Loe raamatut: «The Works of Aphra Behn»

THE ADVENTURE
OF THE BLACK LADY

THE ADVENTURE

OF THE BLACK LADY

About the Beginning of last June (as near as I can remember) Bellamora came to Town from Hampshire, and was obliged to lodge the first Night at the same Inn where the Stage-Coach set up. The next Day she took Coach for Covent-Garden, where she thought to find Madam Brightly, a Relation of hers, with whom she design’d to continue for about half a Year undiscover’d, if possible, by her Friends in the Country: and order’d therefore her Trunk, with her Clothes, and most of her Money and Jewels, to be brought after her to Madame Brightly’s by a strange Porter, whom she spoke to in the Street as she was taking Coach; being utterly unacquainted with the neat Practices of this fine City. When she came to Bridges-Street, where indeed her Cousin had lodged near three or four Years since, she was strangely surprized that she could not learn anything of her; no, nor so much as meet with anyone that had ever heard of her Cousin’s Name: Till, at last, describing Madam Brightly to one of the House-keepers in that Place, he told her, that there was such a kind of Lady, whom he had sometimes seen there about a Year and a half ago; but that he believed she was married and remov’d towards Soho. In this Perplexity she quite forgot her Trunk and Money, &c, and wander’d in her Hackney-Coach all over St. Anne’s Parish; inquiring for Madam Brightly, still describing her Person, but in vain; for no Soul could give her any Tale or Tidings of such a Lady. After she had thus fruitlessly rambled, till she, the Coachman, and the very Horses were even tired, by good Fortune for her, she happen’d on a private House, where lived a good, discreet, ancient Gentlewoman, who was fallen to Decay, and forc’d to let Lodgings for the best Part of her Livelihood: From whom she understood, that there was such a kind of Lady, who had lain there somewhat more than a Twelvemonth, being near three Months after she was married; but that she was now gone abroad with the Gentleman her Husband, either to the Play, or to take the fresh Air; and she believ’d would not return till Night. This Discourse of the Good Gentlewoman’s so elevated Bellamora’s drooping Spirits, that after she had beg’d the liberty of staying there till they came home, she discharg’d the Coachman in all haste, still forgetting her Trunk, and the more valuable Furniture of it.

When they were alone, Bellamora desired she might be permitted the Freedom to send for a Pint of Sack; which, with some little Difficulty, was at last allow’d her. They began then to chat for a matter of half an Hour of things indifferent: and at length the ancient Gentlewoman ask’d the fair Innocent (I must not say foolish) one, of what Country, and what her Name was: to both which she answer’d directly and truly, tho’ it might have prov’d not discreetly. She then enquir’d of Bellamora if her Parents were living, and the Occasion of her coming to Town. The fair unthinking Creature reply’d, that her Father and Mother were both dead; and that she had escap’d from her Uncle, under the pretence of making a Visit to a young Lady, her Cousin, who was lately married, and liv’d above twenty Miles from her Uncle’s, in the Road to London, and that the Cause of her quitting the Country, was to avoid the hated Importunities of a Gentleman, whose pretended Love to her she fear’d had been her eternal Ruin. At which she wept and sigh’d most extravagantly. The discreet Gentlewoman endeavour’d to comfort her by all the softest and most powerful Arguments in her Capacity; promising her all the friendly Assistance that she could expect from her, during Bellamora’s stay in Town: which she did with so much Earnestness, and visible Integrity, that the pretty innocent Creature was going to make her a full and real Discovery of her imaginary insupportable Misfortunes; and (doubtless) had done it, had she not been prevented by the Return of the Lady, whom she hop’d to have found her Cousin Brightly. The Gentleman, her Husband just saw her within Doors, and order’d the Coach to drive to some of his Bottle-Companions; which gave the Women the better Opportunity of entertaining one another, which happen’d to be with some Surprize on all Sides. As the Lady was going up into her Apartment, the Gentlewoman of the House told her there was a young Lady in the Parlour, who came out of the Country that very Day on purpose to visit her: The Lady stept immediately to see who it was, and Bellamora approaching to receive her hop’d-for Cousin, stop’d on the sudden just as she came to her; and sigh’d out aloud, Ah, Madam! I am lost – It is not your Ladyship I seek. No, Madam (return’d the other) I am apt to think you did not intend me this Honour. But you are as welcome to me, as you could be to the dearest of your Acquaintance: Have you forgot me, Madame Bellamora? (continued she.) That Name startled the other: However, it was with a kind of Joy. Alas! Madam, (replied the young one) I now remember that I have been so happy to have seen you; but where and when, my Memory can’t tell me. ’Tis indeed some Years since, (return’d the Lady) But of that another time. – Mean while, if you are unprovided of a Lodging, I dare undertake, you shall be welcome to this Gentlewoman. The Unfortunate returned her Thanks; and whilst a Chamber was preparing for her, the Lady entertain’d her in her own. About Ten o’Clock they parted, Bellamora being conducted to her Lodging by the Mistress of the House, who then left her to take what Rest she could amidst her so many Misfortunes; returning to the other Lady, who desir’d her to search into the Cause of Bellamora’s Retreat to Town.

The next Morning the good Gentlewoman of the House coming up to her, found Bellamora almost drown’d in Tears, which by many kind and sweet Words she at last stopp’d; and asking whence so great Signs of Sorrow should proceed, vow’d a most profound Secrecy if she would discover to her their Occasion; which, after some little Reluctancy, she did, in this manner.

I was courted (said she) above three Years ago, when my Mother was yet living, by one Mr. Fondlove, a Gentleman of good Estate, and true Worth; and one who, I dare believe, did then really love me: He continu’d his Passion for me, with all the earnest and honest Sollicitations imaginable, till some Months before my Mother’s Death; who, at that time, was most desirous to see me disposed of in Marriage to another Gentleman, of much better Estate than Mr. Fondlove; but one whose Person and Humour did by no means hit with my Inclinations: And this gave Fondlove the unhappy Advantage over me. For, finding me one Day all alone in my Chamber, and lying on my Bed, in as mournful and wretched a Condition to my then foolish Apprehension, as now I am, he urged his Passion with such Violence, and accursed Success for me, with reiterated Promises of Marriage, whensoever I pleas’d to challenge ’em, which he bound with the most sacred Oaths, and most dreadful Execrations: that partly with my Aversion to the other, and partly with my Inclinations to pity him, I ruin’d my self. – Here she relaps’d into a greater Extravagance of Grief than before; which was so extreme that it did not continue long. When therefore she was pretty well come to herself, the antient Gentlewoman ask’d her, why she imagin’d herself ruin’d: To which she answer’d, I am great with Child by him, Madam, and wonder you did not perceive it last Night. Alas! I have not a Month to go: I am asham’d, ruin’d, and damn’d, I fear, for ever lost. Oh! fie, Madam, think not so, (said the other) for the Gentleman may yet prove true, and marry you. Ay, Madam (replied Bellamora) I doubt not that he would marry me; for soon after my Mother’s Death, when I came to be at my own Disposal, which happen’d about two Months after, he offer’d, nay most earnestly sollicited me to it, which still he perseveres to do. This is strange! (return’d the other) and it appears to me to be your own Fault, that you are yet miserable. Why did you not, or why will you not consent to your own Happiness? Alas! (cry’d Bellamora) ’tis the only Thing I dread in this World: For, I am certain, he can never love me after. Besides, ever since I have abhorr’d the Sight of him: and this is the only Cause that obliges me to forsake my Uncle, and all my Friends and Relations in the Country, hoping in this populous and publick Place to be most private, especially, Madam, in your House, and in your Fidelity and Discretion. Of the last you may assure yourself, Madam, (said the other:) but what Provision have you made for the Reception of the young Stranger that you carry about you? Ah, Madam! (cryd Bellamora) you have brought to my Mind another Misfortune: Then she acquainted her with the suppos’d loss of her Money and Jewels, telling her withall, that she had but three Guineas and some Silver left, and the Rings she wore, in her present possession. The good Gentlewoman of the House told her, she would send to enquire at the Inn where she lay the first Night she came to Town; for, haply, they might give some Account of the Porter to whom she had entrusted her Trunk; and withal repeated her Promise of all the Help in her Power, and for that time left her much more compos’d than she found her. The good Gentlewoman went directly to the other Lady, her Lodger, to whom she recounted Bellamora’s mournful Confession; at which the Lady appear’d mightily concern’d: and at last she told her Landlady, that she would take Care that Bellamora should lie in according to her Quality: For, added she, the Child, it seems, is my own Brother’s.

As soon as she had din’d, she went to the Exchange, and bought Child-bed Linen; but desired that Bellamora might not have the least Notice of it: And at her return dispatch’d a Letter to her Brother Fondlove in Hampshire, with an Account of every Particular; which soon brought him up to Town, without satisfying any of his or her Friends with the Reason of his sudden Departure. Mean while, the good Gentlewoman of the House had sent to the Star Inn on Fish-street-Hill, to demand the Trunk, which she rightly suppos’d to have been carried back thither: For by good Luck, it was a Fellow that ply’d thereabouts, who brought it to Bellamora’s Lodgings that very Night, but unknown to her. Fondlove no sooner got to London, but he posts to his Sister’s Lodgings, where he was advis’d not to be seen of Bellamora till they had work’d farther upon her, which the Landlady began in this manner; she told her that her Things were miscarried, and she fear’d, lost; that she had but a little Money her self, and if the Overseers of the Poor (justly so call’d from their over-looking ’em) should have the least Suspicion of a strange and unmarried Person, who was entertain’d in her House big with Child, and so near her Time as Bellamora was, she should be troubled, if they could not give Security to the Parish of twenty or thirty Pounds, that they should not suffer by her, which she could not; or otherwise she must be sent to the House of Correction, and her Child to a Parish-Nurse. This Discourse, one may imagine, was very dreadful to a Person of her Youth, Beauty, Education, Family and Estate: However, she resolutely protested, that she had rather undergo all this, than be expos’d to the Scorn of her Friends and Relations in the Country. The other told her then, that she must write down to her Uncle a Farewell-Letter, as if she were just going aboard the Pacquet-Boat for Holland, that he might not send to enquire for her in Town, when he should understand she was not at her new-married Cousin’s in the Country; which accordingly she did, keeping her self close Prisoner to her Chamber; where she was daily visited by Fondlove’s Sister and the Landlady, but by no Soul else, the first dissembling the Knowledge she had of her Misfortunes. Thus she continued for above three Weeks, not a Servant being suffer’d to enter her Chamber, so much as to make her Bed, lest they should take Notice of her great Belly: but for all this Caution, the Secret had taken Wind, by the means of an Attendant of the other Lady below, who had over-heard her speaking of it to her Husband. This soon got out of Doors, and spread abroad, till it reach’d the long Ears of the Wolves of the Parish, who next Day design’d to pay her a Visit: But Fondlove, by good Providence, prevented it; who, the Night before, was usher’d into Bellamora’s Chamber by his Sister, his Brother-in-Law, and the Landlady. At the Sight of him she had like to have swoon’d away: but he taking her in his Arms, began again, as he was wont to do, with Tears in his Eyes, to beg that she would marry him ere she was deliver’d; if not for his, nor her own, yet for the Child’s Sake, which she hourly expected; that it might not be born out of Wedlock, and so be made uncapable of inheriting either of their Estates; with a great many more pressing Arguments on all Sides: To which at last she consented; and an honest officious Gentleman, whom they had before provided, was call’d up, who made an End of the Dispute: So to Bed they went together that Night; next Day to the Exchange, for several pretty Businesses that Ladies in her Condition want. Whilst they were abroad, came the Vermin of the Parish, (I mean, the Overseers of the Poor, who eat the Bread from ’em) to search for a young Blackhair’d Lady (for so was Bellamora) who was either brought to Bed, or just ready to lie down. The Landlady shew’d ’em all the Rooms in her House, but no such Lady could be found. At last she bethought her self, and led ’em into her Parlour, where she open’d a little Closet-door, and shew’d ’em a black Cat that had just kitten’d: assuring ’em, that she should never trouble the Parish as long as she had Rats or Mice in the House; and so dismiss’d ’em like Loggerheads as they came.

FINIS

Notes: Critical and Explanatory:

The Black Lady

p. 3 Bridges-Street. Brydges Street lies between Russell Street and Catherine Street. Drury Lane Theatre is at its N.E. corner. It early acquired no very enviable repute, e.g. In the Epilogue to Crowne’s Sir Courtly Nice (1685) we have: ‘Our Bridges Street is grown a strumpet fair’; and Dryden, in the Epilogue to King Arthur (1691), gave Mrs. Bracegirdle, who entered, her hands full of billets-doux, the following lines to speak: —

 
Here one desires my ladyship to meet [Pulls out one.
At the kind couch above in Bridges-Street.
Oh sharping knave! that would have – you know what,
For a poor sneaking treat of chocolate.
 

p. 8 Star-Inn on Fish-street-Hill. Fish Street Hill, or, New Fish Street, runs from Eastcheap to Lower Thames Street, and was the main thoroughfare to old London Bridge, cf. 2 Henry VI, iv, VIII: ‘Cade. Up Fish Street! down St. Magnus’ corner! kill and knock down! throw them into the Thames.’

p. 9 the Exchange. The New Exchange, a kind of bazaar on the South side of the Strand. It was an immensely popular resort, and continued so until the latter years of the reign of Queen Anne. There are innumerable references to its shops, its sempstresses and haberdashers. Thomas Duffet was a milliner here before he took to writing farces, prologues and poems.

THE COURT OF
THE KING OF BANTAM

THE COURT OF

THE KING OF BANTAM

This Money certainly is a most devilish Thing! I’m sure the Want of it had like to have ruin’d my dear Philibella, in her Love to Valentine Goodland; who was really a pretty deserving Gentleman, Heir to about fifteen hundred Pounds a Year; which, however, did not so much recommend him, as the Sweetness of his Temper, the Comeliness of his Person, and the Excellency of his Parts: In all which Circumstances my obliging Acquaintance equal’d him, unless in the Advantage of their Fortune. Old Sir George Goodland knew of his Son’s Passion for Philibella; and tho’ he was generous, and of a Humour sufficiently complying, yet he could by no means think it convenient, that his only Son should marry with a young Lady of so slender a Fortune as my Friend, who had not above five hundred Pound, and that the Gift of her Uncle Sir Philip Friendly: tho’ her Virtue and Beauty might have deserv’d, and have adorn’d the Throne of an Alexander or a Cæsar.

Sir Philip himself, indeed, was but a younger Brother, tho’ of a good Family, and of a generous Education; which, with his Person, Bravery, and Wit, recommended him to his Lady Philadelphia, Widow of Sir Bartholomew Banquier, who left her possess’d of two thousand Pounds per Annum, besides twenty thousand Pounds in Money and Jewels; which oblig’d him to get himself dubb’d, that she might not descend to an inferior Quality. When he was in Town, he liv’d – let me see! in the Strand; or, as near as I can remember, somewhere about Charing-Cross; where first of all Mr. Would-be King, a Gentleman of a large Estate in Houses, Land and Money, of a haughty, extravagant and profuse Humour, very fond of every new Face, had the Misfortune to fall passionately in love with Philibella, who then liv’d with her Uncle.

This Mr. Would-be it seems had often been told, when he was yet a Stripling, either by one of his Nurses, or his own Grandmother, or by some other Gypsy, that he should infallibly be what his Sirname imply’d, a King, by Providence or Chance, ere he dy’d, or never. This glorious Prophecy had so great an Influence on all his Thoughts and Actions, that he distributed and dispers’d his Wealth sometimes so largely, that one would have thought he had undoubtedly been King of some Part of the Indies; to see a Present made to-day of a Diamond Ring, worth two or three hundred Pounds, to Madam Flippant; to-morrow, a large Chest of the finest China to my Lady Fleecewell; and next Day, perhaps, a rich Necklace of large Oriental Pearl, with a Locket to it of Saphires, Emeralds, Rubies, &c., to pretty Miss Ogle-me, for an amorous Glance, for a Smile, and (it may be, tho’ but rarely) for the mighty Blessing of one single Kiss. But such were his Largesses, not to reckon his Treats, his Balls, and Serenades besides, tho’ at the same time he had marry’d a virtuous Lady, and of good Quality: But her Relation to him (it may be fear’d) made her very disagreeable: For a Man of his Humour and Estate can no more be satisfy’d with one Woman, than with one Dish of Meat; and to say Truth, ’tis something unmodish. However, he might have dy’d a pure Celibate, and altogether unexpert of Women, had his good or bad Hopes only terminated in Sir Philip’s Niece. But the brave and haughty Mr. Would-be was not to be baulk’d by Appearances of Virtue, which he thought all Womankind only did affect; besides, he promis’d himself the Victory over any Lady whom he attempted, by the Force of his damn’d Money, tho’ her Virtue were ever so real and strict.

With Philibella he found another pretty young Creature, very like her, who had been a quondam Mistress to Sir Philip: He, with young Goodland, was then diverting his Mistress and Niece at a Game at Cards, when Would-be came to visit him; he found ’em very merry, with a Flask or two of Claret before ’em, and Oranges roasting by a large Fire, for it was Christmas-time. The Lady Friendly understanding that this extraordinary Man was with Sir Philip in the Parlour, came in to ’em, to make the number of both Sexes equal, as well as in Hopes to make up a Purse of Guineas toward the Purchase of some new fine Business that she had in her Head, from his accustom’d Design of losing at Play to her. Indeed, she had Part of her Wish, for she got twenty Guineas of him; Philibella ten; and Lucy, Sir Philip’s quondam, five: Not but that Would-be intended better Fortune to the young ones, than he did to Sir Philip’s Lady; but her Ladyship was utterly unwilling to give him over to their Management, tho’ at the last, when they were all tir’d with the Cards, after Would-be had said as many obliging things as his present Genius would give him leave, to Philibella and Lucy, especially to the first, not forgetting his Baisemains to the Lady Friendly, he bid the Knight and Goodland adieu; but with a Promise of repeating his Visit at six a-clock in the Evening on Twelfth-Day, to renew the famous and antient Solemnity of chusing King and Queen; to which Sir Philip before invited him, with a Design yet unknown to you, I hope.

As soon as he was gone, every one made their Remarks on him, but with very little or no Difference in all their Figures of him. In short, all Mankind, had they ever known him, would have universally agreed in this his Character, That he was an Original; since nothing in Humanity was ever so vain, so haughty, so profuse, so fond, and so ridiculously ambitious, as Mr. Would-be King. They laugh’d and talk’d about an Hour longer, and then young Goodland was oblig’d to see Lucy home in his Coach; tho’ he had rather have sat up all Night in the same House with Philibella, I fancy, of whom he took but an unwilling Leave; which was visible enough to every one there, since they were all acquainted with his Passion for my fair Friend.

About twelve a-clock on the Day prefix’d, young Goodland came to dine with Sir Philip, whom he found just return’d from Court, in a very good Humour. On the Sight of Valentine, the Knight ran to him, and embracing him, told him, That he had prevented his Wishes, in coming thither before he sent for him, as he had just then design’d. The other return’d, that he therefore hoped he might be of some Service to him, by so happy a Prevention of his intended Kindness. No doubt (reply’d Sir Philip) the Kindness, I hope, will be to us both; I am assur’d it will, if you will act according to my Measures. I desire no better Prescriptions for my Happiness (return’d Valentine) than what you shall please to set down to me: But is it necessary or convenient that I should know ’em first? It is, (answer’d Sir Philip) let us sit, and you shall understand ’em. – I am very sensible (continu’d he) of your sincere and honourable Affection and Pretension to my Niece, who, perhaps, is as dear to me as my own Child could be, had I one; nor am I ignorant how averse Sir George your Father is to your Marriage with her, insomuch that I am confident he would disinherit you immediately upon it, merely for want of a Fortune somewhat proportionable to your Estate: but I have now contrived the Means to add two or three thousand Pounds to the five hundred I have design’d to give with her; I mean, if you marry her, Val, not otherwise; for I will not labour so for any other Man. What inviolable Obligations you put upon me! (cry’d Goodland.) No Return, by way of Compliments, good Val, (said the Knight:) Had I not engag’d to my Wife, before Marriage, that I would not dispose of any part of what she brought me, without her Consent, I would certainly make Philibella’s Fortune answerable to your Estate: And besides, my Wife is not yet full eight and twenty, and we may therefore expect Children of our own, which hinders me from proposing any thing more for the Advantage of my Niece. – But now to my Instructions; —King will be here this Evening without fail, and, at some Time or other to-night, will shew the Haughtiness of his Temper to you, I doubt not, since you are in a manner a Stranger to him: Be sure therefore you seem to quarrel with him before you part, but suffer as much as you can first from his Tongue; for I know he will give you Occasions enough to exercise your passive Valour. I must appear his Friend, and you must retire Home, if you please, for this Night, but let me see you as early as your Convenience will permit to-morrow: my late Friend Lucy must be my Niece too. Observe this, and leave the rest to me. I shall most punctually, and will in all things be directed by you, (said Valentine.) I had forgot to tell you (said Friendly) that I have so order’d matters, that he must be King to-night, and Lucy Queen, by the Lots in the Cake. By all means (return’d Goodland;) it must be Majesty.

Exactly at six a’clock came Wou’d-be in his Coach and six, and found Sir Philip, and his Lady, Goodland, Philibella, and Lucy ready to receive him; Lucy as fine as a Dutchess, and almost as beautiful as she was before her Fall. All things were in ample Order for his Entertainment. They play’d till Supper was serv’d in, which was between eight and nine. The Treat was very seasonable and splendid. Just as the second Course was set on the Table, they were all on a sudden surpriz’d, except Would-be, with a Flourish of Violins, and other Instruments, which proceeded to entertain ’em with the best and newest Airs in the last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683. The Ladies were curious to know to whom they ow’d the chearful part of their Entertainment: On which he call’d out, Hey! Tom Farmer! Ale-worth! Eccles! Hall! and the rest of you! Here’s a Health to these Ladies, and all this honourable Company. They bow’d; he drank, and commanded another Glass to be fill’d, into which he put something yet better than the Wine, I mean, ten Guineas: Here, Farmer, (said he then) this for you and your Friends. We humbly thank the honourable Mr. Would-be King. They all return’d, and struck up with more Spriteliness than before. For Gold and Wine, doubtless, are the best Rosin for Musicians.

After Supper they took a hearty Glass or two to the King, Queen, Duke, &c. And then the mighty Cake, teeming with the Fate of this extraordinary Personage, was brought in, the Musicians playing an Overture at the Entrance of the Alimental Oracle; which was then cut and consulted, and the royal Bean and Pea fell to those to whom Sir Philip had design’d ’em. ’Twas then the Knight began a merry Bumper, with three Huzza’s, and, Long live King Would-be! to Goodland, who echo’d and pledg’d him, putting the Glass about to the harmonious Attendants; while the Ladies drank their own Quantities among themselves, To his aforesaid Majesty. Then of course you may believe Queen Lucy’s Health went merrily round, with the same Ceremony: After which he saluted his Royal Consort, and condescended to do the same Honour to the two other Ladies.

Then they fell a dancing, like Lightning; I mean, they mov’d as swift, and made almost as little Noise; But his Majesty was soon weary of that; for he long’d to be making love both to Philibella and Lucy, who (believe me) that Night might well enough have passed for a Queen.

They fell then to Questions and Commands; to cross Purposes: I think a Thought, what is it like? &c. In all which, his Would-be Majesty took the Opportunity of shewing the Excellency of his Parts, as, How fit he was to govern! How dextrous at mining and countermining! and, How he could reconcile the most contrary and distant Thoughts! The Musick, at last, good as it was, grew troublesome and too loud; which made him dismiss them: And then he began to this effect, addressing himself to Philibella: Madam, had Fortune been just, and were it possible that the World should be govern’d and influenc’d by two Suns, undoubtedly we had all been Subjects to you, from this Night’s Chance, as well as to that Lady, who indeed alone can equal you in the Empire of Beauty, which yet you share with her Majesty here present, who only could dispute it with you, and is only superior to you in Title. My Wife is infinitely oblig’d to your Majesty, (interrupted Sir Philip) who in my Opinion, has greater Charms, and more than both of them together. You ought to think so, Sir Philip (returned the new dubb’d King) however you should not liberally have express’d your self, in Opposition and Derogation to Majesty: – Let me tell you ’tis a saucy Boldness that thus has loos’d your Tongue! – What think you, young Kinsman and Counsellor? (said he to Goodland.) With all Respect due to your sacred Title, (return’d Valentene, rising and bowing) Sir Philip spoke as became a truly affectionate Husband; and it had been Presumption in him, unpardonable, to have seem’d to prefer her Majesty, or that other sweet Lady, in his Thoughts, since your Majesty has been pleas’d to say so much and so particularly of their Merits: ’Twould appear as if he durst lift up his Eyes, with Thoughts too near the Heaven you only would enjoy. And only can deserve, you should have added, (said King, no longer Would-be.) How! may it please your Majesty (cry’d Friendly) both my Nieces! tho’ you deserve ten thousand more, and better, would your Majesty enjoy them both? Are they then both your Nieces? (asked Chance’s King). Yes, both, Sir (return’d the Knight,) her Majesty’s the eldest, and in that Fortune has shewn some Justice. So she has (reply’d the titular Monarch): My Lot is fair (pursu’d he) tho’ I can be bless’d but with one.

 
Let Majesty with Majesty be join’d,
To get and leave a Race of Kings behind.
 

Come, Madam (continued he, kissing Lucy,) this, as an Earnest of our future Endeavours. I fear (return’d the pretty Queen) your Majesty will forget the unhappy Statira, when you return to the Embraces of your dear and beautiful Roxana. There is none beautiful but you (reply’d the titular King) unless this Lady, to whom I yet could pay my Vows most zealously, were’t not that Fortune has thus pre-engaged me. But, Madam (continued he) to shew that still you hold our Royal Favour, and that, next to our Royal Consort, we esteem you, we greet you thus (kissing Philibella;) and as a Signal of our continued Love, wear this rich Diamond: (here he put a Diamond Ring on her Finger, worth three hundred Pounds.) Your Majesty (pursu’d he to Lucy) may please to wear this Necklace, with this Locket of Emeralds. Your Majesty is bounteous as a God! (said Valentine.) Art thou in Want, young Spark? (ask’d the King of Bantam) I’ll give thee an Estate shall make thee merit the Mistress of thy Vows, be she who she will. That is my other Niece, Sir, (cry’d Friendly.) How! how! presumptious Youth! How are thy Eyes and Thoughts exalted? ha! To Bliss your Majesty must never hope for, (reply’d Goodland.) How now! thou Creature of the basest Mold! Not hope for what thou dost aspire to! Mock-King; thou canst not, dar’st not, shalt not hope it: (return’d Valentine in a heat.) Hold, Val, (cry’d Sir Philip) you grow warm, forget your Duty to their Majesties, and abuse your Friends, by making us suspected. Good-night, dear Philibella, and my Queen! Madam, I am your Ladyship’s Servant (said Goodland:) Farewel, Sir Philip: Adieu, thou Pageant! thou Property-King! I shall see thy Brother on the Stage ere long; but first I’ll visit thee: and in the meantime, by way of Return to thy proffer’d Estate, I shall add a real Territory to the rest of thy empty Titles; for from thy Education, barbarous manner of Conversation, and Complexion, I think I may justly proclaim thee, King of Bantam – So, Hail, King that Would-be! Hail thou King of Christmas! All-hail, Wou’d-be King of Bantam – and so he left ’em. – They all seem’d amazed, and gaz’d on one another, without speaking a Syllable; ’till Sir Philip broke the Charm, and sigh’d out, Oh, the monstrous Effects of Passion! Say rather, Oh, the foolish Effects of a mean Education! (interrupted his Majesty of Bantam.) For Passions were given us for Use, Reason to govern and direct us in the Use, and Education to cultivate and refine that Reason. But (pursu’d he) for all his Impudence to me, which I shall take a time to correct, I am oblig’d to him, that at last he has found me out a Kingdom to my Title; and if I were Monarch of that Place (believe me, Ladies) I would make you all Princesses and Duchesses; and thou, my old Companion, Friendly, should rule the Roast with me. But these Ladies should be with us there, where we could erect Temples and Altars to ’em; build Golden Palaces of Love, and Castles – in the Air (interrupted her Majesty, Lucy I. smiling.) ‘Gad take me (cry’d King Wou’d-be) thou dear Partner of my Greatness, and shalt be, of all my Pleasures! thy pretty satirical Observation has oblig’d me beyond Imitation.’ I think your Majesty is got into a Vein of Rhiming to-night, (said Philadelphia.) Ay! Pox of that young insipid Fop, we could else have been as great as an Emperor of China, and as witty as Horace in his Wine; but let him go, like a pragmatical, captious, giddy Fool as he is! I shall take a Time to see him. Nay, Sir, (said Philibella) he has promis’d your Majesty a Visit in our Hearing. Come, Sir, I beg your Majesty to pledge me this Glass to your long and happy Reign; laying aside all Thoughts of ungovern’d Youth: Besides, this Discourse must needs be ungrateful to her Majesty, to whom, I fear, he will be marry’d within this Month! How! (cry’d King and no King) married to my Queen! I must not, cannot suffer it! Pray restrain your self a little, Sir (said Sir Philip) and when once these Ladies have left us, I will discourse your Majesty further about this Business. Well, pray, Sir Philip, (said his Lady) let not your Worship be pleas’d to sit up too long for his Majesty: About five o’Clock I shall expect you; ’tis your old Hour. And yours, Madam, to wake to receive me coming to Bed – Your Ladyship understands me, (return’d Friendly.) You’re merry, my Love, you’re merry, (cry’d Philadelphia:) Come, Niece, to Bed! to Bed! Ay, (said the Knight) Go, both of you and sleep together, if you can, without the Thoughts of a Lover, or a Husband. His Majesty was pleas’d to wish them a good Repose; and so, with a Kiss, they parted for that time.