The Works of Aphra Behn

The next Day, at Four in the Afternoon, they went to Bowls about a Mile off; where, after several Ends, the Knight and his Party lay all nearest about the Jack for the Game, ’till young Hardyman put in a bold Cast, that beat all his Adversaries from the Block, and carry’d two of his Seconds close to it, his own Bowl lying partly upon it, which made them up. Ha! (cry’d a young Gentleman of his Side) bravely done, Miles, thou hast carry’d the Day, and kiss’d the Mistress. I hope I shall before ’tis dark yet, (return’d he.) Sir Henry overhearing him, said, (his Face all glowing red with Passion) How dare you, Sir, express your self so freely in my Hearing? There, (persu’d he, and struck him a Blow on the Ear) I first salute you thus: Do you know where you are, and who I am? Yes, you are my Father, Sir, (reply’d young Hardyman, bowing.) If you see her to Night, (said the passionate Father) resolve to see me no more. By Heaven, and all my Hopes, no more I will, after this Minute, (return’d the Son, being retreated some Distance from him, out of his Hearing.) So taking his Leave of the Company, with the usual Ceremony, he went directly Home, where immediately he order’d his Servant Goodlad to saddle their Horses, whilst he himself went up to his Chamber, and took all the Rings and Jewels that his Mother had left him, and the Money that he had then in his Possession, which altogether amounted to near twelve hundred Pounds; and packing up some Linnen in his Portmanteau, he quickly mounted with his Servant, and made his Way towards the Lady Constance’s.

’Twas near seven a Clock e’er they got within Sight of his Mistress’s, when our Lover perceiv’d a Gentleman and his Servant mounted at some Distance on t’other Side of the House, as coming from London: This unfortunately happen’d to be Lewis Constance, just return’d from his Travels, whom young Hardyman had never seen before, and therefore could not know him at that Time: Observing therefore that they made to the same Place for which he was design’d, he halted a little, taking Covert under a large Elm-Tree, within a hundred Paces of the House, where he had the unlucky Opportunity to see his Mistress and Sister come out; whom Lewis perceiving at the same Time, alighted, and ran eagerly to embrace her, who receiv’d him with Arms expanded, crying, O my Dear, dearest Brother; but that last Word was stifled with Kisses. Do I once more hold thee in my Arms! O come in, and let me give my Joys a Loose! I am surpriz’d, and rave with extream Hapiness! O! thou art all to me that is valuable on Earth! (return’d he.) At these Words she, in a Manner, hal’d him in. This Sight was certainly the greatest Mortification to her Lover that ever Man surviv’d! He presently and positively concluded it could be none but that Rival, of whom his Sister had given him Advice in her Letter. What to do he could by no Means determine; sometimes he was for going in, and affronting him before his Mistress; a second Thought advis’d him to expect his coming out near that Place; upon another Consideration he was going to send him a Challenge, but by whom he knew not, for his Servant was as well known there as himself. At last he resolv’d to ride farther out of the Road, to see for some convenient Retreat that Night, where he might be undiscover’d: Such a Place he found about two Miles thence, at a good substantial Farmer’s, who made him heartily welcome that Night, with the best Beer he had in his Cellar, so that he slept much better than he could have expected his Jealousy would have permitted: But the Morning renew’d and redoubled his Torture: But this jolly Landlord, hugely pleas’d with his good Company the Night past, visited him as he got out of his Bed, which was near two Hours after he wak’d; in which Time he had laid his Design how to proceed, in order to take Satisfaction of this Rival. He suffer’d himself, therefore, to be manag’d by the good Man of the House, who wou’d fain have made a Conquest of him; but he found that the young Gentleman could bear as much in his Head as he could on his Shoulders, which gave Hardyman the Opportunity of keeping a Stowage yet for a good Dinner: After which they fell to bumping it about, ’till the Farmer fell asleep; when young Hardyman retir’d into his Chamber, where, after a Turn or two, he writ as follows to his Mistress’s Brother, whose Name he knew not; and therefore the Billet is not superscrib’d.

SIR,

You have done me an unpardonable Injury; and if you are a Gentleman, as you seem, you will give me Satisfaction within this Hour at the Place whither this Messenger shall lead you. Bring nothing with you but your Sword and your Servant, as I with mine, to take Care of him that falls. – ’Till I see you, I am your Servant, &c.

An Hour before Supper, his kind Host wak’d, and they eat heartily together that Night, but did not drink so plentifully as they had since their first Meeting; young Hardyman telling him, that he was oblig’d to be mounted at the fore-mention’d Morning, in order to persue his Journey; and that, in the mean Time, he desir’d the Favour of him to let one of his Servants carry a Letter from him, to one that was then at the young Lady Constance’s: To which t’other readily agreed. The young Gentleman then made him a Present of a Tobacco-Box, with the Head of King Charles the First on the Lid, and his Arms on the Bottom in Silver; which was very acceptable to him, for he was a great Loyalist, tho’ it was in the Height of Oliver’s Usurpation. About four a-Clock in the Morning, as our jealous Lover had order’d him, one of the Servants came to him for the Letter; with which he receiv’d these Instructions, that he should deliver that Note into the Gentleman’s own Hand, who came to the Lady Constance’s the Night before the last. That he should shew that Gentleman to the Field where young Hardyman, should deliver the Note to the Servant, which was just a Mile from either House; or that he should bring an Answer to the Note from that Gentleman. The Fellow was a good Scholar, tho’ he could neither read nor write. For he learn’d his Lesson perfectly well, and repeated it punctually to Lewis Constance; who was strangely surpriz’d at what he found in the Billet. He ask’d the Messenger if he knew his Name that sent it; or if he were a Gentleman? Nay (Mass, quoth the Fellow) I warrant he’s a Gentleman; for he has given me nine good Shillings here, for coming but hither to you; but for his Name, you may e’en name it as well as I – He has got one to wait a top of him almost as fine as himself, zure. The surpriz’d Traveller jump’d out of his Bed, slipt on his Gown, and call’d up his Servant: Thence he went to his Sister’s Chamber, with whom Lucretia lay: They both happen’d to be awake, and talking, as he came to the Door, which his Sister permitted him to unlock, and ask’d him the Reason of his so early Rising? Who reply’d, That since he could not sleep, he would take the Air a little. But first, Sister (continu’d he) I will refresh my self at your Lips: And now, Madam, (added he to Lucretia) I would beg a Cordial from you. For that (said his Sister) you shall be oblig’d to me this once; saying so, she gently turn’d Lucretia’s Face towards him, and he had his Wish. Ten to one, but he had rather continu’d with Lucretia, than have gone to her Brother, had he known him; for he lov’d her truly and passionately: But being a Man of true Courage and Honour, he took his Leave of ’em, presently dress’d, and tripp’d away with the Messenger, who made more than ordinary Haste, because of his Success, which was rewarded with another piece of Money; and he danc’d Home to the Sound of the Money in his Pocket.

No sooner was the Fellow out of Hearing, than Lewis, coming up to his Adversary, shew’d him the Billet, and said, Sent you this to me, Sir? I did, Sir, reply’d Hardyman: I never saw you ’till now, return’d Lewis; how then could I injure you? ’Tis enough that I know it, answer’d Miles. But to satisfy you, you shall know that I am sensible that you pretend to a fair Lady, to whom I have an elder Title. In short, you entrench on my Prerogative. I own no Subjection to you, (return’d Constance) and my Title is as good as your Prerogative, which I will maintain as I can hold this, (continu’d he, and drew his Sword) Hah! Nobly done! (cry’d Hardyman drawing) I could almost wish thou wert my Friend: You speak generously, return’d Lewis, I find I have to do with a Gentleman. Retire to a convenient Distance, said Hardyman to Goodlad. If you come near while we are disputing, my Sword shall thank you for’t; and you, Sir, retire! said Constance to his Servant. And if you will keep your Life, keep your Distance! O my brave Enemy! (cry’d Miles) Give me thy Hand! Here they shook Hands, and gave one another the Compliment of the Hat, and then (said Hardyman) Come on, Sir! I am with you, Sir, (reply’d Lewis standing on his Guard) they were both equally knowing in the Use of their Swords; so that they fought for some few Minutes without any Wound receiv’d on either Side. But, at last, Miles being taller and much stronger than his Adversary, resolv’d to close with him; which he did, putting by a Pass that Lewis made at him with his left Hand, and at the same Time he run him quite thro’ the Body, threw him, and disarm’d him. Rise if thou can’st! (cry’d Hardyman) thou art really brave. I will not put thee to the Shame of asking thy Life. Alas! I cannot rise, (reply’d Lewis, endeavouring to get up) so short a Life as mine were not worth the Breath of a Coward. – Make Haste! Fly hence! For thou are lost if thou stay’st. My Friends are many and great; they will murther thee by Law. Fly! Fly in Time! Heaven forgive us both! Amen! (Cry’d Miles) I hope thou may’st recover! ’Tis Pity so much Bravery and Honour should be lost so early. Farewel. – And now Adieu to the fair and faithless Diana! Ha! (Cry’d Constance) O bloody Mistake! But could speak no more for Loss of Blood. Hardyman heard not those last Words, being spoken with a fainting Voice, but in Haste mounted, and rode with all Speed for London, attended by Goodlad; whilst Constance’s Servant came up to him, and having all along travell’d with him, had two or three Times the Occasion of making Use of that Skill in Surgery which he had learn’d Abroad in France and Italy, which he now again practis’d on his Master, with such Success, that in less than half an Hour, he put his Master in a Capacity of leaning on him; and so walking Home with him, tho’ very gently and slowly. By the Way, Lewis charg’d his Servant not to say which Way Hardyman took, unless he design’d to quit his Service for ever. But pardon me, Sir! (return’d t’other) your Wound is very dangerous, and I am not sure that it is not mortal: And if so, give me Leave to say, I shall persue him over all England, for Vengeance of your Death. ’Twas a Mistake on both Sides, I find; (said Lewis) therefore think not of Revenge: I was as hot and as much to blame as he. They were near an Hour getting to the House, after his Blood was stopp’d. As he was led in, designing to be carry’d to his Chamber, and to take his Bed as sick of an Ague, his Sister and Lucretia met him, and both swoon’d away at the Sight of him; but in a little Time they were recover’d, as if to torment him with their Tears, Sighs, and Lamentations. They ask’d him a thousand impertinent Questions, which he defer’d to answer, ’till he was laid in Bed; when he told his Sister, that the Gentleman who had thus treated him, bid her Adieu, by the Epithet of Fair and Faithless. For Heaven’s Sake, (cry’d Diana) what Manner of Man was he? Very tall and well set, (reply’d her Brother) of an austere Aspect, but a well-favour’d Face, and prodigiously strong. Had he a Servant with him, Sir? (ask’d Lucretia) Yes, Madam (answer’d her Lover) and describ’d her Servant. Ah! my Prophetic Fears (cry’d she) It was my Brother, attended by Goodlad. Your Brother! Dearest and Fairest of your Sex, (said Lewis) Heaven send him safely out of England then! Nay, be he who he may, I wish the same; for he is truly brave. Alas, my dear, my cruel Hardyman! (cry’d Diana) Your Hardyman, Sister! (said Lewis) Ah! would he had been so! You might then have had Hopes of an affectionate Brother’s Life; which yet I will endeavour to preserve, that by the Enjoyment of your dear and nearest Conversation, Madam, (persu’d he to Lucretia) I may be prepar’d to endure the only greater Joys of Heaven. But O! My Words prey on my Spirits. And all the World, like a huge Ship at Anchor, turn round with the ebbing Tide. – I can no more. At these Words both the Ladies shriek’d aloud, which made him sigh, and move his Hand as well as he could toward the Door; his Attendant perceiv’d it, and told ’em he sign’d to them to quit the Room; as indeed it was necessary they should, that he might repose a while if possible, at least that he might not be oblig’d to talk, nor look much about him. They obey’d the Necessity, but with some Reluctancy, and went into their own Chamber, where they sigh’d, wept, and lamented their Misfortunes for near two Hours together: When all on a suddain, the Aunt, who had her Share of Sorrow too in this ugly Business, came running up to ’em, to let ’em know that old Sir Harry Hardyman was below, and came to carry his Daughter Madam Lucretia Home with him. This both surpriz’d and troubled the young Ladies, who were yet more disturb’d, when the Aunt told them, that he enquir’d for his Son, and would not be convinc’d by any Argument whatever; no, nor Protestation in her Capacity, that young Hardyman was not in the House, nor that he had not been entertain’d there ever since he left his Father – But come, Cousin and Madam, (said she to the young Ladies) go down to him immediately, or I fear he’ll come up to you. Lucretia knew she must, and t’other would not be there alone: So down they came to the Old testy Gentleman. Your Servant, Lady, (said he to Diana) Lucretia then kneel’d for his Blessing. Very well, very well, (cry’d he hastily) God bless you! Where’s your Brother? Ha! Where’s your Brother? I know not, Sir, (she answer’d) I have not seen him since I have been here. No, (said he) not since you have been in this Parlour last, you mean. I mean, Sir, (she return’d) upon my Hopes of yours and Heaven’s Blessing, I have not seen him since I saw you, Sir, within a Mile of our own House. Ha! Lucretia, Ha! (cry’d the old Infidel) have a Care you pull not mine and Heaven’s Curse on your Head! Believe me, Sir, (said Diana) to my Knowledge, she has not. Why, Lady, (ask’d the passionate Knight) are you so curious and fond of him your self, that you will allow no Body else the Sight of him? Not so much as his own Sister? I don’t understand you, Sir, (she reply’d) for, by my Hopes of Heaven, I have not seen him neither since that Day I left you. Hey! pass and repass, (cry’d the old suspicious Father) presto, be gone! – This is all Conjuration. ’Tis diabolical, dealing with the Devil! In Lies, I mean, on one Side or other; for he told me to my Teeth, at least, he said in my Hearing, on the Bowling-Green, but two Nights since, that he hop’d to see your Ladyship (for I suppose you are his Mistress) that Night e’re ’twas dark: Upon which I gave him only a kind and fatherly Memorandum of his Duty, and he immediately left the Company and me, who have not set Eye on him, nor heard one Syllable of him since. – Now, judge you, Lady, if I have not Reason to conclude that he has been and is above still! No, (said the Aunt) you have no Reason to conclude so, when they both have told you solemnly the contrary; and when I can add, that I will take a formal Oath, if requir’d, that he has not been in this House since my Cousin Lewis went to travel, nor before, to the best of my Memory; and I am confident, neither my Cousin Diana, nor the Lady your Daughter, have seen him since they left him with you, Sir – I wish, indeed, my dear Cousin Lewis had not seen him since. How! What’s that you say, good Lady? (ask’d the Knight) Is Mr. Lewis Constance then in England? And do you think that he has seen him so lately? for your Discourse seems to imply as much. Sir Henry, (reply’d the Aunt) you are very big with Questions, but I will endeavour to satisfy you in all of ’em. – My Cousin Lewis Constance is in England; nay, more, he is now in his Chamber a-Bed, and dangerously, if not mortally, wounded, by ’Squire Miles Hardyman, your Son. Heaven forbid, (cry’d the Father) sure ’tis impossible. All Things are so to the Incredulous. Look you, Sir, (continu’d she, seeing Lewis’s Servant come in) do you remember his French Servant Albert, whom he took some Months before he left England? – There he is. Humh! (said the old Sceptic) I think verily ’tis the same. Ay, Sir, (said the Servant) I am the same, at your Service. How does your Master? (ask’d Sir Henry) Almost as bad as when the ’Squire your Son left him, (reply’d Albert) only I have stopp’d the Bleeding, and he is now dozing a little; to say the Truth, I have only Hopes of his Life because I wish it. When was this done? (the Knight inquir’d) Not three Hours since, (return’d t’other.) What was the Occasion? (said Sir Henry) An ugly Mistake on both Sides; your Son, as I understand, not knowing my Master, took him for his Rival, and bad him quit his Pretensions to the fair Lady, for whom he had a Passion: My Master thought he meant the Lady Lucretia, your Daughter, Sir, with whom I find he is passionately in Love, – and – Very well – so – go on! (interrupted the Knight with a Sigh) – and was resolv’d to dispute his Title with him; which he did; but the ’Squire is as strong as the Horse he rides on! – And! ’tis a desperate Wound! – Which Way is he gone, canst thou tell? (ask’d the Father) Yes, I can; but I must not, ’tis as much as my Place is worth. My Master would not have him taken for all the World; nay, I must needs own he is a very brave Person. But you may let me know; (said the Father) you may be confident I will not expose him to the Law: Besides, if it please Heaven that your Master recovers, there will be no Necessity of a Prosecution. – Prithee let me know! You’ll pardon me, Sir, (said Lewis’s trusty Servant) my Master, perhaps, may give you that Satisfaction; and I’ll give you Notice, Sir – when you may conveniently discourse him. – Your humble Servant, Sir, (he added, bowing, and went out.) The old Gentleman was strangely mortify’d at this News of his Son; and his Absence perplex’d him more than any thing besides in the Relation. He walk’d wildly up and down the Room, sighing, foaming, and rolling his Eyes in a dreadful Manner; and at the Noise of any Horse on the Road, out he would start as nimbly as if he were as youthful as his Son, whom he sought in vain among those Passengers. Then returning, he cry’d out to her, O Lucretia! Your Brother! Where’s your Brother? – O my Son! the Delight, Comfort, and Pride of my Old Age! Why dost thou fly me? Then answering as for young Hardyman, (said he) you struck me publickly before much Company, in the Face of my Companions. – Come, (reply’d he for himself) ’Twas Passion, Miles, ’twas Passion; Youth is guilty of many Errors, and shall not Age be allow’d their Infirmities? Miles, thou know’st I love thee. – Love thee above Riches or long Life. – O! Come to my Arms, dear Fugitive, and make Haste to preserve his, who gave thee thy Life! – Thus he went raving about the Room, whilst the sorrowful, compassionate Ladies express’d their Grief in Tears. After this loving Fit was over with him, he would start out in a contrary Madness, and threaten his Son with the greatest and the heaviest Punishment he could imagine; insomuch, that the young Ladies, who had Thoughts before of perswading Lewis to inform Sir Harry which Way his Son rode, were now afraid of proposing any such Thing to him. Dinner was at last serv’d in, to which Diana with much Difficulty prevail’d with him to sit. Indeed, neither he, nor any there present, had any great Appetite to eat; their Grief had more than satiated ’em. About five a-Clock, Albert signify’d to the Knight, that he might then most conveniently speak with his Master; but he begg’d that he would not disturb him beyond half a Quarter of an Hour: He went up therefore to him, follow’d by the young Lady and the Aunt: Lewis was the first that spoke, who, putting his Hand a little out of the Bed, said with a Sigh, Sir Henry, I hope you will pity a great Misfortune, and endeavour to pardon me, who was the greatest Occasion of it; which has doubly punish’d me in these Wounds, and in the Loss of that Gentleman’s Conversation, whose only Friendship I would have courted. Heaven pardon you both the Injuries done to one another; (return’d the Knight) I grieve to see you thus, and the more, when I remember my self that ’twas done by my Son’s unlucky Hand. Would he were here. – So would not I (said Lewis) ’till I am assur’d my Wound is not mortal, which I have some Reasons to believe it is not. Let me beg one Favour of you, Sir, (said Sir Henry) I beseech you do not deny me. It must be a very difficult Matter that you, Sir, shall not command of me, (reply’d Constance.) It can’t be difficult to you to tell me, or to command your Servant to let me know what Road my Son took. He may be at Bristol long e’re this, (return’d Lewis.) That was the Road they took (added the Servant.) I thank you, my worthy, my kind Friend! (said the afflicted Father) I will study to deserve this Kindness of you. How do you find your self now? that I may send him an Account by my Servant, if he is to be found in that City? Pretty hearty, (return’d Lewis) if the Wounds your adorable Daughter here has given me, do not prove more fatal than my Friend’s your Son’s. She blush’d, and he persu’d, My Servant has sent for the best Physician and Surgeon in all these Parts; I expect them every Minute, and then I shall be rightly inform’d in the State of my Body. I will defer my Messenger ’till then (said Sir Henry.) I will leave that to your Discretion, Sir, (return’d Constance.) As they were discoursing of ’em, in came the learned Sons of Art: The Surgeon prob’d his Wound afresh, which he found very large, but not mortal, his Loss of Blood being the most dangerous of all his Circumstances. The Country-Æsculapius approv’d of his first Intention, and of his Application; so dressing it once himself, he left the Cure of Health to the Physician, who prescrib’d some particular Remedy against Fevers, and a Cordial or two; took his Fee without any Scruples, as the Surgeon had done before, and then took both their Leaves. Sir Henry was as joyful as Lewis’s Sister, or as his own Daughter Lucretia, who lov’d him perfectly, to hear the Wound was not mortal; and immediately dispatch’d a Man and Horse to Bristol, in Search of his Son: The Messenger return’d in a short Time with this Account only, that such a kind of a Gentleman and his Servant took Shipping the Day before, as ’twas suppos’d, for London. This put the old Gentleman into a perfect Frenzy. He ask’d the Fellow, Why the Devil he did not give his Son the Letter he sent to him? Why he did not tell him, that his poor old forsaken Father would receive him with all the Tenderness of an indulgent Parent? And why he did not assure his Son, from him, that on his Return, he should be bless’d with the Lady Diana? And a thousand other extravagant Questions, which no body could reply to any better than the Messenger, who told him, trembling; First, That he could not deliver the Letter to his Son, because he could not find him: And Secondly and Lastly, being an Answer in full to all his Demands, That he could not, nor durst tell the young Gentleman any of those kind Things, since he had no Order to do so; nor could he enter into his Worship’s Heart, to know his Thoughts: Which Return, tho’ it was reasonable enough, and might have been satisfactory to any other Man in better Circumstances of Mind; so enrag’d Sir Henry, that he had certainly kill’d the poor Slave, had not the Fellow sav’d his Life by jumping down almost half the Stairs, and continuing his Flight, Sir Henry still persuing him, ’till he came to the Stables, where finding the Door open, Sir Henry ran in and saddl’d his Horse his own self, without staying for any Attendant, or so much as taking his Leave of the Wounded Gentleman, or Ladies, or giving Orders to his Daughter when she should follow him Home, whither he was posting alone; but the Servant who came out with him, accidentally seeing him as he rode out at the farthest Gate, so timely persu’d him, that he overtook him about a Mile and half off the House. Home they got then in less than three Hours Time, without one Word or Syllable all the Way on either Side, unless now and then a hearty Sigh or Groan from the afflicted Father, whose Passion was so violent, and had so disorder’d him, that he was constrain’d immediately to go to Bed, where he was seiz’d with a dangerous Fever, which was attended with a strange Delirium, or rather with an absolute Madness, of which the Lady Lucretia had Advice that same Night, tho’ very late. This News so surpriz’d and afflicted her, as well for the Danger of her Lover as of her Father, that it threw her into a Swoon; out of which, when, with some Difficulty she was recover’d, with great Perplexity and Anguish of Mind she took a sad Farewel of the Lady Diana, but durst not be seen by her Brother on such an Occasion, as of taking Leave, lest it should retard his Recovery: To her Father’s then she was convey’d with all convenient Expedition: The old Gentleman was so assiduously and lawfully attended by his fair affectionate Daughter, that in less than ten Days Time his Fever was much abated, and his Delirium had quite left him, and he knew every Body about him perfectly; only the Thoughts of his Son, by Fits, would choak and discompose him: However, he was very sensible of his Daughter’s Piety in her Care of him, which was no little Comfort to him: Nor, indeed, could he be otherwise than sensible of it by her Looks, which were then pale and thin, by over-watching; which occasion’d her Sickness, as it caus’d her Father’s Health: For no sooner could Sir Henry walk about the Room, than she was forc’d to keep her Bed; being afflicted with the same Distemper from which her Father was yet but hardly freed: Her Fever was high, but the Delirium was not so great: In which, yet, she should often discover her Passion for Lewis Constance, her wounded Lover; lamenting the great Danger his Life had been in, as if she had not receiv’d daily Letters of his Amendment. Then again, she would complain of her Brother’s Absence, but more frequently of her Lover’s; which her Father hearing, sent to invite him to come to her, with his Sister, as soon as young Constance was able to undertake the Journey; which he did the very next Day; and he and Diana gave the languishing Lady a Visit in her Chamber, just in the happy Time of an Interval, which, ’tis suppos’d, was the sole Cause of her Recovery; for the Sight of her Lover and Friend was better than the richest Cordial in her Distemper. In a very short Time she left her Bed, when Sir Henry, to give her perfect Health, himself join’d the two Lovers Hands; and not many Weeks after, when her Beauty and Strength return’d in their wonted Vigour, he gave her 10000l. and his Blessing, which was a double Portion, on their Wedding-Day, which he celebrated with all the Cost and Mirth that his Estate and Sorrow would permit: Sorrow for the Loss of his Son, I mean, which still hung upon him, and still hover’d and croak’d over and about him, as Ravens, and other Birds of Prey, about Camps and dying People. His Melancholy, in few Months, increas’d to that Degree, that all Company and Conversation was odious to him, but that of Bats, Owls, Night-Ravens, &c. Nay, even his Daughter, his dear and only Child, as he imagin’d, was industriously avoided by him. In short, it got so intire a Mastery of him, that he would not nor did receive any Sustenance for many Days together; and at last it confin’d him to his Bed; where he lay wilfully speechless for two Days and Nights; his Son-in-Law, or his own Daughter, still attending a-Nights by Turns; when on the third Night, his Lucretia sitting close by him in Tears, he fetch’d a deep Sigh, which ended in a pitious Groan, and call’d faintly, Lucretia! Lucretia! The Lady being then almost as melancholy as her Father, did not hear him ’till the third Call; when falling on her Knees, and embracing his Hand, which he held out to her, she return’d with Tears then gushing out, Yes, Sir, it is I, your Lucretia, your dutiful, obedient, and affectionate Lucretia, and most sorrowfully-afflicted Daughter. Bless her, Heaven! (said the Father) I’m going now, (continu’d he weakly) O Miles! yet come and take thy last Farewel of thy dear Father! Art thou for ever gone from me? Wilt thou not come and take thy dying Father’s Blessing? Then I will send it after thee. Bless him! O Heaven! Bless him! Sweet Heaven bless my Son! My Miles! Here he began to faulter in his Speech, when the Lady gave a great Shriek, which wak’d and alarm’d her Husband, who ran down to ’em in his Night-Gown, and, kneeling by the Bed-side with his Lady, begg’d their departing Father’s Blessing on them. The Shriek had (it seems) recall’d the dying Gentleman’s fleeting Spirits, who moving his Hand as well as he could, with Eyes lifted up, as it were, whisper’d, Heaven bless you both! Bless me! Bless my – O Miles! Then dy’d. His Death (no Doubt) was attended with the Sighs, Tears, and unfeign’d Lamentations of the Lady and her Husband; for, bating his sudden Passion, he was certainly as good a Father, Friend, and Neighbour, as England could boast. His Funeral was celebrated then with all the Ceremonies due to his Quality and Estate: And the young happy Couple felt their dying Parent’s Blessing in their mutual Love and uninterrupted Tranquillity: Whilst (alas) it yet far’d otherwise with their Brother; of whose Fortune it is fit I should now give you an Account.