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Younger Brother text:

Then jogs to the Play-house, and chats with the Masks,

And thence to the Rose, where he takes his three Flasks.

Younger Brother note:

the Rose. This celebrated house stood in Russell Street, Covent Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable references to it. The greater portion of the ‘Rose’ was demolished in 1776, when a new front was being built to the theatre.

Note to p. 34: For this old bridal custom see ante, Vol. III (p. 223), The Lucky Chance, ii, II: ‘we’ll toss the Stocking’; and the note on that passage.

Lucky Chance text:

Come, Gentlemen, one Bottle, and then – we’ll toss the Stocking.

Lucky Chance note:

we’ll toss the Stocking. This merry old matrimonial custom in use at the bedding of the happy pair is often alluded to. cf. Pepys, 8 February, 1663: ‘Another story was how Lady Castlemaine, a few days since, had Mrs. Stewart to an entertainment, and at night begun a frolique that they two must be married; and married they were, with ring and all other ceremonies of church service, and ribbands, and a sack posset in bed and flinging the stocking; but in the close it is said my Lady Castlemaine, who was the bridegroom, rose, and the King come and take her place.’

THE
UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY:
A TRUE HISTORY

THE

UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY:

A True History

I cannot omit giving the World an account, of the uncommon Villany of a Gentleman of a good Family in England practis’d upon his Sister, which was attested to me by one who liv’d in the Family, and from whom I had the whole Truth of the Story. I shall conceal the unhappy Gentleman’s own, under the borrow’d Names of Sir William Wilding, who succeeded his Father Sir Edward, in an Estate of near 4000l. a Year, inheriting all that belong’d to him, except his Virtues. ’Tis true, he was oblig’d to pay his only Sister a Portion of 6000l. which he might very easily have done out of his Patrimony in a little Time, the Estate being not in the least incumbred. But the Death of his good Father gave a loose to the Extravagancy of his Inclinations, which till then was hardly observable. The first Discovery he made of his Humour, was in the extraordinary rich Equipage he prepar’d for his Journey to London, which was much greater than his fair and plentiful Fortune cou’d maintain, nor were his Expences any way inferior to the Figure he made here in Town; insomuch, that in less than a Twelve-Month, he was forc’d to return to his Seat in the Country, to Mortgage a part of his Estate of a Thousand Pounds a Year, to satisfy the Debts he had already contracted in his profuse Treats, Gaming and Women, which in a few Weeks he effected, to the great Affliction of his Sister Philadelphia, a young Lady of excellent Beauty, Education, and Virtue; who, fore-seeing the utter Ruin of the Estate, if not timely prevented, daily begg’d of him, with Prayers and Tears, that might have mov’d a Scythian or wild Arab, or indeed any thing but him, to pay her her Portion. To which, however, he seemingly consented, and promis’d to take her to Town with him, and there give her all the Satisfaction she cou’d expect: And having dipp’d some paltry Acres of Land, deeper than ever Heaven dipp’d ’em in Rain, he was as good as his Word, and brought her to Town with him, where he told her he would place her with an ancient Lady, with whom he had contracted a Friendship at his first coming to London; adding, that she was a Lady of incomparable Morals, and of a matchless Life and Conversation. Philadelphia took him in the best Sense, and was very desirous to be planted in the same House with her, hoping she might grow to as great a Perfection in such excellent Qualifications, as she imagined ’em. About four Days therefore after they had been in Town, she sollicits her Brother to wait on that Lady with her: He reply’d, that it is absolutely Necessary and Convenient that I should first acquaint her with my Design, and beg that she will be pleas’d to take you into her Care, and this shall be my chief Business to Day: Accordingly, that very Hour he went to the Lady Beldams, his reverend and honourable Acquaintance, whom he prepar’d for the Reception of his Sister, who he told her was a Cast-Mistress of his, and desir’d her Assistance to prevent the Trouble and Charge, which she knew such Cattle would bring upon young Gentlemen of plentiful Estates. To morrow Morning about Eleven, I’ll leave her with your Ladyship, who, I doubt not, will give her a wholesome Lesson or two before Night, and your Reward is certain. My Son, (return’d she) I know the Greatness of your Spirit, the Heat of your Temper has both warm’d and inflam’d me! I joy to see you in Town again – Ah! That I could but recal one twenty Years for your Sake! – Well – no matter. – I won’t forget your Instructions, nor my Duty to Morrow: In the mean time, I’ll drink your Health in a Bottle of Sherry or two, O! Cry your Mercy, good my Lady Beldam, (said the young Debauchee) I had like to have forfeited my Title to your Care, in not remembring to leave you an Obligation. There are three Guinea’s, which, I hope, will plead for me till to Morrow. – So – Your Ladyship’s Servant humbly kisses your Hand. Your Honours most Obedient Servant, most gratefully Acknowledges your Favours. – Your humble Servant, Good Sir William, added she, seeing him leave her in haste.

Never were three Persons better pleas’d for a Time than this unnatural Man, his sweet innocent Sister, and the Lady Beldam; upon his return to Philadelphia, who could not rest that Night, for thinking on the Happiness she was going to enjoy in the Conversation of so virtuous a Lady as her Brother’s Acquaintance, to whom she was in Hopes that she might discover her dearest Thoughts, and complain of Sir William’s Extravagance and Unkindness, without running the Hazzard of being betray’d; and at the same Time, reasonably expect from so pious a Lady all the Assistance within her Capacity. On the other side, her Brother hugg’d himself in the Prospect he had of getting rid of his own Sister, and the Payment of 6000l. for the Sum of forty or fifty Guineas, by the Help and Discretion of this sage Matron; who, for her part, by this Time, had reckon’d up, and promis’d to herself an Advantage of at least three hundred Pounds, one way or other by this bargain.

About Ten the next Morning, Sir William took Coach with his Sister, for the old Lady’s Enchanted Castle, taking only one Trunk of hers with them for the present, promising her to send her other Things to her the next Day. The young Lady was very joyfully and respectfully received by her Brother’s venerable Acquaintance, who was mightily charm’d with her Youth and Beauty. A Bottle of the Best was then strait brought in, and not long after a very splendid Entertainment for Breakfast: The Furniture was all very modish and rich, and the Attendance was suitable. Nor was the Lady Beldam’s Conversation less obliging and modest, than Sir William’s Discourse had given Philadelphia occasion to expect. After they had eaten and drank what they thought Convenient, the reverend old Lady led ’em out of the Parlour to shew ’em the House, every Room of which they found answerably furnish’d to that whence they came. At last she led ’em into a very pleasant Chamber, richly hung, and curiously adorn’d with the Pictures of several beautiful young Ladies, wherein there was a Bed which might have been worthy the Reception of a Dutchess: This, Madam, (said she) is your Apartment, with the Anti-chamber, and little Withdrawing-Room. Alas, Madam! (returned the dear innocent unthinking Lady) you set too great a Value on your Servant; but I rather think your Ladyship designs me this Honour for the sake of Sir William, who has had the Happiness of your Acquaintance for some Months: Something for Sir William, (returned the venerable Lady Beldam) but much more for your Ladyship’s own, as you will have Occasion to find hereafter. I shall Study to deserve your Favours and Friendship, Madam, reply’d Philadelphia: I hope you will, Madam, said the barbarous Man. But my Business now calls me hence; to Morrow at Dinner I will return to you, and Order the rest of your Things to be brought with me. In the mean while (pursu’d the Traytor, kissing his Sister, as he thought and hop’d the last time) be as chearful as you can, my Dear! and expect all you can wish from me. A thousand Thanks, my dearest Brother, return’d she, with Tears in her Eyes: And Madam, (said he to his old mischievous Confederate, giving her a very rich Purse which held 50 Guineas) be pleas’d to accept this Trifle, as an humble Acknowledgment of the great Favour you do this Lady, and the Care of her, which you promise; and I’m sure she cannot want. – So, once more, (added he) my Dear! and, Madam! I am your humble Servant Jusqu’ a Revoir, and went out bowing. Heavens bless my dear Brother! (cry’d Philadelphia) your Honour’s most Faithful and obedient Servant, said the venerable Beldam.

No sooner was the treacherous Brother gone, than the old Lady taking Philadelphia by the Hand, led her into the Parlour; where she began to her to this Effect: If I mistake not, Madam, you were pleas’d to call Sir William Brother once or twice of late in Conversation: Pray be pleas’d to satisfy my Curiosity so far as to inform me in the Truth of this Matter? Is it really so or not? Philadelphia reply’d, blushing, your Ladyship strangely surprizes me with this Question: For, I thought it had been past your Doubt that it is so. Did not he let you know so much himself? I humbly beg your Pardon, Madam, (returned the true Offspring of old Mother Eve) that I have so visibly disturb’d you by my Curiosity: But, indeed, Madam, Sir William did not say your Ladyship was his Sister, when he gave me the Charge of you, as of the nearest and dearest Friend he had in the World. Now our Father and Mother are dead, (said the sweet Innocent) who never had more Children than us two, who can be a nearer or dearer Friend unto me, than my Brother Sir William, or than I his Sister to him? None? Certainly, you’ll excuse me, Madam, (answer’d t’other) a Wife or Mistress may. A Wife indeed, (return’d the beautiful Innocent) has the Pre-eminence, and perhaps, a Mistress too, if honourably lov’d and sought for in Marriage: But, (she continu’d) I can assure your Ladyship that he has not a Wife, nor did I ever hear he had a Mistress yet. Love in Youth (said old Venerable) is very fearful of Discovery. I have known, Madam, a great many fine young Gentlemen and Ladies, who have conceal’d their violent Passions and greater Affection, under the Notion and Appellation of Brother and Sister. And your Ladyship imagines, Sir William and I do so? reply’d Philadelphia, by way of Question. ’Twere no imprudence, if you did, Madam, return’d old Lady Beldam, with all the Subtlety she had learn’d from the Serpent. Alas! Madam, (reply’d she) there is nothing like Secrecy in Love: ’Tis the very Life and Soul of it! I have been young myself, and have known it by Experience. But, all this, Madam, (interrupted Philadelphia, something nettl’d at her Discourse) all this can’t convince me, that I am not the true and only Sister both by Father and Mother of Sir William Wilding; however, he wou’d impose upon your Ladyship, for what Ends, indeed, I know not, unless (unhappily, which Heaven forbid!) he designs to gain your Ladyship’s Assistance in defeating me of the Portion left me by my Father: But, (she continued with Tears) I have too great an Assurance of your Virtue, to Fear that you will consent to so wicked a Practise. You may be confident, Madam, (said t’other) I never will. And, supposing that he were capable of perpetrating so base an Act of himself, yet if your Ladyship will be guided and directed by me, I will shew you the Means of living Happy and Great, without your Portion, or your Brother’s Help; so much I am charm’d with your Beauty and Innocence.

But, pray, Madam, (pursu’d she) what is your Portion? And what makes you doubt your Brother’s Kindness? Philadelphia then told her, how much her Brother was to pay her, and gave her an Account of his Extravagancies, as far as she knew ’em; to which t’other was no Stranger; and (doubtless) cou’d have put a Period to her Sorrows with her Life, had she given her as perfect a Relation of his riotous and vicious Practices, as she was capable of: But she had farther Business with her Life, and, in short, bid her be of good Comfort, and lay all her Care on her, and then she cou’d not miss of continual Happiness. The sweet Lady took all her Promises for sterling, and kissing her Impious Hand, humbly return’d her Thanks. Not long after they went to Dinner; and in the Afternoon, three or four young Ladies came to visit the Right Reverend the Lady Beldam; who told her new Guest, that these were all her Relations, and no less than her own Sister’s Children. The Discourse among ’em was general and very modest, which lasted for some Hours: For, our Sex seldom wants matter of Tattle. But, whether their Tongues were then miraculously wearied, or that they were tir’d with one continued Scene of Place, I won’t pretend to determine: But they left the Parlour for the Garden, where after about half an Hour’s Walk, there was a very fine Desert of Sweetmeats and Fruits brought into one of the Arbours. Cherbetts, Ros Solis, rich and small Wines, with Tea, Chocolate, &c. compleated the old Lady’s Treat; the Pleasure of which was much heighten’d by the Voices of two of her Ladyship’s Sham-Nieces, who sung very charmingly. The Dear, sweet Creature, thought she had happily got into the Company of Angels: But (alas!) they were Angels that had fallen more than once. She heard talk of Nunneries, and having never been out of her own Country till within four or five Days, she had certainly concluded she had been in one of those Religious-Houses now, had she but heard a Bell ring, and seen ’em kneel to Prayers, and make use of their Beads, as she had been told those happy people do. However it was, she was extremely pleas’d with the Place and Company. So nearly do’s Hell counterfeit Heaven sometimes. At last, said one of the white Devils, wou’d my dear Tommy were here! O Sister! (cry’d another) you won’t be long without your wish: For my Husband and he went out together, and both promis’d to be here after the Play. Is my Brother Sir Francis with him there? (ask’d the first) yes, (answer’d the third) Sir Thomas and Sir Francis took Coach from St. James’s, about two Hours since: We shall be excellent Company when they come, (said a fourth); I hope they’ll bring the Fiddlers with ’em, added the first: Don’t you love Musick, Madam? (ask’d the old Lady Beldam) Sometimes, Madam, (reply’d Philadelphia) but now I am out o’tune myself. A little harmless Mirth will chear your drooping Spirits, my dear, (return’d t’other, taking her by the Hand) come! These are all my Relations, as I told you, Madam; and so consequently are their Husbands. Are these Ladies all marry’d, Madam? Philadelphia ask’d. All, all, my dear Soul! (reply’d the insinuating Mother of Iniquity;) and thou shalt have a Husband too, e’re long. Alas, Madam! (return’d the fair Innocent) I have no Merit, nor Money: Besides, I never yet could Love so well as to make Choice of one Man before another.

How long have you liv’d then, Madam? (ask’d the Lady Beldam) too long by almost sixteen Years, (reply’d Philadelphia) had Heaven seen good. This Conversation lasted till Word was brought that Sir Francis and Sir Thomas, with Two other Gentlemen were just lighted at the Gate: Which so discompos’d the fair Innocent, that trembling, she begg’d leave to retire to her Chamber. To which, after some Perswasion to the contrary, the venerable Beldam waited on her. For, these were none of the Sparks to whom Philadelphia was design’d to be Sacrific’d. In her Retirement, the Beautiful dear Creature had the Satisfaction of venting her Grief in Tears, and addressing herself to Heaven, on which only she trusted, notwithstanding all the fair Promises of her reverend Hostess; she had not been retir’d above an Hour, e’re a She-attendant waited on her, to know if she wanted any thing, and what she wou’d please to have for her Supper; if she wou’d not give her Lady the Honour of her Company below? To which she return’d, that she wou’d not Sup, and that she wanted nothing but Rest, which she wou’d presently seek in Bed. This Answer brought up the Officious old Lady herself; who, by all Means wou’d needs see her undress’d, for other Reasons more than a bare Compliment; which she perform’d with a great deal of Ceremony, and a Diligence that seem’d more than double. For she had then the Opportunity of observing the Delicacy of her Skin, the fine turn of her Limbs, and the richness of her Night-dress, part of the Furniture of her Trunk. As soon as she had cover’d herself, she kiss’d and wish’d her a good Repose. The dear Soul, as Innocent and White as her Linen, return’d her Thanks, and address’d herself to Sleep; out of which she was waken’d by a loud Consort of Musick, in less than two Hours time, which continu’d till long after Midnight. This occasion’d strange and doubtful Thoughts in her, tho’ she was altogether so unskill’d in these Mysteries, that she cou’d not guess the right Meaning. She apprehended, that (possibly) her Brother had a Mistress, from the Lady Beldam’s Discourse, and that this was their Place of Assignation: Suspecting too, that either Sir Francis, or Sir Thomas, of whom she had heard not long before, was Sir William, her Brother. The Musick and all the Noise in the House ceas’d about four a Clock in the Morning; when she again fell into a Sleep, that took away the Sense of her Sorrows, and Doubts ’till Nine; when she was again visited from her Lady, by the same She-attendant, to know how she had rested, and if she wou’d Please to Command her any Service. Philadelphia reply’d, That she had rested very well most Part of the Morning, and that she wanted nothing, but to know how her Lady had Slept, and whether she were in Health, unless it were the Sight of her Brother. The Servant return’d with this Answer to her Lady, while Philadelphia made shift to rise, and begin to Dress without an Assistant; but she had hardly put on anything more than her Night-gown, e’re the Lady Beldam herself came in her Dishabille, to assure her of her Brother’s Company with ’em at Dinner, exactly at One a Clock; and finding Philadelphia doing the Office of a Waiting-woman to herself, call’d up the same Servant, and in a great Heat (in which however she took Care to make Use of none of her familiar develish Dialect) ask’d the Reason that she durst leave the Lady when she was Rising. The Wench trembling, reply’d, That indeed the Lady did not let her know that she had any Thoughts of Rising. Well then (said her seeming offended Lady) stir not from her now, I charge you, ’till she shall think fit to dismiss you, and Command your Absence. Dear Madam, Good Morrow to you, (said she to Philadelphia) I’ll make haste and Dress too. Good Morrow to your Ladyship (return’d the design’d Victim) when she was Habille, she desir’d the Servant to withdraw; after which she betook herself to her Devotion; at the end of which the Lady Beldam return’d, attended by a Servant, who brought some Bread and Wine for her Breakfast; which might then be seasonable enough to Philadelphia; who cou’d not forbear discovering the Apprehensions she had of her Brother’s Unkindness, still entertaining her Reverence, with the Fear she had of his Disappointment that Day at Dinner; which t’other oppos’d with all the seeming Reasons her Art cou’d suggest, ’till the Clock had struck Twelve; when a Servant came to tell the Lady Beldam, that one Sir William Wilding wou’d certainly wait on her precisely at One, and desir’d that he might Dine in the young Lady’s Apartment, to avoid being seen by any Visitants that might come; and besides, that he had invited a Gentleman, his particular Friend, to Dinner with him there. This Message being deliver’d aloud by the Servant, was no little Satisfaction to the poor desponding young Lady, who discours’d very chearfully of indifferent Matters, ’till the Clock gave ’em Notice that the Hour was come; within three Minutes after which, Word was brought to the Lady Beldam, that a Gentleman below enquir’d for Sir William Wilding, whom she immediately went down to receive, and led up to Philadelphia. Madam, (cry’d the great Mistress of her Art) this is the Gentleman whom Sir William has invited to Dinner with us; and I am very Happy to see him, for he is my worthy Friend, and of a long Acquaintance. Trust me, Madam, he is a Man of Honour, and has a very large Estate: I doubt not (added she) that you will find his Merits in his Conversation. Here Gracelove, for that was the Gentleman’s Name, saluted Philadelphia, and acquitted himself like a Person of good Sense and Education, in his first Address to her; which she return’d with all the Modesty and ingenuous Simplicity that was still proper to her. At last she ask’d him how long he thought it wou’d be e’re Sir William came? To which he reply’d, that Sir William told him, unless he were there exactly at half an Hour after One, they shou’d not stay Dinner for him; that he had not parted with him much above a Quarter of an Hour, when he left him engag’d with particular Company, about some weighty Business: But however, that, if he shou’d be so unhappy as to lose their Conversation at Dinner, he wou’d not fail to wait on ’em by Four at farthest. The young Lady seem’d a little uneasie at this; but the Gentleman appearing so very Modest, and speaking it with such an assur’d Gravity, took away all Thoughts of Suspicion. To say Truth, Gracelove was a very honest, modest, worthy and handsome Person; and had the Command, at present, of a many Thousand Pounds, he was by Profession a Turkey Merchant: He had Travell’d much, for his Age, not having then reach’d Thirty, and had seen most of the Courts in Christendom: He was a Man of a sweet Temper, of just Principles, and of inviolable Friendship, where he promis’d; which was no where, but where ’twas merited. The Minute came then at length, but without any Sir William; so Dinner was serv’d up in the Room next to Philadelphia’s Bed-chamber. What they had was Nice and Seasonable; and they were all Three as Pleasant as cou’d be expected, without Sir William; to whose Health the Glass went round once or twice. Dinner over, and the Table clear’d, the old Lady Beldam entreated Mr. Gracelove to entertain the young Lady with a Discourse of his Travels, and of the most remarkable Passages and Encounters of ’em, which he perform’d with a Modesty and Gravity peculiar to himself; and in some part of his Discourse mov’d the innocent Passions of the beauteous and compassionate Philadelphia; who was as attentive as she us’d to be in Church at Divine Service. When the old Lady perceiv’d that he had made an end, or at least, that he desir’d to proceed no farther, she took Occasion to leave ’em together, in haste; pretending, that she had forgotten to give Orders to one of her Servants, about a Business of Moment, and that she wou’d return to ’em in a very little Time. The Gentleman, you may believe, was very well pleas’d with her Retreat, since he had a Discourse to make to Philadelphia of a quite contrary Nature to the Preceding, which requir’d Privacy: But how grateful her Absence was to Philadelphia, we may judge by the Sequel. Madam, (said Gracelove) how do you like the Town? Have you yet seen any Man here whom you cou’d Love? Alas, Sir! (she reply’d) I have not seen the Town, only in a Coach, as I pass’d along, nor ever was in any House, except this and another, where my Brother lodg’d: And to your other Question I must Answer, that I Love all Men. That’s generous, indeed, Madam! (cry’d he) there is then some hope that I am one of the Number. No doubt, Sir, (she return’d) that I Love you as well as any, except Sir William. Is he the happy Man then, Madam? (said Gracelove.) If to be loved best by me, may make any Man happy, doubtless it must be he, for he is my own Brother. I fancy, Madam, (return’d he) that you may make me as dear a Relation to you, as Sir William. How is that possible, Sir? she ask’d. Thus, Madam, (replied he, drawing closer to her) by our nearer Approaches to one another. O, Heaven defend me! (cried she aloud) what do you mean? Take away your Hand; you uncivil Man! Help! Madam! my Lady! O, (said Gracelove) she’s gone purposely out of hearing. Am I betray’d then? She cried. Betray’d! as if your pretty innocent Ladyship did not know where you were lodged. Ah, Lady, (said he) this Faint will never do. Come, Child, (pursued he) here are an hundred Guineas for you; and I promise you Yearly as much, and Two Hundred with every Child that I shall get on thy sweet Body: Faith I love thee, thou pretty Creature. Come! let’s be better acquainted! you know my Meaning. Hell does, no doubt of (she return’d!) O Monster a Man! I hate the Sight of you. With that she flung from him, and ran into the Bed-chamber, where she thought to have locked herself in; but the Key was conveyed into his Pocket. Thither, therefore, he pursued her, crying, Ah, Madam, this is the proper Field for our Dispute. Perceiving her Error, and animated by Despair, she rushed between him and the Door, into the outward Room again, he still following, and dodging her from Chair to Chair, she still Shrieking. At last (cried he) a Parley, Madam, with you. Let me ask you one Question, and will you Answer me directly and truly to it? Indeed, I will, (said she) if it be Civil. Don’t you know then, that you are in a naughty House, and that old Beldam is a rank Procuress, to whom I am to give Two hundred Guineas for your Maidenhead? O Heaven (cried she, kneeling with Tears gushing out from her dear Eyes) thou Asserter and Guardian of Innocence! protect me from the impious Practices intended against me! Then looking steadfastly on him, Sir, (pursued she) I can but Difficultly guess what you mean: But I find, that unless you prove what at first you seemed to me, I would say, an honest worthy Gentleman, I shall be in danger of eternal Ruin. You, Sir, are the only Person that may yet Preserve me. Therefore I beseech you, Sir, hear my Story, with the Injuries and Afflictions that so dreadfully torment me; of which, I am sure, none of those Barbarians, of which you had Occasion to speak but now, would have been guilty! O hear, and help me! for Heaven’s Sake, hear and help me! I will, poor Creature, (return’d he) methinks I now begin to see my Crime and thy Innocence in thy Words and Looks. Here she recounted to him all the Accidents of her Life, since her Father’s Decease, to that very Day, e’re Gracelove came to Dinner. And now (cry’d she, sobbing and weeping) how dare I trust this naughty Brother again? Can I be safe with him, think you, Sir? O! no; thou dear sweet Creature! by no Means. O infernal Monsters, Brother and Bawd! If you distrust that I am yet his Sister, here, Sir, take this Key, (said she) and open that Trunk within, where you will find Letters from him to me in his own Hand; and from my own dear dead Father too, Sir Edward, that gracious, that good Man! He shew’d us both the Paths of Virtue: which I have not yet forsaken. Pray satisfy me, Sir, and see the Truth! For your Satisfaction I will, Madam, (said he) but I am now fully convinc’d that you have greater Beauties within, than those I admire without. Saying this, he open’d the Trunk, where he read a Line or two from her Father, and as many from her Brother, which having again laid down, return’d to her, with this Advice: I see, Madam, (said he) that you have Money there, and several Things of Value, which I desire you to secure about you this Moment; for I mean to deliver you out of this cursed Place, if you dare put any Confidence in a Stranger, after your own Brother has acted the Part of so great a Villain; if you dare trust a Stranger too, Madam, who had himself a Design upon you; Heaven forgive me for it! but by all Things sacred, I find my Error: I pity you, and I fear I shall love you. Do you fear that, Sir? (said she) Why I love you dearly now, because I see you are going to be good again; that is, you are going to be yourself again. I hope, nay, I resolve I will, tho’ it cost me my Life (said he.) Can you submit, Madam, to attend on a young Lady of my Acquaintance here in Town, ’till I can provide better for you? O I can be any Thing; a Chamber-Maid, a Cook-Maid, a Scullion, what you shall think fit, tho’ never so mean, that is not naughty. Well, Madam, (said he) compose your self then, and seem a little pleasant when I bring up that old Factoress of Hell. I will endeavour it, Sir, she return’d; and he went down to the Devil’s chief Agent, to whom he said, that the poor Thing was at first very uneasy, but that now she had consented to go along with him for an Hour or two to some other Place, doubting your Secrecy; for she would not have her Brother know it, as she calls him, for a thousand Worlds, and more Money. Well, my Son, (reply’d old Beldam) you may take her with you: But you remember your Bargain. O fie, Mother! (cry’d he) did you ever know me false to you? No, no, you smock’d-fac’d Wag, (said she) but be sure you bring her again to Night, for fear Sir William should come. Never doubt it! Come up with me, (cry’d he) you’ll see a strange Alteration, I believe. To Philadelphia they came then, whom they found walking about the Room, and looking something more pleasantly than she had ever done since she came thither. After she had taken her Money, and other Things of Value, so, Madam, (said Beldam) how does your Ladiship now? I find, the Sight of a young handsome Gentleman has work’d Wonders with you in a little Time: I understand you are going to take a Walk with my worthy Friend here, and ’tis well done: I dare trust you with him, but with no other Man living, except Sir William. Madam, (return’d the fair afflicted Lady) I am strangely oblig’d to you for your Care of me, and am sure I shall never be able to return your Obligations as I ought, and as I could wish. You won’t stay late, Mr. Gracelove? (said the Mother of Mischief.) No, no, (reply’d he) I will only shew the Lady a Play, and return to Supper. What is play’d to Night? (ask’d the old One) The Cheats, Mother, the Cheats. (answer’d Gracelove.) Ha, (said Beldam, laughing) a very pretty Comedy, indeed! Ay, if well play’d, return’d he. At these Words, they went down, where a Coach was call’d; which carry’d ’em to Counsellor Fairlaw’s House, in Great Lincolns-Inn-Fields, whom they found accidentally at Home; but his Lady and Daughter were just gone to Chapel, being then turn’d of Five. Gracelove began his Apology to the good old Counsellor, who was his Relation, for bringing a strange Lady thither, with a Design to place her in his Family: But Sir, continu’d he, if you knew her sorrowful Story, you would be as ambitious of entertaining her, as I am earnest to entreat it of you. A very beautiful Lady ’tis, (return’d the Counsellor) and very modest, I believe. That I can witness (reply’d t’other.) Alas, Sir! (said the fair Unfortunate) I have nothing but my Modesty and honest Education to recommend me to your Regard. I am wrong’d and forsaken by my nearest Relation; then she wept extravagantly: That Gentleman can give you an Account of my Misfortunes, if he pleases, with greater Ease and less Trouble than my self. Not with less Trouble, believe me, Madam; (return’d Gracelove) and then began to inform Fairlaw in every Point of her unhappy Circumstances. The good old Gentleman heard ’em with Amazement and Horror; but told her, however, that she need not despond, for he would take Care to right her against her Brother; and, that in the mean Time she should be as welcome to him as any of his nearest Kindred, except his Wife and Daughter. Philadelphia would have knelt to thank him; but he told her, that humble Posture was due to none but Heaven, and the King sometimes. In a little While after, the Lady Fairlaw and her Daughter came Home, who were surpriz’d at the Sight of a Stranger, but more at her Beauty, and most of all at her Story, which the good old Gentleman himself could not forbear relating to ’em: Which ended, the Mother and Daughter both kindly and tenderly embrac’d her, promising her all the Assistance within their Power, and bid her a thousand Welcomes. Gracelove stay’d there ’till after Supper, and left her extremely satisfy’d with her new Station. ’Twas here she fix’d then; and her Deportment was so obliging, that they would not part with her for any Consideration. About three Days after her coming from that lewd Woman’s House, Gracelove took a Constable and some other Assistants, and went to Beldam’s to demand the Trunk, and what was in it, which at first her Reverence deny’d to return, ’till Mr. Constable produc’d the Emblem of his Authority, upon which it was deliver’d, without so much as re-minding Gracelove of his Bargain; who then pretended he would search the House for Sir William Wilding; but her graceless Reverence swore most devoutly that he had never been there, and that she had neither seen nor heard from him since the Day he left Philadelphia with her. With these Things, and this Account he return’d to Counsellor Fairlaw’s, who desir’d Gracelove, if possible, to find out Sir William, and employ’d several others on the same Account. In less than a Month’s Time Gracelove had the good Fortune to find him at his Lodgings in Soho-Square, where he discours’d him about his Sister’s Portion, and desir’d Sir William to take some speedy Care for the Payment of it; otherwise she had Friends that would oblige him to it, tho’ never so contrary to his Intentions. Wilding ask’d where she was? t’other enquir’d where he left her? Sir William reply’d, that he had plac’d her with an old grave Gentlewoman of his Acquaintance, and that he thought she was there still. No, Sir, (return’d Gracelove) I have deliver’d her out of the Jaws of Perdition and Hell. Come, Sir William, (answer’d he) ’twas impiously done, to leave your beautiful, young, and virtuous Sister, to the Management of that pernicious Woman. I found her at old Beldam’s, who would have prostituted her to me for two hundred Guineas; but her heavenly Virtues might have secur’d and guarded her from more violent Attempts than mine. Blush, if you can, Sir! and repent of this! It will become you. If not, Sir, you will hear farther from your Servant, added he, and left him staring after him. This Discourse was a great Mortification to the Knight, whose Conscience, harden’d as it was, felt yet some Pain by it. He found he was not like to continue safe or at Ease there, where he immediately retreated into a Place of Sanctuary, call’d the Savoy, whither his whole Equipage was remov’d as soon as possible, he having left Order with his Servants, to report that he went out of Town that very Afternoon for his own Country. Gracelove in the mean Time return’d to the Counsellor’s, with a great deal of Joy, for having discover’d Sir William at his Lodgings, which was likewise no little Satisfaction to Fairlaw, his Lady and Daughter; Philadelphia only was disturb’d when she heard the good old Gentleman threaten to lay her Brother fast enough: But, alas! he was too cunning for ’em; for in a whole Twelvemonth after, all which Time they made Enquiry, and narrowly search’d for him, they could not see him, nor any one that could give an Account of him, for he had chang’d his true Name and Title, for that of ’Squire Sportman. The farther Pursuit of him then seem’d fruitless to ’em, and they were forc’d to be contented with their Wishes to find him.