leave to acquaint you, I am a French Officer, of Quality, as you know well enough, that in France, they imploy no other but Persons of Me­rit: I was taken Prisoner the last Engagement; And, having this Evening found some of my Guard a­sleep, after their Bellies full of Wine I had given them in the Day, I seized their Officer's Sword; and, having forced my Way through the midst of the rest, I saved my self, as you see. I have left them my Baggage, my Money, and all that I had; which, though very considerable, you may easily believe, I value not at all, when compared with my Liberty; which now, Madam, is in your [Page 86] Hands: It is in your Power to save, or to ruin, me: For, in the Effort I made to get out of their Hands, I know well enough, I have wounded two or three; and I fear, I have left one dead on the place. The Lady being a Person of Qua­lity, and of a Generous Nature, would have been very glad to have done a Gentleman a Kind­ness on such an occasion; but she was just taking her Leave, and told him, It was not in her Pow­er to do him any Service, but Re­commend him to a Gentleman, her very good Freind; whose Faith­fulness he might rely upon. Ah Madam, (answered our Officer) now you are leaving this Countrey, give me leave to bear you Compa­ny: It will be the far surer Way for me, than to go back again for France; and to stay here, were to run too great a Hazard of being ta­ken. [Page 87] If your Business require it (Replyed the Lady) I should be very glad of it: For, though I be of this Countrey; yet, perhaps, I may be in a better Condition else­where, to serve you: But (added she, smiling) you know not whither I am going. Go to what part of the World you please (answered our Cavalier) it matters not at all; I shall send for what is necessary to put me into Equipage. You do not know me (Replyed the Lady); and, it may concern you to con­sider, how you engage to Travel with a Lady, who (perhaps) may be imployed in some dangerous Bu­siness: For, in the Disorder you see me, you may easily believe, that this is none of my House. Ah Madam! As for Danger (Replyed the Officer) I fear none but from your Eyes; As for any other, I have sufficiently learnt at the Ar­my, [Page 88] not to value my Life; and should esteem my self Happy, to find an occasion to lose it in your Ser­vice. A Discourse so Generous, and obliging for the Lady, pro­duced abundance of Thanks; which the Hero answered with as many Congees down to the Ground.

The Lady was Handsom and Witty, and had the Appearance of a Person of Quality; well ac­quainted with the Great Ones, and bred up amongst them. Mon­sieur John Le Bel our Officer, newly escaped out of Prison, thought her worth the looking after; and lookt upon her alrea­dy, as his Mistress; or rather, one he resolved to make a Fool of, by putting a Trick upon her. She was in a loose, but rich Dress; which, with his finding her Door open, made him believe, She ex­pected [Page 89] some Bodies coming; of which, he made no very good Construction: But having Com­plemented her a fresh, of the Ne­cessity he was under, to use the Liberty he had taken; he thought himself obliged, to intreat her, to permit him to with-draw into some other Room of her Appart­ment, if his stay in her Cham­ber were troublesome: She told him, No: That in truth, she ex­pected a Visit from a Gentleman, her Friend; to whom she had sent her Foot-Boy, who carelesly left the Door open; but that she believed, he would not come that Evening, having stayed away so long: How­ever, he might find time enough to go into another Chamber: And so, she pray'd him to take a Seat. I know not Madam (said the Of­ficer, to raise a Discourse) what a Person you took me for, when you [Page 90] beg'd your Life of me on your Knees, as I entered your Chamber; but I will assure you, No Action I ever met with, surprized me so much, I confess Sir, (answered she) you put me into a terrible Fright, with that naked Sword in your Hand: I took you for one I had reason to be afraid of; but you see, I soon altered my Opinion: And to tell you the truth, You look not like an Assassin. An Assassin Madam, (cry'd the Officer!) What Villain could harbour such Thoughts against so Beautiful a Person? There-upon, he renew'd his offers of Service, with greater Protestati­ons than before; telling her, with an Air of Bravery, That her Enemies must be very strong, to do her any Out rage, while he should be so near her. Then pressing her to tell him the truth of the matter, he received from her the following Answer:

[Page 91] Though the Confidence you have in me, in your particular Concerns, had not obliged me to impart Mine to you; yet they have made so much Noyse in the World, I could not think fit to conceal them from a Per­son, whom (besides the Advanta­ges of his Quality) I take for a Man of Honour, and Discretion. The Officer having return'd the Complement in a very Reverend Bow, she proceeded to tell him; I am a Lady of this Town, and of a Family considerable enough, both in the Court, and the Camp, to give me the Advantage of ap­pearing in this Court with some Splendor: But the ill Understan­ding between my Husband and Me, hath made me so unhappy, that there is no staying for me here. Marriage, which serves for a Cloak to many others, hath robb'd me both of Honour and Estate. I never [Page 90] Loved my Husband, which is a great piece of unhappinefs; and he hath Loved me too well, which proves a greater Mischief than the other. You cannot but be sensible, what Swarms there are of trouble­some Husbands in out time; and, consequently, how great the number is of Discontented Wives: And, let it not surprize you, to let you know, I am one of Them. I have been reputed Handsome, and so many have told me so; that, though I had not been inclined to believe it; yet the multitude of those who af­firmed it, must needs have per­swaded me to think so: But what is Beauty good for but the Pleasure of being Beloved? I should ac­count her a Fool, that should tell me, She put it to better use: gentle or simple, honest or kind-hearted, We are willing to please; And there are wayes to please the Se­vere [Page 91] and Morose, as well as the Airy and Free: I have had Tryal of both: But this pleas'd not my Husband. But what came I into the World for? To live as in a Nun­nery? He hath done all in his Power to make me leave Brussels, and go live in the Countrey: But missing of his Aime, he reduced me out of pure Spight, into such a Condition, that it was not in my Power to entertain a Gallant: But there is a Salve for every Sore: All the Bustle he made, did but increase his Disgrace, and proclaim him to be that, which every Wise Man should conceal to his Power. I confess, I lost a little Reputati­on among those they call, The Vertuous Ladies; but those of the contrary Title are so numerous, that for one that Condemns me, there are a hundred to Excuse me: And perhaps, every Woman, that [Page 90] [...] [Page 91] [...] [Page 94] hath a Husband like mine, is ex­cusable for all the little Follies she Commits. This very Day, a Gentle­man his Friend, sent me word, He had ordered two Soldiers of the Ar­my (where he hath a considerable Command) to come hither, and Murther me: Judge you Sir, if after this News, I had not reason to be afraid, when I saw you enter my Chamber: Upon this Intelli­gence from my Friend, I took my Measures; and by his Advice, left my own, to retire into this little House for some few Dayes, till I can order my Affairs, and take my Leave of this Country. Just as she was saying this, she heard a Noyse at the Gate; which made her believe, the Gentleman was come, as in truth he was: She made the Officer presently with­draw; telling him, That one pair of Staires higher, he should [Page 95] find a Chamber open. He got up thither, and saw (though without a Candle) several Cloaths, and other things, lye on the Table and Stools there, which might serve for a reasonable Prize: But being in hopes of better Fortune in time, this could not tempt him. But he had the Curiosity to in­form himself a little, what Dis­course there might pass between the good People below, who vi­sited one another at such an un­seasonable Hour. He had no very good Opinion of the Matter; and thought, if he could once disco­ver the Secret, it would be enough to render him necessary for the Lady: He went down, and stood close by the Door, being more than half shut; where he heard the Gentleman speak to this pur­pose; I have taken the Liberty, Madam, to send your Boy to one [Page 94] of my Friends, to intreat him to lend me a Sword, having newly lost my own by a very pleasant Adventure: There came (said he) this Morn­ning to our Inn, a Young French­man; who made as if he were a Person of Quality, with a Lacquey at his Heels, carrying a huge Port-mantle full of nothing but Rags: Our Host at the first sight; believ'd him what he was wil­ling to be taken for, and enter­tain'd him accordingly: But in the Evening (by what Chance I know not) he discovered, that this Ho­nest Man, who pretended himself A Discontented Officer of the Army, was but a Deserter; and civilly pray'd him to go out of his House: The Officer took it as an Affront: This occasioned high Words between them, and from Words they fed to Blowes: Our Host had a Cudgel in his Hand; [Page 97] and to my sorrow, the Officer find­ing my Sword in the Room, laid hold upon it: We ran in to see what the matter was; and as we were busie about parting them, the French Cavalier went away with my Sword, and I came off with the Loss: Mine Host having seized on his Hat, and his Baggage; though so inconsiderable, 'twill scarce pay his Score. The Lady ama­zed at this Story, thinking the Discontented Officer, very near a­kin to the Officer escap'd out of Prison; askt the Gentleman, What kind of Person the French­man was, and what Habit he had? which he described to be so like the Man, and Habit, she had new­ly seen in her Chamber, that she doubted no longer, but he was the very same: But whether out Prudence or Charity, she said no­thing of it, (being willing to [Page 98] save from further trouble a Wretch, who had fled to her for Refuge; and fearing the bustle the Gentle­man would make about it, being very passionate; and hoping to help him to his Sword again; which, though he should have lost, was no great matter to him) she did but Laugh heartily at the Story.

But the Gallant, who had heard all this Discourse, did not think fit to slight an Information of so much Importance: He presently gets up Staires again; and in a very short time, makes up his Pack, which he takes under his Arm, and straight-way goes down the Staires; and being un­willing to leave any thing behind, that was so justly his own, he slip'd away with his naked Sword in his Hand: But, just as he was opening the Street-Door, he [Page 99] meets the Ladie's Boy with a Sword in his hand; who, you may well think, might be sur­priz'd, to find a Man like our Officer, coming in that Posture out of his Mistresses House: But our Officers Wit was so ready, that he presently asked the Boy, If that were not a Sword he car­ryed to a Gentleman, who was there above Stayres? To which the Boy having answered, It was: Friend (sayes the Officer) you have no more to do but deliver it me; the Gentleman hath found his Sword, I have it here in my Hand, and am going for the Scabbard to his Landlord at the Inn: The Boy was Young, and the Trick so neat, it might have catch'd an old One: He gave him the Sword; and, at his new Friends Request, lent him his Hat till his Return from [Page 100] the Inn, whither he was going for the Gentlemans Scabbard.

Monsieur Le Bel being thus got out of the Bryers, the Boy gets up Staires; The Gentleman pre­sently ask'd him for his Sword: The Boy answer'd, He had given it the Man without a Hat, who had the other Sword in his Hand. What Man, (Replyed the Gentle­man?) The same (said the Boy) that is gone to the Inn for your Scabbard. The Gentleman know­ing nothing of what the Boy meant, thought he was in Drink: But the Lady, who presently appre­hended the Matter, and that the Discontented Officer had not been Content with one Sword; fell a Laughing so heartily, that the Gentleman, not knowing the rea­son, was some-what displeased; and pray'd her to tell him, (if she knew) What was become of his [Page 101] Sword? The Lady, with much adoe forbearing to Laugh, an­swered, The same Rogue that had taken his First, had Cheated him of his Second, Sword. How, Ma­dam, (Replyed he) the French­man? Yes, the very same, (said she) your Discontented Officer. But why, Madam, d' you tell me so? How should you know it? You do but Raily: Let's hear what manner of Man this Man without a Hat was? The Boy Described him so much to the Life, it could not be doubted, but he was the Discontented Officer: The Gentle­man more astonisht than before, turns him to the Lady, and asks her, How she came to know this very fine Gentleman? Sir (said she) Give me time to breath, and I will tell you the Story: Then did she relate how he came to her Chamber; and the Tale he [Page 102] had told her of his being esca­ped out of Prison, which moved her to pitty him; being not able (on so pressing an Occasion) to deny Refuge to a Person of Qua­lity, as he seemed to be: The Gentleman answered, All this was well; but that she ought to have told him of his being at her Lodging; that it had, at least, sa­ved him one of his Swords; and that, having understood so much of him, she might have concluded him a Rogue, that deserved not her Favour: She excused her self with the Considerations we have mentioned; being a Person of so tender a Soul, and truly good Natur'd, she could not find in her heart to do the worst of Men any harm. Madam (Replyed the Gentleman) were it your case, would you be served so? Sir (sayes she) I fear I have lost more than [Page 103] you; and that my Compleasance hath (by this time) cost me very dear: For, when you came in, I sent him up into a Chamber, where all my things lay at Six and Se­vens: But the best of it is, he had not any Light. The Gentle­man fell a Laughing at the La­dies Ingenuity, as if Thieves wan­ted Light to find out their Booty; and told her, Such Peoples Eyes were in their Hands, and that their Fingers were their Candle. They asked the Boy, If the Man he had given the Sword to, carryed any thing with him? Nothing (said the Boy) but a Bundle un­der his Arm: This Alarmed the Lady; and the Gentleman had his turn of Laughing at her. They went up to the Chamber, and found he had carryed away in Cloaths, and other things, to the value of a hundred Pistols: [Page 104] The Lady was some-what com­forted, thinking he could not be gone far for want of a Hat: But the Boy presently told her, He had lent him his; which made them more Sport: So that in truth, they had no more to do, but sit down by the Loss; having all had their share (not excepting the Foot▪boy) in suffering by the Cheats of the pretended Of­ficer.

Some Moneths after, this La­dy (for whom Fortune had pre­pared new Adventures with our Here) went for England; and soon after her Arrival there, vi­sited a Person of Quality, with whom she had Contracted a very intimate Acquaintance at Brussels: She was received with Expressi­ons of the highest Joy and Affe­ction; the Lady being extreamly glad, at the Hopes of an Oppor­tunity [Page 105] to pay her at London, the Civilities and Kindnesses receiv­ed from her in Flanders.

They past from Complement, to Discourse of their Friends; and from that, to the News at Court. The Stranger having a Designe to continue some time in England, was very desirous to inform her self particularly, of the state of Affaires, and have some Know­ledge of the Country; and was very well satisfied, she made her Address to a Lady very knowing in those Points; and one who failed not to give her a Relation, both general and particular, of all the fine Ladies, and their Gallants, in that Court. Her Discourse might have past for a Chronicle in Epitome; containing, in short, The History of the Gallants of either Sex: As well the Ladies, who (by their good Conduct) pre­served [Page 106] their Reputation, as those who had utterly forfeited and lost it: And of the Gentlemen, as well those who were worthy the paines of being Loved, as those who were look'd upon, as the Scandal of Ladies. She proceeded yet further; and being antient Acquaintance, gave the strange Lady some Maximes, and Rules of Conduct in that Court; which with a little Practice, should make her able to give Instruction to o­thers.

After this long Discourse, the Stranger, who knew that the La­dy, her Acquaintance, being a very beautiful Person, had alwayes had her share of the Gallantries in Fashion where-ever she dwelt; asked her similing, Whether she continued still, the course of her Conquests? She answered some­what Coyly, That she bore no [Page 107] part in the Comedies now Acted on the Stage of the World, but was only a Spectator; not that she was become insensible, or that those who have been in Love, can ever cease to be so: but to speak truth, whether it were the weakness of her Fancy, or the goodness of her Judgment, she had no Inclination (at least) for those of this Country: That she was for Strangers, and especially the French, whom she most af­fected. You are not an English-Woman then (Replyed the Stran­ger.) Not by Inclination (an­swered she,) though Born in the middle of England: Did you but know (added she) the Ayre, and the Grace, the French have in Gal­lantry: but I need not tell it you, who come from a Court intirely French. There is one here whom I see sometimes; He is in no small [Page 108] Esteem among the Beauties. That may be the reason, Madam, (an­swered the Stranger) you are not altogether Impartial, as to those of this Country. You are my Friend (Replyed she,) and I confess in­genuously, I have some Esteem for him; but that's all: He is a Per­son of Quality; he hath Wit; he is Handsom, and visits me oftner than others; which is enough to gain an Esteem from me, who am Naturally no Hater of the French. He might have got an Interest in a far handsomer Lady; and I know those who Aspired to the Conquest of his Heart: But his Stars, or perhaps some small Merit of mine, hath made him yield to those small Charmes I carry with me. You shall see him here, it will not be long ere he comes; you shall give me your Judgment of him. The French (answered the Stranger) [Page 109] have certainly a good Meine, and are Witty; and to speak generally, surpass all other Nations in Gallan­try, and are their Masters therein: But to tell you the truth, We are to take heed of them, especially in a strange Country: You shall have a poor Farmer's Son, shall give himself the Title of Marquess of the Place he was Born in: Ano­ther, who never was better quali­fied than a Valet De Chambre, shall call himself by his Masters Name; the better to Cheat some Shop-keeper or Tradesman: There is such a Swarm of such Gallants in the World; that I believe in good Earnest, that People of Qua­lity must for the Future, carry with them Authentick Testimonials; or must be content to lye under Sus­pition of not being what they just­ly pretend to. I can tell you a Story, Madam, what a Trick I was [Page 110] served some Moneths agoe, for my willingness to Pleasure a French­man of this Character: Then she gave her an account at large, of all the Particulars concerning the pretended Officer at Brussels; at which the Lady Laught very heartily, and confest it was a no­table Cheat: But, that Right must be done to Persons of Qua­lity; and that there is a Diffe­rence between those that are Men of Honour, and those who are not. The Person I speak of (ad­ded she) carries in his Counte­nance, the Character of Honesty; and hath in all his Actions, an Ayre Remote, and altogether dif­ferent from any thing of Base­ness and Meanness: That he may very well pass for a Pattern of Ge­nerosity and Vertue. He came hi­ther with a Person of Quality: In a word, It is the Count Brion. [Page 111] Count Brion, Madam, (Replyed the Stranger?) If I be not mista­ken, I have Read in the Gazett, He was Dead. Yes, the Elder Brother (answered the Lady) but this is the Younger, who is come to a great Estate by the Death of his Brother. And, to the Advanta­ges of Fortune and Birth, hath ad­ded that of the highest Merit: Some matter of Honour, as I understand by others: A Duel fought much to his Advantage, hath been the Cause of his flying hither for Refuge. He is not altogether unhappy, Madam, (answered the Flemmish Lady) since Banished his own, he finds in this Country, some place in your Esteem; which cannot but be a very pleasant Refuge. You are al­wayes obliging, Madam, (Replyed the English Lady) I have not Va­nity enough, to flatter my self with an Opinion, of being able to serve [Page 112] Count Brion in his Misfortunes.— She had hardly done speaking when the Count entred; who, having heard the last Words of the Ladies Discourse, answered Smiling, If any thing can lessen the Misfortune you speak of, it must certainly be the Honour of your Esteem. I cannot call my self un­happy, since the Day I believed you have any Value for me. Tis true Sir, (Replyed the Lady) did your Happiness depend on that, you should have no great cause to com­plain of it; for, I should be sure to do you Justice: This I averr in Presence of this Lady; who, though a Stranger, is long since acquainted with the Sincerity of my Heart. The Count, who had on­ly a slight View of the Flemmish Lady in passing by, finding by the Discourse that she was a Stranger, went up to her to Salute [Page 113] her: But having fixt his Eye up­on her, he was not a little asto­nisht: He easily knew her by her Countenance, and was at a stand; and twice or thrice changed Co­lour. He knew not what to say, and had scarce the Confidence to Sa­lute her. The Lady as much sur­prized as he, advanced not a step to do him that Honour; and in­deed, had scarce the Patience to endure it. The English Lady, having observed all these diffe­rent Actions, the Trouble of the one, and Coldness of the other, knew not what to think of it; and seeing there passed not a Word between them, she asked, If they knew one another? And, being no less astonisht than they, ad­ded, Were you not both my Friends, I know not what I should think of this Business. I confess, Madam, (answered Count Brion, endea­vouring [Page 114] to Recover himself) this Lady is so exactly like a Person of Quality, I formerly had the Ho­nour to know, and be extreamly obliged to, that I could not see her without Remorse for my Ingratitude towards her; whereof I own my self Guilty, and should think a thousand Lives (if I had them) well bestowed, to Expiate my Of­fence. The Fault must have been Great (Replyed the English La­dy) and I cannot believe you a Man capable of such a Crime. 'Tis great indeed, Madam; And had I not hopes of Pardon from her Good­ness, I should dye for very Grief and Shame. And what say you to this, Madam, (answered the Eng­lish Lady, addressing her self to the Stranger?) Does this Matter concern you? There must be some Cause for that Disorder and Trou­ble I observed in your Countenance [Page 115] on this Occasion. Madam, (Re­plyed the Stranger) the cause of my Surprize is just like that of the Gentlemans; A Person very like him, behaved himself towards me not so well as he ought; and I took him for the Man. There is some­thing Extraordinary in this Ad­venture (answered the English Lady;) and you must excuse me, if I believe neither of you in what you have said: I am very well as­sured, Madam, you came but Ye­ster-day to Town, and that the Count was never at Brussels: So that, I cannot comprehend where you could have seen one another, but here. Pray clear this doubt, and tell me freely, What is the bu­siness. The Gentleman (Replyed the Stranger) can do it far bet­ter than I. There are some things (said the Count) not fit to be spoken at all times; And then [Page 116] rising up; I shall leave all (said he) to the Discretion and Gene­rosity of this Lady, and with-draw for the present; being not very well: With that, taking Leave of the Ladies, he went his way.

If ever Person was in Pain, if ever Woman had the Curio­sity to know any thing, you may believe the English Lady, so af­fected on the present Occasion: For, having really had, and as frankly own'd, an Esteem for the Count, she was very much con­cern'd for him upon all Accounts; and, particularly, those where any other of the Sex appeared any way concern'd for him. Well, Madam, (said she, to the Stran­ger) will not you tell me what the Meaning of this is? Shall I not know the Adventure brought you acquainted with the Count? I ne­ver had Reserve for you; Your [Page 117] time is come to requite my Free­dome. The Lady refused a long time, out of scruple to Ruin the Reputation of a Man, who might (perhaps) be a Person of Quali­ty, and forced by Necessity to do what he had done: But fearing he was nothing less; and that her Friend might be abused by her good Opinion of the Count, she made her first Promise not to speak of the business; and then told her plainly, This was the Officer she had told her of, who had Escaped out of Prison. Who, Count Brion, (answered the Lady, with a Tone and Action that sufficiently declared her Sur­prize!) Is he the Honest Man who stole your Cloaths, and the two Swords from the Gentleman your Friend? Yes, Madam, (answered she) the very same. It is not pos­sible (Replyed the English Lady), [Page 118] nor shall you make me believe, though you make see it with my Eyes. What you please (said the Stranger); but I assure you, I know him on no other Account: And if you will take the Pains to examine and reflect on what he said to me, you may guess whether this be true or not. Heavens! (cry'd she) is it possible, that a Man of his Qua­lity, should be reduced to the ne­cessity of Acting such a Cheat? He had reason to tell me, He had never been at Brussels. However, he is still a Man of Birth, and of Parts; and I might have said, of Merit too, but for this unhappy Ad­venture. 'Twas but a Trick of Youth (said the other) and so may be pardon'd: You know, Men are but Men; and France being at Wars with us, he thought (per­haps) Robbing me was but Plundering the Enemy: But now, that he is [Page 119] in a better Condition than former­ly, he may make me amends, and express his Sorrow for the Fact, by making me Restitution. Yes, Madam, (Replyed the English La­dy) I will undertake he shall do it: For, besides the Generosity of his Nature, he is a Person of Ho­nour; and will not fail to appear so, on such an Occasion as this: If such a thing should be known of him here, where he has the Esteem and the Love of so many Persons of Quality, What would become of him? I would not for the World it should come to their Ears: For, as he Visits me ofner than any o­ther, I must expect to have the greatest share in his Disgrace. Let me beg of you, Madam, it may go no further. The Lady promis'd it; and having other Visits to make, took her Leave to go to the Lodging of another Lady, of [Page 120] her Acquaintance; Where, En­tering the Chamber, she found her at some Difference with ano­ther Person; who, upon her com­ing in, quitted the Room.

The Fair Flemming was receiv­ed at this Visit, with the same Joy and Honours she had found at the first: And having past the first Complements of Civility; and observed before, that when she came in, the Lady was in bu­siness with her who went forth, she thought her self obliged to make her Excuse for disturbing them, and interrupting their Dis­course. You may believe, Madam, by our Actions you saw, that our Discourse was none of the Pleasan­test; and I verily think, you did both of us a Pleasure; For, had you not come in, we should have certainly quarrelled: She was a French Lady, who came to demand [Page 121] Money of me, for two pair of Em­broydred Bodyce I had of a French-man, in Payment for Money I won of him at Play, about two Moneths agoe; She tells me, The Bodyce were her [...], and that she had only trusted the French-man with them, to Sell them for her. I answered, I knew nothing of that, and that I had honestly bought them; and that she was to look after payment from her Commissioner: The Stran­ger fell a Laughing at the Title of Commissioner; and asked, Who that honest Gentleman might be, who pay'd his Debts with other Peoples Goods; and to discharge what he ow'd one Lady, bor­rowed the Bodyce of another? This (added she) is a new piece of Gallantry, not very much in Mode among the Persons of Qua­lity. Yes, (Replyed the English Lady) this French-man would [Page 122] pass here for a Gallant by Profession; and calls himself, The Count De Brion: But I never look'd upon him, as other than a Valet De Chambre Travesty; having nei­ther the Wit, nor the Manners, nor the Sentiments, non Carriage, of a Person of Quality: Nor do I see what Ground there is for that Esteem some Persons have for him here, unless it be, for that he is a Stranger. He hath apeared at Court, under the Auspice of a French Lord; whose Favour alone, might gain a Man Credit: And that, I believe, hath Contributed most to the Honour a Man so little deser­ving, hath received there. But there are many who have changed their Opinion of him; and think with me, that he is not the Man he pretends to be: Besides, there are a number of People, who knows the House of Brion; and assure us, [Page 123] there was but one Son of the Fa­mily, and that he dyed in the Army. It may be, Madam, (sayes the Flemmish Lady) the Gentleman you speak of, may be some near Re­lation of the Counts. No, no, (re­plyed the other) he sayes, He is the Count Biron's own Brother and Heir, and would pass for such at Court.

‘I was Yesterday with a Lady of my Acquaintance; and as we were talking of some of his Cheating Tricks, he happened to come in; and told the La­dy, That a Dutchess (he named) having seen the fair Diamond Pendants at her Ears, had a great Desire to have such another pair made for her; and knowing he had the Honour to be acquain­ted with her, had sent him on purpose to intreat her, to lend her her Pendants for an Hour: [Page 124] The Lady presently cast her Eyes upon me, and I Mine on her; both looking on one ano­ther, but in such a manner, that each of us understood well e­nough, how Suspicious this Em­bassie appeared to the other. My Friend having too much Wit to be catched in such Traps, ex­cused her self with saying, She was engaged that Afternoon to make some Visits of Conse­quence, and could not then spare her Pendants, being at her Ears; but that on the Morrow, she would return him his Visit, and afford him a sight of them: This Day we shall know the Truth, it being not probable, that Lady would have sent such a Person as he, on a Message of that Nature. But I entertain vou too long, Madam, with this Subject; yet the Gentleman I [Page 125] speak of, being one who is very much talk'd of, you may (per­haps) be glad to know him; and the Description I have given you, is much to the Life.’

The strange Lady thanked her for the Favour she did her; telling her, She took so much Pleasure to hear her, that it might pass for a Kind­ness, to have a further Account of what she knew of this Count; which, perhaps, she might re­quite her for, by finding a time to Entertain her with Relations of a very like Nature.

‘You shall not be long here (Replyed she) but you'l see him; and in a few Dayes, you may expect a Visit from him; being indeed, the most Impudent of Men, and one who intrudes into all Places, where Persons of Qua­lity may be seen. He is not Unhandsom; and, could we [Page 126] judge of Men's Birth by their Shapes, we might believe him well Born: but this is not the first time, we have known the Man handsomer than the Master: And as for me, I will never be perswaded he is any other than a Serving-man: All his Actions are mean and base; his Words having nothing in them, that carries the least Tast of a No­ble and Elevated Wit: And were it not for the Discourses he makes of his Person, which he boasts to the Skyes, on the account both of Gallantry and Bravery (which, I must tell you, he maintains but very poorly by his Actions) 'tis the pittiful­lest Fellow for Conversation, that ever I met with. His best Talent is Impudence: He calls himself, the Friend or Relation of all the People of Quality in [Page 127] France. In a word, He made two Gentlemen believe, he was with them at the Academy, though neither of them could re­member he had ever seen him be­fore: But that which will chiefly surprize you, is, The Impudence he exprest about a Letter he found on a Ladies Table, of my Acquaintance (where I was at Play); He took it with him to the Play-House, to shew it three or four Gentlemen; who verily believed, the Letter was addrest to him: And the Person who had Written it, being very con­siderable for Merit and Birth; the Gentlemen seeing he treated the Count De Brion so obligingly, had a better Opinion of him than formerly: But it happned, that one of these Gentlemen go­ing from the Play-House, went to the Lady to whom the Let­ter [Page 128] belong'd, being directed to her; and knowing the Familiari­ty between her, and the Person who writ it, asked her, What Acquaintance the Count Brion had with her Illustrious Friend?’

Not any, I believe, (said she) and I think so the rather, for that he hath lately made use of my Intrest with him, to procure him a Letter from him in his Favour, to a Mini­ster of State, with whom (he said) he had Business of Importance. I know not what to think of it (Re­plyed the Gentleman,) but can assure you, I just now saw a very obliging Letter he hath written to the Count. A Letter (answered the Lady!) You shall find it was mine he found on the Table, and gives it out for his own.

The Ladies having ended their Discourse of Count Brion, spoke of other things; till at last, the Stranger having other Visits to [Page 135] make, took her Leave; and was scarce got down Stairs, but she found the Lady she had made her first Visit to, Disputing Some­what hotly with two Chair-men. The strange Lady took the Liberty to ask her, What the matter was? The other made Answer, That Count Brion having return'd to her Lodging, had Lent her his Chair, and that the Chair-men would make her pay for it; which was no usual thing: The Count in the mean-time comes in; and enraged at the sight of the Abuse offer'd the Lady by the Chair­men, he took up his Cane, and gave them three or four Blowes: But he soon found as good as he brought; for, the Chair-men thinking the Bastonado intolerable, return'd him Blowes with Usury: Two to one was not so even a Match for Beating as Carrying. [Page 135] The Ladyes were much troubled, but knew not how to help him: But, by good Fortune, a Gentle­man came by, with another behind him, who parted the Fray: The Man I last mentioned, was a French-man, who being newly arrived from Paris; and having cast his Eye on Count Brion, came up to him to Salute him:

Friend (Replyed the Count, Interrup­ting him) ‘you mistake your self, I am Count Brion. I do not mistake my self (sayes the [Page 136] other), and by this very good Token, That you stole away the Cloaths of a Person of Qua­lity, which I was forced to pay for:’

He spoke this so loud, that all who stood by, heard him what he said. The Count was glad to take him by the Hand, to draw him aside; telling him, He was mistaken: The other as stifly maintain'd, He was not; and threatned to have him Arrested, if he would not pay him for the Cloaths. ‘But I am Count Brion’ (answered he, much more trou­bled with this one French-man, than he was with the two Porters. ‘You may be what you please’ (sayes he) ‘when you have pay'd me for my Cloaths; but till then Champagne, Champagne, and no Count Brion.’ While they were engaged in this Fine Dialogue, the Gentleman who had [Page 138] parted the Count, and the Chair­men when they fought, entertain'd himself in Discourse with the two Ladies; but seeing a new Quarrel like to arise, he stept aside, and ask'd them what the matter was? ‘Nothing (sayes the Count) but an Insolent Fellow loves to hear himself talk, and will needs take me for I know not who: He is certainly Drunk; and were it not for Respect to you, I should make him know who I am.’ The Man was going to Answer; and had doubtless said worse than he had hitherto done, but the Gentleman perswaded him to with-draw; and so, did the Count a great Piece of Service. After this the Count sent in search of the French-man, and did all in his Power to perswade him, He was not Champagne; and submit­ted how-ever, to pay for the [Page 139] Cloaths in Question: But all to no purpose.

This, with many other Reasons, made him resolve to leave London; having Reigned there too long, to continue any longer. His For­tune was at the Height, and he apprehended the Danger; that, if he endeavoured to Climb any Higher, he might chance to take the Way to Heaven in a String.

The Lady of Brussels, and the Man of Champagne, were the E­vil Starres that boded him a Storm of Bastonades. It is the Pru­dence of Man kind, to prevent such Tempests. CHEATS, who have Wit, are very sensible how subject their Life is to Dangers of that kind. He easily saw a Cloud of Misfortune gathering over his Head, for his Insolence and Impudence at London; and that it was time to with-draw: [Page 139] Every thing hath its Season; and he, the better to know the proper Hour for packing away, went to a Watch-maker; who, taken with his good Meine, trusted him with two Gold-Watches; with the help of which, he took the Lucky Moment so right for get­ting away, that neither Land­lord, nor Draper, nor Taylor; nor Tradesman whatever, nor a­ny other Creditor (for he had of all sorts) dreamt of his Jour­ney; only the Chair-men had him in the Wind, being (as the Story goes) told of it by his Foot­boy; who then were pay'd more than their due. But to conclude his Cheats here, and that he might go out of England so as he came in, that is, at other Mens Charges; when he came to Harwich, he went to a Merchant, and told him, He had a Letter [Page 140] from one of his Friends, to de­sire him, to procure him with all speed a Vessel for France; but that he had unhappily lost it. The Merchant Seeing him a handsom Man, and in very good Equipage, told him, A Letter was needless; and presently found him a Vessel, bound for France, & agreed for six Pieces; and with very much Ce­remony, saw him Embarked.

The Gentleman gets into France; and having no desire it should be at his own Charges, he found a way to differ with the Seamen; who having agreed with the Merchant of Harwich for six Pieces, the Count would pay them but six Pistols: which the Mari­ners being unwilling to accept of; he sent them with a Billet to him, with whom they agreed; and so got out of their Clut­ches.

[Page 142] So much may suffice for the Acts of Count Brion: And now that he hath changed Country, he must also change Name: He gives him self the Title of The Baron of Vachere; which, it is reported, was the same he past under in his Voyage for England. The New Title was attended with New Adventures: But we must hasten to find him at Paris; where his Planet having alwayes had very ill Influence on him, made him fall into the Hands of a Gentleman, with whom he past from Diepe to Harwich; who finding himself some-what con­cern'd in the Insolencies of this pretended Count, caused him to be taken, and clapt up in Prison: He design'd to send him into England; but upon a Ladies In­tercession, was content to see him [Page 143] Condemn'd to the Gallies; where, it is said, he doth Wonders.

A sorry End for the Hero of a Rom ance: It had been better for him to have been a Country Cu­rate: But who can resist his Fate? And who knowes but worse might have befallen him? Leading the Life he then led, he had reason to expect to Hang one Day be­tween Heaven and Earth; and hath reason to think himself hap­py, he is now out of Danger of cutting Capors at Tyburn.