Brother, your politics astonish me. Are you really to be imposed on by professions? Do you think Mr Allworthy hath more contempt for money than other men because he professes more? Such credulity would better become one of us weak women, than that wise sex which heaven hath formed for politicians. Indeed, brother, you would make a fine plenipo to negotiate with the French. They would soon persuade you, that they take towns out of mere defensive principles.


Sister, let your friends at court answer for the towns taken; as you are a woman, I shall lay no blame upon you; for I suppose they are wiser than to trust women with secrets.


Brother, you are absolutely a perfect Croat; but as those have their use in the army of the empress queen, so you likewise have some good in you. I will therefore once more sign a treaty of peace with you, and see that you do not infringe it on your side; at least, as you are so excellent a politician, I may expect you will keep your leagues, like the French, till your interest calls upon you to break them.


The alliance was such as I sincerely wished; then launched forth into a very just encomium on the young lady's merit; acknowledged the offer to be advantageous in point of fortune; and after thanking Mr Western for the good opinion he had professed of his nephew, concluded, that if the young people liked each other, he should be very desirous to complete the affair.


That parents were the best judges of proper matches for their children: that for his part he should insist on the most resigned obedience from his daughter: and if any young fellow could refuse such a bed-fellow, he was his humble servant, and hoped there was no harm done. I say no more--I humbly hope there's no harm done--that's all.


Brother, I am entirely at your service. Things look so well in the north, that I was never in a better humour.


Upon my word, madam, it is a book which I am neither ashamed nor afraid to own I have read. It is the production of a young lady of fashion, whose good understanding, I think, doth honour to her sex, and whose good heart is an honour to human nature.


Yes, the author is of a very good family; but she is not much among people one knows. I have never read it; for the best judges say, there is not much in it.


I dare not, madam, set up my own opinion, against the best judges, but there appears to me a great deal of human nature in it; and in many parts so much true tenderness and delicacy, that it hath cost me many a tear.


Ay, and do you love to cry then?


I love a tender sensation, and would pay the price of a tear for it at any time.


Well, but show me, what was you reading when I came in; there was something very tender in that, I believe, and very loving too. You blush, my dear Sophia. Ah! child, you should read books which would teach you a little hypocrisy, which would instruct you how to hide your thoughts a little better.


I hope, madam. I have no thoughts which I ought to be ashamed of discovering.


Ashamed! no. I don't think you have any thoughts which you ought to be ashamed of; and yet, child, you blushed just now when I mentioned the word loving. Dear Sophy, be assured you have not one thought which I am not well acquainted with; as well, child, as the French are with our motions, long before we put them in execution. Did you think, child, because you have been able to impose upon your father, that you could impose upon me? Do you imagine I did not know the reason of your overacting all that friendship for Mr Blifil yesterday? I have seen a little too much of the world, to be so deceived. Nay, nay, do not blush again. I tell you it is a passion you need not be ashamed of. It is a passion I myself approve, and have already brought your father into the approbation of it. Indeed, I solely consider your inclination; for I would always have that gratified, if possible, though one may sacrifice higher prospects. Come, I have news which will delight your very soul. Make me your confident, and I will undertake you shall be happy to the very extent of your wishes.


La, madam. I know not what to say--why, madam, should you suspect?


Nay, no dishonesty. Consider, you are speaking to one of your own sex, to an aunt, and I hope you are convinced you speak to a friend. Consider, you are only revealing to me what I know already, and what I plainly saw yesterday, through that most artful of all disguises, which you had put on, and which must have deceived any one who had not perfectly known the world. Lastly, consider it is a passion which I highly approve.


La, madam, you come upon one so unawares, and on a sudden. To be sure, madam, I am not blind--and certainly, if it be a fault to see all human perfections assembled together--but is it possible my father and you, madam, can see with my eyes?


I tell you, we do entirely approve; and this very afternoon your father hath appointed for you to receive your lover.


My father, this afternoon!


Yes, child, this afternoon. You know the impetuosity of my brother's temper. I acquainted him with the passion which I first discovered in you that evening when you fainted away in the field. I saw it in your fainting. I saw it immediately upon your recovery. I saw it that evening at supper, and the next morning at breakfast (you know, child, I have seen the world). Well, I no sooner acquainted my brother, but he immediately wanted to propose it to Allworthy. He proposed it yesterday, Allworthy consented (as to be sure he must with joy), and this afternoon, I tell you, you are to put on all your best airs.


This afternoon! Dear aunt, you frighten me out of my senses.


O, my dear, you will soon come to yourself again; for he is a charming young fellow, that's the truth on't.


Nay, I will own. I know none with such perfections. So brave, and yet so gentle; so witty, yet so inoffensive; so humane, so civil, so genteel, so handsome! What signifies his being base born, when compared with such qualifications as these?


Base born? What do you mean? Mr Blifil base born!


Good heavens, of Mr Jones, I thought; I am sure I know no other who deserves--


I protest, you frighten me in your turn. Is it Mr Jones, and not Mr Blifil, who is the object of your affection?


Mr Blifil! Sure it is impossible you can be in earnest; if you are, I am the most miserable woman alive.


And is it possible you can think of disgracing your family by allying yourself to a bastard? Can the blood of the Westerns submit to such contamination? If you have not sense sufficient to restrain such monstrous inclinations, I thought the pride of our family would have prevented you from giving the least encouragement to so base an affection; much less did I imagine you would ever have had the assurance to own it to my face.


Madam, what I have said you have extorted from me. I do not remember to have ever mentioned the name of Mr Jones with approbation to any one before; nor should I now had I not conceived he had your approbation. Whatever were my thoughts of that poor, unhappy young man, I intended to have carried them with me to my grave--to that grave where only now, I find, I am to seek repose.


And I would rather, follow you to your grave, than I would see you disgrace yourself and your family by such a match. O Heavens! could I have ever suspected that I should live to hear a niece of mine declare a passion for such a fellow? You are the first--yes, Miss Western, you are the first of your name who ever entertained so grovelling a thought. A family so noted for the prudence of its women


That on one consideration only she would keep the secret from her brother; and this was, that Sophia should promise to entertain Mr Blifil that very afternoon as her lover, and to regard him as the person who was to be her husband.


She knew too much of the world to be so deceived; that as she was sensible another man had her affections, she should persuade Mr Western to hasten the match as much as possible. It would be bad politics, indeed, to protract a siege when the enemy's army is at hand, and in danger of relieving it. No, no, Sophy, as I am convinced you have a violent passion which you can never satisfy with honour, I will do all I can to put your honour out of the care of your family: for when you are married those matters will belong only to the consideration of your husband. I hope, child, you will always have prudence enough to act as becomes you; but if you should not, marriage hath saved many a woman from ruin.


O Gemini, my dear lady, what is the matter?


Nothing,


Nothing! O dear Madam! you must not tell me that, when your ladyship is in this taking, and when there hath been such a preamble between your ladyship and Madam Western.


Don't teaze me. I tell you nothing is the matter. Good heavens! why was I born?


Nay, madam, you shall never persuade me that your la'ship can lament yourself so for nothing. To be sure I am but a servant; but to be sure I have been always faithful to your la'ship, and to be sure I would serve your la'ship with my life.


My dear Honour, 'tis not in thy power to be of any service to me. I am irretrievably undone.


Heaven forbid! but if I can't be of any service to you, pray tell me, madam--it will be some comfort to me to know--pray, dear ma'am, tell me what's the matter.


My father, is going to marry me to a man I both despise and hate.


O dear, ma'am, who is this wicked man? for to be sure he is very bad, or your la'ship would not despise him.


His name is poison to my tongue, thou wilt know it too soon.


I don't pretend to give your la'ship advice, whereof your la'ship knows much better than I can pretend to, being but a servant; but, i-fackins! no father in England should marry me against my consent. And, to be sure, the 'squire is so good, that if he did but know your la'ship despises and hates the young man, to be sure he would not desire you to marry him. And if your la'ship would but give me leave to tell my master so. To be sure, it would be more properer to come from your own mouth; but as your la'ship doth not care to foul your tongue with his nasty name--


You are mistaken, Honour, my father was determined before he ever thought fit to mention it to me.


More shame for him, you are to go to bed to him, and not master: and thof a man may be a very proper man, yet every woman mayn't think him handsome alike. I am sure my master would never act in this manner of his own head. I wish some people would trouble themselves only with what belongs to them; they would not, I believe, like to be served so, if it was their own case; for though I am a maid, I can easily believe as how all men are not equally agreeable. And what signifies your la'ship having so great a fortune, if you can't please yourself with the man you think most handsomest? Well, I say nothing; but to be sure it is a pity some folks had not been better born; nay, as for that matter, I should not mind it myself; but then there is not so much money; and what of that? your la'ship hath money enough for both; and where can your la'ship bestow your fortune better? for to be sure every one must allow that he is the most handsomest, charmingest, finest, tallest, properest man in the world.


What do you mean by running on in this manner to me? Have I ever given any encouragement for these liberties?


Nay, ma'am, I ask pardon; I meant no harm, but to be sure the poor gentleman hath run in my head ever since I saw him this morning. To be sure, if your la'ship had but seen him just now, you must have pitied him. Poor gentleman! I wishes some misfortune hath not happened to him; for he hath been walking about with his arms across, and looking so melancholy, all this morning: I vow and protest it made me almost cry to see him.


To see whom?


Poor Mr Jones. See him! why, where did you see him?


By the canal, ma'am,


There he hath been walking all this morning, and at last there he laid himself down: I believe he lies there still. To be sure, if it had not been for my modesty, being a maid, as I am, I should have gone and spoke to him. Do, ma'am, let me go and see, only for a fancy, whether he is there still.


Pugh! There! no, no: what should he do there? He is gone before this time, to be sure. Besides, why--what--why should you go to see? besides, I want you for something else. Go, fetch me my hat and gloves. I shall walk with my aunt in the grove before dinner.


Come, come, none of your maidenish airs; I know all; I assure you sister hath told me all.


Is it possible, that my aunt can have betrayed me already?


betrayed you! ay. Why, you betrayed yourself yesterday at dinner. You showed your fancy very plainly, I think. But you young girls never know what you would be at. So you cry because I am going to marry you to the man you are in love with! Your mother, I remember, whimpered and whined just in the same manner; but it was all over within twenty-four hours after we were married: Mr Blifil is a brisk young man, and will soon put an end to your squeamishness. Come, chear up, chear up; I expect un every minute.


And is it possible my papa can be so good to place all his joy in his Sophy's happiness? not to make her the most miserable creature on earth by forcing her to marry a man whom she detested. This I entreat of you, dear sir, for your sake, as well as my own, since you are so very kind to tell me your happiness depends on mine.


How! what!


Oh! sir, not only your poor Sophy's happiness; her very life, her being, depends upon your granting her request. I cannot live with Mr Blifil. To force me into this marriage would be killing me.


You can't live with Mr Blifil?


No, upon my soul I can't,


Then die and be d--d,


Oh! sir, take pity on me, I beseech you. Don't look and say such cruel--Can you be unmoved while you see your Sophy in this dreadful condition? Can the best of fathers break my heart? Will he kill me by the most painful, cruel, lingering death?


Pooh! pooh! all stuff and nonsense; all maidenish tricks. Kill you, indeed! Will marriage kill you?


Oh! sir, such a marriage is worse than death. He is not even indifferent; I hate and detest him.


If you detest un never so much, you shall ha'un. I am resolved upon the match, and unless you consent to it I will not give you a groat, not a single farthing; no, though I saw you expiring with famine in the street, I would not relieve you with a morsel of bread. This is my fixed resolution, and so I leave you to consider on it.


Go, go, prithee, try what canst do; O my Sophia, what means this dreadful sight?


Mr Jones, for Heaven's sake how came you here?--Leave me, I beseech you, this moment.


Do not, impose so harsh a command upon me--my heart bleeds faster than those lips. O Sophia, how easily could I drain my veins to preserve one drop of that dear blood.


I have too many obligations to you already, for sure you meant them such. Oh, Mr Jones, why did you save my life? my death would have been happier for us both.


Happier for us both! Could racks or wheels kill me so painfully as Sophia's--I cannot bear the dreadful sound. Do I live but for her?


Oh, Mr Jones, you know not, you know not what hath passed this cruel afternoon.


I know all, my Sophia, your cruel father hath told me all, and he himself hath sent me hither to you.


My father sent you to me! sure you dream.


Would to Heaven, it was but a dream! Oh, Sophia, your father hath sent me to you, to be an advocate for my odious rival, to solicit you in his favour. I took any means to get access to you. O speak to me, Sophia! comfort my bleeding heart. Sure no one ever loved, ever doated like me. Do not unkindly withhold this dear, this soft, this gentle hand--one moment, perhaps, tears you for ever from me--nothing less than this cruel occasion could, I believe, have ever conquered the respect and awe with which you have inspired me.


What would Mr Jones have me say?


O do but promise, that you never will give yourself to Blifil.


Name not, the detested sound. Be assured I never will give him what is in my power to withhold from him.


Now then, while you are so perfectly kind, go a little farther, and add that I may hope.


Alas! Mr Jones, whither will you drive me? What hope have I to bestow? You know my father's intentions.


But I know, your compliance with them cannot be compelled.


What, must be the dreadful consequence of my disobedience? My own ruin is my least concern. I cannot bear the thoughts of being the cause of my father's misery.


He is himself the cause, by exacting a power over you which Nature hath not given him. Think on the misery which I am to suffer if I am to lose you, and see on which side pity will turn the balance.


Think of it! can you imagine I do not feel the ruin which I must bring on you, should I comply with your desire? It is that thought which gives me resolution to bid you fly from me for ever, and avoid your own destruction.


I fear no destruction, but the loss of Sophia. If you would save me from the most bitter agonies, recall that cruel sentence. Indeed, I can never part with you, indeed I cannot.


I wull have satisfaction o' thee, so doff thy clothes. At unt half a man, and I'll lick thee as well as wast ever licked in thy life.


Sir, this usage may perhaps cancel every other obligation you have conferred on me; but there is one you can never cancel; nor will I be provoked by your abuse to lift my hand against the father of Sophia.


You behold, sir, how he waxeth wrath at your abode here; therefore let me pray you not to tarry any longer. His anger is too much kindled for you to commune with him at present. You had better, therefore, conclude your visit, and refer what matters you have to urge in your behalf to some other opportunity.


It would have vexed one confoundedly to have been hanged for such a rascal.


There, you have done a fine piece of work truly! You have brought up your bastard to a fine purpose; not that I believe you have had any hand in it neither, that is, as a man may say, designedly: but there is a fine kettle-of-fish made on't up at our house.


What can be the matter, Mr Western?


O, matter enow of all conscience: my daughter hath fallen in love with your bastard, that's all; but I won't ge her a hapeny, not the twentieth part of a brass varden. I always thought what would come o' breeding up a bastard like a gentleman, and letting un come about to vok's houses. It's well vor un I could not get at un: I'd a lick'd un; I'd a spoil'd his caterwauling; I'd a taught the son of a whore to meddle with meat for his master. He shan't ever have a morsel of meat of mine, or a varden to buy it: if she will ha un, one smock shall be her portion. I'd sooner ge my esteate to the zinking fund, that it may be sent to Hanover to corrupt our nation with.


I am heartily sorry,


Pox o' your sorrow, it will do me abundance of good when I have lost my only child, my poor Sophy, that was the joy of my heart, and all the hope and comfort of my age; but I am resolved I will turn her out o' doors; she shall beg, and starve, and rot in the streets. Not one hapeny, not a hapeny shall she ever hae o' mine. The son of a bitch was always good at finding a hare sitting, an be rotted to'n: I little thought what puss he was looking after; but it shall be the worst he ever vound in his life. She shall be no better than carrion: the skin o'er is all he shall ha, and zu you may tell un.


I am in amazement, at what you tell me, after what passed between my nephew and the young lady no longer ago than yesterday.


Yes, sir, it was after what passed between your nephew and she that the whole matter came out. Mr Blifil there was no sooner gone than the son of a whore came lurching about the house. Little did I think when I used to love him for a sportsman that he was all the while a poaching after my daughter.


Why truly. I could wish you had not given him so many opportunities with her; and you will do me the justice to acknowledge that I have always been averse to his staying so much at your house, though I own I had no suspicion of this kind.


Why, zounds, who could have thought it? What the devil had she to do wi'n? He did not come there a courting to her; he came there a hunting with me.


But was it possible, that you should never discern any symptoms of love between them, when you have seen them so often together?


Never in my life, as I hope to be saved. I never so much as zeed him kiss her in all my life; and so far from courting her, he used rather to be more silent when she was in company than at any other time; and as for the girl, she was always less civil to'n than to any young man that came to the house. As to that matter, I am not more easy to be deceived than another; I would not have you think I am, neighbour. That he would have him keep the rascal away from his house, and that he would go and lock up the wench; for he was resolved to make her marry Mr Blifil in spite of her teeth. his house was in such disorder that it was necessary for him to make haste home, to take care his daughter did not give him the slip; and as for Jones, he swore if he caught him at his house, he would qualify him to run for the geldings' plate.


Alas! sir, can it be a question what step a lover will take, when reason and passion point different ways? I am afraid it is too certain he will, in that dilemma, always follow the latter. Reason dictates to me, to quit all thoughts of a woman who places her affections on another; my passion bids me hope she may in time change her inclinations in my favour. Here, however, I conceive an objection may be raised, which, if it could not fully be answered, would totally deter me from any further pursuit. I mean the injustice of endeavouring to supplant another in a heart of which he seems already in possession; but the determined resolution of Mr Western shows that, in this case, I shall, by so doing, promote the happiness of every party; not only that of the parent, who will thus be preserved from the highest degree of misery, but of both the others, who must be undone by this match. The lady, I am sure, will be undone in every sense; for, besides the loss of most part of her own fortune, she will be not only married to a beggar, but the little fortune which her father cannot withhold from her will be squandered on that wench with whom I know he yet converses. Nay, that is a trifle; for I know him to be one of the worst men in the world; for had my dear uncle known what I have hitherto endeavoured to conceal, he must have long since abandoned so profligate a wretch.


How! hath he done anything worse than I already know? Tell me, I beseech you?


No, it is now past, and perhaps he may have repented of it.


I command you, on your duty, to tell me what you mean.


You know, sir. I never disobeyed you; but I am sorry I mentioned it, since it may now look like revenge, whereas, I thank Heaven, no such motive ever entered my heart; and if you oblige me to discover it, I must be his petitioner to you for your forgiveness.


I will have no conditions. I think I have shown tenderness enough towards him, and more perhaps than you ought to thank me for.


More, indeed, I fear, than he deserved, for in the very day of your utmost danger, when myself and all the family were in tears, he filled the house with riot and debauchery. He drank, and sung, and roared; and when I gave him a gentle hint of the indecency of his actions, he fell into a violent passion, swore many oaths, called me rascal, and struck me.


How! did he dare to strike you?


I am sure. I have forgiven him that long ago. I wish I could so easily forget his ingratitude to the best of benefactors; and yet even that I hope you will forgive him, since he must have certainly been possessed with the devil: for that very evening, as Mr Thwackum and myself were taking the air in the fields, and exulting in the good symptoms which then first began to discover themselves, we unluckily saw him engaged with a wench in a manner not fit to be mentioned. Mr Thwackum, with more boldness than prudence, advanced to rebuke him, when (I am sorry to say it) he fell upon the worthy man, and beat him so outrageously that I wish he may have yet recovered the bruises. Nor was I without my share of the effects of his malice, while I endeavoured to protect my tutor; but that I have long forgiven; nay, I prevailed with Mr Thwackum to forgive him too, and not to inform you of a secret which I feared might be fatal to him. And now, sir, since I have unadvisedly dropped a hint of this matter, and your commands have obliged me to discover the whole, let me intercede with you for him.


O child! I know not whether I should blame or applaud your goodness, in concealing such villany a moment: but where is Mr Thwackum? Not that I want any confirmation of what you say; but I will examine all the evidence of this matter, to justify to the world the example I am resolved to make of such a monster.


He is, an excellent youth: though such forgiveness of enemies is carrying the matter too far.


That unless he could clear himself of the charge, he was resolved to banish him his sight for ever.


That though he must own himself guilty of many follies and inadvertencies, he hoped he had done nothing to deserve what would be to him the greatest punishment in the world.


That he had forgiven him too often already, in compassion to his youth, and in hopes of his amendment: that he now found he was an abandoned reprobate, and such as it would be criminal in any one to support and encourage. Nay, your audacious attempt to steal away the young lady, calls upon me to justify my own character in punishing you. The world who have already censured the regard I have shown for you may think, with some colour at least of justice, that I connive at so base and barbarous an action--an action of which you must have known my abhorrence: and which, had you had any concern for my ease and honour, as well as for my friendship, you would never have thought of undertaking. Fie upon it, young man! indeed there is scarce any punishment equal to your crimes, and I can scarce think myself justifiable in what I am now going to bestow on you. However, as I have educated you like a child of my own, I will not turn you naked into the world. When you open this paper, therefore, you will find something which may enable you, with industry, to get an honest livelihood; but if you employ it to worse purposes, I shall not think myself obliged to supply you farther, being resolved, from this day forward, to converse no more with you on any account. I cannot avoid saying, there is no part of your conduct which I resent more than your ill-treatment of that good young man (meaning Blifil) who hath behaved with so much tenderness and honour towards you.


Sure my father will not deny me this place to rest in!


MADAM. When you reflect on the situation in which I write, I am sure your good-nature will pardon any inconsistency or absurdity which my letter contains; for everything here flows from a heart so full, that no language can express its dictates. I have resolved, madam, to obey your commands, in flying for ever from your dear, your lovely sight. Cruel indeed those commands are; but it is a cruelty which proceeds from fortune, not from my Sophia. Fortune hath made it necessary, necessary to your preservation, to forget there ever was such a wretch as I am. Believe me, I would not hint all my sufferings to you, if I imagined they could possibly escape your ears. I know the goodness and tenderness of your heart, and would avoid giving you any of those pains which you always feel for the miserable. O let nothing, which you shall hear of my hard fortune, cause a moment's concern; for, after the loss of you, everything is to me a trifle.


O Sophia! it is hard to leave you; it is harder still to desire you to forget me; yet the sincerest love obliges me to both. Pardon my conceiving that any remembrance of me can give you disquiet; but if I am so gloriously wretched, sacrifice me every way to your relief. Think I never loved you; or think truly how little I deserve you; and learn to scorn me for a presumption which can never be too severely punished.--I am unable to say more.--May guardian angels protect you for ever!”


For sure,


Sir, you know you may command me whatever is in my power, and I heartily wish it was in my power to do you any service.


SIR, “It is impossible to express what I have felt since I saw you. Your submitting, on my account, to such cruel insults from my father, lays me under an obligation I shall ever own. As you know his temper, I beg you will, for my sake, avoid him. I wish I had any comfort to send you; but believe this, that nothing but the last violence shall ever give my hand or heart where you would be sorry to see them bestowed.”


O Honour! I am undone.


Marry forbid,


you are a good girl, and it is vain to attempt concealing longer my weakness from you; I have thrown away my heart on a man who hath forsaken me.


And is Mr Jones,


He hath taken his leave of me, for ever in that letter. Nay, he hath desired me to forget him. Could he have desired that if he had loved me? Could he have borne such a thought? Could he have written such a word?


No, certainly, ma'am, and to be sure, if the best man in England was to desire me to forget him, I'd take him at his word. Marry, come up! I am sure your la'ship hath done him too much honour ever to think on him;--a young lady who may take her choice of all the young men in the country. And to be sure, if I may be so presumptuous as to offer my poor opinion, there is young Mr Blifil, who, besides that he is come of honest parents, and will be one of the greatest squires all hereabouts, he is to be sure, in my poor opinion, a more handsomer and a more politer man by half; and besides, he is a young gentleman of a sober character, and who may defy any of the neighbours to say black is his eye; he follows no dirty trollops, nor can any bastards be laid at his door. Forget him, indeed! I thank Heaven I myself am not so much at my last prayers as to suffer any man to bid me forget him twice. If the best he that wears a head was for to go for to offer to say such an affronting word to me, I would never give him my company afterwards, if there was another young man in the kingdom. And as I was a saying, to be sure, there is young Mr Blifil.


Name not his detested name,


Nay, ma'am, if your la'ship doth not like him, there be more jolly handsome young men that would court your la'ship, if they had but the least encouragement. I don't believe there is arrow young gentleman in this county, or in the next to it, that if your la'ship was but to look as if you had a mind to him, would not come about to make his offers directly.


What a wretch dost thou imagine me, by affronting my ears with such stuff! I detest all mankind.


Nay, to be sure, ma'am,


how dare you mention his name with disrespect before me? He use me ill? No, his poor bleeding heart suffered more when he writ the cruel words than mine from reading them. O! he is all heroic virtue and angelic goodness. I am ashamed of the weakness of my own passion, for blaming what I ought to admire. O, Honour! it is my good only which he consults. To my interest he sacrifices both himself and me. The apprehension of ruining me hath driven him to despair.


I am very glad, to hear your la'ship takes that into your consideration; for to be sure, it must be nothing less than ruin to give your mind to one that is turned out of doors, and is not worth a farthing in the world.


Turned out of doors! how! what dost thou mean?


Why, to be sure, ma'am, my master no sooner told Squire Allworthy about Mr Jones having offered to make love to your la'ship than the squire stripped him stark naked, and turned him out of doors!


Ha! I have been the cursed, wretched cause of his destruction! Turned naked out of doors! Here, Honour, take all the money I have; take the rings from my fingers. Here, my watch: carry him all. Go find him immediately.


For Heaven's sake, ma'am, do but consider, if my master should miss any of these things, I should be made to answer for them. Therefore let me beg your la'ship not to part with your watch and jewels. Besides, the money, I think, is enough of all conscience; and as for that, my master can never know anything of the matter.


Here, then, take every farthing I am worth, find him out immediately, and give it him. Go, go, lose not a moment.


She is locked up in chamber,


Sure, brother, you are the weakest of all men. Why will you not confide in me for the management of my niece? Why will you interpose? You have now undone all that I have been spending my breath in order to bring about. While I have been endeavouring to fill her mind with maxims of prudence, you have been provoking her to reject them. English women, brother, I thank heaven, are no slaves. We are not to be locked up like the Spanish and Italian wives. We have as good a right to liberty as yourselves. We are to be convinced by reason and persuasion only, and not governed by force. I have seen the world, brother, and know what arguments to make use of; and if your folly had not prevented me, should have prevailed with her to form her conduct by those rules of prudence and discretion which I formerly taught her. To be sure,


Brother, you are not in the wrong, unless when you meddle with matters beyond your knowledge. You must agree that I have seen most of the world; and happy had it been for my niece if she had not been taken from under my care. It is by living at home with you that she hath learnt romantic notions of love and nonsense.


You don't imagine, I hope,


Your ignorance, brother, as the great Milton says, almost subdues my patience.


D--n Milton! if he had the impudence to say so to my face, I'd lend him a douse, thof he was never so great a man. Patience! An you come to that, sister, I have more occasion of patience, to be used like an overgrown schoolboy, as I am by you. Do you think no one hath any understanding, unless he hath been about at court. Pox! the world is come to a fine pass indeed, if we are all fools, except a parcel of round-heads and Hanover rats. Pox! I hope the times are a coming when we shall make fools of them, and every man shall enjoy his own. That's all, sister; and every man shall enjoy his own. I hope to zee it, sister, before the Hanover rats have eat up all our corn, and left us nothing but turneps to feed upon.


I protest, brother, you are now got beyond my understanding. Your jargon of turneps and Hanover rats is to me perfectly unintelligible.


I believe, you don't care to hear o'em; but the country interest may succeed one day or other for all that.


I wish, you would think a little of your daughter's interest; for, believe me, she is in greater danger than the nation.


Just now, you chid me for thinking on her, and would ha' her left to you.


And if you will promise to interpose no more. I will, out of my regard to my niece, undertake the charge.


Well, do then, for you know I always agreed, that women are the properest to manage women.


Look'e, gentlemen, the man is a villain, but it is nature for all that.


Well, then, I will give Mr Allworthy the only instance he requires of my obedience. I will go this moment--but whither?--why, let Fortune direct; since there is no other who thinks it of any consequence what becomes of this wretched person, it shall be a matter of equal indifference to myself. Shall I alone regard what no other--Ha! have I not reason to think there is another?--one whose value is above that of the whole world!--I may, I must imagine my Sophia is not indifferent to what becomes of me. Shall I then leave this only friend--and such a friend? Shall I not stay with her?--Where--how can I stay with her? Have I any hopes of ever seeing her, though she was as desirous as myself, without exposing her to the wrath of her father, and to what purpose? Can I think of soliciting such a creature to consent to her own ruin? Shall I indulge any passion of mine at such a price? Shall I lurk about this country like a thief, with such intentions?--No, I disdain, I detest the thought. Farewel, Sophia; farewel, most lovely, most beloved--


That she was very incapable of arguing with a lady of her aunt's superior knowledge and experience, especially on a subject which she had so very little considered, as this of matrimony.


Argue with me, child! I do not indeed expect it. I should have seen the world to very little purpose truly, if I am to argue with one of your years. I have taken this trouble, in order to instruct you. The antient philosophers, such as Socrates, Alcibiades, and others, did not use to argue with their scholars. You are to consider me, child, as Socrates, not asking your opinion, but only informing you of mine.


Madam. I have never presumed to controvert any opinion of yours; and this subject, as I said, I have never yet thought of, and perhaps never may.


Indeed, Sophy, this dissimulation with me is very foolish. The French shall as soon persuade me that they take foreign towns in defence only of their own country, as you can impose on me to believe you have never yet thought seriously of matrimony. How can you, child, affect to deny that you have considered of contracting an alliance, when you so well know I am acquainted with the party with whom you desire to contract it?--an alliance as unnatural, and contrary to your interest, as a separate league with the French would be to the interest of the Dutch! But however, if you have not hitherto considered of this matter, I promise you it is now high time, for my brother is resolved immediately to conclude the treaty with Mr Blifil; and indeed I am a sort of guarantee in the affair, and have promised your concurrence.


Indeed, madam, this is the only instance in which I must disobey both yourself and my father. For this is a match which requires very little consideration in me to refuse.


If I was not as great a philosopher as Socrates himself, you would overcome my patience. What objection can you have to the young gentleman?


A very solid objection, in my opinion. I hate him.


Will you never learn a proper use of words? Indeed, child, you should consult Bailey's Dictionary. It is impossible you should hate a man from whom you have received no injury. By hatred, therefore, you mean no more than dislike, which is no sufficient objection against your marrying of him. I have known many couples, who have entirely disliked each other, lead very comfortable genteel lives. Believe me, child, I know these things better than you. You will allow me, I think, to have seen the world, in which I have not an acquaintance who would not rather be thought to dislike her husband than to like him. The contrary is such out-of-fashion romantic nonsense, that the very imagination of it is shocking.


Indeed, madam. I shall never marry a man I dislike. If I promise my father never to consent to any marriage contrary to his inclinations, I think I may hope he will never force me into that state contrary to my own.


Inclinations! Inclinations! I am astonished at your assurance. A young woman of your age, and unmarried, to talk of inclinations! But whatever your inclinations may be, my brother is resolved; nay, since you talk of inclinations, I shall advise him to hasten the treaty. Inclinations!


to have mercy upon her, and not to resent so cruelly her unwillingness to make herself miserable; that she alone was concerned, and that her happiness only was at stake.


So far, madam, from your being concerned alone, your concern is the least, or surely the least important. It is the honour of your family which is concerned in this alliance; you are only the instrument. Do you conceive, mistress, that in an intermarriage between kingdoms, as when a daughter of France is married into Spain, the princess herself is alone considered in the match? No! it is a match between two kingdoms, rather than between two persons. The same happens in great families such as ours. The alliance between the families is the principal matter. You ought to have a greater regard for the honour of your family than for your own person; and if the example of a princess cannot inspire you with these noble thoughts, you cannot surely complain at being used no worse than all princesses are used.


I hope, madam. I shall never do anything to dishonour my family; but as for Mr Blifil, whatever may be the consequence, I am resolved against him, and no force shall prevail in his favour.


D--n me then if shatunt ha'un, d--n me if shatunt, that's all--that's all; d--n me if shatunt.


Brother, it is astonishing that you will interfere in a matter which you had totally left to my negotiation. Regard to my family hath made me take upon myself to be the mediating power, in order to rectify those mistakes in policy which you have committed in your daughter's education. For, brother, it is you--it is your preposterous conduct which hath eradicated all the seeds that I had formerly sown in her tender mind. It is you yourself who have taught her disobedience.


Blood! you are enough to conquer the patience of the devil! Have I ever taught my daughter disobedience?--Here she stands; speak honestly, girl, did ever I bid you be disobedient to me? Have not I done everything to humour and to gratify you, and to make you obedient to me? And very obedient to me she was when a little child, before you took her in hand and spoiled her, by filling her head with a pack of court notions. Why--why--why--did I not overhear you telling her she must behave like a princess? You have made a Whig of the girl; and how should her father, or anybody else, expect any obedience from her?


Brother. I cannot express the contempt I have for your politics of all kinds; but I will appeal likewise to the young lady herself, whether I have ever taught her any principles of disobedience. On the contrary, niece, have I not endeavoured to inspire you with a true idea of the several relations in which a human creature stands in society? Have I not taken infinite pains to show you, that the law of nature hath enjoined a duty on children to their parents? Have I not told you what Plato says on that subject?--a subject on which you was so notoriously ignorant when you came first under my care, that I verily believe you did not know the relation between a daughter and a father.


'Tis a lie. The girl is no such fool, as to live to eleven years old without knowing that she was her father's relation.


O! more than Gothic ignorance. And as for your manners, brother, I must tell you, they deserve a cane.


Why then you may gi' it me, if you think you are able, nay, I suppose your niece there will be ready enough to help you.


Brother, though I despise you beyond expression, yet I shall endure your insolence no longer; so I desire my coach may be got ready immediately, for I am resolved to leave your house this very morning.


And a good riddance too. I can bear your insolence no longer, an you come to that. Blood! it is almost enough of itself to make my daughter undervalue my sense, when she hears you telling me every minute you despise me.


It is impossible, it is impossible, no one can undervalue such a boor.


Boar. I am no boar; no, nor ass; no, nor rat neither, madam. Remember that--I am no rat. I am a true Englishman, and not of your Hanover breed, that have eat up the nation.


Thou art one of those wise men, whose nonsensical principles have undone the nation; by weakening the hands of our government at home, and by discouraging our friends and encouraging our enemies abroad.


Ho! are you come back to your politics? as for those I despise them as much as I do a f--t.


always whipt in by the humours of some d--n'd b-- or other. I think I was hard run enough by your mother for one man; but after giving her a dodge, here's another b-- follows me upon the foil; but curse my jacket if I will be run down in this manner by any o'um.


he expected she was ready to take the part of everybody against him, as she had always done that of the b-- her mother. What, art dumb? why dost unt speak? Was not thy mother a d--d b-- to me? answer me that. What, I suppose you despise your father too, and don't think him good enough to speak to?


For Heaven's sake, sir, do not give so cruel a turn to my silence. I am sure I would sooner die than be guilty of any disrespect towards you; but how can I venture to speak, when every word must either offend my dear papa, or convict me of the blackest ingratitude as well as impiety to the memory of the best of mothers; for such, I am certain, my mamma was always to me?


And your aunt, I suppose, is the best of sisters too! Will you be so kind as to allow that she is a b--? I may fairly insist upon that, I think?


Indeed, sir. I have great obligations to my aunt. She hath been a second mother to me.


And a second wife to me too, so you will take her part too! You won't confess that she hath acted the part of the vilest sister in the world?


Upon my word, sir. I must belie my heart wickedly if I did. I know my aunt and you differ very much in your ways of thinking; but I have heard her a thousand times express the greatest affection for you; and I am convinced, so far from her being the worst sister in the world, there are very few who love a brother better.


The English of all which is, that I am in the wrong. Ay, certainly. Ay, to be sure the woman is in the right, and the man in the wrong always.


Pardon me, sir. I do not say so.


What don't you say? you have the impudence to say she's in the right: doth it not follow then of course that I am in the wrong? And perhaps I am in the wrong to suffer such a Presbyterian Hanoverian b-- to come into my house. She may 'dite me of a plot for anything I know, and give my estate to the government.


So far, sir, from injuring you or your estate, if my aunt had died yesterday, I am convinced she would have left you her whole fortune.


hath very violent passions, and I can't answer what she may do under their influence.


You can't! and pray who hath been the occasion of putting her into those violent passions? Nay, who hath actually put her into them? Was not you and she hard at it before I came into the room? Besides, was not all our quarrel about you? I have not quarrelled with sister this many years but upon your account; and now you would throw the whole blame upon me, as thof I should be the occasion of her leaving the esteate out o' the vamily. I could have expected no better indeed; this is like the return you make to all the rest of my fondness.


I beseech you then, upon my knees I beseech you, if I have been the unhappy occasion of this difference, that you will endeavour to make it up with my aunt, and not suffer her to leave your house in this violent rage of anger: she is a very good-natured woman, and a few civil words will satisfy her. Let me entreat you, sir.


So I must go and ask pardon for your fault, must I? You have lost the hare, and I must draw every way to find her again? Indeed, if I was certain


Follow her, boy, follow her; run in, run in; that's it, honeys. Dead, dead, dead. Never be bashful, nor stand shall I, shall I? Allworthy and I can finish all matters between us this afternoon, and let us ha' the wedding to-morrow.


As there is nothing, sir, in this world which I so eagerly desire as an alliance with your family, except my union with the most amiable and deserving Sophia, you may easily imagine how impatient I must be to see myself in possession of my two highest wishes. If I have not therefore importuned you on this head, you will impute it only to my fear of offending the lady, by endeavouring to hurry on so blessed an event faster than a strict compliance with all the rules of decency and decorum will permit. But if, by your interest, sir, she might be induced to dispense with any formalities--


Formalities! with a pox! Pooh, all stuff and nonsense! I tell thee, she shall ha' thee to-morrow: you will know the world better hereafter, when you come to my age. Women never gi' their consent, man, if they can help it, 'tis not the fashion. If I had stayed for her mother's consent, I might have been a batchelor to this day.--To her, to her, co to her, that's it, you jolly dog. I tell thee shat ha' her to-morrow morning.


He would on no account be accessary to forcing a young lady into a marriage contrary to her own will;


That the real sentiments of young ladies were very difficult to be understood; that her behaviour to him was full as forward as he wished it, and that if he could believe her father, she had all the affection for him which any lover could desire. As for Jones, whom I am loth to call villain, though his behaviour to you, sir, sufficiently justifies the appellation, his own vanity, or perhaps some wicked views, might make him boast of a falsehood; for if there had been any reality in Miss Western's love to him, the greatness of her fortune would never have suffered him to desert her, as you are well informed he hath. Lastly, sir, I promise you I would not myself, for any consideration, no, not for the whole world, consent to marry this young lady, if I was not persuaded she had all the passion for me which I desire she should have.


O dear ma'am! what doth your la'ship think? To be sure I am frightened out of my wits; and yet I thought it my duty to tell your la'ship, though perhaps it may make you angry, for we servants don't always know what will make our ladies angry; for, to be sure, everything is always laid to the charge of a servant. When our ladies are out of humour, to be sure we must be scolded; and to be sure I should not wonder if your la'ship should be out of humour; nay, it must surprize you certainly, ay, and shock you too.


Good Honour, let me know it without any longer preface, there are few things, I promise you, which will surprize, and fewer which will shock me.


Dear ma'am, to be sure, I overheard my master talking to parson Supple about getting a licence this very afternoon; and to be sure I heard him say, your la'ship should be married to-morrow morning.


To-morrow morning!


Yes, ma'am. I will take my oath I heard my master say so.


Honour, you have both surprized and shocked me to such a degree that I have scarce any breath or spirits left. What is to be done in my dreadful situation?


I wish I was able to advise your la'ship,


Do advise me, pray, dear Honour, advise me. Think what you would attempt if it was your own case.


Indeed, ma'am. I wish your la'ship and I could change situations; that is, I mean without hurting your la'ship; for to be sure I don't wish you so bad as to be a servant; but because that if so be it was my case, I should find no manner of difficulty in it; for, in my poor opinion, young Squire Blifil is a charming, sweet, handsome man.


Don't mention such stuff,


Such stuff! why, there. Well, to be sure, what's one man's meat is another man's poison, and the same is altogether as true of women.


Honour, rather than submit to be the wife of that contemptible wretch, I would plunge a dagger into my heart.


O lud! ma'am! I am sure you frighten me out of my wits now. Let me beseech your la'ship not to suffer such wicked thoughts to come into your head. O lud! to be sure I tremble every inch of me. Dear ma'am, consider, that to be denied Christian burial, and to have your corpse buried in the highway, and a stake drove through you, as farmer Halfpenny was served at Ox Cross; and, to be sure, his ghost hath walked there ever since, for several people have seen him. To be sure it can be nothing but the devil which can put such wicked thoughts into the head of anybody; for certainly it is less wicked to hurt all the world than one's own dear self; and so I have heard said by more parsons than one. If your la'ship hath such a violent aversion, and hates the young gentleman so very bad, that you can't bear to think of going into bed to him; for to be sure there may be such antipathies in nature, and one had lieverer touch a toad than the flesh of some people.


Honour, I am come to a resolution. I am determined to leave my father's house this very night; and if you have the friendship for me which you have often professed, you will keep me company.


That I will, ma'am, to the world's end, but I beg your la'ship to consider the consequence before you undertake any rash action. Where can your la'ship possibly go?


There is, a lady of quality in London, a relation of mine, who spent several months with my aunt in the country; during all which time she treated me with great kindness, and expressed so much pleasure in my company, that she earnestly desired my aunt to suffer me to go with her to London. As she is a woman of very great note, I shall easily find her out, and I make no doubt of being very well and kindly received by her.


I would not have your la'ship too confident of that, for the first lady I lived with used to invite people very earnestly to her house; but if she heard afterwards they were coming, she used to get out of the way. Besides, though this lady would be very glad to see your la'ship, as to be sure anybody would be glad to see your la'ship, yet when she hears your la'ship is run away from my master--


You are mistaken, Honour, she looks upon the authority of a father in a much lower light than I do; for she pressed me violently to go to London with her, and when I refused to go without my father's consent, she laughed me to scorn, called me silly country girl, and said, I should make a pure loving wife, since I could be so dutiful a daughter. So I have no doubt but she will both receive me and protect me too, till my father, finding me out of his power, can be brought to some reason.


Well, but, ma'am, how doth your la'ship think of making your escape? Where will you get any horses or conveyance? For as for your own horse, as all the servants know a little how matters stand between my master and your la'ship, Robin will be hanged before he will suffer it to go out of the stable without my master's express orders.


I intend to escape, by walking out of the doors when they are open. I thank Heaven my legs are very able to carry me. They have supported me many a long evening


Yes, to be sure. I will follow your la'ship through the world; but your la'ship had almost as good be alone: for I should not be able to defend you, if any robbers, or other villains, should meet with you. Nay, I should be in as horrible a fright as your la'ship; for to be certain, they would ravish us both. Besides, ma'am, consider how cold the nights are now; we shall be frozen to death.


A good brisk pace, will preserve us from the cold; and if you cannot defend me from a villain, Honour, I will defend you; for I will take a pistol with me. There are two always charged in the hall.


Dear ma'am, you frighten me more and more, sure your la'ship would not venture to fire it off! I had rather run any chance than your la'ship should do that.


Why so? would not you, Honour, fire a pistol at any one who should attack your virtue?


To be sure, ma'am, one's virtue is a dear thing, especially to us poor servants; for it is our livelihood, as a body may say: yet I mortally hate fire-arms; for so many accidents happen by them.


Well, well. I believe I may ensure your virtue at a very cheap rate, without carrying any arms with us; for I intend to take horses at the very first town we come to, and we shall hardly be attacked in our way thither. Look'ee, Honour, I am resolved to go; and if you will attend me, I promise you I will reward you to the very utmost of my power.


O, ma'am, your la'ship may trust that to me; we servants very well know how to obtain this favour of our masters and mistresses; though sometimes, indeed, where they owe us more wages than they can readily pay, they will put up with all our affronts, and will hardly take any warning we can give them; but the squire is none of those; and since your la'ship is resolved upon setting out to-night, I warrant I get discharged this afternoon.


Soh, madam, I find we are to have the pleasure of your company longer, which I was afraid the quarrel between my master and your lady would have robbed us of.


I don't know, madam, what you mean by we and us. I assure you I do not look on any of the servants in this house to be proper company for me. I am company, I hope, for their betters every day in the week. I do not speak on your account, Mrs Honour; for you are a civilized young woman; and when you have seen a little more of the world, I should not be ashamed to walk with you in St James's Park.


Hoity toity! madam is in her airs, I protest. Mrs Honour, forsooth! sure, madam, you might call me by my sir-name; for though my lady calls me Honour, I have a sir-name as well as other folks. Ashamed to walk with me, quotha! marry, as good as yourself, I hope.


Since you make such a return to my civility. I must acquaint you, Mrs Honour, that you are not so good as me. In the country, indeed, one is obliged to take up with all kind of trumpery; but in town I visit none but the women of women of quality. Indeed, Mrs Honour, there is some difference, I hope, between you and me.


I hope so too, there is some difference in our ages, and--I think in our persons.


Creature! you are below my anger; and it is beneath me to give ill words to such an audacious saucy trollop; but, hussy, I must tell you, your breeding shows the meanness of your birth as well as of your education; and both very properly qualify you to be the mean serving-woman of a country girl.


Don't abuse my lady. I won't take that of you; she's as much better than yours as she is younger, and ten thousand times more handsomer.


And, madam. I could have despised all she said to me; but she hath had the audacity to affront your ladyship, and to call you ugly--Yes, madam, she called you ugly old cat to my face. I could not bear to hear your ladyship called ugly.


Why do you repeat her impudence so often? How she had the assurance to mention her name with disrespect?


Disrespect, madam! I never mentioned your name at all: I said somebody was not as handsome as my mistress, and to be sure you know that as well as I.


Hussy. I will make such a saucy trollop as yourself know that I am not a proper subject of your discourse. And if my brother doth not discharge you this moment, I will never sleep in his house again. I will find him out, and have you discharged this moment.


Discharged! and suppose I am: there are more places in the world than one. Thank Heaven, good servants need not want places; and if you turn away all who do not think you handsome, you will want servants very soon; let me tell you that.


Such handsome b--s as you don't want jewels to set them off, and be d--n'd to you.


for I am afraid, sir, you cannot legally commit any one to Bridewell only for ill-breeding.


as there was no breaking up of the peace, such as the law, calls breaking open a door, or breaking a hedge, or breaking a head, or any such sort of breaking, the matter did not amount to a felonious kind of a thing, nor trespasses, nor damages, and, therefore, there was no punishment in the law for it.


she knew the law much better; that she had known servants very severely punished for affronting their masters; who, would commit a servant to Bridewell at any time when a master or mistress desired it.


Like enough, it may be so in London; but the law is different in the country.


You know, sir, I must not, nor can, refuse to obey any absolute command of yours


Whence did you come?


No matter. I want to know if this be the road to Bristol?


The road to Bristol! why, measter, I believe you will hardly get to Bristol this way to-night.


Prithee, friend, then, do tell us which is the way.


Why, measter, you must be come out of your road the Lord knows whither; for thick way goeth to Glocester.


Well, and which way goes to Bristol?


Why, you be going away from Bristol,


Then, we must go back again?


Ay, you must,


Well, and when we come back to the top of the hill, which way must we take?


Why, you must keep the strait road.


But I remember there are two roads, one to the right and the other to the left.


Why, you must keep the right-hand road, and then gu strait vorwards; only remember to turn vurst to your right, and then to your left again, and then to your right, and that brings you to the squire's; and then you must keep strait vorwards, and turn to the left.


That he must keep the right-hand road for about a mile, or a mile and a half, or such a matter, and then he must turn short to the left, which would bring him round by Measter Jin Bearnes's.


But which is Mr John Bearnes's?


O Lord! why, don't you know Measter Jin Bearnes? Whence then did you come?


Friend, I perceive thou hast lost thy way; and if thou wilt take my advice, thou wilt not attempt to find it to-night. It is almost dark, and the road is difficult to hit; besides, there have been several robberies committed lately between this and Bristol. Here is a very creditable good house just by, where thou may'st find good entertainment for thyself and thy cattle till morning.


He hoped he would excuse the badness of his accommodation; for that his wife was gone from home, and had locked up almost everything, and carried the keys along with her.


Friend, I perceive some sad disaster hath befallen thee; but pray be of comfort. Perhaps thou hast lost a friend. If so, thou must consider we are all mortal. And why shouldst thou grieve, when thou knowest thy grief will do thy friend no good? We are all born to affliction. I myself have my sorrows as well as thee, and most probably greater sorrows. Though I have a clear estate of £100 a year, which is as much as I want, and I have a conscience, I thank the Lord, void of offence; my constitution is sound and strong, and there is no man can demand a debt of me, nor accuse me of an injury; yet, friend, I should be concerned to think thee as miserable as myself.


I am very sorry, sir, for your unhappiness, whatever is the occasion of it.


Ah! friend, one only daughter is the occasion; one who was my greatest delight upon earth, and who within this week is run away from me, and is married against my consent. I had provided her a proper match, a sober man and one of substance; but she, forsooth, would chuse for herself, and away she is gone with a young fellow not worth a groat. If she had been dead, as I suppose thy friend is, I should have been happy.


That is very strange, sir,


Why, would it not be better for her to be dead, than to be a beggar? for, as I told you, the fellow is not worth a groat; and surely she cannot expect that I shall ever give her a shilling. No, as she hath married for love, let her live on love if she can; let her carry her love to market, and see whether any one will change it into silver, or even into halfpence.


You know your own concerns best, sir,


It must have been, a long premeditated scheme to cheat me: for they have known one another from their infancy; and I always preached to her against love, and told her a thousand times over it was all folly and wickedness. Nay, the cunning slut pretended to hearken to me, and to despise all wantonness of the flesh; and yet at last broke out at a window two pair of stairs: for I began, indeed, a little to suspect her, and had locked her up carefully, intending the very next morning to have married her up to my liking. But she disappointed me within a few hours, and escaped away to the lover of her own chusing; who lost no time, for they were married and bedded and all within an hour. But it shall be the worst hour's work for them both that ever they did; for they may starve, or beg, or steal together, for me. I will never give either of them a farthing.


I really must be excused: I wish you would leave me.


Come, come, friend, don't give way to concern. You see there are other people miserable besides yourself.


I see there are madmen, and fools, and villains in the world. But let me give you a piece of advice: send for your daughter and son-in-law home, and don't be yourself the only cause of misery to one you pretend to love.


Send for her and her husband home! I would sooner send for the two greatest enemies I have in the world!


Well, go home yourself, or where you please, for I will sit no longer in such company.


Nay, friend. I scorn to impose my company on any one.


Indeed. I shall use no such civility towards him; for it seems, for all his laced waistcoat there, he is no more a gentleman than myself, but a poor parish bastard, bred up at a great squire's about thirty miles off, and now turned out of doors (not for any good to be sure). I shall get him out of my house as soon as possible. If I do lose my reckoning, the first loss is always the best. It is not above a year ago that I lost a silver spoon.


What dost thou talk of a parish bastard, Robin? Thou must certainly be mistaken in thy man.


Not at all, the guide, who knows him very well, told it me.


He shall pay the whole reckoning, which indeed amounted to no more than three shillings and fourpence.


God bless King George and your honour; We will stand by you both to the last drops of our blood.


Sir, I hope you will consider that the horses have been kept out all night, and we have travelled a great ways out of our way.


Ay, ay, he is a pure one, I warrant you. A pretty gentleman, indeed, to go for a soldier! He shall wear a laced wastecoat truly. It is an old proverb and a true one, all is not gold that glisters. I am glad my house is well rid of him.


Sir, my serjeant informed me that you are desirous of enlisting in the company I have at present under my command; if so, sir, we shall very gladly receive a gentleman who promises to do much honour to the company by bearing arms in it.


That he had not mentioned anything of enlisting himself; that he was most zealously attached to the glorious cause for which they were going to fight, and was very desirous of serving as a volunteer;


and yet, notwithstanding all their vociferation, I dare swear they will behave more like Grecians than Trojans when they come to the enemy.


Grecians and Trojans! who the devil are they? I have heard of all the troops in Europe, but never of any such as these.


Don't pretend to more ignorance than you have, Mr Northerton. I suppose you have heard of the Greeks and Trojans, though perhaps you never read Pope's Homer; who, I remember, now the gentleman mentions it, compares the march of the Trojans to the cackling of geese, and greatly commends the silence of the Grecians. And upon my honour there is great justice in the cadet's observation.


Begar, me remember dem ver well, me ave read them at school in dans Madam Daciere, des Greek, des Trojan, dey fight for von woman--ouy, ouy, me ave read all dat.


D--n Homo with all my heart. I have the marks of him on my a-- yet. There's Thomas, of our regiment, always carries a Homo in his pocket; d--n me, if ever I come at it, if I don't burn it. And there's Corderius, another d--n'd son of a whore, that hath got me many a flogging.


Then you have been at school, Mr Northerton?


Ay, d--n me, have I, the devil take my father for sending me thither! The old put wanted to make a parson of me, but d--n me, thinks I to myself, I'll nick you there, old cull; the devil a smack of your nonsense shall you ever get into me. There's Jemmy Oliver, of our regiment, he narrowly escaped being a pimp too, and that would have been a thousand pities; for d--n me if he is not one of the prettiest fellows in the whole world; but he went farther than I with the old cull, for Jimmey can neither write nor read.


You give your friend a very good character, and a very deserved one, I dare say. But prithee, Northerton, leave off that foolish as well as wicked custom of swearing; for you are deceived, I promise you, if you think there is wit or politeness in it. I wish, too, you would take my advice, and desist from abusing the clergy. Scandalous names, and reflections cast on any body of men, must be always unjustifiable; but especially so, when thrown on so sacred a function; for to abuse the body is to abuse the function itself; and I leave to you to judge how inconsistent such behaviour is in men who are going to fight in defence of the Protestant religion.


O, Monsieur, on ne parle pas de la religion dans la guerre.


Well said, Jack, if la religion was the only matter, the parsons should fight their own battles for me.


I don't know, gentlemen, what may be your opinion; but I think no man can engage in a nobler cause than that of his religion; and I have observed, in the little I have read of history, that no soldiers have fought so bravely as those who have been inspired with a religious zeal: for my own part, though I love my king and country, I hope, as well as any man in it, yet the Protestant interest is no small motive to my becoming a volunteer in the cause.


Smoke the prig, Adderly, smoke him. I am very glad, sir, you have chosen our regiment to be a volunteer in; for if our parson should at any time take a cup too much, I find you can supply his place. I presume, sir, you have been at the university; may I crave the favour to know what college?


Sir, so far from having been at the university, I have even had the advantage of yourself, for I was never at school.


I presumed, only upon the information of your great learning.


Oh! sir, it is as possible for a man to know something without having been at school, as it is to have been at school and to know nothing.


Well said, young volunteer. Upon my word, Northerton, you had better let him alone; for he will be too hard for you.


Sophia.


he must have her sir-name;


Miss Sophia Western.


I knew one Sophy Western, that was lain with by half the young fellows at Bath; and perhaps this is the same woman. Ay, ay, and so she is: d--n me, it is the same woman; and I'll hold half a dozen of Burgundy, Tom French of our regiment brings her into company with us at any tavern in Bridges-street. that her father had a great estate in Somersetshire.


Pray, sir, chuse some other subject for your wit; for I promise you I will bear no jesting with this lady's character.


Jesting! d--n me if ever I was more in earnest in my life. Tom French of our regiment had both her and her aunt at Bath.


Then I must tell you in earnest, that you are one of the most impudent rascals upon earth.


Zounds! I was but in jest with the fellow. I never heard any harm of Miss Western in my life.


Have not you? then you richly deserve to be hanged, as well for making such jests, as for using such a weapon: you are my prisoner, sir; nor shall you stir from hence till a proper guard comes to secure you.


Begar, me no tush the Engliseman de mort: me have heard de Englise ley, law, what you call, hang up de man dat tush him last.


Call the barber;


I am afraid, sir, this young man did not behave himself as well as he should do to your honours; and if he had been killed, I suppose he had but his desarts: to be sure, when gentlemen admit inferior parsons into their company, they oft to keep their distance; but, as my first husband used to say, few of 'em know how to do it. For my own part, I am sure I should not have suffered any fellows to include themselves into gentlemen's company; but I thoft he had been an officer himself, till the serjeant told me he was but a recruit.


Landlady, you mistake the whole matter. The young man behaved himself extremely well, and is, I believe, a much better gentleman than the ensign who abused him. If the young fellow dies, the man who struck him will have most reason to be sorry for it: for the regiment will get rid of a very troublesome fellow, who is a scandal to the army; and if he escapes from the hands of justice, blame me, madam, that's all.


Ay! ay! good lack-a-day! who could have thoft it? Ay, ay, ay, I am satisfied your honour will see justice done; and to be sure it oft to be to every one. Gentlemen oft not to kill poor folks without answering for it. A poor man hath a soul to be saved, as well as his betters.


Indeed, madam, you do the volunteer wrong: I dare swear he is more of a gentleman than the officer.


Ay! why, look you there, now: well, my first husband was a wise man; he used to say, you can't always know the inside by the outside. Nay, that might have been well enough too; for I never saw'd him till he was all over blood. Who would have thoft it? mayhap, some young gentleman crossed in love. Good lack-a-day, if he should die, what a concern it will be to his parents! why, sure the devil must possess the wicked wretch to do such an act. To be sure, he is a scandal to the army, as your honour says; for most of the gentlemen of the army that ever I saw, are quite different sort of people, and look as if they would scorn to spill any Christian blood as much as any men: I mean, that is, in a civil way, as my first husband used to say. To be sure, when they come into the wars, there must be bloodshed: but that they are not to be blamed for. The more of our enemies they kill there, the better: and I wish, with all my heart, they could kill every mother's son of them.


O fie, madam! all is rather too bloody-minded a wish.


Not at all, sir. I am not at all bloody-minded, only to our enemies; and there is no harm in that. To be sure it is natural for us to wish our enemies dead, that the wars may be at an end, and our taxes be lowered; for it is a dreadful thing to pay as we do. Why now, there is above forty shillings for window-lights, and yet we have stopt up all we could; we have almost blinded the house, I am sure. Says I to the exciseman, says I, I think you oft to favour us; I am sure we are very good friends to the government: and so we are for sartain, for we pay a mint of money to 'um. And yet I often think to myself the government doth not imagine itself more obliged to us, than to those that don't pay 'um a farthing. Ay, ay, it is the way of the world.


Better, I believe, than he would have been by this time, if I had not been called; and even as it is, perhaps it would have been lucky if I could have been called sooner.


I hope, sir, the skull is not fractured.


Hum, fractures are not always the most dangerous symptoms. Contusions and lacerations are often attended with worse phaenomena, and with more fatal consequences, than fractures. People who know nothing of the matter conclude, if the skull is not fractured, all is well; whereas, I had rather see a man's skull broke all to pieces, than some contusions I have met with.


I hope, there are no such symptoms here.


Symptoms, are not always regular nor constant. I have known very unfavourable symptoms in the morning change to favourable ones at noon, and return to unfavourable again at night. Of wounds, indeed, it is rightly and truly said, Nemo repente fuit turpissimus. I was once, I remember, called to a patient who had received a violent contusion in his tibia, by which the exterior cutis was lacerated, so that there was a profuse sanguinary discharge; and the interior membranes were so divellicated, that the os or bone very plainly appeared through the aperture of the vulnus or wound. Some febrile symptoms intervening at the same time (for the pulse was exuberant and indicated much phlebotomy), I apprehended an immediate mortification. To prevent which, I presently made a large orifice in the vein of the left arm, whence I drew twenty ounces of blood; which I expected to have found extremely sizy and glutinous, or indeed coagulated, as it is in pleuretic complaints; but, to my surprize, it appeared rosy and florid, and its consistency differed little from the blood of those in perfect health. I then applied a fomentation to the part, which highly answered the intention; and after three or four times dressing, the wound began to discharge a thick pus or matter, by which means the cohesion--But perhaps I do not make myself perfectly well understood?


No, really. I cannot say I understand a syllable.


Well, sir, then I shall not tire your patience; in short, within six weeks my patient was able to walk upon his legs as perfectly as he could have done before he received the contusion.


I wish, sir, you would be so kind only to inform me, whether the wound this young gentleman hath had the misfortune to receive, is likely to prove mortal.


Sir, to say whether a wound will prove mortal or not at first dressing, would be very weak and foolish presumption: we are all mortal, and symptoms often occur in a cure which the greatest of our profession could never foresee.


But do you think him in danger?


In danger! ay, surely, who is there among us, who, in the most perfect health, can be said not to be in danger? Can a man, therefore, with so bad a wound as this be said to be out of danger? All I can say at present is, that it is well I was called as I was, and perhaps it would have been better if I had been called sooner. I will see him again early in the morning; and in the meantime let him be kept extremely quiet, and drink liberally of water-gruel.


Won't you allow him sack-whey?


Ay, ay, sack-whey, if you will, provided it be very small.


And a little chicken broth too?


Yes, yes, chicken broth, is very good.


Mayn't I make him some jellies too?


Ay, ay, jellies are very good for wounds, for they promote cohesion.


I should be very glad, if you was as well as you fancy yourself, for then you could be able to do yourself justice immediately; for when a matter can't be made up, as in case of a blow, the sooner you take him out the better; but I am afraid you think yourself better than you are, and he would have too much advantage over you.


I'll try, however, if you please, and will be so kind to lend me a sword, for I have none here of my own.


My sword is heartily at your service, my dear boy, you are a brave lad, and I love your spirit; but I fear your strength; for such a blow, and so much loss of blood, must have very much weakened you; and though you feel no want of strength in your bed, yet you most probably would after a thrust or two. I can't consent to your taking him out tonight; but I hope you will be able to come up with us before we get many days' march advance; and I give you my honour you shall have satisfaction, or the man who hath injured you shan't stay in our regiment.


I wish, it was possible to decide this matter to-night: now you have mentioned it to me, I shall not be able to rest.


Oh, never think of it, a few days will make no difference. The wounds of honour are not like those in your body: they suffer nothing by the delay of cure. It will be altogether as well for you to receive satisfaction a week hence as now.


But suppose. I should grow worse, and die of the consequences of my present wound?


Then your honour, will require no reparation at all. I myself will do justice to your character, and testify to the world your intention to have acted properly, if you had recovered.


Still. I am concerned at the delay. I am almost afraid to mention it to you who are a soldier; but though I have been a very wild young fellow, still in my most serious moments, and at the bottom, I am really a Christian.


So am I too, I assure you,


and so zealous a one, that I was pleased with you at dinner for taking up the cause of your religion; and I am a little offended with you now, young gentleman, that you should express a fear of declaring your faith before any one.


But how terrible must it be, to any one who is really a Christian, to cherish malice in his breast, in opposition to the command of Him who hath expressly forbid it? How can I bear to do this on a sick-bed? Or how shall I make up my account, with such an article as this in my bosom against me?


Why, I believe there is such a command, but a man of honour can't keep it. And you must be a man of honour, if you will be in the army. I remember I once put the case to our chaplain over a bowl of punch, and he confessed there was much difficulty in it; but he said, he hoped there might be a latitude granted to soldiers in this one instance; and to be sure it is our duty to hope so; for who would bear to live without his honour? No, no, my dear boy, be a good Christian as long as you live; but be a man of honour too, and never put up an affront; not all the books, nor all the parsons in the world, shall ever persuade me to that. I love my religion very well, but I love my honour more. There must be some mistake in the wording the text, or in the translation, or in the understanding it, or somewhere or other. But however that be, a man must run the risque, for he must preserve his honour. So compose yourself to-night, and I promise you you shall have an opportunity of doing yourself justice.


For which. I will give you any reasonable price; nor do I insist upon its being silver-hilted; only a good blade, and such as may become a soldier's thigh.


Sir. I believe I can fit you. I have a most excellent piece of stuff by me. It is not indeed silver-hilted, which, as you say, doth not become a soldier; but the handle is decent enough, and the blade one of the best in Europe. It is a blade that--a blade that--in short, I will fetch it you this instant, and you shall see it and handle it. I am glad to see your honour so well with all my heart. that the blade was taken from a French officer, of very high rank, at the battle of Dettingen. I took it myself, from his side, after I had knocked him o' the head. The hilt was a golden one. That I sold to one of our fine gentlemen; for there are some of them, an't please your honour, who value the hilt of a sword more than the blade.


Twenty guineas! sure you think I am mad, or that I never saw a sword in my life. Twenty guineas, indeed! I did not imagine you would endeavour to impose upon me. Here, take the sword--No, now I think on't, I will keep it myself, and show it your officer in the morning, acquainting him, at the same time, what a price you asked me for it.


I am certain, sir, I have not asked you so much out of the way. Besides, you are to consider, it is the only sword I have, and I must run the risque of my officer's displeasure, by going without one myself. And truly, putting all this together, I don't think twenty shillings was so much out of the way.


Twenty shillings! why, you just now asked me twenty guineas.


How! sure your honour must have mistaken me: or else I mistook myself--and indeed I am but half awake. Twenty guineas, indeed! no wonder your honour flew into such a passion. I say twenty guineas too. No, no, I mean twenty shillings, I assure you. And when your honour comes to consider everything, I hope you will not think that so extravagant a price. It is indeed true, you may buy a weapon which looks as well for less money. But----


I will be so far from making any words with you, that I will give you a shilling more than your demand.


Very well, and in what cause do I venture my life? Why, in that of my honour. And who is this human being? A rascal who hath injured and insulted me without provocation. But is not revenge forbidden by Heaven? Yes, but it is enjoined by the world. Well, but shall I obey the world in opposition to the express commands of Heaven? Shall I incur the Divine displeasure rather than be called--ha--coward--scoundrel?--I'll think no more; I am resolved, and must fight him.


I am a dead man, that's all, I am a dead man, I can't recover it, I have seen him.


What hast thou seen, Jack?


Why, I have seen the young volunteer that was killed yesterday.


Young man, you will hear more of this, for going to sleep and dreaming on your post.


You may punish me if you please; but I was as broad awake as I am now; and the devil carry me away, as he hath the ensign, if I did not see the dead man, as I tell you, with eyes as big and as fiery as two large flambeaux.


Joe, don't you hear the gentleman's bell ring? Why don't you go up?


It is not my business, to wait upon the chambers--it is Betty Chambermaid's.


If you come to that, it is not my business to wait upon gentlemen. I have done it indeed sometimes; but the devil fetch me if ever I do again, since you make your preambles about it.


If you do, madam. I can't help it. I won't do another servant's business.


Come, I will put an end to this contention;


who, I am confident, is as innocent of the ensign's escape, as he is of forging any lie, or of endeavouring to impose on you.


Why, as you have cleared the fellow of one part of the charge, so it will be impossible to prove the other, because he was not the only centinel. But I have a good mind to punish the rascal for being a coward. Yet who knows what effect the terror of such an apprehension may have? and, to say the truth, he hath always behaved well against an enemy. Come, it is a good thing to see any sign of religion in these fellows; so I promise you he shall be set at liberty when we march. But hark, the general beats. My dear boy, give me another buss. Don't discompose nor hurry yourself; but remember the Christian doctrine of patience, and I warrant you will soon be able to do yourself justice, and to take an honourable revenge on the fellow who hath injured you.


Good God! if the man that murdered Mr Derby was now present!


La! sir,


I think it is great pity that such a pretty young gentleman should under-value himself so, as to go about with these soldier fellows. They call themselves gentlemen, I warrant you; but, as my first husband used to say, they should remember it is we that pay them. And to be sure it is very hard upon us to be obliged to pay them, and to keep 'um too, as we publicans are. I had twenty of 'um last night, besides officers: nay, for matter o' that, I had rather have the soldiers than officers: for nothing is ever good enough for those sparks; and I am sure, if you was to see the bills; la! sir, it is nothing. I have had less trouble, I warrant you, with a good squire's family, where we take forty or fifty shillings of a night, besides horses. And yet I warrants me, there is narrow a one of those officer fellows but looks upon himself to be as good as arrow a squire of £500 a year. To be sure it doth me good to hear their men run about after 'um, crying your honour, and your honour. Marry come up with such honour, and an ordinary at a shilling a head. Then there's such swearing among 'um, to be sure it frightens me out o' my wits: I thinks nothing can ever prosper with such wicked people. And here one of 'um has used you in so barbarous a manner. I thought indeed how well the rest would secure him; they all hang together; for if you had been in danger of death, which I am glad to see you are not, it would have been all as one to such wicked people. They would have let the murderer go. Laud have mercy upon 'um; I would not have such a sin to answer for, for the whole world. But though you are likely, with the blessing, to recover, there is laa for him yet; and if you will employ lawyer Small, I darest be sworn he'll make the fellow fly the country for him; though perhaps he'll have fled the country before; for it is here to-day and gone to-morrow with such chaps. I hope, however, you will learn more wit for the future, and return back to your friends; I warrant they are all miserable for your loss; and if they was but to know what had happened--La, my seeming! I would not for the world they should. Come, come, we know very well what all the matter is; but if one won't, another will; so pretty a gentleman need never want a lady. I am sure, if I was you, I would see the finest she that ever wore a head hanged, before I would go for a soldier for her.--Nay, don't blush so How Do I! ay marry many's the time hath she lain in this house.


With her aunt, I suppose,


Why, there it is now. Ay, ay, ay, I know the old lady very well. And a sweet young creature is Madam Sophia, that's the truth on't.


A sweet creature. O heavens! And could I ever have imagined that you had known my Sophia!


I wish, you knew half so much of her. What would you have given to have sat by her bed-side? What a delicious neck she hath! Her lovely limbs have stretched themselves in that very bed you now lie in.


Here! hath Sophia ever laid here?


Ay, ay, here; there, in that very bed, where I wish you had her this moment; and she may wish so too for anything I know to the contrary, for she hath mentioned your name to me.


Ha! did she ever mention her poor Jones? You flatter me now: I can never believe so much.


Why, then, as I hope to be saved, and may the devil fetch me if I speak a syllable more than the truth, I have heard her mention Mr Jones; but in a civil and modest way, I confess; yet I could perceive she thought a great deal more than she said.


O my dear woman! her thoughts of me I shall never be worthy of. Oh, she is all gentleness, kindness, goodness! Why was such a rascal as I born, ever to give her soft bosom a moment's uneasiness? Why am I cursed? I, who would undergo all the plagues and miseries which any daemon ever invented for mankind, to procure her any good; nay, torture itself could not be misery to me, did I but know that she was happy.


Why, look you there now. I told her you was a constant lovier.


But pray, madam, tell me when or where you knew anything of me; for I never was here before, nor do I remember ever to have seen you.


Nor is it possible you should, for you was a little thing when I had you in my lap at the squire's.


How, the squire's? what, do you know that great and good Mr Allworthy then?


Yes, marry, do I, who in the country doth not?


The fame of his goodness indeed, must have extended farther than this; but heaven only can know him--can know that benevolence which it copied from itself, and sent upon earth as its own pattern. Mankind are as ignorant of such divine goodness, as they are unworthy of it; but none so unworthy of it as myself. I, who was raised by him to such a height; taken in, as you must well know, a poor base-born child, adopted by him, and treated as his own son, to dare by my follies to disoblige him, to draw his vengeance upon me. Yes, I deserve it all; for I will never be so ungrateful as ever to think he hath done an act of injustice by me. No, I deserve to be turned out of doors, as I am. And now, madam. I believe you will not blame me for turning soldier, especially with such a fortune as this in my pocket.


That to be sure people were the best judges what was most proper for their circumstances. But hark. I think I hear somebody call. Coming! coming! the devil's in all our volk; nobody hath any ears. I must go down-stairs; if you want any more breakfast the maid will come up. Coming!


and, doctor, if you will be so kind only to dress my head, I have no doubt of being well in a day or two.


I wish. I could assure your being well in a month or two. Well, indeed! No, no, people are not so soon well of such contusions; but, sir, I am not at this time of day to be instructed in my operations by a patient, and I insist on making a revulsion before I dress you.


Paymaster! why, I've a gentleman under my hands, have I not?


I imagined so as well as you, but, as my first husband used to say, everything is not what it looks to be. He is an arrant scrub, I assure you. However, take no notice that I mentioned anything to you of the matter; but I think people in business oft always to let one another know such things.


And have I suffered such a fellow as this, to instruct me? Shall I hear my practice insulted by one who will not pay me? I am glad I have made this discovery in time. I will see now whether he will be blooded or no. Will you be blooded or no?


I have told you my resolution already, and I wish with all my heart you had taken my answer; for you have awaked me out of the sweetest sleep which I ever had in my life.


Ay, ay, many a man hath dozed away his life. Sleep is not always good, no more than food; but remember, I demand of you for the last time, will you be blooded?


I answer you for the last time. I will not.


Then I wash my hands of you, and I desire you to pay me for the trouble I have had already. Two journeys at 5s. each, two dressings at 5s. more, and half a crown for phlebotomy.


I hope, you don't intend to leave me in this condition.


Indeed but I shall,


Then, you have used me rascally, and I will not pay you a farthing.


Very well, the first loss is the best. What a pox did my landlady mean by sending for me to such vagabonds!


What he could have for dinner?


For dinner! it is an odd time a day to think about dinner. There is nothing drest in the house, and the fire is almost out.


Well, but. I must have something to eat, and it is almost indifferent to me what; for, to tell you the truth, I was never more hungry in my life.


Then. I believe there is a piece of cold buttock and carrot, which will fit you.


Nothing better, but I should be obliged to you, if you would let it be fried.


she was glad to see him so well recovered;


Festina lente, is a proverb which I learned long before I ever touched a razor. I find, friend, you are a scholar,


A poor one, non omnia possumus omnes.


Again! I fancy you are good at capping verses.


Excuse me, sir, non tanto me dignor honore. Sir, since I have dealt in suds, I could never discover more than two reasons for shaving; the one is to get a beard, and the other to get rid of one. I conjecture, sir, it may not be long since you shaved from the former of these motives. Upon my word, you have had good success; for one may say of your beard, that it is tondenti gravior.


I conjecture, that thou art a very comical fellow.


You mistake me widely, sir. I am too much addicted to the study of philosophy; hinc illae lacrymae, sir; that's my misfortune. Too much learning hath been my ruin.


Indeed. I confess, friend, you have more learning than generally belongs to your trade; but I can't see how it can have injured you.


Alas! sir, my father disinherited me for it. He was a dancing-master; and because I could read before I could dance, he took an aversion to me, and left every farthing among his other children.--Will you please to have your temples--O la! I ask your pardon, I fancy there is hiatus in manuscriptis. I heard you was going to the wars; but I find it was a mistake.


Why do you conclude so?


Sure, sir, you are too wise a man to carry a broken head thither; for that would be carrying coals to Newcastle.


Upon my word, thou art a very odd fellow, and I like thy humour extremely; I shall be very glad if thou wilt come to me after dinner, and drink a glass with me; I long to be better acquainted with thee.


O dear sir! I can do you twenty times as great a favour, if you will accept of it.


What is that, my friend?


Why, I will drink a bottle with you if you please; for I dearly love good-nature; and as you have found me out to be a comical fellow, so I have no skill in physiognomy, if you are not one of the best-natured gentlemen in the universe.


Since it was so difficult to get it heated he would eat the beef cold.


he was a poor parish boy, taken into the house of Squire Allworthy, where he was bred up as an apprentice, and now turned out of doors for his misdeeds, particularly for making love to his young mistress, and probably for robbing the house; for how else should he come by the little money he hath; and this, is your gentleman, forsooth!


A servant of Squire Allworthy! what's his name?


Why he told me his name was Jones, perhaps he goes by a wrong name. Nay, and he told me, too, that the squire had maintained him as his own son, thof he had quarrelled with him now.


And if his name be Jones, he told you the truth, for I have relations who live in that country; nay, and some people say he is his son.


Why doth he not go by the name of his father?


I can't tell that, many people's sons don't go by the name of their father.


Nay, if I thought he was a gentleman's son, thof he was a bye-blow, I should behave to him in another guess manner; for many of these bye-blows come to be great men, and, as my poor first husband used to say, never affront any customer that's a gentleman.


Ago tibi gratias, domine Sir, may I crave the favour to know if your name is not Jones?


That it was.


Proh deum atque hominum fidem! how strangely things come to pass! Mr Jones, I am your most obedient servant. I find you do not know me, which indeed is no wonder, since you never saw me but once, and then you was very young. Pray, sir, how doth the good Squire Allworthy? how doth ille optimus omnium patronus?


I find, you do indeed know me; but I have not the like happiness of recollecting you.


I do not wonder at that, but I am surprized I did not know you sooner, for you are not in the least altered. And pray, sir, may I, without offence, enquire whither you are travelling this way?


Fill the glass, Mr Barber, and ask no more questions.


Nay, sir. I would not be troublesome; and I hope you don't think me a man of an impertinent curiosity, for that is a vice which nobody can lay to my charge; but I ask pardon; for when a gentleman of your figure travels without his servants, we may suppose him to be, as we say, in casu incognito, and perhaps I ought not to have mentioned your name.


I own. I did not expect to have been so well known in this country as I find I am; yet, for particular reasons, I shall be obliged to you if you will not mention my name to any other person till I am gone from hence.


Pauca verba, and I wish no other here knew you but myself; for some people have tongues; but I promise you I can keep a secret. My enemies will allow me that virtue.


And yet that is not the characteristic of your profession, Mr Barber,


Alas! sir. Non si male nunc et olim sic erit. I was not born nor bred a barber, I assure you. I have spent most of my time among gentlemen, and though I say it, I understand something of gentility. And if you had thought me as worthy of your confidence as you have some other people, I should have shown you I could have kept a secret better. I should not have degraded your name in a public kitchen; for indeed, sir, some people have not used you well; for besides making a public proclamation of what you told them of a quarrel between yourself and Squire Allworthy, they added lies of their own, things which I knew to be lies.


You surprize me greatly,


Upon my word, sir. I tell the truth, and I need not tell you my landlady was the person. I am sure it moved me to hear the story, and I hope it is all false; for I have a great respect for you, I do assure you I have, and have had ever since the good-nature you showed to Black George, which was talked of all over the country, and I received more than one letter about it. Indeed, it made you beloved by everybody. You will pardon me, therefore; for it was real concern at what I heard made me ask many questions; for I have no impertinent curiosity about me: but I love good-nature and thence became amoris abundantia erga te.


Since you have heard, my friend, so much of my affairs, and seem so desirous to know the truth, if you will have patience to hear it, I will inform you of the whole.


Patience! that I will, if the chapter was never so long; and I am very much obliged to you for the honour you do me.