Patch-Work Screen
For the

Love and Virtue
In a Collection of
Instructive Novels.

After a Manner intirely New, and
interspersed with Rural Poems, describing
the Innocence of a Country-Life.

By Mrs. Jane Barker, of Wilsthorp,
near Stamford, in Lincolnshire.

“’Tis Love does all that’s Noble here below; Love is the Steel, that strikes upon the Flint; Gives Coldness Heat, exerts the hidden Flame, And spreads the Sparkles round to warm the World.” Dryden.

London: Printed for E. Curll, over against Catherinestreet
in the Strand; And T. Payne, near
Stationers-Hall. 17231723. Pr. 2s. 6d.

A2v A3r [iii]

To the

My Two former Volumes of
Novels having met with
a favourable Reception,
(much beyond their Desert)
encourages me to perform my
Promise in pursuing The Sequel of
Galesia’s Story The last Novel in Mrs. Barker’s 2d. Volume.

A3 But A3v [iv]

But I doubt my Reader will say, Why
so long about it? And why a History
reduc’d into Patches? especially since
Histories at Large are so Fashionable
inin this Age; viz. Robinson Crusoe, and
Moll Flanders; Colonel Jack, and
Sally Salisbury; with many other Heroes
and Heroines? Why, truly, as to
the First, I had lost my Galesia,
she being gone from St. Germains, and I
retir’d into an obscure Corner of the
World. As to the Second, you’ll find in the
following Pages, by what Steps and Means
it was framed into this Method. And
now, having given you this Account, I
think I ought to say something in Favour
of Patch-Work, the better to recommend
it to my Female Readers, as well in
their Discourse, as their Needle-Work:
Which I might do with Justice, if my Genius
were capable: But indeed, I am not much
of an Historian; but in the little I have
read, I do not remember any thing recordedded A4r [v]
relating to Patch-Work, since the Patriarch
Joseph, (whose Garment was of
sundry Colours) by which means it has not
been common in all Ages; and ’tis certain,
the Uncommonness of any Fashion, renders
it acceptable to the Ladies.

And I do not know but this may have
been the chief Reason why our Ladies, in
this latter Age, have pleas’d themselves
with this sort of Entertainment; for, whenever
one sees a Set of Ladies together,
their Sentiments are as differently mix’d
as the Patches in their Work: To wit,
Whigs and Tories, High-Church and
Low-Church, Jacobites and Williamites,
and many more Distinctions, which
they divide and sub-divide, ’till at last
they make this Dis-union meet in an harmonious
Tea-Table Entertainment. This
puts me in mind of what I have heard
some Philosophers assert, about the
Clashing of Atoms, which at last united A4v [vi]
united to compose this glorious Fabrick of
the Universe.

Forgive me, kind Reader, for carrying
the Metaphor too high; by which means I
am out of my Sphere, and so can say nothing
of the Male Patch-Workers; for
my high Flight in Favour of the Ladies,
made a mere Icarus of me, melted my
Wings, and tumbled me Headlong down,
I know not where. Nevertheless my Fall
was amongst a joyful Throng of People of
all Ages, Sexes, and Conditions! who were
rejoycing at a wonderful Piece of Patch-
they had in Hand; the Nature
of which was such, as was to compose
(as it were) a New Creation, where
all Sorts of People were to be Happy, as
if they had never been the Off-spring of
fallen Adam.

I was greatly rejoyc’d at this my Fall,
when I found my self amongst these happy
Undertakers, and hop’d to unite my-self in their A5r [vii]
their Confraternity; but they finding some
Manuscript Ballads in my Pocket, rejected
me as one of that Race of Mortals who live
on a certain barren Mountain ’till they are
turn’d into Camelions; so I was forc’d to
get away, every one hunching and pushing
me, with Scorn and Derision. However,
as the Sequel prov’d, I had no small Reason
to rejoice at being thus used; for soon after,
their Patch-Work Scheme, by carrying
the Point too high, was blown up about
their Ears, and vanish’d into Smoke and
Confusion; to the utter Ruin of many
Thousands of the Unhappy Creatures therein

When I was got out of this Throng into
the open Field, I met with the poor Galesia,
walking to stretch her Legs, having
been long sitting at her Work. With her I
renew’d my Old Acquaintance; and so
came to know all this Story of her Patch-
: Which if you like, I will get the
remaining Part of the Screen; for they A5v [viii]
they are still at Work: And, upon my
Word, I am glad to find the Ladies of This
, wiser than Those of the Former;
when the working of Point and curious
Embroidery, was so troublesome, that
they cou’d not take Snuff in Repose, for
fear of soiling their Work: But in Patch-
there is no Harm done; a smear’d
Finger does but add a Spot to a Patch,
or a Shade to a Light-Colour: Besides,
those curious Works were pernicious to the
Eyes; they cou’d not see the Danger
and their Posterity might
be in, a Thousand Years hence, about
I know not what
— But I will inquire
against the next Edition; therefore,
be sure to buy these Patches up quickly, if
you intend to know the Secret; thereby you’ll
greatly oblige the Bookseller, and, in some
degree, the Author. Who is,

Your humble Servant,

Jane Barker.

Con- A6r


  • Page 7. line 5. read, as a Breakfast of Water-gruel to those, &c.

  • P. 9. l. 24. r. His Presence rais’d my drooping Spirits.
  • P. 17.
    l. 12. r. Lacteans.
  • P. 56. l. 18. r. particular to one,
  • P. 96. l. 7.
    dole to.
  • Ibid. l. 15. r. Two good Pints, &c.
  • Ibid. l. ult. r. Friend.

  • P. 114. l. ult. r. found.
Intro- A1r (I)


When we parted from Galesia
last, it was in St. Germain’s
Garden; See The Amours of Bosvil and Galesia, one of Mrs. Barker’s
Novels. Printed 1719
and now we meet
with her in England, travelling
in a Stage-Coach from London
Northward; where she had the Luck to
meet with good Company, who entertained
each other agreeably with Things indifferent,
suitable to the Times; thereby beguiling
the Tediousness of the Way, and
the tiresome Rocking of the Vehicle they
were in, ’till they came where the Road extended
it-self between Two Woods, a Place
well known for the many Robberies which
had been there commited.

A Here A1v

Here our Passengers began to fear it
was now their Turn to be rifled of what
they had, especially when they saw divers
Horsemen, well mounted, crossing the Way
backward and forward, in and out of the
Woods, whooping and hollowing to one
another; ’till the Sight of a Huntsman with
his Horn, and a Pack of Hounds rushing
out of the Wood, in Pursuit of a Hare which
was gone a little while before, eas’d them
of their Apprehensions, and convinc’d them,
That the Horsemen they had seen, were
only some of the Gentry of that Neighbourhood,
diverting themselves with their Dogs.
However, this Accident put them in Mind
of many criminal Adventures and Robberies,
which they related, one Story bringing
on another, as is usual amongst Company;
some of which, perhaps, will not be
disagreeable to the Reader; and therefore
I shall insert them here; beginning with
the following, as related by one of the Gentlemen.

A certain Robber that lived in Wales,
knowing the Day of Shrewsbury-Fair, came
down from the Mountains in the Night,
that he might be at the Town early enough
to slip no Opportunity that might be to his
Advantage; the Graziers-Fair beginning early
in most Places, and it being the Business
of Cheats and Robbers to watch who buys, A2r
buys, and who sells, who receives Money,
and where they carry or deposite it.

When he was got within Eight or Ten
Miles of Shrewsbury, he saw grazing in a
Farmer’s Ground a Yoke or two of large
Fat Oxen; these he thought would be ready
Money at the Fair, and accordingly
drove them away, ’till he came to a Publick
House in the Road, near the Town,
where he called to drink, and asked the
Landlord, If he had any Pasturage, where
he might graze his Oxen a while, to plump
them so as to make them appear better at
the Fair? Hereupon the Landlord put them
in a very good Pasture just by his House;
and then our Mountainier went into the
Fair, amongst the Farmers and Graziers,
and met with a Chapman, who was buying
from one Farmer to another, in order
to make up his Droves; so our Thief told
him, That he had some very good Oxen
feeding just without the Town-Gate, where
he had left them to rest a while, they being
heavy and weary. The Grazier went
readily along with him, and, in few Words,
bargained for the Beasts, paid down the
Money, and, finding the Pasture good, desired
the Landlord to let them rest there,
and he would send more to them, ’till he
had compleated his Drove: So both went
their Way, one about his Honest Calling,
the other to pursue his Wicked Projects.

A2 What A2v

What other Advantage this Thief made
at the Fair, is not come to our Knowledge:
But having taken Notice of a very pretty
Mare that ran in the same Ground with
the Oxen, he thought he would not miss
that Booty, and went in the Evening to
the same House, ordering a good Supper,
and treated himself and his Landlord
very well. In the Night he got up, and
having remarked where a Bridle and
Saddle hung, he went into the Ground,
took the Mare, and away he rode, ’till he
arrived pretty near the Place where he had
taken the Oxen. He there met the Owner
of them, who inquir’d of him concerning
his Beasts, (as he had done all about those
Parts, of every one he met) describing to
him their Age, Shape, and Marks. To
which our Thief reply’d, That in such a
Ground, belonging to such a Man, near
Shrewsbury, there were just such Oxen as
he described. The Farmer, overjoy’d to
hear of his Cattle, began to lament that
his Horse was so ridden down, that he
fear’d, he would not be able to carry
him to Shrewbury. Ah me! said he, if
I had my good Horse I was bid Money for
t’other Day, he would have done my Business.
The Mountainier presently formed
another Cheat in his Head, and seem’d to
pity the good Man, telling him, He would
lend him that Mare on which he rode, pro- A3r
provided he would give him some Mark
or Token, by which he might have the
Horse he mentioned. The Farmer, much
rejoyced hereat, told him, That he should
go to his Wife, and give her that tired
Horse, and bid her deliver the bald Horse
which was in the Stable; by the same Token,
“That he was bid Ten Guineas for him
such a Day, she being by, making up her Butter.”
By these punctual Tokens, the Thief
got the good Horse, and away he rode to
the Mountains with his Booty.

And now let us follow the Farmer;
who soon arrived at the Place where his
Oxen were grazing; and challenging them,
the Landlord refus’d to deliver them, as
not being put there by him; and, on the
other Hand, seiz’d his Mare, and the Farmer
for the Thief that stole her. This created
a great deal of Trouble between the
Landlord, the honest Farmer, and the Grazier
who had bought the Beasts; and, one
may suppose, took up much Time and Money
before the Right could be understood.
But, in Conclusion, “The Man had his Mare again.”
From whence, I suppose, said the Gentleman,
arose that Proverb.

A3 The A3v

The Gentleman having thus finish’d his
Proverbial-Story, another of the Company
was incited thereby to call to Mind a Proverbial-Story
of later Date; but first asked
the Company, If they knew how ill-dress’d
Perukes came to be called Kaxtons? To
whom all answering No; he began his
Story as follows.

There is, said he, a good Farm-House
just by the Road near Kaxton; the honest
Master of which, having, at some Market
or Fair, received Money for Goods he had
sold, was telling it over on Saturday Night,
and put up in a Bag as much as would
pay his Half-Year’s Rent, telling his Man,
That on Monday he should carry it to his
Landlord; and, at the same Time, ordered
his Labourer, (who was then receiving his
Wages) to be sure to come early on Monday-Morning
to take Care of the Yard,
while his Man was out.

Next Day, being Sunday, the Young
Man went, in the Afternoon, to visit and
divert himself amongst his Friends and Companions;
and coming home a little late,
he found the Gates shut fast, that he could
not get in; and knowing that his Mistress
Lay-in, he would not make a Noise by
knocking, lest it should disturb or fright
her, but went quietly away, and lay with
some of his Companions.

Next A4r

Next Morning he came again, thinking
to go about his Business, but found all fast
shut still; and though he knock’d often and
loud, could make No body hear: He saunter’d
about ’till towards Noon, and still it
was the same; no Noise was to be heard
but the Herds lowing in the Yard for Fodder.
Hereupon he went to the Town, and
informed several People of the Matter, who
all agreed to take a Constable and some
of the best of the Parish, and if they could
make No-body hear by knocking, e’en to
break open the Gates and Doors, and see
what should be the Matter; some conjecturing
one thing, some another; but most
concluding with the Servant, That the
good Man was gone to carry his Rent,
and the good Woman fallen into some
grievous Fit, if not dead.

In short, They broke open the Gates,
and while some went to force the House-
Doors, others proceeded to the Barn for
Straw to throw into the Cribs, and there
they beheld the most amazing Sight imaginable;
the Good Man and his Wife both
murder’d on the Floor, and two Forks
broken! Hereupon, they went towards
the House, and passing cross the Yard,
they saw the Child’s Swath dropt, and
when they came into the House, found the
Babe in the Cradle, with its Neck wrung
behind it. They proceeded then to search A4 the A4v
the House; The Goods all remain’d; but
the Money, and divers Silver Things, as
Spoons, Porringers, Cups, and the like,
were gone.

Upon due Consideration, they suspected
the Labourer, he being no where to be
found; Hereupon Hue-and-Cries were
sent forth, every way describing his Person,
Age, and Cloaths: But all in vain;
no News could be heard. The Manner of
the Murder, they conjectur’d, was on this
wise: That the Labourer was in the Barn,
and when the good Man went to give
his Beasts Fodder, the Villain fell upon
him, and he resisting, caus’d the two
Forks to be broke. The poor Woman
sitting in the House with her Child on
her Lap, hearing the Noise in the Barn,
rose hastily, and clapping the Child in
the Cradle, with its Clouts hanging loose
about it, ran to the Barn, and dropt the
Swath; which was found as aforesaid:
And so met her poor Husband’s Fate.

Thus Things pass’d without Discovery
for Seven Years, all which Time the Villain
liv’d beyond Sea. At the Seven
Years End, thinking the Matter might
be forgot, he came into England, and
being a North-country Man, directed his
Journey towards Kaxton; And calling at
an Alehouse in a Village near that Town
to drink and rest himself, it so happen’d, that A5r
that the Master of the House was Constable
at the Time he fled, when the
Hue-and Cries were after him; and now,
in Seven Years Time, the Office having
been round the Village, was come to
him again. By what Spirit or Genius this
Constable was inspired, cannot be guess’d;
but so it was, he thought this Man answer’d
the Character of the Hue-and-Cry
which came to his Hands Seven Years
before, of which, perhaps, he had the
Copy by him; Wherefore, by Virtue of
his Office, he seiz’d him, and carry’d him
before a Justice, who examin’d and committed
him: But the Crime of which
he was suspected being committed Southward,
near Kaxton, he was conveyed
thither to be Try’d; At what Time, there
were many Witnesses appear’d to testify
that he was the Labourer in that Farmyard,
when this Murder was committed;
all which he most stedfastly deny’d, protesting,
that he never was there in his Life, nor
knew the Place. At last, the Servant of
that Farm, who knew him very well by his
Face and Speech, added one Circumstantial
more, saying, That the Man who then
thrash’d in the Barn, had a Running-Sore
on his Side; which, said he, I have divers
times help’d him to dress; so that if the
Sore should be heal’d, there must needs be
a Scar. Hereupon the Part being search’d, A5 and A5v
and the Scar plainly appearing, he could no
longer oppose or deny so manifest a Truth.
He was hang’d in Chains by the Road-side
near Kaxton; an Example of the most vile
Cruelty that could be committed.

There happen’d to pass some Cambridge
Scholars that way to visit some Friends
thereabouts; and the Weather being a
little turbulent, the Wind and Wet so discompos’d
their Wiggs, that when they
came in, they fancy’d them to look like
that on the Head of the Hang’d Man.
This Fancy they carry’d back with them
to Cambridge, and there broach’d it amongst
the Youth of their Time; which, by Degrees,
spread over the Nation. Afterwards,
by reason of many of our young
Gentlemen going into the Wars in divers
and distant Countries, this Fancy was carried
with them, so that in most Parts of Europe,
to this Day, an ill-dress’d Wigg is call’d “A Caxton, or Kak.”

According to the usual Proverb as aforesaid,
“One Story begets another”, so it happen’d
amongst this Company: The next
Gentleman said, That forasmuch as the
two former had embellish’d their Stories by
Proverbs, he would not offer to the Company
a Relation but what he knew to be Truth.

There was, said he, a certain Gentleman
of Distinction, who at his Death, left three A6r
three Daughters Coheiresses, under the Guardianship
of their Uncle his Brother. The
Gentleman being dead, the young Ladies,
by Advice of their Uncle, broke up House,
and sold their Goods, in order to put
themselves into Places of polite Education,
thereby to improve themselves before they
entredentered into a Married State.

In order to which, their Family was retrench’d,
Servants paid off, and Goods
sold; And every Thing being thus dispos’d,
and they ready to leave the House,
there came one Evening, a Gentleman
that had lost his Way, and, driven by
ill Weather, begg’d Refuge at this House.
The young Ladies were fearful to receive
him, their Family being small, and the
Situation distant from Neighbours: But
Commiseration of the Gentleman’s distrest
Condition moving them, at last they entertain’d
him very kindly, made a handsome
Supper, and lodg’d him in a good
Room; but withal, took Care to fasten his
Door, and all Passages that led to it, in order
to secure themselves from any wicked
Intention he might possibly have to let
in any Gang of Villains to destroy or
disturb them: And, for their better Security,
they resolv’d not to go to Bed that
Night; but sate up, often descanting
on their Folly, in having admitted
this Stranger, which was the Cause of their Dis- A6v
Discomposure. Then would they reflect on
his Horse, Pistols, and Accoutrements, all
which, they fancy’d, had more the Air
of an Highway-man, than a solitary unfortunate
Traveller. Then again, they
would reflect on the Genteelness of his
Person and Behaviour; the Honesty and
Integrity of his Countenance; the Agreeableness
of his Discourse, all tending to Vertue
and Honesty, and adorn’d with Wit
and good Humour.

Thus, Pro and Con, they entertain’d
and rejected their Fears, ’till after Midnight;
and then their wavering Apprehensions
were turn’d into a substantial
thorow Fright; for they heard at the
Drawing-room Door, which open’d into
the Garden, a Noise of breaking open;
which made them presently conclude it
to be some of the Traveller’s Companions,
who, because he could not let ’em in, being
fast lock’d up, had betaken themselves to
this forcible Entry.

Thus being frighted, distressed, and distracted;
they went to see what was become
of the Traveller; but they peeping
and listening at the Door, could perceive
nothing, but that he was fast asleep;
Whereupon they took Courage, enter’d his
Chamber, awak’d him, and told him their
Distress. He immediately got up, took
his Sword and Pistols, went with them to the A7r
the Drawing-Room, and found the Door almost
ready to give the Villains Entrance:
The Door and the Jaumb being shatter’d,
the Gentleman had the better Opportunity
to let fly at them; which he did, and
with such Success, that one of them fell
down dead, or sore wounded; and the
others had enough to do to get him away,
and themselves off clear.

We may imagine how they spent the
rest of the Night; the least Part of which,
we may suppose, pass’d in Sleep. Next
Morning, they earnestly invited the Traveller
to stay with them the coming Day,
to prevent any farther Frights, though, we
may reasonably suppose, they provided
themselves of Assistance for the ensuing
Night. The Gentleman was too Generous
to refuse their Request, at least for a Day,
hoping their Spirits, which were greatly
disorder’d by the Night’s Distractions,
might be restored in that Time.

They had scarce din’d, when a Messenger
came from their Uncle, who liv’d
about Four Miles off, to invite them to
his Son’s Funeral the next Day. They
were greatly surprized at this sudden and
unexpected News; and divers Questions
they ask’d the Messenger; testified much
Grief for the Death of their dear Cousin;
promis’d to go and pay that last Respect
to his Memory; and with many dutiful and A7v
and compassionate Services to their Uncle,
dismis’d the Messenger.

Then they desir’d the Traveller to go
along with them on the Morrow, that
they might present him to their Uncle, as
the Author of their Safety. He was not
hard to be persuaded to defer his Journey, or
suspend his Business; Beauty and Fortunes
being always most powerful Rhetoricians.

In short, he went along with them;
where, we will suppose, they found all the
Desolation suitable to such an Occasion.
The Ladies desired to see their Cousin, e’er
he was interr’d; but he was fasten’d up
before they came: This increas’d the Gentleman’s
Suspicion, who having laid many
Ends together, being greatly to believe
there was some foul Play. Wherefore,
without saying a Word, he went to some
Officers of Justice, which he brought along
with him, and commanded the Coffin to be
open’d, and the Corps search’d: In so
doing, they found a Wound in the Body,
which had been his Death; upon which
surprizing Spectacle, the whole Family
was seized; And now, being in the Hands
of Justice, the old Man’s Grief and Remorse
would not permit him to conceal
any-thing; but he freely and openly
own’d, That he and his Son design’d to
murder the young Ladies, and so become
Lords of their Inheritance.

This A8r

This free Confession soon put a Period
to his Afflictions, by the Help of a Shameful
Death; and the young Gentleman,
who was a younger Brother, made his
Fortune and himself Happy in the Marriage
of one of the Ladies. And thus,
according to the Proverb, “One good Turn deserves Another.”

The Company having return’d the
Gentleman Thanks, told Galesia, That
they hop’d she had some Story or Adventure
wherewith to oblige them. To which
she reply’d, That, truly, she had pass’d
so many Years out of England, that she
should be obliged to conduct their Attention
as far as Paris. And so proceeded.

I suppose, said she, you all know there
is a great Fair, in the Fauxbourgh Saint
at Paris, kept at a certain Time
of the Year; wherein there are, besides all
sorts of Merchandize, Shews, Games, and
Raffling, &c.

Hither it was that a Gentlewoman and
I were going, a little to divert ourselves
amongst other Holy-day Fools, and passing
through Luxembourg-Garden, we sate
down on a Bench, a-while to rest ourselves:
Where, regarding the well-built House of
Luxembourg, wherein lived the Princess Madam- A8v
Madamoiselle de Monpensier, we began to
reflect on the Folly of that Lady, for adhering
to the Rebels in the King’s Minority,
and how unfortunate she had made
herself in having lost his Majesty’s Favour
for so doing. Whilst we were in this Discourse,
a Gentleman of our own Country
came to us, and asked, If we were design’d
for the Fair? We told him Yes. There has
been, said he, a great Bustle in the Fair
to Day. Whereupon we desired him to
sit down, and tell us what was the Occasion.

Last Night, said he, there were Gentlemen
raffled in a Booth ’till it was pretty
late. At last, the Losers having pretty
well emptied their Pockets, departed. He
that was the chief Winner, was also about
to go; but the Master of the Booth dissuaded
him, telling him, That there were
many Spies about the Fair, taking Notice
of those that were Winners; and when
they went away, took Opportunity to
rob, and sometimes murder them: And
you, Sir, continued he, having won considerable,
will be in Danger; wherefore, I
beg you to remain here ’till Day-light.
The Gentleman found the Advice very reasonable,
and sate himself down in an Easy-
Chair, and bid them make him a Pot of
Chocolate, and he would there get a
little Sleep.

So A9r

So said, so done; but in the Chocolate,
they put a good Dose of Opium;
and when he was fallen into a sound Sleep,
they murder’d him, cut him in Pieces,
and carry’d him out to a Common Shore,
into which they threw him.

In the Morning, a Foot of him was seen
by Passengers, who calling Officers of
Justice, got out the Body Piece-meal as
it was, as also the Head; and amongst all
this, a Plate, which was writ on, belonging
to such a Cook.

The Cook and his Family were hereupon
seiz’d and examined, who knew nothing
of the Matter, but call’d to Mind to
whom they had sent out Meat that Day,
and who had, or had not return’d the
Plates. At last the People of the foresaid
Booth were seiz’d and examin’d: Conscience,
which flew in their Faces, would
not permit them to deny it much: The
Maid own’d, that she carried the Head
out upon a Plate, which Plate slipp’d out
of her Hands when she threw the Head into
the Common Shore. “Thus Murder will out.”

Thus Four of our Passengers told their
melancholy Stories, which the Danger of
the Road had first brought into their Memories.
There was a Fifth, a young Lady Daugh- A9v
Daughter to one of the Gentlemen; so
they ask’d, If she had not a Story wherewith
to oblige the Company? To which
she reply’d, That she had no Story of that
kind; being but, lately come out of a Nunnery,
(where her Father had plac’d her for
a safe Education, Death having depriv’d
her of her Mother); but she would relate a
Transaction which happen’d in the said

There was a beautiful young Lady said
she, and a Gentleman, suitable in Years,
Quality, and all other Accomplishments of
Mind and Person, who contracted a mutual
Affection for each other; but the Gifts of Fortune
were not such as could probably make
them happy; for which Reason, the Parents
on both Sides oppos’d their Espousals.

The young Lady, finding that she could
not give her Person to him to whom
she had surrender’d her Affections, implored
the Favour of her Parents, to let her
enter into a Convent, where, amongst those
holy Votaries, she might endeavour to
overcome her Passion. Her Friends consented
to the Proposal, concluding that
Time and perpetual Absence might give
her that Tranquility which could not be
had otherwise.

Our young Lady being in the Convent,
began to be charm’d with that devout and
heavenly Way of Living: Such Regularityrity A10r
and Exactitude in their Religious Performances:
Such Patience; such Obedience:
Such Purity of Manners; by which
those holy Souls climb to Heaven; that,
considering the Difficulty, or rather, Impossibility
of ever possessing her Cavalier,
she resolved to bury all Thoughts of him,
together with her own Beauty, under a
holy Veil: To which her Friends giving
Consent, though very unwillingly, she
betook herself to a Religious Habit, in
order to perform her Time of Probation.
In the mean time, our Cavalier was
ingaged in the Army far distant, both performing
their Duties according to their Stations.

And now, behold the Vicissitude of
Human Affairs: Our Cavalier, by his valiant
and noble Atchievements, was advanc’d
to great Honours in the Army,
and at the same Time he had an Uncle
dy’d, who left him an Estate that seem’d
to put him above the Reach of adverse
Fortune; and not knowing the Fate of
his Beloved Mistress, he returned Home,
not fearing any Obstacle in his Addresses,
(after such Acquisitions of Glory and Fortune)
either from the young Lady or her

But, alas! when he came and found
his dear Mistress ingaged in a Religious
Order, how great his Affliction was, is hard A10v
hard to describe. Ah! said he, had she
been taken Prisoner by the Turk, one
might hope, by Valour or Money, for
her Inlargement: or had she been married
to some old unworthy Rival, Time
or Death might provide her a Release;
or was she confin’d or forbidden by the
Caprice of humoursome Parents, Respect,
Duty, and Indearments to them, might
gain not only their Consent, but their
Affections. But, as it is, (O wretched as
I am! unfortunate and miserable!) I am
not only deprived of all Hopes of injoying
her, but of ever seeing her; Nor can
so much as the least Line from me reach
her Hands; Nay, so unhappy I am, that
it is said to be a Crime in me even to
complain to my-self. Unhappy that I
am! to have mov’d and acted in Showers
of Bullets untouch’d, and now to sink under
the most incurable of all Wounds! I
coveted the Glory of Conquest, and the
Riches of Reward, for no other End, but
to render me more acceptable to her, and
her Parents. I have no Taste of the Glory
of Victory, or the Pleasure of Plenty,
since she is not to be Copartner in my
Glory or Abundance.

These and a thousand such Lamentations
he utter’d when alone, or only in the
hearing of a little pretty Hugonot-Page,
which he had taken whilst in the Army, who A11r
who hearing his Complaints, took the Liberty
to speak to his Master, telling him,
That he doubted not but by his Means
he might find a way to correspond with
this his Religious Mistress, and know,
at least, whether she had thus sequester’d
her self from him out of real Devotion,
or the Persuasions of her Parents, or Despair
of the Continuation of his Kindness;
for the last of which he thought she had
no Reason; for though he was long absent,
and far distant, yet he had not
fail’d to give her perpetual Assurances in
Writing, not reflecting how difficult, if
not impossible, it is in those Places for
Letters to come to the Hands of the Beloved.
But to return to our Page:

The Master and he agreed, that he
should be dress’d like a Girl, and put
into that Convent, to be educated in good
Manners, and instructed in Religion. This
they contriv’d with the utmost Dexterity,
and executed with Success. And now
behold our Page-Damsel is got into the
Convent with full Instructions from his
Master, to the young Nun, or rather Novice;
for, as Luck was, she was not yet
profess’d, though she had been there above
a Year; the Order of that House requiring
Two Years Probation.

And here the young Gentlewoman who
related the Story, read to us the following Let- A11v
Letter, which the Cavalier intrusted to
the young Hugonot, which, she said, she
had procured a Copy of.

The Letter.

“Madam, I cannot tell whether Grief or Surprize
have the greatest Share in my
Breast, to find you ingaged in a State so
absolutely destructive to my Happiness;
but both exceed all Degrees of Comparison.
Ah! my fair and dear Creature, how could you
be so cruel to your self and me! For I flatter
my-self, it was and is a Cruelty to You
as well as to Me your fond Lover: I say,
How could you abandon me to Despair? In
which I would say (if I durst) that you are
not only Unkind, but Criminal: For you
ought not thus to have given yourself away
without my Consent or Knowledge. Recollect,
how often you have assured me of your Affections,
and everlasting Love; and that the
only Objection you or your Parents had against
our Espousals, was Narrowness of Fortune.
But that Objection being remov’d,
you ought to be wholly Mine; You ought
not to give away that which is not your
own. Stollen goods are an unworthy, nay,
an impious Offering to Heaven. King Saul sav’d A12r
sav’d that which was none of his, to sacrifice
to the Lord, and how unacceptable it was,
I desire you to consider, and make the Application.
Think on these Things, my Bright, my
Fair, my Dear Charmer: And think what
Injustice you do me, every Moment you
deprive me of your Person. And, believe
it, you are but a Murderer, as long as you
seclude yourself from me, who cannot live
without you: Therefore, bethink yourself
of the Injury you do me; and repair all, by
the Surrender of your Person to me, who
have the True and Real, though not the
common Legal Right to alledge.
The young Lady that gives you this,
will take Measures with you; Take Courage
then, my dearest Life! to put in Practice
what is so well contrived; and so
make Happy the most Faithful of Lovers,
Your Constant and Passionate, Chevalier.”

This Letter our young Hugonot found
an Opportunity, to deliver, though with
great Difficulty; for in those Houses they
correspond very little, but live in Solitude
and Silence, nor ever go into each other’s Cells, A12v
Cells, those Places being the Recesses for
solitary Meditation: But more especially
the Religious Dames converse not with
the young Ladies who are there for Education,
except those that are placed over
them, as Teachers and Governesses. Nevertheless,
our fair Messenger, found some
lucky Moment to deliver the Letter, and
recount to her the Griefs her Cavalier
suffer’d for her sake, the many Sighs he
breath’d, the many Tears he shed, and
Groans he utter’d, with continual Languishing
in Discontent and Despair; All
which so touch’d our Novice, that she began
to regret what she had done, and to
wish she could find a Way, handsomely
and without Contempt, to undo what she
had done.

Millions of Things she revolved in her
Mind, discuss’d the Matter between the
poor State of a Religious Life, destitute
of all Comforts, and those Pleasures which
are to be found in a Plentiful Fortune,
with a noble young Husband, honour’d
with Wreaths of martial Glory; In all
which she made her own Inclinations Arbitrator
between Heaven and Earth, God
and the World, &c.—After many Debates
with herself, she wrote to her Cavalier
as follows.

Sir, [a]r “Sir, Your Letter has so ruffled my whole
Interior, that I know not how to write
common Sense: Therefore, if my Answer be
unintelligible, blame me not, for I am utterly
lost in an Abyss of Confusion: The
Thoughts of breaking my holy Resolutions on
one Hand, and the Sufferings which the
keeping them, makes us both undergo, on the
other, distracts me. My dear Chevalier!
change your Reproaches into Pity: I will endeavour
to repair my Faults: Faults! did I
say? Ah me! it is a Crime, to call this my
Religious Enterprize a Fault! My Thoughts,
Words, Writings, on this Occasion, are
Faults! The very Corresponding with the
young Lady you placed here, is a Fault! Yet,
a Fault so sweet, so delicious, that I cannot
refrain, because she recounts a thousand
tender Things of you; repeats your Sighs
and Grief in such soft and melting Words
and Accents, as would soften the most obdurate
Then, what Effect, think you, must it have
on Mine, which is prepared to be set on
Fire by the least Spark struck from your dear
Assurances, which she most industriously blows
into a Flame, not to be suppres’d by any devout
Sighs, Tears, or other Religious Mortifications;
by which I suffer a perpetual Martyrdom,[a] dom, a1v
and see no Way of Delivery, but by adhering
to your Advice sent by her, and come
to your Arms: Those dear glorious Arms!
those Arms, that have honoured your Family,
Friends, and Native Country! Those Arms,
that have crown’d the Hero with Lawrels,
and the Lover with Myrtles. Those Arms,
that have greatly help’d to subdue the Enemies
of France, and built Trophies in the
Hearts of the Fair.
O! can I refuse my Hero? Can I refuse my
Lover? Can I refuse my dear Chevalier?
Indeed, I cannot! No, no, I cannot! I will
not! The Temptation is too great to be resisted
by frail Mortality.
Wherefore, my beloved Chevalier, I will
comply with those Measures you and your
young Hugonot have taken.”

This Letter being writ, our Two young
Ladies were greatly embarrass’d how to
get it to the Cavalier’s Hands: At last,
they thought on the following Means.
The Hugonot work’d a curious fine Purse,
and begg’d Leave of the Abbess to present
it to her Patron the Cavalier. So between
the Lining and the Out-side they plac’d this
Letter, writ on fine Paper and in a small Character,
and so convey’d it to the Cavalier.

Now the Way, contriv’d to extricate the
Fair Novice from the Convent, was thus; That [a2]r
That the Cavalier should be present at the
Altar, when she should come to take her
Religious Vows; At what Time, she declar’d
before the whole Congregation, That
all the Vow she meant to take, should be
in Holy Marriage to that Gentleman, taking
him by the Hand. This surpriz’d
the whole Congregation; in particular,
her Parents, and the Quire of Nuns. Some
blam’d the Boldness of that Proceeding,
saying she might have gone out quietly
and privately: Others prais’d the generous
open Way she had taken. The Clergy,
which were there assembled, all told her
Parents, That they could not refuse their
Consent, since she had demanded him at
the Altar of God. All the Quality there
(which were many, who came to assist and
grace the Ceremony) said the same. The
Parents were very well content, only
wish’d she had proceeded otherwise, and
not made herself the Publick Subject of
a Nine Days Wonder.

In short, all were pleas’d, and the Marriage
was accomplished to every Body’s
Satisfaction, except to that of the young
Hugonot; Who came forth, and, on her
Knees, begg’d Pardon for having deluded
her Master; For, indeed, said she, I am
not a Boy, as I pretended to be, but a
foolish Girl, that took that Disguise upon
me to be near your Person; that illustrious[a2] ous a2v
Person, which not only dazled the
Eyes of me, an unthinking Maid, but
which, joyn’d with your Noble Actions,
made all Hearts rejoice. But when I came
to be Witness of your Grief for this Lady,
Pity and Generosity supplanted Affection,
and made me undertake this Enterprize;
for which, I humbly beg Pardon of all these
holy Votaries; and that they will receive
me a Member of their Pious Society; in
which Station, I shall offer my daily
Prayers for the Happiness and Prosperity
of this Noble Couple.

This Discovery was a Surprize greater
than the other; But there being many of
the dignified Clergy as well as Quality,
all interceded so, that, in short, the Nuns
received the Hugonot; the Couple was
married; and Things were brought to a
happy Conclusion.

The Company return’d Thanks to the
young Lady, for her diverting Story:
And by this Time, the Coach was got to
the Town, where the Company were all
to alight, except Galesia, who was to go
alone in the Coach to the End of the
Stage. It happen’d, that there was another
Stage-Coach stopp’d at the same Place,
and set out at the same Time with hers;
and whether the Bounty of the Passengers
had over-filled the Heads of the Coachmen,men, [a3]r
or what other Freak, is unknown;
but they drove the Two Coaches full Gallop,
’till they came to a Bridge, and there
one Coach jostled the other so, that that
in which was our Galesia, fell, together
with its Horses, off the Bridge into the

By good Luck, this Bridge was at the
Entry of a little Village, so that People
hastened to their Assistance; some helping
the Horses, some the Coach, and some
with Difficulty getting out Galesia; Who
however, when she was got out, found no
Hurt, only was very wet: She was much
pity’d by the good People; amongst whom
there was a poor Woman took her under
the Arm, and told her, she would conduct
her to a House, where she might be accommodated
with all Manner of Conveniencies.

All wet and dropping, she got to this
House, which was a poor Village-Alehouse;
and a poor one indeed it was;
It being Evening, the Woman of the House
was gone out a Milking, so that the good
Man could come at no Sheets, that she
might have got rid of her wet Cloaths,
by going to Bed; However, he laid on a
large Country Faggot; so she sat and smoaked
in her wet Cloaths, ’till the good Woman
came; who hasten’d and got the Bed Sheeted,
into which she gladly laid herself; [a3] but a3v
but the poorest that her Bones ever felt,
there being a few Flocks that stank; and
so thin of the same, that she felt the
Cords cut through. The Blankets were
of Thread-bare Home-spun Stuff, which
felt and smelt like a Pancake fry’d in
Grease; There were Four Curtains at
the Four Corners, from whence they could
no more stir, than Curtains in a Picture;
for there were neither Rods nor Ropes for
them to run upon; no Testern, but the
Thatch of the House; A Chair with a
Piece of a Bottom, and a brown Chamberpot,
furr’d as thick as a Crown Piece.

However, all this was a better Lodging
than the Bottom of the River; and great
and many Thanks were due to God for it.
The good Woman was kind, and brought
Galesia a good wooden Dish-full of boil’d
Milk, well crumb’d with brown Barley-
Bread; which she persuaded her to eat,
to drive out the Cold. She took Care to
get her Cloaths dry, and brought them to
her, e’er she went a Milking. And notwithstanding
all these Hardships, she got
no Cold, Cough or Lameness; but arose
well-refresh’d; took Leave of her Landlord
and departed, directing her Steps and Intentions
towards the Town were the Stage-
Coach’d Inn’d.

But it so happen’d, in this her Journey,
that she lost her Way, and got, she knew not a4r
not how, into a fine Park, amongst Trees,
Firs, Thickets, Rabbet-burrows, and such
like; nor knew she where she was, nor
which Way to go; but standing still a
little while to consider, she heard a Tomtit
sing in a Tree, as her musing Fancy
made her imagine, “Sit thee down, sit thee down, sit thee down, sit.”

At the same time looking on one Side,
she saw a handsome Seat at a very little
Distance, to which she went, and obey’d
the threefold Advice. As she sat there to
rest herself, revolving divers Thoughts, a
little Hedge-Sparrow in a Bush, sung,
“Chear-up, Chear-up;” Ah! poor Bird! said
she, thou givest me good Counsel; but that
is all thou hast to give; and bare Words
help little to a hungry Stomach, and I
know not where to fill mine, unless I
could eat Grass like the Four-footed Beasts.

As she was in these Thoughts, a Crow
sitting in a Tree, with a hoarse Voice, seem’d
to say “Good-Luck, Good-Luck!” If thou art
a true Prophet, said Galesia, the Birds of
thy Colour, shall no more be counted Birds
of Ill Omen, but the Painters shall put a
long Tail to you, and the Poets shall call
you Birds of Paradise.

As she was thus musing on the Language
of the Birds, she heard a Noise of Hunting in a4v
in the Park, Horns winding, Men hollowing,
and calling “Ringwood, Rockwood, ho!
Boman! Blossom, ho.”
She then began to reflect
how necessary this Diversion was:
Alas! said she, if it was not for this, we
might all lodge as bad as I did last Night.
We are beholden to Ringwood and Jowler,
for many a Dainty Morsel which Reynard
would deprive us of, if it were not for this
Pack of Allies, who oppose his Tyranny;
Who otherwise would not only over-run
the Woods, and Farmers Yards, ’till there
is neither Cocks nor Hens, but would also
ravage the Fens and Islands, the Habitations
of Ducks and Geese; Then long live
Ringwood, Rockwood, Boman and Jowler, by
whose Industry we eat good Bits, and lie
on good Beds.

Whilst Galesia was in these Cogitations,
the Dogs and Hunters came very near
where she was sitting; amongst whom,
was a Lady, mounted on a beautiful Steed,
who beginning to grow weary of the Chace,
order’d her Servants to stop, and help her
off her Horse, resolving to walk home over
the Park, it being a fine smooth Walk betwixt
two Rows of Lime trees, planted and
grown in exact Form, agreeable to the Eye,
pleasing to the Smell, and making a most
delightful Shade. The Lady directing her
Eyes and Steps towards this Walk, she saw
Galesia sitting in the disconsolate Posture afore- a5r
aforesaid, and being not a little surpriz’d
to see a Gentlewoman all alone in that
desolate Place, could not avoid interrogating
her thereupon.

Galesia, in few and respectful Words,
inform’d the Lady of her Disaster of being
overthrown into the River the Day before,
and her bad Lodging at Night, and her
losing her Way that Morning, all which
made her betake herself to that Seat. The
Lady most courteously and charitably took
her along with her to House, which was
a Noble Structure, situate in the midst of
that Park. Here she entertain’d her very
kindly; assuring her of all Assistance to
convey her to the Place to which she was
design’d, when she had rested and recover’d
her Fatigue. In the mean Time, she diverted
her, by shewing Galesia her Gardens,
House, and glorious Appartments, adorn’d
with rich Furniture of all Sorts; some were
the Work of hers and her Husband’s Ancestors,
who delighted to imploy poor Gentlewomen,
thereby to keep them from Distress,
and evil Company, ’till Time and
Friends could dispose Things for their better

At last, the Lady shew’d her an Appartment
embellish’d with Furniture of her own
making, which was Patch-Work, most
curiously compos’d of rich Silks, and Silver
and Gold Brocades: The whole Furniture was a5v
was compleated excepting a Screen,
which the Lady and her Maids were going
about. Her Ladyship told Galesia, She
would take it kindly if her Affairs would
permit her to stay with her some time, and
assist her in her Screen. Which Invitation
Galesia most gladly accepted, begging
the Lady to send to the next Stage of the
Coach and Carrier, for her Trunks and
Boxes, which contained her Wearing-
Cloaths. The Lady forthwith sent for the
Things, hoping that therein they might
find some Bits of one thing or other, that
might be useful to place in the Screen.
But when the Trunks and Boxes came, and
were opened, alas! they found nothing but
Pieces of Romances, Plays, Love-Letters,
and the like: At which the good Lady
smil’d, saying, She would not have her
Fancy balk’d, and therefore resolved to
have these ranged and mixed in due Order,
and thereof compose a Screen.

And thus it came to pass, that the following
Screen was compos’d.

A Patch- a6r

Patch-Work Screen
For the

Leaf I.

The Continuation of the History
of Galesia

The good Lady and Galesia
being thus sate down to their
Work, and the Trunks open’d,
the first Thing they laid their
Hands on, was a Piece of a
Farce, which the Lady would
have put by, for another Opportunity;
and desired Galesia to begin where Lucasia
and she broke off in St. Germains-Garden:
To which Galesia readily comply’d without
Hesitation. Having a6v 2

Having disingag’d my Thoughts
from Bosvil, said she, I had nothing to disturb
my Tranquility, or hinder me from
being Happy, but the Absence of my dear
Brother, who was gone a second Time beyond
Sea, to study at the University of
Leyden, that being the Third Place where
he endeavour’d to inrich his Mind; having
before gathered a Treasure of Learning
from those Two inexhaustible Fountains,
Oxford and Paris: thereby to inable him
to perform, what he shortly intended to
practise, the Cure of Human Maladies; in
which he began already to be known and

It would be too tedious to give your
Ladyship a Character of this excellent Man,
whose Learning grac’d his natural Parts,
and his vertuous Life was an Honour to his
Learning. His Philosophy and Medicinal
Science did not supplant Civility, but
cultivated and inrich’d his natural pleasant
Humour. He was in every thing a Gentleman
and a Christian, so that Envy herself
could not find a feeble Side whereon to
plant her Batteries, to attack or deface
that Esteem his Merits had rais’d in the
Hearts of all that knew him; which serv’d
to make me more sensible of his Absence.

However, I comforted my self with the
Hopes of his Return; and in the mean

time, B1r

Patch-Work Screen
For the

Leaf I.

The Continuation of the History
of Galesia.

The good Lady being extremely
pleas’d with Galesia’s
Amours, See the Amours of Bosvil and Galesia, one of Mrs. Barker’s
Novels, Printed 1719.
desir’d her thus
to proceed— Begin, says she,
where Lucasia and you broke
off in St. Germains
Garden. I shall immediately obey your
Commands, reply’d Galesia, without Hesitation
or Apology.

B Having B1v 2

Having disingag’d my Thoughts
from Bosvil, I had nothing to disturb my
Tranquility, or hinder me from being
happy, but the Absence of my dear
Brother, who was gone a second Time beyond
Sea, to study at the University of
Leyden, that being the Third Place where
he endeavour’d to inrich his Mind; having
before gathered a Treasure of Learning
from those Two inexhaustible Fountains,
Oxford and Paris: thereby to inable him
to perform, what he shortly intended to
practise, the Cure of Human Maladies; in
which he began already to be known and

It wou’d be too tedious to give your
Ladyship a Character of this excellent Man,
whose Learning grac’d his natural Parts,
and his vertuous Life was an Honour to his
Learning. His Philosophy and Medicinal
Science did not supplant Civility, but
cultivated and inrich’d his natural pleasant
Humour. He was in every thing a Gentleman
and a Christian, so that Envy herself
cou’d not find a feeble Side whereon to
plant her Batteries, to attack or deface
that Esteem his Merits had rais’d in the
Hearts of all that knew him; which serv’d
to make me more sensible of his Absence.

However, I comforted my self with the
Hopes of his Return; and in the mean time, B2r 3
time, corresponded as often as I cou’d in
Writing, passing the rest of my Time in
my shady Walks, Fields, and Rural
Affairs. The Pleasure of which was greatly
improv’d by reading Mrs. Phillips. I began
to emulate her Wit, and aspir’d to imitate
her Writings; in doing of which, I think,
I deserv’d Arachne’s Fate, or at least to be
transform’d into one of the lowest of Mack-
’s Followers: Her noble Genius
being inimitable; especially in Praise of a
Country-Life, and Contempt of human
Greatness; all which I swallow’d as
Draughts of rich Cordial, to enliven the
Understanding. Her Poetry I found so
interwoven with Vertue and Honour, that
each Line was like a Ladder to climb, not
only to Parnassus, but to Heaven: which
I (poor Puzzle as I was!) had the Boldness
to try to imitate, ’till I was dropp’d
into a Labyrinth of Poetry, which has ever
since interlac’d all the Actions of my Life.
Amongst other Fancies, I took into my
Head, to draw a Landskip in Verse, beginning
with a Grove.

B2 The B2v 4

The Grove.

Well might the Ancients deem a Grove to be

The sacred Mansion of some Deity;

Its pleasing Shades, and gloomy Terrors, move

Our Souls at once to pious Fears and Love:

Betwixt these Passions, rightly understood,

Lies the streight Road to everlasting Good.

Fear frights from Hell, and Love exalts to Heav’n;

Happy the Soul to whom these Two are giv’n!

Beside the Pleasure of the Present Time,

To walk and muse, describe its Sweets in Rhime;

Where nought but Peace and Innocence obtrude,

The worst that can be said of it, ’tis rude.

Yet Nature’s Culture is so well express’d,

That Art herself would wish to be so dress’d.

Lo! here the Sun conspires with ev’ry Tree,

To deck the Earth in Landskip-Tapistry:

Then thro’some Space his brightest Beams appear,

Erecting a bright golden Pillar there.

Here a close Canopy of Boughs is made;

There a soft grassy Cloth of State is spread;

With Gems and gayest Flow’rs imbroider’d o’er,

Fresh as those Beauties honest Swains adore.

Here Nature’s Hand, for Health and Pleasure, sets

Cephalick Cowslips, Cordial Violets.

The cooling Diuretick Woodbine grows,

Supported by th’ Scorbutick Canker-Rose.

Sple- B3r 5

Splenetick Columbines their Heads hang down,

As if displeas’d their Vertue should be known.

Pinks, Lillies, Daisies, Bettony, Eye bright,

To purge the Head, strengthen or clear the Sight.

Some mollify, some draw, some Ulcers clear,

Some purify, and some perfume the Air.

Of which some gentle Nymph the fairest takes,

And for her Coridon a Garland makes:

Whilst on her Lap the happy Youth’s Head lies,

Gazing upon the Aspects of her Eyes;

The most unerring, best Astronomy,

Whereby to calculate his Destiny.

Whilst o’er their Heads a Pair of Turtles coo,

Which with less Constancy and Passion wooe.

The Birds around, thro’ their extended Throats,

In careless Consort, chant their pleasing Notes;

Than which no sweeter Musick charms the Ear,

Except when Lovers Sighs each other hear;

Which are more soft than austral Breeses bring,

Altho’ ’tis said, they’re Harbingers o’th’ Spring.

Methinks, I pity much the busy Town,

To whom these Rural Pleasures are not known.

But more I pity those whom Fate inthralls,

Who can’t retire when Inclination calls,

By Business, Families, and Fortune ty’d;

Beset, besieg’d, attack’d on ev’ry Side,

By Friends & Foes; Wit, Beauty, Mirth & Wine,

Piques, Parties, Policies, and Flatterers join

To storm one’s Quiet, Vertue undermine.

B3 ’Tis B3v 6

’Tis hard we must, the World’s so vicious grown,

Be complaisant in Crimes, or live alone!

For those who now with Vertue are indu’d,

Do live alone, tho’ in a Multitude.

Then fly, all ye whom Fortune don’t oblige

To suffer the Distresses of a Siege;

Fly to some calm Retreat, and there retrieve

Your squander’d Time; ’Tis ne’er too late to live.

Free from all Envy, and the tiresome Noise

Of prating Fools, and Wits that ne’er were wise:

Free from Ambition, and from base Design,

Which equally our Vertue undermine,

In Plenty here, without Excess, we dine.

If we in wholsome Exercise delight,

Our Sleep becomes more sound & sweet at Night;

Or if one’s Mind to Contemplation leads,

Who has the Book of God and Nature, needs

No other Object to imploy his Thought,

Since in each Leaf such Mysteries are wrought,

That whoso studies most, shall never know

Why the strait Elm’s so tall, the Moss so low.

I farther cou’d inlarge upon this Theme,

But that I’m, unawares, come to the Stream,

Which at the Bottom of this Grove doth glide:

And now I’ll rest me by its flow’ry Side.

Thus, B4r 7

Thus, Madam, I have given you the
first Taste of my Country-Poetry, which
to your Ladyship (who is furnish’d with all
the fine Pieces that come out) must needs
be as insipid as Water-gruel to breakfast, of
those that are us’d to Chocolate and rich Jellies.

It will do very well, reply’d the Lady,
a Landskip in a Screen, is very agreeable;
therefore let me have the rest.

The next Madam (reply’d Galesia) is
the Rivulet at the Bottom of the Grove,
which I try’d to mould into Pindarick:
I suppose, out of Curiosity; for I neither
love to read nor hear that kind of Verse.
Methinks, it is to the Ear like Virginal
Jacks to the Eye; being all of irregular
Jumps, and Starts, sudden Disappointments,
and long-expected Periods, which
deprives the Mind of that Musick, wherewith
the good Sense would gratify it, if
in other Measures. But since your Ladyship
commands, be pleas’d to take it as it
is; next to Blank Verse disagreeable: (at
least, to my Ear) one sort spoils good Verse,
the other good Prose; whereas the regular
Chime of other Verse, helps to make
amends for indifferent Sense: Wherefore,
fit to be courted by me; whose Fingers
ought to have been imploy’d rather at the
Needle and the Distaff, than to the Pen
and Standish, and leave these Enterprizes B4 to B4v 8
to the Learned, who know how to compose
all Measures, thereby to please all Palates.
However, at present, I shall sacrifice this
Aversion to the Obedience due to your
Ladyship’s commands.

The Rivulet.


Ah! lovely Stream, how fitly may’st thou be,

By thy Immutability,

Thy gentle Motion and Perennity,

To us the Emblem of Eternity?

And, to us, thou dost no less

A kind of Omnipresence, too, express,

For always at the Ocean, thou

Art ever here, and at thy Fountain too;

Always thou go’st thy proper Course,

Most willingly, and yet by Force,

Each Wave forcing its precursor on;

Yet each one freely runs, with equal haste,

As if each fear’d to be the last;

With mutual Strife, void of Con-ten-ti-on,

In Troops they march, ’till thousand, thousand’s

Yet, gentle Stream, art still the same,

Always going, never gone:

Yet do’st all Constancy disclaim,

Wildly dancing to thine own murmuring tuneful

Old as Time, as Love and Beauty young.

II. But B5r 9


But chiefly thou to Unity lay’st claim,

For though in Thee

Innumerable Drops there be,

Yet still thou art but One,

Th’ Original of which, from Heav’n came;

Whose purest Transcript we

I’th’ Church may wish, but never hope to see,

Whilst each Pretender thinks himself alone

To be the True Church Militant:

Nay, well it is, if such will grant,

That there is one elsewhere Triumphant.


Ah, gentle Stream! ah, happy we!

Cou’d we but learn of thee,

As thou dost Nature, we our God obey;

Gently rolling on our Way:

And as we pass, like thee do good,

Benign to all our Neighbourhood;

To God and Man, our Love and Duty pay:

Then at our Ocean we Repose shall find,

The Ocean Grave, which swallows all Mankind!

Thus, Madam, I trifled my Time, ’till
the Return of my Brother from Leyden,
which was to me like the Return of Spring
to Northern Climes. His drooping Presence
rais’d my Spirits, and dispers’d those B5 Clouds B5v 10
Clouds of Sorrow gather’d in my Heart by
Bosvil’s Falshood. I began to delight myself
in Dressing, Visiting, and other Entertainments,
befitting a young Gentlewoman;
nevertheless, did not omit my Study, in
which my Brother continued to oblige my
Fancy, and assisted me in Anatomy and
Simpling, in which we took many a pleasing
Walk, and gather’d many Patterns
of different Plants, in order to make a large
natural Herbal. I made such Progress in
Anatomy, as to understand Harvey’s Circulation
of the Blood, and Lower’s Motion
of the Heart. By these and the like Imployments,
I began to forget and scorn
Bosvil. If I thought on him at all, it was
with Contempt; and I wonder’d how it
came to pass that I ever lov’d him, and
thought myself secure the rest of my Days
from that Weakness.

As I thus betook myself to an Amusement
different from my Sex and Years, my
other young Companions, began to look
grave upon me; or I, perhaps, look’d so
upon them. Our little Follies of telling
our Dreams; laying Things under each
other’s Heads to dream of our Amours;
counting Specks on our Nails, who should
have the most Presents from Friends or
Lovers; tying Knots in the Grass; pinning
Flowers on our Breasts, to know the Constancy
of our Pretenders; drawing Husbandsbands B6r 11
in the Ashes; St. Agnes’s Fast; and
all such childish Auguries, were now no
more any Diversion to me; so that I became
an useless Member in our Rural Assemblies.
My Time and Thoughts were
taken up in Harvey, Willis, and such-like
Authors, which my Brother help’d me to
understand and relish, which otherwise
might have seemed harsh or insipid: And
these serv’d to make me unfit Company
for every body; for the Unlearned fear’d,
and the Learned scorn’d my Conversation;
at least, I fancy’d so: A Learned Woman,
being at best but like a Forc’d-Plant, that
never has its due or proper Relish, but is
wither’d by the first Blast that Envy or
Tribulation blows over her Endeavours.
Whereas every Thing, in its proper Place
and Season, is graceful, beneficial, and
pleasant. However, my dear Brother humouring
my Fancy, I pass’d my Time in
great Satisfaction. His Company was my
Recreation, and his wise Documents my
Instruction; even his Reproofs were but as
a poignant Sauce, to render his good Morals
the more savoury, and easier digested.
Thus we walk’d and talk’d; we laugh’d
and delighted our-selves; we dress’d and
visited; we received our Friends kindly,
and by them were generously treated in
their turn: all which was to the Satisfaction
of our endearing tender Parents. But, alas! B6v 12
alas! short was the Continuance of this
Happiness; for my dear Brother died.
And now, Madam, forgive these flowing
Tears, which interrupt my Discourse.

Galesia having discharg’d a Torrent of
Tears, the usual Effect of any Discourse
for so great a Loss, she endeavoured to compose
her self, dry’d her Eyes, and return’d
to her Story.

This, Madam, was such a Grief as I had
never felt; for though I had suffer’d much
in the Transactions of Bosvil; yet those
Sorrows were allay’d, in some degree,
by the Mixture of other Passions, as Hope,
Fear, Anger, Scorn, Revenge, &c. But
this was Grief in Abstract, Sorrow in pure
Element. I griev’d without ceasing; my
Sighs alternatively blew up my Tears,
and my Tears allay’d my Sighs, ’till fresh
Reflections rais’d new Gusts of Sorrow.
My Solitude was fill’d with perpetual
Thoughts of Him; and Company was entertain’d
with nothing but Discourses of
this my irreparable Loss. My sleeping,
as well as waking Hours, were fill’d with
Ideas of him! Sometimes I dream’d I saw
his Ghost, come to visit me from the other
World; sometimes I thought I assisted him
in his Sickness; sometimes attending at
his Funeral; then awake in a Flood of
Tears; when, waking, I cou’d form no
Thought or Idea, but what Grief suggested. In B7r 13
In my Walks and Studies, it was still the
same, the Remembrance of some wise Documents,
or witty Entertainment, roused
up my Grief, by reflecting on my great
Loss. No Book or Paper cou’d I turn over,
but I found Memorandums of his Wisdom
and Learning, which served to continue
and augment my Grief; and so far transported
me sometimes, that I even wish’d
for that which is the Horror of Nature,
that I might see his Ghost. I experienced
what the Philosophers assert, “That much
reflecting on Death, is the way to make it
less terrible”
; and ’tis certain, I reflected
so much on his, that I wish’d for nothing
more; wish’d to be with him; wish’d to
be in that happy State, in which I assur’d
my self his Vertues had plac’d him. But
in vain I wish’d for Death; I was ordain’d
to struggle with the Difficulties of Life;
which were to be many, as I have since
experienced; Heaven having taken away
from me, Him, who seem’d by Nature ordain’d
to conduct me through the Labyrinth
of this World, when the Course of Nature
should take my dear indulgent Parents
from me, to their Repose in Elysium. And
now, instead of being a Comfort to them
in this their great Affliction, my Griefs
added Weight to theirs, such as they could
hardly sustain.

I B7v 14

I read those Books he had most studied,
where I often found his Hand-writing, by
way of Remarks, which always caus’d a
new Flux of Tears. I often call’d upon
Death; but Death was deaf, or his Malice
otherwise imploy’d on more worthy Prey;
leaving me a useless Wretch; useless to the
World; useless to my Friends, and a
Burden to myself: Whilst he that was necessary
to his Friends, an Honour to his
Profession, and beneficial to Mankind, (but
chiefly to me) the Tyrant Death had seiz’d
and convey’d away for ever!— O that
Word Ever! that Thought Ever! The Reflection
of Ever and Never, devour’d all
that cou’d be agreeable or pleasing to me:
Ever to want his wise Instructions! Never
to injoy his flowing Wit! Ever to regret
this my irreparable Loss! Never to have
his dear Company in my shady Walks!
This Ever and Never, star’d in my
Thoughts like Things with Saucer-Eyes in
the Dark, serving to fright me from all
Hopes of Happiness in this World.

In these and the like anxious and melancholy
Amusements, I pass’d my woeful Days,
’till Length of Time, which changes and
devours all Things, began a little to abate
my Grief, and the Muses began to steal
again into my Breast; and having, as I
said before, affected to study those Books,
on which I had seen my Brother most intent,tent, B8r 15
I at last resolv’d to begin with a
Body of Anatomy, and between whiles, to
reduce it into Verse: Perhaps, reflecting
on what is said of Ovid, that he writ Law
in Verse: And Physick being as little reducible
to that Softness as Law, I know
not what Emulation or Fancy excited me;
but thus I began:

An Invocation of her Muse.

Come, gentle Muse! assistme now,

A double Wreath plait for my Brow,

Of Poetry and Physick too.

Teach me in Numbers to rehearse

Hard Terms of Art, in smooth, soft Verse,

And how we grow, and how decrease.

Teach me to sing Apollo’s Sons,

The Ancient and the Modern-ones,

And sing their Praise in gentle Tones.

But chiefly sing those Sons of Art,

Which teach the Motion of the Heart,

Nerves, Spirits, Brains, and every Part.

Ana- B8v 16


Now Bartholine, the first of all this Row,

Does to me Nature’s Architecture show;

How the Foundation, first, of Earth is laid;

Then, how the Pillars of Strong-Bones are made.

The Walls consist of Carneous-Parts within,

The Out-side pinguid, overlay’d with Skin;

The Fret-work, Muscles, Arteries and Veins,

With their Implexures; and how from the Brains

The Nerves descend; and how ’tis they dispense

To every Member Motive-Power, and Sense.

He shews the Windows in this Structure fix’d,

How trebly glaz’d, The Three Humours of the Eye, with the Tunicle. and Curtains drawn betwixt

Them & Earth’s Objects: All which prove in vain

To keep out Lust, or Innocence retain.

For ’twas the Eye, that first discern’d the Food ,

As pleasing to itself, for eating good,

Then was persuaded, that it wou’d refine

The half-wise Soul, and make it all Divine.

But O how dearly Wisdom’s bought with Sin,

Which shuts out Grace; lets Death & Darkness in.

And ’cause our Sex precipitated first,

To Pains, and Ignorance we since are curs’d.

Desire of Knowledge, cost us very dear;

For Ignorance, e’er since, became our Share.

But B9r 17

But as I was inlarging on this Theme,

Willis and Harvey bid me follow them.

They brought me to the Ad infimum ventrem. first & largest Court

Of all this Building, where, as to a Port,

All Necessaries are brought from afar,

For Susentation, both in Peace and War.

For War Morbi infimo ventri Diarrhœa, &c. this Common-wealth, doth oft infest,

Which pillages one Part, and storms the rest.

We view’d the Kitchen call’d Ventriculus;

Then pass’d we through the Space call’d Pylorus;

And to the Dining-Room we came at last,

Where the Lacteals take their sweet Repast.

From thence we thro’ a Drawing-room did pass,

And came where Jecur very busie was:

Secundum Opinionem Galen. contra Recep. commun. Sanguificating the whole Mass of Chyle,

And severing the Crural Parts from Bile:

And when she’s made it tolerably good,

She pours it forth to mix with other Blood.

This & much more we saw; from thence we went

Into the next Court Per Diaphragmata. by a small Ascent.

Bless me! said I; what Rarities are here!

A Fountain The Heart. like a Furnace did appear,

Still boiling o’er, and running out so fast,

That one wou’d think its Eflux, cou’d not last:

Yet B9v 18

Yet it sustain’d no Loss, as I cou’d see,

Which made me think it a strange Prodigy.

Come on, says Harvey, don’t stand gazing here;

But follow me, and I thy Doubts will clear.

Then we began our Journey with the Blood,

Trac’d the Meanders of its Purple Flood.

Thus we thro’ many Labyrinths did pass,

In such, I am sure, old Dædalus ne’er was.

Sometimes ith’ Out works, sometimes the First-

Sometimes i’th’ Third these winding Streams
would sport.

Such Rarities we found in this Third Place,

As put ev’n Comprehension to disgrace.

Here’s Cavities, said one; And here, says He,

Is th’ Seat of Fancy, Judgment, Memory.

Here, says another, is the fertile Womb,

From whence the Spirits-Animal do come:

Which are mysteriously ingender’d here,

Of Spirits, from arterial Blood and Air.

Here, says a third, Life made her first approach,

Moving the Wheels of her triumphant Coach.

But Harvey that Hypothesis deny’d,

Say’ng ’twas the Deaf-Ear on the Dexter-side.

Then there arose a trivial small Dispute,

Which he by Fact and Reason did confute.

This being ended, we began again

Our former Progress, and forsook the Brain;

And after some small Traverses about,

Came to the Place where we before set out:

Then B10r 19

Then I perceiv’d, how Harvey all made good,

By th’ Circles of the Circulating Blood,

As Fountains have their Water from the Sea,

To which again they do themselves convey.

And here we found great Lower, with much Art,

Surveying the whole Structure of the Heart.

Welcome said he, dear Cousin! Are you here?

Sister to Him, whose Worth we all revere:

But ah, alas! So short was his Life’s Date,

As makes us since, almost, our Practice hate;

Since we cou’d find out nought in all our Art,

That cou’d prolong the Motion of his Heart.

This latter Line, Madam, was, and is,
and ever will be, my great Affliction. So
dear a Friend, shining with such Brightness
of Parts, cut off in his Bloom! Ah Me! I
cannot think or speak of him without weeping;
which if I did not in abundance, I shou’d
not be just to his Memory; I shou’d be unworthy
of that Fraternal Love he express’d
to me on all Occasions; so that it is fit I
should weep on all Occasions; especially when
I reflect how much I want him in every Circumstance
of Life. The only Comfort I
have, is, when I think on the Happiness he
enjoys by Divine Vision; All Learning and
Science, All Arts, and Depths of Philosophy,
without Search or Study; whilst we in
this World, with much Labour, are gropeing,
as it were, in the Dark, and make Discoveriescoveries B10v 20
of our own Ignorance. Which
Thoughts wou’d sometimes fold themselves
in these or the like Words.


Thou know’st, my Dear, now, more than Art

Thou know’st the Essence of the Soul of Man!

And of its Maker too, whose powerful Breath

Gave Immortality to sordid Earth!

What Joys, my Dear, do Thee surround,

As no where else are to be found?

Love, Musick, Physick, Poetry,

Mechanicks, grave Philosophy;

And in each Art, each Artist does abound;

Whilst All’s converted to Divinity.

No drooping Autumn there,

Nor chilling Winter, does appear;

Nor scorching Heat, nor budding Spring,

Nor Sun does Seasons there divide;

Yet all Things do transcend their native Pride;

Which fills, but does not nauseate;

No Change nor Want of any Thing,

Which Time to Periods, or Perfections, bring.

But yet Diversity of State,

And Soul’s Felicity There has no Date.


Shoul’dst Thou, my Dear, look down on us below,

To see how busie we

Are in Anatomy,

Thou B11r 21

Thou woud’st despise our Ignorance,

Who most Things miss, and others hit by chance,

For we, at best, do but in Twilight go:

Whilst Thou see’st all by most transcendant Light;

Compar’d to which, the Sun’s bright Rays are

Yet so Celestial are thine Eyes,

That Light can neither dazle nor surprize;

For all Things There

Most perfect are,

And freely their bless’d Quality dispense,

Without the Mixture of Terrestrial Dross,

Or without Hazard, Harm or Loss.

O Joys eternal, satiating Sense!

And yet the Sense, the smallest Part ingross!

Thus, Madam, my worthless Muse help’d
me to discharge my Griefs. The writing them
in this my lonely State, was like discoursing,
or disburthening one’s Heart to a Friend.
Whether your Ladyship will like to have
them plac’d in your Screen, you yourself
must determine.

By all means, reply’d the Lady, these
melancholy dark Patches, set off the light
Colours; making the Mixture the more
agreeable. I like them all so well, I will
not have One lay’d aside. Therefore, pray,
go on with your Story.

Madam, B11v 22

Madam, said Galesia, It was at this
Time, that I had a Kinsman a Student at
the University; who at certain Times, frequented
our House; and now and then
brought some of his young Companions
with him; whose youthful and witty Conversation,
greatly help’d to divert my
Chagrin. Amongst these vertuous young
Gentlemen, there was one, whose Merit
ingaged my particular Esteem, and the
Compassion he had for my Griefs, planted
a Friendship, which I have ever since cultivated
with my best Endeavours. When
he was thus become my Friend, I unbosom’d
my self to him, acquainted him with
the Story of Bosvil, not concealing the least
Weakness in all that Transaction, which
was an Indiscretion I can hardly forgive
my self; and I doubt not, but I shall
stand condemn’d in your Ladyship’s Judgment:
For a young Gentleman is certainly
a very unfit Confidant of a young Gentlewoman’s
Amours: The best she can expect
from such a Discovery, is his Pity, which
is one Step towards Contempt; and that
is but a poor sort of Consolation, or Return
of that Confidence she reposes. However,
his generous Soul, gave it another Turn;
and instead of despising my Foible, valued
my Frankness, and abhorr’d Bosvil’s Unworthiness,
continuing to divert me with
his Wit, whist my Kinsman and he joyn’d to B12r 23
to consolate me with repeated Proofs of
their Friendship; all which my dear Parents
approv’d; and promoted their Visits
to our House by a generous and kind Reception
at our Country Retreat; where they
came now and then, a little to relax their
College Discipline, and unbend the Streightness
of their Study; bringing with them
little Books, new Pamphlets, and Songs;
and in their Absence, convers’d with me
by Writing; sometimes Verse, sometimes
Prose, which ingaged my Replies in the
same manner. And here, amongst these
Papers, appear several of them; out of which,
perhaps, your Ladyship may chuse some
Patches for your Screen.

An Invitation to my Learned Friends at

If, Friends, you wou’d but now this Place accost,

E’er the Young Spring that Epithet has lost,

And of my Rural Joys participate,

You’d change your learn’d Harangues for Country

And thus with me salute this lonely State:

Hail Solitude! where Peace and Vertue shroud

Their unvail’d Beauties, from the censuring Croud;

Let us but have their Company, and we

Shall never envy this World’s Gallantry.

Tho’ to few Objects here we are confin’d,

Yet we have full Inlargement of the Mind.

From B12v 24

From varying Modes, which oft our Minds inslave,

Lo! here, a full Immunity we have:

For here’s no Pride, but in the Sun’s bright Beams,

Nor murmuring, but in the Crystal-Streams.

No Avarice, but in the hoarding Bees,

Nor is Ambition found, but in the Trees.

No Emulations ever interpose,

Except betwixt the Tulip and the Rose.

No Wantonness, but in the frisking Lambs;

Nor Luxury, but when they suck their Dams.

No politick Contrivances of State,

Only each Bird contrives to please its Mate.

No Shepherd here of scornful Nymph complains,

Nor are the Nymphs undone by faithless Swains.

Narcissus only, is that sullen He,

That can despise his amorous, talking She.

But all Things here, conspire to make us bless’d;

Whilst true Content is Musick to the Feast.

Then hail sweet Solitude! all hail again,

All hail to every Field, and Wood, and Plain;

To every beauteous Nymph, and faithful Swain.

Then join with me; come, join with me, and give

This Salutation; or at least believe,

’Tis such a kind of Solitude as yet

Romance ne’er found where happy Lovers met.

Yea, such a kind of solitude it is,

Not much unlike to that of Paradise;

Where Nature does her choicest Goods dispense,

And I, too, here, am plac’d in Innocence.

I shou’d C1r 25

I should conclude that such it really were,

But that the Tree of Knowledge won’t grow here.

Though in its Culture I have spent some Time,

Yet it disdains to grow in our A Female Capacity. cold Clime,

Where it can neither Fruit nor Leaves produce,

Good for its Owner, or the publick Use.

Whilst God and Nature for You The Men. constitute,

Luxurious Banquets of this dainty Fruit.

Whose Tree most fresh and flourishing is found,

E’er since ’twas planted in your fertile Ground.

Whilst you in Wit, grow, as its Branches,high,

Deep as its Root, too, in Philosophy.

Large as its spreading Arms, your Reasons show;

Close as its Shade, your well-knit Judgments grow;

Fresh as its Leaves, your sprouting Fancies are;

Your Vertues like its Fruit, are bright and fair.

This my Invitation they all accepted,
plain and innocent as it was, like those
Cates, wherewith they were treated; for
we search’d not Air, Earth, and Water to
gratify our Palates with Dainties, nor ravag’d
Spain, France, and the Indies, for
Diversity of Liquors: Our own Product,
in a cleanly wholsome manner, contented
our Appetites; such as serv’d the Conveniency
of Life, not superfluous Luxury.
Our Correspondence was of the same Piece, C ver- C1v 26
vertuous and innocent: No Flear or Grimace
tending to Lewdness, or cunning Artifice,
out of the Way of Rural Simplicity:
But pure and candid, such as might be
amongst the Celestial Inhabitants. In this
manner it was, that these vertuous Youths
relieved my Solitude, and, in some Degree,
dissipated that Melancholy wherewith I was
oppress’d: And in their Absence (as I said
before) visited me with Letters, and little
Presents of the newest Pieces of Diversion
that came to their Hands. And some of
them having complimented me with an
Epistle, I wrote the following Answer.

To my Young Lover.

Incautious Youth! why dost thou so misplace

Thy fine Encomiums, on an o’er-blown Face?

Which after all the Varnish of thy Quill,

Defects and Wrinkles shew conspicuous still;

Nor is it in the Power of Youth, to move

An age-chill’d Heart, to any Strokes of Love.

Then chuse some budding Beauty, which in Time,

May crown thy Wishes, in thy blooming Prime.

For nought can make a more prepost’rous Show,

Than April Flow’rs, stuck on St. Michael’s Bough.

To consecrate thy first-born Sighs to me,

A super-annuated Deity,

Makes C2r 27

Makes that Idolatry and deadly Sin,

Which otherwise had only venial been.

This, and some other such, obtain’d of
them a friendly Rebuke, for making my
self Old, when I was but little more than
Twenty. The Truth is, I believe Grief
made me think the Time tedious, every
Day of Sorrow seeming a Year; insomuch
that, according to that Account, I was as
old as the Patriarchs before the Flood. I
believe it is in this as in other things; we
judge according to our Passions, and imagine
others should do the same. The fearful
thinks he sees Spirits, Thieves,
and Murderers: The angry Man, if he sees
a Straw lie in his Way, believes his Enemy
laid it to affront him: The jealous Man
mistrusts, and misconstrues even his Wife’s
Kindness and Caresses: And so it is on all
Occasions of Passion and Fancy. So that
when I was out of my Teens, I thought all
the Days of Youth were past, and those
that could write Twenty, ought to lay all
Things youthful and gay aside. But it
seems these my young Friends were not of
the same Sentiment; but treated me in
their eloquent Letters and poetical Epistles,
like a very young and beautiful Lady,
equal in Years to themselves. Which
caus’d me to make this following Reply to
one of their Epistles.

C2 To C2v 28

To praise, sweet Youth, do thou forbear,

Where there is no Desert;

For, alas! Encomiums here,

Are Jewels thrown i’th’ Dirt.

For I no more deserve Applause,

Now Youth and Beauty’s fled,

Than does a Tulip or a Rose,

When its fair Leaves are shed.

Howe’er, I wish thy Praises may,

Like Prayers to Heaven borne,

When holy Souls, for Sinners pray,

Upon Thy-self return.

These, Madam, were the little Adventures
of my Country Life; not fit Entertainments
for your Ladyship, but that your
Commands stamp the Character, and
make current the meanest Metal, and render
that acceptable, which otherwise would
hardly be excusable. The Compassion your
Ladyship seem’d to have for my Griefs,
encourag’d me to let you know by what
Steps I climbed out of the deepest Gulph of
Sorrow; and how this my mournful Tragedy
was chang’d into a kind of innocent
; as appears by the Ballad I sent
to these my young Friends to Sturbridge-

A Bal- C3r 29

A Ballad.
By Way ofDialoguebetween Two

First Boy.

I Wonder what Alexis ails,

To sigh and talk of Darts;

Of Charms which o’er his Soul prevails,

Of Flames and bleeding Hearts.

I saw him Yesterday alone,

Walk crossing of his Arms;

And Cuckow-like, was in a Tone,

Ah, Celia! ah, thy Charms!

Second Boy.

Why, sure thou’rt not so ignorant,

As thou wou’d’st seem to be:

Alas! the Cause of his Complaint,

Is all our Destiny.

’Tis mighty Love’s all pow’rful Bow,

Which has Alexis hit;

A powerful Shaft will hit us too,

E’er we’re aware of it.

C3 First C3v 30

First Boy.

Why, Love!— Alas! I little thought

There had been such a Thing;

But that for Rhime it had been brought,

When Shepherds us’d to sing.

And, sure, whate’er they talk of Love,

’Tis but Conceit at most;

As Fear i’th’ Dark our Fancies move

To think we see a Ghost.

Second Boy.

I know not; but the other Day,

A wanton Girl there were,

Which took my Stock-Dove’s Eggs away,

And Black-bird’s Nest did tear.

Had it been Thee, my dearest Boy,

Revenge I should have took;

But She my Anger did destroy,

By the Sweetness of her Look.

First Boy.

So t’other Day, a wanton Slut,

As I slept on the Ground,

A Frog into my Bosom put,

My Hands and Feet she bound:

She hung my Hook upon a Tree;

Then, laughing bid me wake;

And C4r 31

And though she thus abused me,

Revenge I cannot take.


Let’s wish these Overtures of Fate,

Don’t luckless Omens prove;

For those who lose the Power to Hate,

Are soon made Slaves to Love.

The young Gentlemen receiv’d it kindly,
and return’d me Thanks in these Words.

“Dear Galesia, We all return you Thanks for your Ballad;
to which our Friend Sam. Setwell,
put a Tune, and we sung it in a Booth merrily,
’till the Proctor had like to have spoil’d the
Harmony. But he finding no Female amongst
us, drank the innocent Author’s Health,
and departed. The whole Chorus salute
you, with the Assurance of being
Your Humble Servants.”

This Conversation, and Correspondence,
Madam, infused into me some Thoughts,
befitting my Sex and Years, rendering me
fit for Company, and to live like the
rest of my Fellow-Creatures; so that
being one Day where there was a young C4 Gentle- C4v 32
Gentleman, who did not think me so much
a Stoick as I thought myself, he so far
lik’d my Person and Humour, that altho’
he had been a very loose Liver, he began to
think he could endure to put on Shackles,
and be confin’d to one: But being perfectly
a Stranger, and knowing not well
how to introduce himself into my farther
Acquaintance, he took this odd Method.

There was a certain Gossip in those
Parts, that used to go between the Ladies
and Gentlewomen, with Services, and
How-d’ye’s; always carrying with her
the little prattling News of Transactions
where she frequented. This Woman coming
to our House, was receiv’d with a good
Mien, and the best Chear our Larder
would afford, which was my Office to perform.
She took the Opportunity to tell
me, that her coming at the Time was
particularly to Me, from Mr. Bellair, who
had seen me the other Day at such a Place,
since which time he had had no Repose, nor
none could have, ’till I gave him Leave to
make me a Visit, which he begg’d most
earnestly. To which I reply’d, That
though Mr. Bellair had seen me, he was
perfectly a Stranger to me, otherwise he
had not sent such a Message; he knowing
that I lived in my Father’s House, not in
my own; therefore had no right to invite
or receive any-body unknown to my Parents,rents, C5r 33
much less young Gentlemen; that
being an Irregularity misbecoming my Sex
and Station, and the Character of a dutiful
Daughter: This I desir’d her to tell him,
with my Service; which Answer I utter’d
with a little Sharpness, that the Woman
could not but see her Errand was disobliging,
as it was, and ought to be; such a
Message looking more like a dishonourable
Intrigue, than an Address to a vertuous
Maiden-Gentlewoman. The Truth is, I
always had an Aversion to those secret
Addresses, as all vertuous Maids ought,
and was resolved as carefully to avoid them
as Mariners do Rocks; for ’tis certain, that
Parents are naturally willing to promote
their Childrens Happiness; and therefore,
that Lover who desires to keep
the Parents in the Dark, is conscious
to himself of something that has need
to shun the Light; for his Concealing
his Pretensions from the Mother, looks
as if he meant an unworthy Conquest on
the Daughter; and especially those of Mr.
Bellair’s Character.

However, I mistook my young Gentleman,
his Intentions being more sincere than
I expected: For upon that Answer to my
Gossip, he took the first Occasion to discover
his Sentiments to his Father; who
did not only approve, but rejoyced thereat,
hoping that he was in a Disposition to reclaimC5 claim C5v 34
himself from his loose Way of Living;
and that the Company of a Wife, and
Care of a Family, wou’d totally wean him
from those wild Companions, in whom he
too much delighted: Not but that his
Father had divers times offered, and earnestly
persuaded him, to dispose himself
for a Married Life, having no Son but him,
to inherit his Riches, and continue his
Family. To which the young Man was
ever averse; counting Marriage as Fetters
and Shackles, a Confinement not to be
borne by the Young and the Witty; a
Wife being suppos’d to be the Destruction
of all Pleasure and good Humour, and a
Death to all the Felicities of Life; only
good in the Declension of Years, when
Coughs and Aches oblige a Man to his own
Fire-side: then a Nurse is a most necessary
Utensil in a House. These and the like,
us’d to be the wild Notions, wherewith he
oppos’d his Father’s indulgent Care, whenever
he went about to provide for his happy
Establishment: So the good old Gentleman
was overjoy’d at his Son’s own Proposal,
and took the first Opportunity with
my Father, over a Bottle, to deliver his
Son’s Errand. To which my Father answer’d,
like a plain Country Gentleman, as
he was (who never gilded his Actions with
fraudulent Words, nor painted his Words
with deceitful or double Meanings;) and told C6r 35
told him, “That he was very sensible of
the Honour he did him in this Proposal;
but that he cou’d not make his Daughter
a Fortune suitable to his Estate: For,
continued he, that becoming Way in
which we live, is more the Effect of prudent
Management, than any real Existence
of Riches.”
To which the old
Gentleman reply’d, “That Riches were
not what he sought in a Wife for his
Son; Fortune having been so propitious
to him, that he needed not to make that
his greatest Care: A prudent, vertuous
Woman, was what he most aim’d at, in
his Son’s Espousals, hoping that such an
one, would reclaim and wean him from
all those wild Excursions to which Youth
and Ill-Company had drawn him, to his
great Affliction. But, methinks, continu’d
he, I spy a Dawn of Reformation
in the Choice he has made of your
Daughter; who, amongst all the young
Gentlewomen of these Parts, I value,
she having a distinguishing Character
for Prudence and Vertue, capable to
command Respect and Esteem from all
the World; as well as does her amiable
Person ingage my Son’s Affections.
Wherefore, said he, I hope you will not
refuse your Concurrence, thereby to
make my Son happy.”
My Father
making him a grateful Acknowledgment, told C6v 36
told him, “He wou’d propose it to my
Mother and me; and added, That his
Daughter having been always dutiful
and tenderly observant, he resolv’d to be
indulgent, and impose nothing contrary
to her Inclinations. Her Mother also,
continu’d he, has been a Person of
that Prudence and Vertue, that I should
not render the Justice due to her Merit, if
I did any thing of this kind, without her

This my Father related to me, with an
Air full of Kindness, telling me, That he
wou’d leave the Affair wholly to my Determination;
adding, That there was an
Estate, full Coffers, and a brisk young
Gentleman; So that I think (said he) I need
say no more to a Person of common Sense,
to comply with what is so advantageous.

To which I reply’d, “That these or
any of these, were above my Desert;
and your Recommendations, Sir, redouble
the Value; upon whose Wisdom
and paternal Care I ought wholly to
depend: But his particular loose Way
of Living, I hope will justify me, when
I lay that before you, as a Cause of Hesitation.”
To which my Mother reply’d,
“That it must be my Part, with Mildness
and Sweetness, to reclaim him: That he
having now sow’d his wild Oats’, (according
to the Proverb) wou’d see his Folly; ’“and’ C7r 37
and finding there is nothing to be reap’d
but Noise, Vanity, and Disgrace, in all
Probability, wou’d apply himself to another
Way of Living; especially having
made the Proposal to his Father of settling
with a Person of his own choosing,
where no Interest nor Family-Necessity
had any Hand in the Election.”

These and the like Discourses and Considerations,
pass’d among us; we having
his Father’s serious Proposal for our Foundation;
which, join’d with the Message he
himself had sent me by the Gossip, we had
Reason to believe the Superstructure would
not be defective.

Nevertheless, though I was but an innocent
Country Girl, yet I was not so ignorant
of the World, but to know or believe,
that often those Beau-Rakes, have
the Cunning and Assurance to make Parents
on both sides, Steps to their Childrens Disgrace,
if not Ruin: For very often, good
Country Ladies, who reflect not on the
Vileness of the World, permit their Daughters
to give private Audiences, to their
Lovers, in some obscure Arbour or distant
Drawing room; where the Spark has Opportunity
to misbehave himself to the
Lady; which, if she resent, there is a ready
Conveniency for him to bespatter her with
Scandal. And I did not know but Bellair
might have some such thing in his Thoughts, out C7v 38
out of Malice for my having rejected his
Intrigue by the Gossip. For I could not
fancy my-self endow’d with Charms sufficient
to hold fast such a Volage; however,
I knew my self safe under my Mother’s
Prudence, and my own Resolution.

And thus I expected my pretended Lover
some Days; But instead of his personal Appearance,
News came, That he was taken
in a Robbery on the High-way, and committed
to the County-Gaol: And all this
out of a Frolick; for tho’ he had all Things
necessary, both for Conveniency and Diversion,
nevertheless, this detestable Frolick
must needs be put in Practice, with some
of his lewd Companions; for which at the
next Assizes, he receiv’d the Reward of his
Crimes at the Place of publick Execution.

I have told you this Transaction, that
your Ladyship may not be ignorant of any
thing that appertains to me, though this
was an Affair utterly unknown to all the
World; I mean his Proposal of Marriage;
nor does any of my Poems take the least
Notice, or give any Hint of it; for there
was no Progress made by any personal
Correspondence, nor can I persuade my-self
he meant any thing but Mischief.

I cou’d recount to your Ladyship another
Story or two of odd Disappointments; but,
they will take up too great a Place in your
Screen, and render the View disagreeable.

A C8r [39]

Patch-Work Screen
For the

Leaf II.

It was not long after these
Turns of Fortune, that I had
the real Affliction of losing my
dear and indulgent Father;
and so was left the only Consolation
of my widow’d Mother.
I shall not mention the Grief, Care,
and Trouble which attended this great
Change; these Things being natural and
known to every-body: Therefore, I shall
pass them over in Silence, as I was forced
to undergo it with Submission.

When C8v 40

When our Griefs were a little compos’d,
and our Affairs adjusted, so that the World
knew what Fortune I had to depend upon,
and that in my own Power, there wanted not
Pretenders to my Person; so that now was
the Time to act the Coquet, if I had lik’d
the Scene; but that never was my Inclination;
for as I never affected the formal
Prude, so I ever scorn’d the impertinent Coquet.
Amongst this Train of Pretenders,
(some of which address’d to my Mother, and
some privately to me) I think there is
nothing worth Remark, but what your
Ladyship may guess, by a Copy or two of
Verses writ on these Occasions.

To my Indifferent Lover, who complain’d
of my Indifferency.

You’d little Reason to complain of me,

Or my Unkindness, or Indifferency,

Since I, by many a Circumstance, can prove,

That Int’rest was the Motive of your Love.

But Heav’n it-self despises that Request,

Whose sordid Motive’s only Interest.

No more can honest Maids endure to be

The Objects of your wise Indifferency.

Such wary Courtship only shou’d be shown

To cunning, jilting Baggages o’th’ Town.

’Tis C9r 41

’Tis faithful Love’s the Rhetorick that persuades,

And charms the Hearts of silly Country Maids.

But when we find, your Courtship’s but Pretence,

Love were not Love in us, but Impudence.

At best, I’m sure, to us it needs must prove,

What e’er you think on’t, most injurious Love.

For had I of that gentle Nature been,

As to have lov’d your Person, Wit, or Mien,

How many Sighs & Tears it wou’d have cost,

And fruitless Expectations by the Post?

Saying, “He is unkind.— O no! his Letter’s lost”;

Hoping him sick, or lame, or gone to Sea;

Hop’d any thing but his Inconstancy.

Thus, what in other Friends, cause greatest Fear,

To desperate Maids, their only Comforts are.

This I through all your Blandishments did see,

Thanks to Ill-Nature, that instructed me.

Thoughts of your Sighs, sometimes wou’d plead
for you;

But Second Thoughts again wou’d let me know,

In gayest Serpents strongest Poysons are,

As sweetest Rose-trees, sharpest Prickles bear.

And so it proves, since now it does appear,

That all your Flames and Sighs only for Money

As Beggars for their Gain, turn blind and lame,

On the same score, a Lover you became.

Yet there’s a Kindness in this feign’d Amour,

It teaches me, ne’er to believe Man more:

Thus C9v 42

Thus blazing Comets are of good Portent,

When they excite the People to repent.

These Amours affected me but little, or
rather not at all; For the Troubles of the
World lighting upon me, a thousand Disappointments
attended me, when deprived
of my Father. Alas! we know not the
real Worth of indulgent, tender Parents,
’till the Want of them teach us by a sad
Experience: And none experienc’d this
more than myself: deceitful Debtors, impatient
Creditors, distress’d Friends, peevish
Enemies, Law-suits, rotten Houses,
Eye-servants, spightful Neighbours, impertinent
and interested Lovers, with a
thousand such Things to terrify and vex
me, nothing to consolate or assist me, but
Patience and God’s Providence.

When my Mother and I had accommodated
our Affairs, we endeavour’d to
make ourselves easy, by putting off our
Country Incumbrance, and so went to live
at London.

Here I was, as if I was born again:
This was a new Life to me, and very
little fitted the Shape of my Rural Fancy;
for I was wholly form’d to the Country
in Mind and Manners; as unfit for the
Town, as a Tarpaulin for a States-man;
the Town to me was a Wilderness, where,
methought, I lost my self and my Time; and C10r 43
and what the World there calls Diversion,
to me was Confusion. The Park, Plays,
and Operas, were to me but as so much
Time thrown away. I was a Stranger to
every-body, and their Way of Living;
and, I believe, my stiff Air and awkard
Mien, made every-body wish to remain a
Stranger to me. The Assemblèes, Ombre,
and Basset-Tables, were all Greek to me;
and I believe my Country Dialect, to
them, was as unintelligible; so that we
were neither serviceable nor pleasant to
each other. Perhaps some or other of the
Company, either out of Malice to expose
me, or Complaisance to entertain me in
my own Way, would enter into the Praise
of a Country Life, and its plentiful Way
of Living, amongst our Corn, Dairies,
and Poultry, ’till by Degrees, these bright
Angels would make the Ass open its Mouth,
and upon their Demand, tell how many
Pounds of Butter a good Cow would make
in a Week; or how many Bushels of Wheat
a good Acre of Land would produce;
Things quite out of their Sphere or Element:
And amongst the rest, the Decay of
the Wooll-Trade is not to be omitted; and,
like a true Country Block-head, grumble
against the Parliament, for taking no better
Care of the Country-Trade, by prohibiting
Cane-Chairs and Wainscot; by which
means, the Turkey-work, Tapistry, and Kidder- C10v 44
Kidderminster Trades were quite lost; and
in them the great Manufacture of the Nation;
and not only so, but perpetual
Fires intail’d on the City of London. Thus
I, one of the free-born People of England,
thought I had full Privilege to rail at my
Betters. Sometimes, and in some Places,
perhaps, Part of the Company, who knew
a little of my Bookish Inclinations, would
endeavour to relieve that Silence which
the Ignorance of the Town laid upon me;
and enter into a Discourse of Receipts,
Books, and Reading. One ask’d me, If I
lik’d Mrs. Phillips, or Mrs. Behn best? To
whom I reply’d, with a blunt Indignation,
That “they ought not to be nam’d together:”
And so, in an unthinking, unmannerly
Way, reproach’d the Lady that endeavour’d
to divert and entertain me; she
having that Moment been pleased to couple
them. By this Blunder, Madam, said Galesia,
you see how far one is short, in Conversation
acquired only by Reading; for
the many Plays and pretty Books I had
read, stood me in little stead at that Time,
to my great Confusion; for though Reading
inriches the Mind, yet it is Conversation
that inables us to use and apply those
Riches or Notions gracefully.

At the Toilet, I was as ignorant a Spectator
as a Lady is an Auditor at an Act-
in the University, which is always in C11r 45
in Latin; for I was not capable to distinguish
which Dress became which Face;
or whether the Italian, Spanish, or Portugal
Red, best suited such or such Features; nor
had I a Catalogue of the Personal or Moral
Defects of such or such Ladies, or Knowledge
of their Gallantries, whereby to make
my Court to the Present, at the Cost of the
Absent; and so to go the World round,
’till I got thereby the Reputation of ingaging
and agreeable Company. However, it
was not often that the whole Mystery of
the Toilet, was reveal’d to my Country
Capacity; but now and then some Aunt,
or Governess, would call me to a Dish of
Chocolate, or so; whilst the Lady and her
officious Madamoiselle, were putting on
those secret Imbellishments which illustrated
her Beauties in the Eyes of most of the
fine-bred Beholders. But some petulant,
antiquated Tempers, despised such Ornaments,
as not having been used in good
Queen Bess’s Days; nor yet in the
more Modern Court of Oliver Cromwel.
As to myself, I was like a Wild Ass in a
Forest, and liv’d alone in the midst of
this great Multitude, even the great and
populous City of London.

When Duty and good Days call’d me
to Church, I thought I might find there
some Compeeresses, or Persons of my own
Stamp, and amongst the Congregation behavehave C11v 46
my self like others of my Sex and
Years; But, alas! there were Locks and
Keys, Affronts from Pew-keepers, crowding
and pushing by the Mob, and the
gathering Congregation gazing upon me as
a Monster; at least I fancied so. When
patient waiting, and Pocket opening to the
Pewkeeper, had got me a Place, I thought
to exercise the Duty that call’d me thither:
But, alas! the Curtesies, the Whispers, the
Grimaces, the Pocket Glasses, Ogling,
Sighing, Flearing, Glancing, with a long
&c. so discompos’d my Thoughts, that I
found I was as unfit for those Assemblies, as
those others before nam’d, where a verbal
Conversation provided against those mute
Entertainments; which my Clownish Breeding
made me think great Indecencies in
that Sacred Place; where nothing ought to
be thought on, much less acted, but what
tended to Devotion, and God’s Glory; so
that I was here likewise alone in the midst
of a great Congregation. Thus you see,
Madam, how an Education, purely Country,
renders one unfit to live in the great
World, amongst People of refin’d and nice
Breeding; and though I had bestow’d Time
and Pains in Book-Acquests, a little more
than usual; yet is was but lost Labour to
say the best of it: However, I did not repent;
for though it had suppress’d and
taken Place of that nice Conversation belonginglonging C12r 47
to the Ladies, yet it furnish’d me
with Notions above the Trifles of my Sex,
wherewith to entertain my self in Solitude;
and likewise, when Age and Infirmities
confin’d my dear Mother within-doors, and
very much to her Chamber, I paid my
Duty to her with Pleasure, which otherwise
might have seem’d a Constraint, if not in
some Degree omitted, had my Thoughts
been levell’d at those gaudy Pleasures of
the Town, which intangle and intoxicate
the greater Part of Woman-kind. Now, I
believe, it was this retired Temper which
pleas’d a certain Person a little in Years,
so as to make his Addresses to me, in order
to an Espousal. This was approv’d of by
my Friends and Relations; amongst the
rest, my young Kinsman, whom I mention’d
to your Ladyship, a Student at the
University, writ me a very fine persuasive
Copy of Verses on the Subject of Marriage,
which I have lost; but the Answer to those
Verses appear here amongst the other Paper-Rubbish.

To C12v 48

To my Friend E X I L I U S,
On his persuading me to marry Old
D a m o n

When Friends Advice with Lovers Forces joyn,

They conquer Hearts more fortified than

Mine open lies, without the least Defence;

No Guard of Art; but its own Innocence;

Under which Fort it could fierce Storms endure;

But from thy Wit I find no Fort secure.

Ah! why would’st thou assist mine Enemy,

Whose Merits were almost too strong for me?

For now thy Wit makes me almost adore,

And ready to pronounce him Conqueror:

But that his Kindness then would grow, I fear,

Too weight for my weak Desert to bear:

I fear ’twou’d even to Extreams improve;

For Jealousy, they say’s th’ Extream of Love.

Even Thou, my dear Exilius, he’d suspect;

If I but look on thee, I him neglect.

Not only Men, as innocent as thou,

But Females he’d mistrust, and Heaven too.

Thus best things may be turn’d to greatest Harm,

As the Lord s Prayer said backward, proves a

Or D1r 49

Or if not thus, I’m sure he wou’d despise,

And under-rate the easy-gotten Prize,

Forgetting the Portent o’th’ willing Sacrifice. When Sacrifices went willingly to the Altar, it portended

These and a thousand Fears my Soul possess;

But most of all my own Unworthiness:

Like dying Saints, that wish for coming Joys,

But humble Fears their forward Wish destroys.

What shall I do, then? Hazard the Event?

You say, old Damon’s All that’s excellent.

If I miss him, the next some ’Squire may prove,

Whose Dogs and Horses, shall have all his Love.

Or some debauch’d Pretender to lewd Wit,

Or covetous, conceited, unbred Cit.

As the brave Horse, who late in Coach did neigh,

Is forc’d at last to tug a nasty Dray.

I suppose, I need not desire your Ladyship
to believe, that what seems here to
be said in Favour of Damon, is rather Respect
to my Kinsman’s Persuasions, than
any real Affection for him; who being a
little in Years, was not much capable of
raising a Passion in a Heart not hospitable
enough to receive a Guest of this kind;
especially having found so much Trouble
with those that had lodg’d there heretofore.
Wherefore this Affair pass’d by, with IndifferencyD differency D1v 50
on both Sides: And my Mother
and I remain’d at Quiet, we not thinking
of any-body; nor any-body thinking of
us: And thus we liv’d alone (at least in
our Actions) in the midst of Multitudes.

Our Lodging was near Westminster-Abbey,
for the Benefit of those frequent and regular
Services there performed. For my own
Part, I chose the early Prayers, as being
free from that Coquettry, too much appearing
at the usual Hour: Besides, there one
has the Opportunity, to offer all the Accitions
of the Day to Heaven, as the Firstfruits,
which heretofore was a most acceptable
Sacrifice. By this, methought, all the
Actions of the following Day were sanctified;
or, at least, they seem’d to be agitated
by a Direction from Heaven. The
Comers thither appear’d to me to resort
really there about what they pretended;
and the Service of God seem’d to be the true
of their Actions. But, good Heaven!
how was I surpriz’d at a Transaction
I will relate, though not appertaining to
my-self or my Story.

There was an elderly Man, in a graceful
comely Dress suitable to his Years, who
seem’d to perform his Devotions with Fervor
and Integrity of Heart; nevertheless,
this wicked Wight, pick’d up a young Girl
in order to debauch her; which was in
this manner. Immediately when they came D2r 51
came out of the Chapel, he began to commend
the young People he saw there, for
leaving their Morning-Slumbers, to come
and serve God in his Sanctuary: “In particular,
You, Sweet-heart, (addressing to
one lately come out of the Country)
have hardly yet any Acquaintance,
to ingage you to meet upon an Intrigue
or Cabal; (at least I guess so by your
Mien and Garb) but come hither purely
for God’s Worship, which is extremely
commendable, and ought to be encourag’d.
Come, pretty Maid, come along
with me, and I will give you a Breakfast,
together with good Instructions
how to avoid the Vices of the Town, of
which I am convinced you are thoroughly
Thus this old Whorson
play’d the “Devil for God’s sake”, according
to the Proverb, and took this young Innocent
into a House of very ill Repute.

It was not long e’er this poor Wretch
began to find herself ill and out of Order:
She came to me, hearing that I had some
Skill in Physick; but I perceiving her Distemper
to be such as I did not well understand,
nor cared to meddle withal, recommended
her to a Physician of my Acquaintance,
who was more used to the
immodest Harangues necessary on such Occasions.
I calling to mind, that this was
she, who had been seduced at the early D2 Prayers, D2v 52
Prayers, was a little curious to know the
Manner of her Undoing.

She told me, That the Person who misled
her, was a Goldsmith, living in good Repute
in that Quarter of the Town. He
gave her a great deal of good Counsel to
avoid the Beaus and Gallants of the Town;
which if she did, and behav’d herself modestly
and discreetly, he said, she should
want for nothing; for he would be a Father
to her: bad her meet him again on
the Morrow, and he would bring a Ring,
and therewith espouse her. Which accordingly
he did, and put the Ring on the
Wedding Finger, and took her for his
Left-hand Wife. By this Fallacy, was
this silly Girl ruin’d. They continued this
their Commerce for some time; he giving
her many Treats and Presents; ’till, by
degrees, he grew weary, diminished his
Favours, met her but seldom, and at last
took no Notice of her. Whether she was
lewd with any other Person, and got the
Venereal Distemper, and so disoblig’d him,
or what other Reason, I know not; but
she being abandon’d by her Gallant, and
disabled by her Illness, was reduc’d to
great Distress, and from Time to Time
was forced to sell what she had to relieve
her Necessities. The Ring she kept ’till the
last, that being the Pledge of his Love,
and pretended Constancy; but then was forc’d D3r 53
forc’d to seek to make Money of that vile
Treasure, the Snare that had intangled
both Body and Soul. Now this silly Creature
never knew directly where this her
Gallant liv’d. I suppose his Cunning conceal’d
that from her; whether by Sham or
directly refusing to tell her, I know not:
But she ignorantly stumbled on his Shop
to sell this Ring; where finding an elderly
Matron, she address’d herself to her to
buy it. The good Gentlewoman seeing her
Husband’s Mark on the Ring, and calling
to mind, that she had miss’d such a one
some time ago, seiz’d the Girl, in order to
carry her before a Justice to make her
prove where, and how, she came by that
Ring. The poor Wretch, all trembling,
told her, That a Gentleman had given it
her; but indeed, she did not know where
he lived. Whereupon the Gentlewoman
reply’d, That if she could not produce the
Person that gave it her, she must be prosecuted
as a Felon, and as such, undergo
what the Course of Law should allot her;
and accordingly order’d her immediately
into the Hands of a Constable, to have her
before a Justice. At this Moment, it so
happen’d, that the Master of the Shop came
in; at which the poor trembling, frighted
Creature, cry’d out, O Madam! this is the
Gentleman that gave me the Ring. “You impudent
reply’d he, “I know you not; D3 get D3v 54
get you gone out of my Shop!”
and so push’d
her out. She being glad to get thus quit,
hasted away, leaving the Man and his
Wife to finish the Dispute between themselves.

Behold, Madam, what an odd Piece of
Iniquity was here. That a Man in Years
shou’d break his Morning’s Rest, leave his
Wife, House, and Shop at Random, and
expose himself to the chill Morning Air,
to act the Hypocrite and Adulterer; ruin
an innocent young Creature, under the
Pretence of a ridiculous Sham-Marriage,
and at the same Time exhaust that Means
which should support his Family and his
Credit, is to me wonderful to conceive.
At last the poor Creature was abandon’d
to all Misery, even Hunger and a nauseous
Disease; between which she must
have inevitably perish’d, a loathsome Example
of Folly and Lewdness; but that
the Doctor to whom I had recommended
her, got her into an Hospital, from whence,
after her Cure, she went away to the Plantations,
those great Receptacles of such
scandalous and miserable Miscreants.

Pardon, Madam, this long Digression,
which is not out of an Inclination to rake
in such Mud, which produces nothing but
Offence to the Senses of all vertuous Persons;
but it came into my Way to shew
how much I was mistaken, in the Vertue and D4r 55
and Piety of some of those early Devotees.
Not that I mean by this or the like Example,
to condemn all who there daily make
their Addresses to Heaven: But to shew
you, that in all Places, and at all Times,
my Country Innocence render’d me a kind
of a Solitary in the midst of Throngs and
great Congregations. But though I found
my self thus alone in Morals, yet I no
where found a personal Solitude; but all
Places full; all Persons in a Hurry; suitable
to what that great Wit, Sir John Denham,

——With equal Haste they run,

Some to undo, and some to be undone.

At home, at our own Lodging, there
was as little Quiet, between the Noise of
the Street, our own House, with Lodgers,
Visiters, Messages, Howd’ye’s, Billets,
and a Thousand other Impertinencies;
which, perhaps, the Beau World wou’d
think Diversion, but to my dull Capacity
were mere Confusion. Besides which, several
People came to me for Advice in divers
sorts of Maladies, and having tolerable
good Luck, I began to be pretty much
known. The Pleasure I took in thus doing
good, much over-balanced the Pains I had
in the Performance; for which benign kind
Disposition, I most humbly bless my great D4 Creator D4v 56
Creator (the free Disposer of all Blessings)
for having compos’d me of such a Temper,
as to prefer a vertuous or a charitable
Action, before the Pomps or Diversions of
the World, though they shou’d be accompanied
with Riches and Honours; which,
indeed, I did not injoy, nor expect; therefore
happy, that my Inclinations corresponded
with my Circumstances. The Truth
is, I know not but that Pride and Vanity
might, in some Degree, be united to this
Beneficence; for I was got to such a Pitch
of helping the Sick, that I wrote my Bills in
Latin, with the same manner of Cyphers
and Directions as Doctors do; which Bills
and Recipes the Apothecaries fil’d amongst
those of the Doctors: And this being
in particular one of my Sex, my Muse
wou’d needs have a Finger in the Pye; and
so a Copy of Verses was writ on the Subject;
which, perhaps, your Ladyship may
like so as to put them in your Screen.
They are as follow:

On the Apothecaries Filing my Recipes
amongst the Doctors.

I Hope I sha’n’t be blam’d, if I am proud

To be admitted in this learned Croud.

For to be proud of Fortune so sublime,

Methinks, is rather Duty than a Crime.

Were D5r 57

Were not my Thoughts exalted in this State,

I should not make thereof due Estimate:

And, sure, one Cause of Adam’s Fall, was this,

He knew not the just Worth of Paradise.

But with this Honour I’m so satisfy d,

The Ancients were not more, when Deify’d.

’Tis this makes me a fam’d Physician grow,

As Saul ’mongst Prophets turn’d a Prophet too.

The Sturdy Gout, which all Male-Power withstands,

Is Having a particular Arcanura for the Gout. overcome by my soft Female Hands.

Not Deb’rah, Judith, or Semiramis,

Cou’d boast of Conquest half so great as this;

More than they slew, I save, in this Disease.

Now Blessings on you All, you Sons of Art,

Who what your selves ne’er knew, to me impart.

Thus Gold, which by th’ Sun’s Influence does grow,

Does that i’th’ Market, Phœbus cannot do.

Bless’d be the Time, and bless’d my Pains & Fate,

Which introduc’d me to a Place so great!

False Strephon Bosvil call’d Strephon in her Verses. too, I almost now cou’d bless,

Whose Crimes conduc’d to this my Happiness.

Had he been true, I’d liv’d in sottish Ease,

Ne’er study’d ought, but how to love and please;

No other Flame, my Virgin Breast had fir’d,

But Love and Life together had expir’d.

But when, false Wretch! he his forc d Kindness

With less Devotion than e’er Sexton pray’d,

D5 Fool D5v 58

Fool that I was! to sigh, weep, almost dye,

Little fore-thinking of this present Joy;

Thus happy Brides shed Tears, they know not

Vainly we praise this Cause, or laugh at that,

Whilst the Effect, with its How, Where, & What,

Lies Embrio in the Womb of Time or Fate.

Of future Things we very little know,

And ’tis Heav’ns Kindness, that it should be so;

Were not our Souls, with Ignorance so buoy’d,

They’d sink with Fear, or overset with Pride.

So much for Ignorance there may be said,

That large Encomiums might thereof be made.

But I’ve digress’d too far; so must return,

To make the Medick-Art my whole Concern,

Since by its Aid, I’ve gain’d this honour’d Place,

Amongst th’ immortal Æsculapian-Race:

That if my Muse, will needs officious be,

She must to this become a Votary.

In all our Songs, its Attributes rehearse,

Write Recipes, as Ovid Law, in Verse.

To Measure we’ll reduce Febrific Heat,

And make the Pulses in true Numbers beat.

Asthma and Phthisick chant in Lays most sweet;

The Gout and Rickets too, shall run on Feet.

In fine, my Muse, such Wonders we will do,

That to our Art, Mankind their Ease shall owe;

Then praise and please our-selves in doing so.

For since the Learn’d exalt and own our Fame,

It is no Arrogance to do the same,

But due Respects, and Complaisance to them.

Thus, D6r 59

Thus, Madam, as People before a Looking-glass,
please themselves with their own
Shapes and Features, though, perhaps,
such as please no-body else; just so I celebrated
my own Praise
, according to the Proverb,
“for want of good Neighbours to do it
for me”
; or rather, for want of Desert to
ingage those good Neighbours. However,
I will trouble your Ladyship with relating
one Adventure more, which happen’d in
this my Practice.

There came to me a Person in Quality
of a Nurse who, though in a mean servile
Station, had something in her Behaviour
and Discourse, that seem’d above her Profession:
For her Words, Air, and Mien,
appeared more like one entertaining Ladies
in a Drawing-Room, than a Person whose
Thoughts were charg’d with the Care of
her sick Patients, and Hands with the
Pains of administring to her own Necessities.
As we were in Discourse of the Business
she came about, we were interrupted
by a certain Noise in the Street, a little
more than usual; which call’d our Curiosity
to the Window; where pass’d by a noble
fine Coach, with many Foot-men running
bare-headed on each side, with all
other Equipage and Garniture suitable;
which made a splendid Figure, deserving
the Regards of People the least curious. The D6v 60
The Coach being pass’d, I turn’d me about,
and found the good Nurse sunk in a fainting
Fit, which was a little surprizing; but
calling my Maid, with a little Endeavour,
we brought her to herself; we ask’d her
the Cause of this sudden Disorder? Whether
she was accustom’d to those Fits? or,
Whether any sudden Surprize or Reflection
had seiz’d her? She reply’d, That indeed
it was a sudden Surprize: The Sight of
that great Coach, had affected her Spirit,
so as to cause in her that Disorder. Whereupon
I told her, I should be oblig’d to her,
if she thought fit to inform me what Person
or Occasion had caus’d in her so violent
an Effect. To which she reply’d, That a
Person of his Grandeur who was in the
Coach, ought not to be nam’d with one of
her mean Condition: Nevertheless, said
she, you appearing to be a Gentlewoman
of Prudence and Vertue, I will tell you
my Story, without the least Disguise.

My Father, said she, was the younger
Son of a Country Gentleman, and was a
Tradesman of Repute in the City: He gave
me a Gentlewoman-like Education, as became
his Family, and the Fortune he was
able to bestow upon me; for he had no
Child but my self, which, perhaps, was
the Cause that I was more taken Notice of
than I should have been otherwise. Amongst
many that cast their Eyes upon me, a cer- D7r 61
a certain young Clerk of the Inns of Court,
of a piercing Wit, graceful Mien, and
flowing Eloquence, found Opportunity to
make an Acquaintance with me, and as
soon to make his Addresses to me. Alas!
my unguarded Heart soon submitted to
the Attacks of his Wit and ingaging Behaviour;
and all this without the Knowledge
of my Father; which was the easier
accomplish’d, I having no Mother. I will
not repeat to you, continu’d she, the many
Messages, Letters, and little Presents,
which attended this secret Amour, there
being therein no more than ordinary on
such an Occasion.

Now though we had been careful and
cunning enough to keep this from the
Knowledge of my Father, yet Jealousy soon
open’d the Eyes of a Lover; for the Foreman
of my Father’s Shop, designing me
for himself, found out our Correspondence,
and discovered the same to my Father: At
which he was very much displeas’d, knowing
that the young Gentleman had little or
no Foundation, but his own Natural Parts,
and his Education, to recommend him for a
Husband to a City Heiress. Hereupon
my Father forbad me his Company, charging
me to have no manner of Correspondence
with him, upon pain of his utmost
Displeasure. But, alas! my Affections were
too far ingag’d, to let Duty have the Regency;gency; D7v 62
and not only my Affections, but
my faithful Word given in Promise of
Marriage to this young Gentleman; which
I kept from my Father, assuring him of a
ready Obedience to his Commands.

Thus things pass’d some time in Silence
and Secrecy, ’till my Father had an Opportunity
to marry me to a wealthy Citizen;
wherewith he press’d me very earnestly to
comply. But his Trade was none of the
Genteelest, neither his Education nor Person
at all polite, nor was he very suitable in
Years: These Things were disagreeable in
themselves; but worst of all, my Word
given to my young Lawyer, render’d the
Difficulty almost unsurmountable. I had
not Courage to let my Father know the
Truth; which if I had, perhaps, I had
been never the better; for the more I
seem’d to dislike this other Proposal, the more
my Father’s Aversion grew towards my
young Lawyer, as supposing him to be the
Obstacle that barr’d me from my Duty, as
he really was, in a great degree. But
Things did not hold long in this Posture;
for my Father press’d on the Marriage
with the utmost Earnestness, using Promises
and Threatnings, ’till at last my
Weakness (for I cannot call it Obedience)
made me comply. After I was married, I
lived in plenty enough for some Years.
In the mean Time, my Father married a young D8r 63
young Wife, by whom he had many Children,
which depriv’d me of all future
Hopes of receiving any Benefit by his
Bounty. But to shorten my Story, by such
time as I had liv’d a Wife about Seven
Years, my Father dy’d, and my Husband
broke, by which I was reduc’d to a low
Ebb of Fortune; and he being a Man of no
Family, had no Friends to assist or raise
him; and with this Fall of Fortune, his Spirit
sunk withal, so that he had not Courage
to strive or grapple, or turn any thing
about, ’till he had spent the utmost Penny.
Whether this Ruin proceeded from Losses
by Sea and Land, to which great Dealers
are obnoxious, or from the immediate
Hand of Heaven, for my Breach of Vow
to my young Lawyer, I know not; but
our Distress grew greater and greater, ’till
I was forc’d to betake my self to the Imployment
of a Nurse; and my Husband
to be Labourer at St. Paul’s, which is his
present Occupation. In the mean time,
my young Lawyer grew into Fame, by his
acute Parts, which he imploy’d in serving
the Royal-Cause, ’till he is become that
great man you saw pass by: which sudden
Sight gave me such Confusion, that I cou’d
no longer support my self, but sunk into the
Chair next the Place where I stood.

Thus ended she her Story; which is indeed
not a little extraordinary, though scarcely D8v 64
scarcely sufficient to merit your Ladyship’s
Attention. Nevertheless, the good Woman’s
Humility, Patience, and Industry,
are greatly to be commended, and ought to
be an Example to many, even her Superiors
as well as her Inferiors; she being
so true a Pattern of Patience, humble Condescension,
and Diligence, that I think I
may apply to her a Couplet I wrote on a
particular Occasion, amongst some of my
Poems: “Where Fortune wou’d not with her Wish comply,She made her Wish bear Fortune Company.”

Thus, Madam, I rubb’d on, in the midst
of Noise and Bustle, which is every where
to be found in London; but Quiet and
Retreat scarce any where. At last I found
out a Closet in my Landlady’s Back-
Garret which I crept into, as if it had
been a Cave on the Top of Parnassus; the
Habitation of some unfortunate Muse, that
had inspir’d Cowley, Butler, Otway, or
Orinda, with Notions different from the
rest of Mankind; and for that Fault, were
there made Prisoners. Here I thought I
found my own poor despicable Muse given
to Orinda as her Waiting-maid; and it
was, perhaps, some of the worst Part of
that great Lady’s Punishment, to be constrain’d
to a daily Correspondence with so D9r 65
so dull a Creature. However, this Hole
was to me a kind of Paradise; where I
thought I met with my old Acquaintance
as we hope to do in the other World.
Here I tumbled over Harvey and Willis at
Pleasure: My impertinent Muse here found
me; and here we renew’d our old Acquaintance.
Sometimes I wou’d repel her Insinuations;
and sometimes again accept
her Caresses; as appears by the following

To my Muse.

Cease, prithee, Muse, thus to infest.

The barren Region of my Breast,

Which never can an Harvest yield,

Since Weeds of Noise o’er-run the Field.

If Interest wont oblige thee to it,

At least let Vengeance make thee do it;

’Cause I thy Sweets and Charms oppose,

In bidding Youth become thy Foes.

But nought, I see, will drive thee hence,

Threats, Business, or Impertinence.

But still thou dost thy Joys obtrude

Upon a Mind so wholly rude,

As can’t afford to entertain

Thee, with the Welcome of one Strain.

Few Friends, like thee, wou’d be so kind,

To come where Interest does not bind;

And D9v 66

And fewer yet return again,

After such Coldness and Disdain.

But thou, kind Friend, art none of those;

Thy Charms thou always do’st oppose

Against Inquietude of Mind;

If I’m displeas’d, still thou art kind;

And with thy Spells driv’st Griefs away,

Which else wou’d make my Heart their Prey.

And fill’st their empty Places too,

With Thoughts of what we ought to do.

Thou’rt to my Mind so very good,

Its Consolation, Physick, Food.

Thou fortify’st it in Distress;

In Joy augment’st its Happiness:

Inspiring me with harmless Rhimes,

To praise good Deeds, detest all Crimes.

Then, gentle Muse, be still my Guest;

Take full Possession of my Breast.

Thus, Madam, in my Garret-Closet,
my Muse again took Possession of me:
Poetry being one of those subtle Devils,
that if driven out by never so many firm
Purposes, good Resolutions, Aversion to that
Poverty it intails upon its Adherents; yet
it will always return and find a Passage to
the Heart, Brain, and whole Interior; as I
experienced in this my exalted Study: Or,
to (use the Phrase of the Poets) my Closet
in the Star-Chamber; or the Den of Parnassus.

Out D10r 67

Out of this Garret, there was a Door
went out to the Leads; on which I us’d
frequently to walk to take the Air, or
rather the Smoke; for Air, abstracted from
Smoke, is not to be had within Five Miles
of London. Here it was that I wish’d
sometimes to be of Don Quixote’s Sentiments,
that I might take the Tops of
Chimneys, for Bodies of Trees; and the
rising Smoke for Branches; the Gutters of
, for Tarras-Walks; and the Roofs
for stupendous Rocks and Mountains.
However, though I could not beguile my
Fancy thus, yet here I was alone, or, as
the Philosopher says, never “less alone”. Here
I entertain’d my Thoughts, and indulg’d
my solitary Fancy. Here I could behold
the Parliament-House, Westminster-Hall, and
the Abbey, and admir’d the Magnificence
of their Structure, and still more, the
Greatness of Mind in those who had been
their Founders; one Place for the establishing
good Laws; another for putting them in
Practice; the Third for the immediate
Glory of God; a Place for the continual
singing his Praise, for all the Blessings bestow’d
on Mankind. But with what
Amazement did I reflect, how Mankind
had perverted the Use of those Places design’d
for a general Benefit: and having
been reading the Reign of King Charles the
First, I was amaz’d, to think how those LawMakersMakers D10v 68
cou’d become such Law-Confounders,
as the History relates. Was it Ambition,
Pride or Avarice? For what other wicked
Spirit entred amongst them, we know not;
but something infernal sure it was, that
push’d or persuaded them to bring so barbarous
an Enterprize to so sad a Conclusion.
Ambition sure it cou’d not be, for
every one cou’d not be King, nor indeed
cou’d any one reasonably hope it. Neither
cou’d it be Pride, because in this Action
they work’d their own Disgrace. It must
certainly therefore be Covetousness; for
they hop’d to inrich themselves by the
Ruins of the Church and State, as I have
heard; though the Riches were of small
Durance. These kind of Thoughts entertained
me; some of which, I believe, are
in Writing, amongst my other Geer.

Upon Covetousness.

COvetousness we may truly call, The
Dropsie of the Mind, it being an insatiable
Thirst of Gain: The more we get,
the more we desire, and the more we have,
the less willing are we to part with any.
It was a wise Remark of him that said, “A
Poor Man wants Many things, but the Covetous
Man wants All things”
; for a covetous
will want Necessaries, rather than part
with his Gold; and unless we do part with it, D11r 69
it, it is of no use to us; since we can’t eat,
drink, or warm ourselves by it: And, as
of itself it can neither feed, warm, nor
cloath us, so neither can it make us Ploughshares,
Pruning-hooks, Weapons of Defence,
or other Utensils worthy the Value
we set upon it. Yet this shining Earth commands
this Lower Orb, and for it we often
sell our Friends, King, Country, Laws,
and even our eternal Happiness. Thus
Avarice brings many to that Region where
the Coveting of Thirty Pieces of Silver
brought the most abominable of all Traitors.

Then I turn’d my Eyes on Westminster-
, that noble Structure, which contains
the several Courts of Justice, where those
good Laws, made in the other High Court,
are put in practise. But how far this Intention
is perverted, God knows, and the
World daily informs us. For Truth is too
often disguised, and Justice over-ballanced,
by means of false Witnesses, slow Evidences
to Truth, avaritious Lawyers, poor Clients,
Perjury, Bribery, Forgery, Clamour, Party,
Mistakes, Misapprehensions, ill-stating the
Case, Demurrs, Reverses, and a thousand
other Shifts, Querks and Tricks, unknown
to all but Lawyers.

From hence I turn’d my Eyes on the
Abbey, and wondred to behold it standing;
when so many stately Edifices and stupendous
Piles were demolished. Whether its Revenuesvenues D11v 70
were too small to be coveted, or too
to be hop’d for, I could not tell; but
I believe the Stones were neither more nor
less Criminal than those of their Fellow-
Dilapidations. So I concluded these Considerations,
with a Couplet of Sir John

Is there no temp’rate Region to be known,

Betwixt their torrid and our frigid Zone?

I return’d into my Closet, or rather my
Den of Dulness, for the Retreat of such
a Student deserves not the Name of a Study.
Here I cast mine Eyes on a very fine
Epistle in Verse from my Friends at Cambridge;
whereupon I sat me down to answer
it, which was to dissuade them from
Poetry, notwithstanding their great Genius
towards it, express’d even in that
Epistle. Which Answer be pleas’d to take
as follows.

To my Friends; against Poetry.

Dear Friends, if you’ll be rul’d by me,

Beware the Charms of Poetry;

And meddle with no fawning Muse,

They’ll but your harmless Love abuse.

Tho’ Cowley’s Mistress had a Flame,

As pure and lasting as his Fame;

And D12r 71

And to Orinda Mrs. Katherine Philips. they were ty’d,

That nought their Friendship cou’d divide;

Yet now they’re all grown Prostitutes,

And wantonly admit the Suits

Of any Fop, that will pretend

To be their Lover, or their Friend.

Tho’ they to Wit, no Homage pay,

Nor can the Laws of Verse obey,

But ride poor Six-foot out of Breath,

And rack a Metaphor to Death;

Yet still, as little as they know,

Are Fav’rites of the Muses now.

Then who wou’d honour such a She,

Where Fools their happier Rivals be?

We surely may conclude there’s none,

Unless they’re drunk with Helicon;

Which is a Liquor that can make

A Dunce set up for Rhyming Quack;

A Liquor of so strange a Temper,

As all our Faculties does hamper;

That whoso drinks thereof is curs’d

To a continu’d Rhyming Thirst.

Unknown to us, like Spell of Witch,

It strikes the Mind into an Itch;

Which being scrubb’d by Praise, thereby

Becomes a spreading Leprosy;

As D12v 72

As hard to cure, as Dice or Whore,

And makes the Patient, too, as poor:

For Poverty as sure attends

On Poets, as on Rich-Mens Friends:

Wherefore I’d banish it my Breast.

Rather than be to Fools a Jest,

I’d to old Mammon be a Bride,

Be ugly as his Ore untry’d;

Do every Thing for sordid Ends,

Caress my Foes, betray my Friends;

Speak fair to all; do good to none;

Not care who’s happy, who’s undone;

But run where Int’rest pushes one;

Do any thing to quench poetick Flame,

And beg my Learned Friends to do the same.

Looking over what I had wrote, I remember
I did not like it; for instead of
praising what they had sent me, as it deserv’d,
giving them Thanks, begging them
to continue the same Favour to me and
the World, I, in an uncouth, disobliging
Manner, oppos’d their Ingenuity; by
which I very little deserved any more such
agreeable Entertainments. Moreover, casting
an Eye on the other Poem, which I
had wrote but a Day or two before, in which
I had kindly treated and cajol’d my Muse;
and then again on my Friends witty Epistle;
so that between these Three, my Thoughts E1r 73
Thoughts danc’d the Hay, like the Sun and
Moon in the Rehearsal, and thereby made
an Eclipse in my Resolution. But as I have
heard, that in some Countries they go with
Pans and Kettles, and therewith make a
Noise; whether to wake the Sun out of
his imagin’d Sleep, or raise him from the
Dead, I know not: But, in like manner,
a hasty Knocking at the Door of the Leads;
disappointed this my Ecliptick Dance.
I speedily open’d the Door, and there
found a Gentlewoman of a graceful Mien
and genteel Dress: She hastily rush’d in,
and begg’d me to fasten the Door, and
then to introduce her to the Gentlewoman
of the House: To which I consented, and
so descended with her to my Landlady’s
Apartment, where we found her, together
with my Mother. After I had inform’d
them of the Adventure of her coming over
the Leads, in at the Garret-Door, they
courteously receiv’d her, and desir’d to
know wherein they cou’d be further serviceable.

She told them, That although her
Crimes render’d her too confus’d to relate
her Story; yet, her distressed Condition
obliged her to an undisguised Recital.

E The E1v 74

TheStoryof Belinda.

I am, said she, Daughter to a worthy
Country Gentleman, of an ancient Family
and large Possessions; who lived suitable
to the Rank and Station in which Heaven
had plac’d him. He and my Mother
were esteemed by Persons of all Ranks,
as indeed they deserv’d; for they were beneficent
to every body; Neighbours, Relations,
Servants, Poor and Rich, all had a
Share in their Generosity, Kindness, or
Charity. Their Tenants gather’d Estates
under them; Their Servants gain’d wherewith
to become Masters in their Old Age;
Their Table and Cellar were always free
and open to the Freeholders, and Tradesmen,
who came to pay their Respects to
them; Their Park and Gardens were at
the Service of any of the neighbouring
Gentry, that were not Masters of such
Conveniences: Their Persons were amiable,
and their Discourse agreeable and entertaining.
Thus they pass’d their Days
in Plenty and Honour, ’till their unhappy
Off-spring gave a new Byass to their Bowl
of Life, which had hitherto rolled on with
such Evenness, as testified the steady Hand
of those that gave the Cast. My Brother
being grown to Years of Maturity, listed
himself in all the Lewdness of the Age; by E2r 75
by which he contracted so many and such
gross Infirmities, that a thorough Recovery
of his Health is despaired of.

Now my Parents, who had been always
affectionate towards me, became extreamly
fond, humouring me even to a Fault,
especially since I made such ill Use of their
Tenderness: For by means of this extraordinary
Indulgence, I grew troublesome
to Servants, impertinent to my Betters,
rude and disobliging to my Equals, harsh
and insulting to my Inferiors; in short,
I behav’d my self, as if all the World were
created for me only, and my Service. In
the mean Time, Fondness so blinded my
Parents, that they saw no Fault in me,
nor I in my self, which was my great Misfortune.

Now, whether this humoursome, impertinent
way made me disagreeable to Young
Gentlemen, I know not; but though my
Fortune was considerable, and my Person
such as you see, not contemptible, yet nobody
made any Overtures of Marriage to
me, or to my Parents on my behalf; at
least, that I know of.

Amongst, many whom my Father’s Quality
and Munificence brought to our House,
there was a certain fine Gentleman cast his
Eyes on me, with a Tenderness unbefitting
my Youth, and his Circumstances, he being
a married Man; but notwithstanding E2 that, E2v 76
that, I suffered his Insinuations to penetrate
my Soul. His Looks and Gestures demonstrated
a violent Passion; but his Words
were always dress’d up in Vertue and
Honour; and the frequent Theme of his
Discourse was on Platonick Love, and the
happy State any Two might injoy, that
lived together in such a chaste Affection.
In these kind of Discourses we pass’d many
Hours; sometimes in Walks, sometimes in
Arbours, and oftentimes in my Chamber,
’till very late Hours. At last, the Mask of Platonick
was pull’d off, and a personal
Injoyment concluded the Farce, compos’d
of many deceitful Scenes, and wicked Contrivances.
In a little Time I began to perceive
my self pregnant, to that degree,
that I daily fear’d others should take notice
of it. There was no way left to
escape the Fury of my Parents and his Wife,
but by Flight, which we put in Execution,
pretending to go beyond-Sea, the better to
avoid Search. But instead thereof, he
brought me to a House in your Neighbourhood;
and there left me. What is become
of him, I know not, nor dare inquire.
The Officers of the Parish being inform’d
of my being here, in this Condition, came
to inquire into the Matter; but my Landlady
being aware thereof, convey’d me
through her Garret over the Leads of Westminster-Hall,
and so into your Garret.

And E3r 77

And now, Gentlewomen, behold what
a miserable Creature is before you. I cannot
bear being carried before a Justice on
this Account; I shall sooner lay violent
Hands on my self; which I pray God forbid.
Therefore, dear Ladies, advise me
what to do, or how to proceed.

After a little Consideration, my Landlady,
with much Goodness, sent for the
Officers of the Parish, to ingage on her
behalf; that they might leave her in Repose,
’till Time should find out the Gentleman;
or get some Accomodation with
her Parents; after which she sent her Maid
with her to her Lodging; recommending
her to the Care of her Landlady, with Assurance
of Payment.

She being gone, we began to descant on
the poor miserable Creature’s Distress;
withal much applauding the Charity of
our good Landlady, to a Person so wholly
a Stranger. No, indeed, reply’d the good
Gentlewoman, she is not quite a Stranger
to me, for I was heretofore very well acquainted
with her Parents, who were really
worthy good People; but since the Birth
of this Girl, her Father has chang’d his generous
beneficent Temper; and as she grew
up in Beauty, he grew the more Niggardly;
of which I could give you a particular
Instance, but shall reserve it to another
Opportunity; and always wish, that ParentsE3 rents E3v 78
would never set their Hearts so much
on great Provisions for their Children, as to
refuse Charity to any miserable Object that
addresses them, as did this Gentleman; but
rely on God’s Providence for their Posterity,
as well as their own Riches, Frugality
or Industry.

This Adventure, Madam, as it prov’d
a Consolation to this distressed Creature;
so it prov’d a Misfortune to me; for hereupon
my Mother prohibited me my Garret-
Closet, and my Walk on the Leads; lest I
should encounter more Adventures, not
only like this, but perhaps more pernicious:
So that being depriv’d of my solitary Retreat,
your Ladyship cannot expect much
of Verse or Poetick Fancies whereof to make
Patches at present.

Methinks, reply’d the Lady, I should
expect some doleful Ditty, upon being depriv’d
of this your beloved Solitude. On
this Occasion I fancy you like Ovid, when
banish’d from all his Pleasures and Injoyments
in the glorious City of Rome; you
being depriv’d of what you preferr’d before
all them; which shews, there is no Possibility
of making People happy against
their Will. Some are happy in a Cottage;
others can scarce endure Life but in a Palace.
Some take great Delight in Fields,
Woods, and Rural Walks: others again,
in lofty Buildings, glorious Apartments, sumptuous E4r 79
sumptuous Entertainments, Balls, Dancings,
Shows, and Masquerades.

’Tis true, Madam, reply’d Galesia; and
this makes me reflect, how useless, or
rather pernicious, Books and Learning are
to our Sex. They are like Oatmeal or
Charcoal to the deprav’d Appetites of
Girls; for by their Means we relish not the
Diversions or Imbellishments of our Sex
and Station; which render us agreeable to
the World, and the World to us; but live
in a Stoical Dulness or humersome Stupidity.
However, I comply’d with my Mother,
and made Inclination submit to
Duty; and so endeavour’d to make a Vertue
of this Necessity, and live like others
of my Rank, according to Time, Place and

My dear Mother now growing aged,
began to be very desirous to see me established
in a married State; daily inculcating
to me, That we, in a manner, frustrate
the End of our Creation, to live in
that uncouth kind of Solitude, in which
she thought I too much delighted, and
which she believed would grow upon me,
when God should take her away: At what
Time, I should then have no body to consolate,
protect or assist me; urging, That I
ought not to pass my Time in idle Dreams
on Parnassus, and foolish Romantick Flights,
with Icarus; whose waxen Wings fail’d E4 him E4v 80
him so as to let him fall into the Sea;
which indeed purchas’d him a Name, but
became the perpetual Record of his Folly:
And such a Name, such a Record, I should
be glad, said she, you would avoid, by becoming
a good Mistress of a Family; and
imploy your Parts in being an obedient
Wife, a discreet Governess of your Children
and Servants; a friendly Assistant to your
Neighbours, Friends, and Acquaintance:
This being the Business for which you came
into the World, and for the Neglect of this,
you must give an Account when you go out
of it. These were Truths which Reason
would not permit me to oppose; but my
Reflections on Bosvil’s Baseness, gave me a
secret Disgust against Matrimony. However,
her often repeated Lectures, call’d
for Compliance, especially Fortune seeming
at that Time to concur with my Mother’s
Counsel, in the following manner.

A Patch- E5r [81]

Patch-Work Screen
For the

Leaf III.

The History of Lysander.

There was a certain Widow-
Gentlewoman, who had but
one only Son, who should
have been the Staff of her
Age. This Son she had educated
to the Law, and placed
him in handsome Chambers in the Temple.
But the young Gentleman, instead of
studying the Laws of his Country, practis’dE5 ctis’d E5v 82
the Mode of the Times, and kept
the Wife of an unhappy Citizen, made so
partly by her Vanity and Coquettry, ’till
he was forced to seek his Fortune in the
Plantations, whilst she found hers in the
wicked Embraces of this young Gentleman;
who hired a very handsome House for her,
furnished it genteely, and when he pleas’d,
there pass’d his Time, making her his
Study, Practice and Diversion. In this
guilty Correspondence, they had Children;
in particular one, who grew a great Girl,
and was put to a Boarding-School, amongst
young Gentlewomen of Vertuous Descent.

Now this kind of Life was very grievous
to his good Mother, and as it caus’d her to
shed many Tears, so it obliged her, from
Time to Time, to use many Reprehensions
suitable to her maternal Affection; sometimes
sharp, sometimes soft, sometimes
persuasive, sometimes menacing: But all
in vain; for he still went on in the same
Road, supporting this Adultress in all her
Extravagancies, humouring her in all her
Whimsies and Caprices, ’till the Diminution
of his Circumstance, began to call on
him for a Retrenchment of his Expences.
His Lands were mortgaged, his Houses
decay’d, his Debts increased, his Credit
diminished, Duns attack’d him in every
Quarter, Writs and Bayliffs follow’d him, Vexati- E6r 83
Vexations of all Sorts met and overtook
him: Nevertheless, her Riot, Vanity, and
chargeable Diversions must not be abated;
so great an Ascendant she had got over him,
that (according to the Proverb) “He scarce
durst say his Soul was his own.”

One time, being under an Arrest for some
Debt contracted by means of her Extravagancy;
he sent to her to come and lay
down the Money, which he knew she
could do with Ease, she having Cash by
her, or at least he knew she could raise it
speedily, out of those rich Presents he had
made her from Time to Time; but she
boggled, and made many frivolous Excuses,
which would not hold Water: At last she
plainly refused, unless he would grant her
a Judgment of all that he had, Real and
Personal, Body and Goods, alledging (no
doubt) That it was the safest Way to secure
to himself a Livelihood, and balk his Creditors.
He depending on the Belief of her
Affection, and the manifold Obligations
she lay under, comply’d with this Proposal,
thinking it a proper Blind or Sham, to
secure himself, and defraud others.

This being done, the gay Serpent began
to shew her Sting, and treated him with
less Respect and Complaisance. Those
Caresses and Endearments, which hitherto
had shone in her Looks and Actions, began
to be overcast with cold Clouds and a carelessless E6v 84
Behaviour; and, by Degrees, to a disdainful
Neglect; scarce containing herself
sometimes within the Bounds of common
Civility. This Treatment awaken’d him
out of his Lethargick Slumber, opened his
Eyes, and made him see all at once the
many false Steps he had taken in his Life’s
Travels: In particular, The Griefs he had
given his Mother; the Disgrace to his Education
and Profession; and, in short, the
total Ruin of his Family, which was like
to be extinct in him; and himself become
a miserable Dependant on the Charity of
an insolent Strumpet. Alas! what Charity,
what Kindness can be expected from
such a Creature? For when a Man’s Fortune
fails, that he can no longer bribe her
Pride or Luxury, there is no more Kindness
to be hop’d for, than a poor Client, when
Fees fail, can hope from an avaritious
Lawyer. And now he begins to consider
how he shall repair or stave off his utter
Ruin; which he concluded was no way to
be done, but by closing with his dear
Mother’s Advice, in betaking himself to
some vertuous Woman in Marriage. Being
thus resolved, he took the first Opportunity
to communicate his Thoughts to his Mother,
making a Merit of this Necessity, by
a pretended Obedience to her often-repeated
Counsel; assuring her, that he would submit
his Inclinations to her wise Election.

The E7r 85

The good Gentlewoman was transported
at this hopeful Change in her Son, and
casting about in her Thoughts, at last
pitch’d upon this your Servant Galesia; a
Person not worthy such Esteem, only favour’d
by the Opinion she had of my Vertue
and Innocence. When she propos’d it
to her Son, he seem’d as much pleas’d with
his Mother’s Choice, as she was at his seeming
Reformation; and ingaged her to agree
upon a Day to come along with her to
make me a Visit.

The Day appointed, he dined with his
Mother, in order to wait on her to our
Lodging in the Afternoon: But e’er they
had well din’d, a Messenger came to him
from a Tavern over-the-way, bringing
word, that there were Gentlemen had Business
of Consequence, and desired to speak
with him: Which Gentlemen were only
this Adultress, who having got Intelligence
of this design’d Visit, came to disappoint
it with her alluring Cajoleries; making
him send Word to his Mother, that he
would wait on her another Day; pretending,
that the Gentlemens Business ingag’d
his Attendance at that Time. Behold in
this Transaction, what Power these Creatures
have over Men! Notwithstanding
those Reasons he had to abhor and detest
this his false Dalilah, was he again deluded
by her; so that one may truly say with the E7v 86
the wise Man, “Whosoever is fetter’d by a
lewd Woman, is led like a Beast to the
Slaughter, never to return.”

Thus Things pass’d quietly for a while:
At last he found an Opportunity to come
along with his Mother to make me a Visit
or two; of which by the Treachery of his
Man, and her Vigilance, she (I mean the
Harlot) got Notice, and quarrell’d with
him about it very sharply, and then again
wheedled, courted and caress’d him, and
sometimes with Smiles, sometimes with
Tears, besought his Constancy, sometimes
with Fits, and melancholy Vapours, ingag’d
his Pity: Then again, with opprobrious
and violent Words reproach’d his Falshood,
reviling him for all his broken Vows; alledging,
That her Ruine, Life and Health
would all lie at his Door; That for his
sake she had cast herself out of the Protection
of her Friends, and forfeited their Favour
and Kindness: That for his sake she
had disgrac’d herself in the Face of the
World, offended God, and greatly wrong’d
her Husband; in all which, she had affronted
Heaven and Earth, and flown in
the Face of her Family, abus’d her Birth
and vertuous Education, and wasted her
Youth in the Embraces of a perjur’d
Wretch, who now abandon’d her to Grief,
Shame and Poverty; with many such
grating Reflections, and violent Speeches, where- E8r 87
wherewith from time to time she persecuted
him. Which sometimes he endeavoured to
moderate by Arguments, sometimes alledging
Religion, sometimes Reason, sometimes
Necessity, and the Impossibility of
doing otherwise: Now cajoling her with
the Pretence of Sorrow and Regret, and
buoying her up with Hopes that he found
himself not able to leave her; and then again
plunging her into Despair, by alledging
his Duty to his Mother, and the Anxiety
of a tormented Conscience. Thus they
argued this Way and that, from side to
side, like a Ship that goes to fetch a Wind,
which never fails directly to the Point.

At last the Gentleman resolv’d to be
thoroughly plain with her, and accordingly
told her, without any Varnish of Words
or Shadow of Disguise, that he was fully
resolv’d to marry; but that he would not
abandon her to Misery or Distress; but
would settle such a Pension on her, as
might support her in a decent, honest Way
of Living; and that he would likewise
take Care to provide for her Daughter, in
giving her such a Portion as might marry
her to some honest Tradesman in a good
Station of Life; and with this he charged
her to be content, without meddling with
him in his married State, but live retir’d,
vertuously and modestly, and it should
be the better for her and her Daughter.

The E8v 88

The Creature being thus provoked, fell
into violent Words and Actions; told
him, That he shew’d his Falshood and
Baseness too late, he having put his Person
and Fortune out of his own Power, and
into hers; wherefore she would take care
of herself, by securing both to her own
Advantage. Being thus stung to the
Quick, he left her House in great Vexation
of Spirit: And in the midst of
his Fury, went forthwith and shot himself.

This was the fatal End which his Lewdness
and Folly brought upon him! This
was the Conclusion of his guilty Embraces!
Thus a filthy Strumpet shewed herself
in her Colours! And thus was he bullied
out of his Estate, Life, and Honour; his
Life lost, his Debts unpaid, his Estate
devour’d by a lewd Harlot! A very
fatal Warning to all unwary Gentlemen.

I suppose, Madam, you cannot imagine,
that his Death affected me much as a
Lover, there being but little of that in the
Story; but one must have been without
Humanity, to be unconcern’d at such an
Accident, and not have borne some part
in his Mother’s Affliction; especially since
the good Gentlewoman had pitch’d upon
me amongst all her Acquaintance, for so
near an Alliance. I could not omit reflectingflecting E9r 89
on Job and Tobit, as if the Almighty
had permitted some Satan, or Asmodas
to persecute me in the Persons of all
that pretended to love or like me. Which
way soever it was, I endeavour’d to be
resign’d; this being the Duty of a Christian
in all Conditions. However, it contributed
to make me the more despise the
World, with all its gaudy Trappings; or,
perhaps, with the Fox, thought the Grapes
, because “I could not reach them”.
The Truth is, I had found so many Disappointments,
that I began to be displeas’d
at my-self, for hoping or expecting any
thing that tended to Happiness: I thought
with Mrs. Phillips,

If with some Pleasure we our Griefs betray,

It costs us dearer than we can repay:

For Time or Fortune, all Things so devours,

Our Hopes are cross’d,

Or else the Object lost,

E’er we can call it ours.

Which indeed was always so with me,
not only in this, but in all other Enterprizes
and Transactions of Life: I could
hope nothing, propose nothing, but I was
cross’d or disappointed therein, e’er I
could arrive at Accomplishment. Therefore,
Madam, you need not think it strange that E9v 90
that I began to believe Providence had ordain’d
for me a Single Life. Began, did I
say? No, rather continued in that Sentiment
ever since the Disappointment of Bosvil.
And I think here are a few Lines something
tending to that Subject:

A Virgin Life.

Since, O good Heavens! you have bestow’d on me

So great a Kindness for Virginity,

Suffer me not to fall into the Powers

Of Man’s almost Omnipotent Amours.

But let me in this happy State remain,

And in chaste Verse my chaster Thoughts explain;

Fearless of Twenty-five, and all its Rage,

When Time with Beauty lasting Wars ingage.

When once that Clock has struck, all Hearts retire,

Like Elves from Day-break, or like Beasts from

’Tis Beauty’s Passing-Bell; no more are slain;

But dying Lovers all revive again.

Then every Day some new Contempt we find,

As if the Scorn and Lumber of Mankind.

These frightful Prospects, oft our Sex betray;

Which to avoid, some fling themselves away;

Like harmless Kids, who when pursu’d by Men,

For Safety, run into a Lyon’s Den.

Ah! E10r 91

Ah! happy State! how strange it is to see,

What mad Conceptions some have had of Thee!

As if thy Being was all Wretchedness,

Or foul Deformity, in vilest Dress:

Whereas thy Beauty’s pure Celestial,

Thy Thoughts Divine, thy Words Angelical:

And such ought all thy Votaries to be,

Or else they’re so but for Necessity.

A Virgin bears the Impress of all Good,

Under that Name, all Vertue’s understood.

So equal all her Looks, her Mien, her Dress,

That nought but Modesty is in Excess;

The Business of her Life to this extends,

To serve her God, her Neighbour and her Friends.

Indeed, said the Lady, the Transactions
of thy Life hitherto seem a perfect Chain
of Disappointments. However, the Almighty
has been gracious in giving thee a
Mind submissive and resign’d; for which
thou art bound to glorify his Goodness,
and hope for more prosperous Days for the
Time to come. As they were about to
proceed in their Discourse, and look for
more Patches to carry on their Work, the
Lady’s Butler came from his Master, saying,
He was about to make a Bowl of
Punch, and sent to the Stranger-Gentlewoman
for her Receipt, which she was talking E10v 92
talking of the Night before; which Galesia
readily rehears’d:

The Czar’s Receipt to
make Punch.

Take Three Bottles from Spain, and one from

Two from the Rhine, and one from Nance:

No Water at all, but a little from Roses;

A red-nos’d Sea-Captain, to mingle the Doses;

Limons, Nutmeg, and Sugar, with a Toast to float
on it;

And a Knot of good Fellows, that will not shrink
from it.

With these Instructions, the Butler made
his Exit, making a low Bow according to
the old Fashion.

The Butler being gone, the Lady desired
Galesia to return to her Discourse: To
which she readily accorded, saying, After
this unexpected Accident of the said unhappy
Gentleman, my Mother began to
think that Heaven had design’d me for a
Single Life, and was a little more reconcil’d
to my studious Way; saying, with
the Proverb, “It is in vain to strive against
the Stream;”
or “oppose Providence”. Sometimes
she regretted that ever she had promoted,moted E11r 93
or consented to that Proposal, the
Business having prov’d so fatal both to the
Gentleman and his good Mother, whose
Griefs, said she, methinks I feel; which
Reflection would sometimes draw Tears
from her Eyes. And one Day, my Compassion
uniting with hers, caus’d me to
take out my Handkerchief, and with it
fell the following Verses.

The Necessity of Fate.


In vain, in vain it is, I find,

To strive against our Fate;

We may as well command the Wind,

The Sea’s rude Waves, to gentle Manners bind,

Or to Eternity prescribe a Date;

As frustrate ought that Fortune has design’d:

For when we think we’re Politicians grown,

And live by Methods of our own,

We then obsequiously obey

Fate’s Dictates, and a blindfold Homage pay.


Were it not so, I surely could not be

Still Slave to Rhime, and lazy Poetry:

I, who so oft have strove

My Freedom to regain;

And E11v 94

And sometimes too, for my Assistance took

Obedience, and sometimes a Book;

Company, and sometimes Love:

All which, still proves in vain;

For I can only shake, but not cast off my Chain.


All this, my Fate, all this thou didst foreshow,

Ev’n when I was a Child,

When in my Picture’s Hand,

My Mother did command,

There should be drawn a Lawrel Bough.

Lo! then my Muse sat by, and smil’d,

To hear how some the Sentence did oppose,

Saying an Apple, Bird, or Rose,

Were Objects which did more befit

My childish Years, and no less childish Wit.


For then my Muse well knew, that constant Fate

Her Promise would compleat:

For Fate at my Initiation

Into the Muses Congregation,

As my Responsor promis’d then for me,

I should forsake those Three, Referring to the Apple, Bird, or Rose:

Soar- E12r 95

Soaring Honours, vain Persuits of Pleasure,

And vainer Fruits of worldly Treasure,

All for the Muses melancholy Tree,

E’er I knew ought of its great Mystery.

Since, O my Fate! thou needs wilt have it so,

Let thy kind Hand exalt it to my Brow.

To which my Mother reply’d, I think,
Fate would be more kind to set a Basket,
or a Milk-pail, on thy Head; thereby to
suppress those foolish Vapours that thus
intoxicate thy Brain: But if there be a
fatal Necessity that it must be so, e’en go
on, and make thyself easy with thy fantastick
Companions the Muses: I remember,
continued she, I have been told, that one
of the ancient Poets says: “Thrust Nature off, with Fork, by Force,She’ll still return to her old Course:”
And so I find it in the whole Course of thy
Life. And, as thou sayest in this Poem,
thou hast tryed divers means to chase
away this unlucky Genius that attends
thee; and, I am sensible, out of a true de
sign’d Obedience to me: But since it will
not do, I shall no more oppose thy Fancy,
but comply and indulge so innocent a Diversion.
As I was about to return her my
Thanks, a Gentleman that had married our
Kinswoman, came in.

As E12v 96

As Galesia was about to proceed, the
Lady rang for a Servant; and bad him go
to her House-keeper, and tell her to get a
Dish of the Welsh Flummery ready, which
Galesia had taught her last Night, and set
it in an Arbour; and when ’tis cool, said
she, to call us. And now, continued the
Lady, give me the Receipt, for it shall
make a Patch in the Screen, as well as
does that of the Punch. To which Galesia
readily agreed.

The Receipt for Welsh Flummery,
Made at the Castle of Montgomery.

Take Jelly of Harts-horn, with Eggs clarify’d,

Three good Pints at least; of Cream, one

Fine Sugar and Limons, as much as is fit

To suit with your Palate, that you may like it.

Three Ounces of Almonds, with Orange Flow’r-

Well beaten: Then mix ’em all up in a Platter

Of China or Silver; for that makes no matter.

The Lady was pleas’d with the Receipt,
and bad Galesia return to her Story, of the
Gentleman that had married her Kinswoman.

The F1r 97

The Unaccountable Wife.

This Gentleman, said Galesia, had
married a young Gentlewoman of
Distinction, against the Consent of her
Friends; which she accomplish’d by the
Help of her Mother’s Maid-Servant. To
say the Truth, though her Birth was
very considerable, yet her Person was
not at all agreeable; and her Fortune
but indifferent: her Parents, I suppose,
thinking, that more than just enough to
support her, would but betray her to
an unhappy Marriage. In short, married
she was to the foresaid young Man,
whose Person was truly handsome; and
with Part of her Fortune he plac’d himself
in the Army, bestow’d another Part in
furnishing her a House, and so liv’d very
decently; and notwithstanding her indifferent
Person, he had Children by her,
though they did not live long. Thus
they made a pretty handsome Shift in the
World, ’till a vile Wretch, her Servant,
overturn’d all; as follows. This Servant,
whether she was a Creature of her Master’s
before she came to her Mistress, is not F known; F1v 98
known; but she became very fruitful, and
had every Year a Child; pretending that
she was privately married to an Apprentice.
Whether the Wife knew the whole of
the Matter, or was impos’d upon, is uncertain;
but which way soever it was,
she was extremely kind to this Woman,
to a Degree unheard-of; became a perfect
Slave to her, and, as if she was the Servant,
instead of the Mistress, did all the Household-Work,
made the Bed, clean’d the
House, wash’d the Dishes; nay, farther
than so, got up in the Morning, scour’d
the Irons, made the Fire, &c. leaving this
vile Strumpet in Bed with her Husband;
for they lay all Three together every
Night. All this her Friends knew, or at
least suspected; but thought it Complaisance,
not Choice in her; and that she consider’d
her own Imperfections, and Deformity;
and therefore, was willing to take
no Notice of her Husband’s Fancy in the
Embraces of this Woman her Servant. But
the Sequel opens quite another Scene:
And now I come to that Part of the Story,
where he came to my Mother. His Business
was, to desire her to come to his Wife,
and endeavour to persuade her to part
with this Woman; For, said he, she has
already Three Children living, and God
knows how many more she may have:
Which indeed, Madam, said he, is a Charge F2r 99
Charge my little Substance is not able to
sustain; and I have been using all Endeavours
to persuade my Wife to part with
her, but cannot prevail: Wherefore I beg
you, as a Friend, Relation, and her Senior
in Years, to come, and lay before her
the Reasonableness of what I desire, and
the Ridiculousness of her proceeding. Good
Heaven! said my Mother, can you think
thus to bore my Nose with a Cushion?
Can you imagine me so stupid, as to believe
your Wife can persist in such a Contradiction
of Nature? It is impossible a Wife
shoud oppose her Husband’s Desire in parting
with such a Woman. Madam, reply’d
he, I beg you once more to be so
good as to come to my Wife, and then condemn
me if I have advanc’d a Falshood.
Well, reply’d my Mother, I will come;
though I doubt not but upon due Inspection,
the whole, will prove a Farce compos’d
amongst you, in which your Wife is
to act her Part just as you between you
think fit to teach her; which she, out of
Fear, or some other Delusion, is to perform.
But he averr’d again and again, that, without
Fraud or Trick, the Thing was as he
said. In short, my Mother went; and
there she found the Servant sitting in a
handsome Velvet Chair, dress’d up in very
good lac’d Linnen, having clean Gloves on
her Hands, and the Wife washing the F2 Dishes. F2v 100
Dishes. This Sight put my Mother into
such a violent Passion, that she had much
ado to refrain from laying Hands on her.
However, she most vehemently chid the
Mistress; telling her, That she offended
God, disgrac’d her Family, scandaliz’d
her Neighbours, and was a Shame to
Woman-kind. All which she return’dshe return’d with
virulent Words; amongst other Things,
she stood Buff in Favour of that Woman;
saying, That she had been not only a
faithful Servant, but the best of Friends,
and those that desir’d to remove such a
Friend from her, deserved not the Name
of Friends, neither did she desire they
should come into her House: All which
she utter’d with such an Air of Vehemency,
that there was no Room left to doubt of
the Sincerity of her Words; but that all
proceeded from an Interiour thoroughly
degenerated. All which my Mother related
to me with great Amazement: But
withal, told me, that she would have me
go to her on the Morrow; and with calm
and friendly Words, endeavour to persuade
her to Reason; for, said she, I was in a
Passion at the disagreeable View; but you,
who have naturally more Patience than
my-self, pray put on the best Resolutions
you can to keep your Temper, whatsoever
Provocations shall occur. Thus instructed,
thus resolved, I went next Day, hoping F3r 101
hoping that a Night’s Repose would calm
the Storm my Mother’s Anger might have
rais’d. But when I came, I found it all the
same: Though I took her apart, and with
the utmost Mildness, persuaded her, and
us’d the best Reasons I could think on to
inforce those Persuasions, yet all was in
vain; and she said, We all join’d with her
Husband to make her miserable, by removing
from her, the only Friend she had
in the World; and passionately swore by Him
that made her, that if we combin’d to send
the Woman away, she would go with her.
I would try that, reply’d I, were I in your
Husband’s Place: At which her Passion redoubled;
and she, with violent Oaths,
repeated her Resolution; desiring, that her
Friends would meddle with their own Business,
and let her alone, to remain in
Quiet in her House, and not come to give
her Disturbance. After these uncouth Compliments,
I left her, carrying with me the
greatest Amazement possible. After this,
the Husband came to us, and ask’d, If we
did not find true what he had told us? Indeed,
replied I, true, and doubly true;
such a Truth as I believe never was in the
World before, nor never will be again. In
this Case, said he, What would you counsel
me to do? Truly, said my Mother, it
is hard to advise; for to let the Woman
live there still, is not proper; nor can F3 your F3v 102
your Circumstances undergo the Charge:
And if your Wife should do as she says,
and go with her; I should in some Degree
be accessary to the parting Man and Wife.
I would venture, said I, for when it comes
to the Push, I warrant her she will not go.
Hereupon the Man said he would try; and
accordingly, hired a Place in a Waggon to
carry the Creature into her own Country;
hoping, as I suppose, that his Wife
would have rested herself contented with
him, when the Woman had been gone; but
instead thereof, she acted as she said, and
went along with her.

This Transaction was so extraordinary,
that every-body was amazed at it; and
when they had been gone some time, there
arose a Murmuring, amongst Friends,
Neighbours and Acquaintance, as if he had
made his Wife away; and when he told
them the Manner of her Departure, they
would not believe him, the thing in itself
being so incredible.

But we will leave him to make his Party
good, as well as he can, amidst the Censure of
his Neighbours, the Threats of her Friends,
and the Ridicule of his Acquaintance; and
follow the Travellers, into the Country
whither they were gone.

They arrived safe at the Woman’s Father’s,
where they found as kind a Reception
as a poor Cottage could afford; and a F4r 103
a very poor one it was, there being no Light
but what came in at the Door, no Food
but from the Hands of Charity, nor Fewel
but what they pilfer’d from their Neighbours

Now what this unaccountable Creature
thought of this kind of Being, is unknown,
or what Measures she and her Companion
thought to take, or what Schemes they
form’d to themselves, is not conceivable:
But whatever they were, the discreet Neighbourhood
put a Period to their Projects;
for they got a Warrant to have them before
a Justice, in order to prevent a Parish
Charge; there being two Children there
already, which they had sent some time
before; and now two helpless Women being
come, they knew not where the Charge
might light, and therefore proceeded as
aforesaid. It happen’d as the Constable
was conducting them to the Justice, with
a Mob at their Heels, that they pass’d by
the House of a Lady of Quality, who
looking out of her Window, saw in the
midst of this Throng, this unfortunate
Wife, whom she immediately knew to be
the Daughter of her Friend; knew to be
the Child of an honourable Family. It is
impossible to describe what Amazement
seiz’d her: She call’d out to the Constable
and other Neighbours there, bidding them
bring that Gentlewoman to her, which F4 they F4v 104
they immediately did. This good Lady,
out of Respect to her old Friends, a worthy
Family, bid them discharge her, telling
them, That her-self would be bound
that she should be no Parish Charge; so
took her into her House, treated her kindly,
and offer’d her all she could do on
such an Occasion: For all which she return’d
the Lady but cold Thanks, and
begg’d her Ladyship’s Assistance to convey
her to London along with the other Woman,
who, she said, was the truest Friend in
the World. The Lady knowing nothing of
her Story, with much Goodness provided
for her Departure, together with her Companion.
In this manner, loaden with
Disgrace, they came back to London, to
her Husband, from whom, no doubt, she
found Reproaches suitable to her Folly.

Long it was not, e’er Death made a true
and substantial Separation, by carrying the
Husband into the other World. Now was
the Time to make manifest, whether Promises,
Flatteries or Threatnings had made
her act the foresaid Scene: But it appear’d
all voluntary; for when he was dead, her
Friends and Relations invited and persuaded
her to leave that Creature and her
Children, and come to live with them,
suitable to her Birth and Education. But
all in vain; she absolutely adher’d to this
Woman and her Children, to the last Degreegree F5r 105
of Folly; insomuch, that being reduc’d
to Poverty, she begg’d in the Streets to
support them. At last, some Friend of her
Family told the Queen of the distressed
way she was in; and in some Degree, how
it came to pass, that neither her dead
Husband nor her Relations might be blameable.
The Queen, with much Goodness,
told her Friend, That if she would leave
that Woman, and go live with some Relation,
she would take Care she should not
want; and withal sent her Five Guineas,
as an Earnest of a Monthly Pension; but
notwithstanding, this infatuated Creature
refus’d the Queen’s Favour, rather than
part with this Family: And so, for their
Support, begg’d in the Streets, the Remainder
of her Days.

Sure, said the Lady, This poor Creature
was under some Spell or Inchantment, or
she could never have persisted, in so strange
a manner, to oppose her Husband, and all
her nearest Friends, and even her Sovereign.
As they were descanting on this
Subject, a Servant came and told them,
that all was ready in the Arbour; and that
the Gentlemen having finish’d their Bowl
of Punch, were attending their coming, to
share with them in a Dish of Tea, and
Welsh Flummery.

Accordingly, the Ladies went thither,
where they were saluted with a most pleasantF5 sant F5v 106
Consort of chirping Musicians, whose
wild Notes, in different Strains, set forth
the Glory of their great Creator, exciting
the whole Company to certain Acts of Joy
and Thanksgiving: Amongst which Quire,
none seem’d so harmonious as the soft
Strains of the delightful Philomel, whose
various Notes ingag’d every one’s Attention;
insomuch that the Lady call’d to
her Page, to sing that old Song, the Words
of which held due Measure with the
Tunes and different Changes of the

The S O N G.

It was on a Day,

When the Nymphs had leave to play,

As I walk’d unseen,

In a Meadow green,

I heard a Maid in an angry Spleen,

Complaining to her Swain,

To leave his toiling Vein,

And come and sport with her upon the Plain.

But the silly Clown

Lay delving of the Ground,

Regardless of her Moan,

When she cry’d,

Come away, bonny Boy, come away.

“ I can- F6r 107

I cannot come, I will not come;

I cannot leave my Work undone.

And that was all, this silly Clown could say.


Thus vexed in her Mind,

To see him so unkind,

To Venus she went,

In a Discontent,

To get her Boy, with his Bow ready bent,

To take a nimble Dart,

And to strike him to the Heart,

For disobeying her Commandement.

Cupid then

Gave the Boy such a Bang,

As made him to gang

With the bonny Lass along.

When she cry’d,

Come away, bonny Boy; come hither.

“I come, I come, I come.”

And so they gang’d along together.

The Company were all pleas’d with the
Lad’s Performance, in which he imitated
the Nightingale to Admiration. Thus they
diverted themselves, ’till Chariots came
to carry them out to take the Evening

A Patch- F6v [108]

Patch-Work Screen
For the

Leaf IV.

The Ladies having pass’d their
Evening’s Diversion, and their
Night’s Repose, dispos’d themselves
in the Morning to go on
with their Patch-work; the
Lady ordering Galesia to resume her Story.
Which she was about to do, when the Cook
came to inquire, what shou’d be for Dinner;
telling her Ladyship, That Two of
the South-Sea Directors had sent his Master
Word they wou’d dine with him to Day.
They think themselves Great-Men, said the
Lady, that they did not suppose we had a
Dinner worth their eating, without sending
us Word. But since they have taken Care to F7r 109
to give us this Notice, we will do the best
we can; therefore, if you can tell my
Cook how to make a very good French
Soup, prithee do.

A Receipt for French Soup.

Take a large Barn-door Cock, and all his
Bones break;

Of Mutton and Veal, each one a good Neck:

Of these, then, Two Quarts of strong Broth you
may make;

Next, another full Quart of good Beef Gravey

Of right Vermicelli, a Quartern at least:

Then season all these as best likes your Taste:

A Fowl in the Middle, to swim like a Toast,

It matters not whether it boil’d be or roast.

With Bacon and Balls, then garnish it well.

Add Toasts fry’d in Marrow, and Sweet-breads
of Veal,

And what else you please: for I cannot tell.

This is a chargeable Soup, said the Lady,
but one wou’d not stick at Expence to obtain
the Favour of one of these Directors.
My Husband is about to lay a Debt upon
his Estate, to put into this profitable Fund:
He has, with much ado, got the Promise of
a Subscription for 10,000 l. for this Purpose.
Madam, reply’d Galesia, I beg you to use
your utmost Endeavours to prevent this Pro- F7v 110
Proceeding: I beg you for God’s Sake,
your own Sake, your Childrens Sake, and
for the Sake of all the Poor, that depend
upon your Charity, to endeavour to disappoint
this Design. I know not what to say
(reply’d the Lady) to these your earnest
Entreaties; but for the Sake of this your
Solicitation, I shall consider very well upon
it, together with my Husband. And
now we are alone and quiet, turn over
your Papers, and look out some Patches.
Accordingly Galesia went about it, and,
lo! the first thing she laid her Fingers upon,
was a Prophesy, which she read, after
the Lady had discharg’d her Cook with due
Orders about the Dinner.

The Prophesy.

When a Noise in the South

Shall fill ev’ry one’s Mouth,

Then England beware of Undoing,

Your Sins shall be scourged,

Your Pockets well purged,

And, “ev’ry one seek his own Ruin”.

I suppose, said the Lady, this Prophesy
gives you so great an Aversion to the
South-Sea. I cannot deny, said Galesia,
but it strikes my Thoughts so far, that if I
had never so much to spare, I wou’d not put F8r 111
put a Shilling into that or any other Bubble.
I will not inquire into your Reasons, said
the Lady; it will but hinder our Diversion:
So pray go on with your Story.

Alas! said Galesia, the next is so melancholy,
that I care not how long I keep
from it; for now it was that the Death of
King Charles II. put a Stop to the
Wheel of all Joy and Happiness in England:
And it more particularly affected me,
because the Death of this our Gracious
Sovereign, seiz’d my dear aged Mother
with such a Storm of Grief, that she
fell into a languishing State, in which she
continu’d for many Weeks, e’er Death releas’d
her. During her Illness, whilst I
watch’d her Slumbers, divers Reflexions
accosted me, some of one kind, some of another;
in particular, What a new Face the
World had at present: It was but t’other
Day, said I to myself, that all the World
was in Gaiety, and the English-Court in
Splendor. The King reverenc’d; the
Courtiers belov’d; the Nation seeking after
them for Places and Preferments: Glittering
Coaches crowding before White-hall-
, discharging out of their sides Beaus
and Belles, in the most sumptuous Apparel,
as if they meant to vie with Phœbus in his
Meridian. And now, behold how wonderful
is the Change! as if Dooms-day had discharg’d
it self of a Shower of black walking Animals; F8v 112
Animals; whose Cheeks are bedew’d with
Tears, and whose Breasts are swollen with
Sighs! Amongst these, none griev’d more
sincerely than my Mother, for the Death
of this her Royal Lord, for whose dear Sake,
and that of his Father, so many Heroes of
her Family had shed their dearest Blood.
Then wou’d she remark upon, and recite
the Villainies of those Times, ’till Faintness
call’d her Spirits to some reviving Slumbers.
In the mean time my Pen wou’d discharge
itself of one sort of Scribble or other; and
I think here is one appears:

On the Follies of Human-Life.

To trace but out the Follies of Mankind,

Whether in the Common-Mass, or else disjoyn’d,

Is an Abyss, wherein to drown the Mind:

A Lab’rinth wild, obscure, to lose one’s Sense,

A Wilderness of thick Impertinence.

Tho’ we pretend we’ave Reason for our Guide,

When Passions get the Reins, they drive aside,

O’er dang’rous Ways, and Precipices run,

’Till Reason is by Passion overthrown.

No Animals such Bubbles are, as Man;

They strive to save themselves, in all they can;

But we in our own Snares, our selves trapan.

We’re Heav’n’s Clock-work, too, too finely wrought,

Seldom strike true, in Deed, in Word or Thought.

But F9r 113

But clash and clatter, contradict and prove,

Then say and unsay, as our Fancies move.

Sometimes we glory of Immortal Souls,

Whilst every Action, every Word controuls.

Above all Sense, we of our Reason boast,

Whilst by our Deeds, we shou’d think both were

Some, with Respect to God, their Words will place,

Whilst some again, his Entity disgrace,

And All, in Deeds, affront him to his Face.

Then to excuse ourselves of all these Crimes,

We lay the Fault on Devils or the Times.

When false Ideas, our frail Minds persuade,

And Lust or other Crimes our Wills invade,

The Devils are aspers’d, and Panders made.

’Tis true, e’er since the Fall, we are his Fools,

He plots our Ruin, and make us his Tools.

For oft’ner we betray ourselves than he

(Deforming th’ Image of the Deity);

And so make Brutes, much happier than we.

Than ’tis not strange, if we this Being hate,

Since brutal Happiness is more compleat.

After a little Reflection, recollecting
my scatter’d Thoughts, I broke out into
the following Contemplations:

Whither, O whither! do my Thoughts
ramble!— Into what strange, unfrequented
Desarts does my Imagination wander!— Desarts, F9v 114
Desarts, never trodden but by one Wild
Passenger. The Earl of R O C H E S T E R: He, indeed, has told the
World of one Jowler, a Happy Creature. Alluding to these Verses in his Satire against Man: Those Creatures are the Wisest, who attain, By surest Means, the Ends at which they aim. If, therefore, Jowler finds and kills his Hare, Better than Meers supplies Committee-Chair; Tho’ one’s a States-Man, t’other but a Hound, Jowler, in Justice, wiser will be found.
But I dare ingage, if it were in Jowler’s
Power, he would most readily change with
the most contemptible of Human Creatures,
(setting a happy Immortality aside). I
have heard say, That a Butcher’s Dog, and
a Brewer’s Hog, are the Happiest of Brute
But which of us wou’d change with
either of them, if Transmigration were in
our Power? Not one I dare answer; no, not
even of those who daily make themselves
in Fact, what those Animals are in Form;
and by their repeated Excesses, become of
so deprav’d a Nature, that they are scarce
distinguishable (at least in their Actions)
from those poor Brutes. And tho’ these are
Vices which all the World explode in
Words, yet very few do in Acts. And what
is more detestable, (if true) I have heard
that our Women begin to be Practitioners
in this Vice; which is but lately, if at all;
for ’till now, their Manners never suffer’d the F10r 115
the least Blemish of that kind, but were
as perfect, as to any such Taint, as an untouch’d
Plumb, or Grape, in a fair Summer’s
Morning; Pride having been the
only Vice imputed to the Fair Sex. And
indeed at some Times, and on some Occasions,
is so far from being a Vice, that it
is a Vertue of great Magnitude, shining in
the Horizon of their Affairs. However, I
dare ingage, there is not one of either Sex
wou’d injoy the utmost Pleasures, attending
the Perpetration of these Crimes, at the
Price of their Humanity.

And as to Pride,

A Crime most laid at the Ladies Door;
’Tis said, they love Dressing, gaudy Apparel,
Preference of Place, Title, Equipage,
&c. But which of them wou’d be a Peacock
for the sake of his Plumes? a Lark for
its high flying? or an Owl for the sake of
the great Equipage of Birds that fly after
Alas! not one. The meanest Servant
in a Family, wou’d not change her
Station, to be the Happiest of these Animals.
Then let us value our Humanity,
and endeavour to imbellish it with vertuous
Actions; by which means we shall be far
from seting our-selves on the Level with
mere Animals, much less giving them the
Preference. But e’er I leave this Reflection on F10v 116
on Pride, we must remember, That there
is a great Difference between the Use and
Abuse of those Things, which seem the Concomitants
of Pride; for Cloaths, Place,
Equipage, &c. in some Cases, and to some
Persons, are Necessaries almost to a Necessity;
as the Gospel testifies, “Soft Rayment is
for King’s Houses”
: For God is pleas’d to
place different Persons in different Stations;
and every one is to accommodate themselves
according to their Station; it wou’d
as ill befit a Hedger to wear a Velvet Coat,
as a Courtier to wear a Leathern one; for
if over-doing our Condition, may ascend to
Pride, under-doing may descend to Sloth or
Slovenliness: Therefore, with Care, we are
to chuse the Medium. I doubt not but Diogenes
was as proud in his Tub, as Alexander
in his Palace. To find a right Medium,
is sometimes hard; for very often Vice
dresses her self in the Apparel of Vertue;
and, in a special manner, Pride puts on
the Mask of Honour: And though one be a
direct Vice, and the other a Vertue, yet they
are not distinguishable to every Capacity,
but often one passes for the other. Lucifer,
the Author of this Sin, having taken Care
to gild it over double and treble, with
the refulgent Brightness of Honour, Magnanimity,
and Generosity: Which so dazles
our Interiour, that we are not always able
to distinguish between the Crime of this Apostate F11r 117
Apostate Angel, and the Vertue of Seraphims;
the one by his Pride having thrown
himself into utter Darkness, and eternal
Misery; the other, by their Obedience,
maintaining their Seraphick Glory in the
highest Heavens. By mistaking these, we
often deprive ourselves of the Benefit of
our well-form’d Intentions. Again, sometimes,
the beauteous Face of Vertue presents
her-self in an obscure Light, without
the Sun-shine of happy Circumstances. We
then let her pass unregarded, and so lose
the Opportunity of making our-selves happy
in her Embraces. Which puts me in
mind of a Distich or two.

If Chance or Fore-cast, some small Good produce,

We slip it by unknown, or spoil it in the Use.

When many Years in Toils and Cares are pass’d,

To get of Happiness some small Repast,

Our Crimes or Follies always spoil the Taste.

Now these Oversights and Mistakes, are
not only in the Case of Pride and its opposite
; but in other Cases, a false
Light or a false Appearance deceives us;
we mistake Cunning for Wisdom, and a mean
, for a discreet Precaution; Fury
and Rashness for Valour; Vain-glory for Charity;
and a thousand Things of the like
Nature. But having mention’d Charity, here F11v 118
here appears a little Slip of Verse; which,
I think, refers rather to the forgiving, than
the giving Part of Charity. However it will
make a Patch.

Upon Charity.

This Vertue does above all others climb;

To give is Noble, to forgive Sublime.

The Giving, one may call Religion’s Heart;

The Pardoning, the Animating Part.

These Two conjoyn’d, make Charity complete,

By which our Souls of Heav’n participate.

A Vertue kind, soft, gentle, debonair,

As Guardian Angels to their Pupils are,

Or faithful Swains, to their lov’d, faithful-Fair.

To chast Affection, ’tis as Oyl to Fire,

But Ice and Water to all foul Desire.

Of Friendship and fraternal Love the Source,

And Marriage Vows, it waters with its Course;

Like Aqua-fortis, graving on the Mind,

The Character of all good Deeds and kind.

But otherwise it does a Lethe prove,

And makes us quite forget forgiving Love.

These Blessings are th’ Effects of Charity;

But nough tcompar’dnought compar’d to Heav’n’s unbounded Joy,

Surpassing Sense! which those participate,

Who shar’d this Virtue in their Earthly State.

Joys! F12r 119

Joys! not only surpassing Sense! but too
high for Humane Thought! O the transcendant
Joys of a bless’d Eternity! How inconceivable
to our weak Capacities, are
the ineffable Pleasures of the bright Regions
of Eternity! Eternity of Time, and Infinity
of Space, who can comprehend? Reason
can climb high, and Thought can extend
far; but neither Reason nor Thought can
reach the Altitude of Heaven, nor the Extent
of the Almighty’s Dominions: To say
nothing of His Justice, Mercy and Wisdom,
and His Power to execute whatsoever His
Wisdom determines from and to all Eternity:
Where the Righteous injoy all Happiness,
and the Wicked all Misery. All
this we risque, for a little Shining Earth, or,
what is less worthy, a little empty Fame;
the one being the Aim of the Covetous, the
other of the Ambitious Man; of which the
latter is the worst, because his Vice affects
whole Countries and Kingdoms; whereof
we have but too pregnant an Example
at this Time, in the Person of the Duke
of Monmouth. Unhappy Young Prince!
to be possess’d with this Devil of Ambition,
which makes him become the Phaeton of
our Age; to set these Kingdoms in a Combustion.
[For it was at this Time, Madam,
added Galesia, that the Duke of Monmouth’s
Enterprize began to be talk’d of.] Whether
Ambition be a Branch of Pride, or Pride a Branch F12v 120
Branch of Ambition, I know not: They
both partake of the same Quality; so which
is Root, or which is Branch, it matters not;
since it may be determin’d, that the Tree
produces the worst of Fruit.

As I was going on in these wandring
Thoughts, during the Intervals of my
grieved Mother’s Slumbers, I heard a little
mumbling Noise in the next House, in a
Room joyning to ours; which mumbling
at last ended in a Hymn: Then I concluded
it to be the Prayer of an Old Gentlewoman
who lodg’d on the same Floor in the next
House. But the Hymn being distinct, I
cou’d hear the Words perfectly; which are

A Hymn. Sung in a Psalm Tune.

Preserve thy Holy Servant Monmouth, Lord,

Who carries for his Shield thy Sacred Word: It was said, that a Bible was carry’d before him.

Preserve him from the Lyon and the Bear:

From Foxes and from Wolves, who daily tear

Thy little Flock; and for him whet thy Sword,

That we may be Thy People, Thou our Lord.

Do thou the Red-Coats to Confusion bring,

The Surplices, Lawn-Sleeves, and eke their King;

Whilst in thy Sion we thy Praises sing.

Wicked G1r 121

Wicked Song! said I; and wicked Wretch
that sings it; in which she curses the Lord’s
Anointed, and all his Adherents, the
Church and all her Children. Graceless
Woman! that dares lift up Hands, Eyes,
and Voice to Heaven with such Maledictions!
But sure, it is her Ignorance; Nobody
can be so designedly wicked. Happy
had such been to have died in their Infancy,
before the Baptismal Water was dry’d off
their Face! But, ah! if I think on that, who
is there so Righteous, but that they may
wish they had dyed in the State of Innocency?

In these Reflections, a certain drousy
Summons to Sleep seiz’d me; and having
watch’d long with my dear sick Mother,
I comply’d with my Weakness, and fell fast
asleep; and having been just before reflecting
on Baptismal Innocence, I fell into the
following Dream.

G The G1v 122

The Childrens, or Catechumen’s

Methought I pass’d thro’ that Elysian Plain,

Which to the Catechumens appertain;

And is to those, likewise, the soft Abode,

Who ignorantly serve the Unknown God.

Lo! here the Souls live in eternal Peace,

Almost tir’d out with everlasting Ease;

Exempt from Griefs, but no true Joys possess;

Which is, at best, but half true Happiness.

When in my Dream, I thought I enter’d here,

All that was charming struck my Eye and Ear;

Large Walks, tall Trees, Groves, Grots, and shady

Streams in Meanders, Grass, and lovely Flow’rs,

Babes unbaptiz’d (like Birds from Tree to Tree)

Chirp here, and sing in pleasing Harmony.

Long Walks of Roses, Lilies, Eglantines,

Pinks, Pansies, Violets and Columbines,

Which G2r 123

Which always keep their perfect Beauty here,

Not subject to the Changes of the Year.

In fine; Here’s all Things that can Fancy please,

Rooms of Repose, and Canopies of Ease;

Towers, Terrasses, arch’d Roofs, and Theatres,

Well-built Piazzas, lofty Pillasters;

Statues, and Stories of terrestrial Pride,

Of such who follow’d Virtue for their Guide;

At last, against their Wills, were Deify’d.

Sumptuous Apparel, Musick, Mirth and Balls,

Exceeding Londoners in Festivals,

The Temple-Revels; foreign Carnivals.

The Swains, too, had their Country-Wakes and

Th’ Apprentices Shrove-Tuesday all the Year,

And every one was happy in his Sphere:

That is to say, if Happiness can be,

Without th’ Enjoyment of a Deity.

Small Joy can Immaterial Beings find,

’Till with their Immaterial Center joyn’d.

The Soul of Man is a Celestial Flame,

Without true Joy, ’till it goes whence it came.

As Fire ascends, and Earth and Water fall,

So must we join with our Original.

G2 This G2v 124

This Truth poor mortal Lovers represent,

Whom nought but the lov’d Object can content.

In these Reflections, many a Path I trod,

And griev’d to think “they ne’er must see their God.”

This melancholy Reflection awaked me;
when I was in Amaze to find my self in
my Mother’s Chamber; having had such
an absolute and perfect Idea of that happy
, where, amongst the rest, I thought “I
had seen my Mother”
; that I wonder’d to
find her asleep in her Bed, and I in a
Chair by her
; and some little Time it was,
e’er I cou’d believe that I had Dream’d and
was now Awake. But at last, convincing
my-self, I compos’d these Verses upon the

On G3r 125

On Dreams.

A Dream to me seems a Mysterious Thing,

Whate’er the Naturalists for Causes bring.

Whilst Sleep’s dull Fetters, our frail Bodies tye,

The Soul, inlarg’d, finds pleasant Company.

With Comrade-Spirits, midnight Revels make,

And see Things pass’d, and Things to come

Sometimes in merry Jigs and Gambols, they

Present th’ Events of the approaching Day:

Sometimes they mount e’en to the Place of Bliss;

Then sink again into the deep Abyss;

With such Agility and Ease they go,

The piercing Lightning seems to move more

Yet as they pass, all Things they See and Know.

But as a Country Lady, after all

The Pleasures of th’ Exchange, Plays, Park,
and Mall,

Returns again to her old Rural Seat,

T’ instruct her Hinds, and make ’em earn their

So comes the Soul home to her coarse Retreat.

G3 A G3v 126

A coarse Retreat indeed! Where Sin,
Sorrow, and Sufferings, of all Kinds, and
from all Quarters, accost and attack her,
and from which she is perpetually wishing
to be delivered; and yet is loth to quit
this her Earthly Mansion: Which Fondness
for this transitory Life, and Fear to
imbark for a Better in the Ocean of Eternity,
must surely proceed from a Deficiency
of Faith, and the Want of a firm Belief
of Future Happiness.

As I was going on with these Reflections,
my Mother, with a most piercing Groan,
awaked, and faintly calling me to her
Bed-side, I had the inexpressible Affliction
to see her last Moments drawing on:——
Pardon, said Galesia, wiping her Eyes, these
briny Ebullitions: The next most shocking
Grief was now approaching to torture my
labouring Spirits.——To be short——
for who can dwell on such a Subject!——
My dear Mother, in the midst of her Blessings
poured on me, and Prayers for me,
recommending her Soul to Divine Mercy,
was interrupted by Death, and looking wistfully
upon me, and grasping my Hand,

Here- G4r 127

Hereupon Galesia fell into a Flood of
Tears, which suspended her Discourse.
And the good Lady, being unwilling to
press her any farther on that melancholy
Theme, took her by the Hand, saying,
Come, my Galesia, we will go and inquire
how forward Dinner is; and whether the
Gentlemen who have invited themselves,
are yet come, or not.

Accordingly, they went out together;
but Galesia rising from her Seat, dropp’d
the following Verses; which the Lady took
up, saying, Well! Here I see, is Matter
for another Patch, which we will peruse on
our Return.

On the Difficulties of Religion.

O Wretched World! but Wretched above All,

Is Man; the most unhappy Animal!

Not knowing to what State he shall belong,

He tugs the heavy Chain of Life along.

So many Ages pass, yet no Experience shows

From whence Man comes, nor, after, where he goes.

G4 We G4v 128

We are instructed of a Future State,

Of Just Rewards, and Punishments in That;

But ign’rant How, or Where, or When, or

I’m shew’d a Book, The Bible. in which these Things are

And, by all Hands, assur’d, all’s True in it;

But in this Book, such Mysteries I find,

Instead of Healing, oft corrode the Mind.

Sometimes our Faith must be our only Guide,

Our Senses and our Reason laid aside:

Again to Reason we our Faith submit,

This spurs, that checks, we curvet, champ the

And make our future Hopes uneasy sit!

Now Faith, now Reason, now Good-works, does

Betwixt these Opposites our Virtues fall,

Each calling each, False and Heretical.

And, after all; What Rule have we to show,

Whether these Writings Sacred be, or no?

If G5r 129

If we alledge, The Truths that we find there,

Are to themselves a Testimony clear,

By the same Rule, such all good Morals are.

Thus we by Doubts, & Hopes, & Fears, are tost,

And in the Lab’rinth of Disputes are lost.

Unhappy! who with any Doubts are curst!

But of all Doubts, Religious Doubts are worst!

Wou’d I were dead! or wou’d I had no Soul!

Had ne’er been born! or else been born a Fool!

Then future Fears, wou’d not my Thoughts annoy,

I’d use what’s truly mine, the present Joy.

Ah! happy Brutes! I envy much your State,

Whom Nature, one Day, shall Annihilate;

Compar’d to which, wretched is Human Fate!

Dinner not being quite ready, the good
Lady conducted Galesia again into her Appartment,
and they being seated, she read
the foregoing Verses, which, she said, should
serve for another Patch in her Screen: And
as she was laying it by for that Purpose,
she cast her Eye on the Backside of the
same Paper, and there found the following
Lines, which seemed, by the Tenor of them,
as well as by the Writing, to be the Product
of the same melancholy Frame of G5 Mind G5v 130
Mind with the former, as well as to be
written at the same Time. After a sort of
Chasm, they began thus.

But what does most of all my Spirit grieve,

Is, That I must my Dear Fidelius leave!

My Dear Fidelius! Witty, Young, and Gay,

To whose Embraces Virtue chalks the Way.

In loving Him, I answer Heaven’s Call;

For Love’s allow’d, for Virtuous Ends, to All:

And Heav’n, perhaps, has rais’d him up Express,

By Force of Love, to prop my Feebleness,

And stop my Fall into this Precipice.

But how know I, he’s not set on by Hell,

To stop the Progress of my doing well?

Thus I’m, alas! by diff’rent Passions mov’d,

And hope, and fear, and love, and am belov’d.

Yet if I own I love, I ruin Him,

And to deny the Truth, is, sure, a Crime.

My Sufferings are great: Heav’n pity me!

But whatsoe’er I bear, let him go free!

Here- G6r 131

Hereupon the Lady looking over the
Work, and finding there was enough to
make Four Folds of a Screen, she said,
she would have it made up, and fram’d,
to see how it would look before they proceeded
any farther. And now, said she,
the Players are come into the Country, and
the Assembleés and Horse-Races will begin;
so we will defer our Work ’till those Diversions
are over. But, however, continued she,
since I have received so many Favours from
you, my dear Galesia, in this Way, and that
I may contribute a little to divert you in
your melancholy Hours, when the Remembrance
of so sad an Occasion as your Mother’s
Death, crouds too heavily upon your
Thoughts, I will shew you a Poem that
was presented me on New-Year’s Day last,
by an Excellent Hand, in Commemoration
of the Nativity of our Blessed Saviour;
Which, added the good Lady, I question
not, but will give you as much Pleasure
and Consolation, as it has frequently done

An G6v G7r

Commemoration of the Nativity

“Magnus ab Integro Sæc’lorum nascitur ordo.” Virg.


Well dost thou do, my Muse;

Ne’er envy Tuneful Bards, whoe’er they be.

That Vain and Earthly Subjects chuse,

Yet vainly hope for Immortality.

Some sooth with Magick Sounds, the Virgin’s

Which self-bewitching Thoughts before possest;

Adore G7v 134

Adore the transient Pageant of a Day,

And Idolize a Piece of Painted Clay.

Another lifts some Hero to the Skies,

And a Man-slaughterer Deifies,

Sent in God’s Vengeance, when, by his Command,

Tempests of War invade a Guilty Land.

Another tunes his Mercenary Strings,

To act that Worst of Witchcraft, flatter Kings.

But Thou yield’st all thy Praise, and offer’st all
thy Love,

Where it is only due, above!

Yet, O thou Virgin! O thou Vestal-Muse!

That won’t profane thy Voice, with Things

One Theme, as Low as Earth can yield, I chuse,

And yet as High as Heav’n can e’er bestow.

Therefore, begin from Earth: But know, Thy

Shall tow’r beyond Day’s blazing Orb of Light.

The Lark so flickering o’er its Grounded Nest,

First ope’s its little Lungs, exerts its Breast,

Then G8r 135

Then rising on its Saily Wings,

It meditates the Sky;

As still it rises, still it sings,

’Till its small Body leaves the Eye;

And when it does near Heav’n appear,

Its finest Notes desert the Human Ear.

Say, Wouldst thou know this Happy Theme,

That thus shall wing thee above mortal Fame?

Sing thou the Child, that seem’d like Mankind’s

At Depth of Winter in a Stable born;

Born among Beasts, and in a Manger laid:

Yet if that Child will thee, inspiring, aid,

The lovely Theme, exalting, shalt thou raise,

Above the Kings and Heroes others praise.


Let each King’s Bard reap, as he gives, Renown,

While Flatt’rers, like himself, with shortliv’d

His Lawrel hail, as he the Regal Crown,

Giving each Toy what neither Toy can claim;

Myriads G8v 136

Myriads of Spirits, that e’er Men were made,

E’er the Foundations of the Earth were laid,

Far brighter had, for Ages, shone

Than a vain Monarch on a Birth-day shines,

Whose Forms outdo the Day-bestowing Sun,

And shall, when Nature, sunk in Years, declines;

Shall, when that Sun is blotted from the Sky,

When the Blue Æther, reddning, melts in

When all Created Worlds are bid to die,

Shine on for all Eternity the same:

All these bright Spirits, whose each Single Voice,

Can make Spheres dance, make Heav’n and
Earth rejoyce;

These shall thy Song upon this Babe refine,

Shall All in One great Chorus join;

Humbly they too shall own

Him the Immortal Heir of David’s Throne,

And that to Him their Song is Low as thine.

For, know, That Infant, poorly as it lies,

In Spirit treads the Stars, and walks the whirling

That G9r 137

That Babe, on Earth expos’d in this Abode,

Is now in Heaven———He is the Almighty God.


Yes, Mortals, Yes, who deigns thus Mean to be,

Mysterious Change, O Man! But ’tis, ’tis He,

To whom the Thought-transcending Being said,

The Being that his Angels Spirits made,

That made his Ministers a Flame of Fire,

Thou art than all these Angels Higher,

Thou my Son, and I thy Sire:

To me a Son for Ever shalt thou be,

And I for Ever Sire to Thee.

Still farther, Heaven’s High King proceeded on,

And thus to his Coequal Son

The Son’s Coequal Father spake,

O God! for Ever is thy Throne,

Thy Foes thy Footstool will I make:

Be seated here at my Right Hand;

Where’er there’s Light, Air, Sea, or Land,

Thou Always shalt and All Command.

This G9v 138

This said, Choirs that fill’d the bright Abode,

Worshipp’d, at his Command, this Babe, and
worshipp’d him a God.


And is it thus, thou Mighty Helpless Thing!

Thou less than Beggar, and thou more than King!

Canst Thou yon Starry Region term thy Throne?

Claim, as thy Footstool, this vast Globe of

Call all the spacious Globe contains, Thy own?

Thou! Cradled in a Manger at thy Birth,

As feeble Man, can’t tow’r a God. How can

The God of Nature sink to feeble Man?

Oh Wondrous! Oh Mysterious Change!

Yet as Eternal Truth no Wrong can know,

Strange as it seems, it is as true as strange;

It is————It must be so.

Long e’er this World the World’s Redeemer blest,

Old Prophets, Sign delivering after Sign,

His Coming, and his Acts, when come, exprest,

That all might know the Man who was Divine.

When G10r 139

When this was made, beyond disputing, plain,

Then Endless Woes were doom’d, by God’s

To be the stubborn Unbeliever’s Pain,

And Endless Joys Believers great Reward:

These, by his Prophets Mouths, the Father

That, trusting in his Son, obey’d his Lore,

These He, His Sacred Oath confirming, said,

Should Uncorrupted at the fatal Day,

Which shall the World itself in Ashes lay,

From the Corrupted Regions of the Dead,

Rise and Immortalize their Mortal Clay.

But those, in Bitterness of Wrath, He vow’d,

Whom no Rewards could win, or Threats could

To take the Paths, propounded for their Good,

But, heedless, stubbornly would spurn his Law,

Should be condemn’d to wander round the Earth,

And when they dy’d, be doom’d to go,

To Endless Gulphs of Fire below.

V. O G10v 140


O Lord! who meditates what Thou hast

That Man is God, and God is Man;

Who knows, if he believes not what You taught,

Tho’ more than bounded Reason e’er can scan,

He shall the Object of thy Wrath remain,

Immortal made to feel Eternal Pain.

But if, confiding in the Word

Of Truth, Itself’s ne’er-failing Lord,

He own’d this Wonder, he should be

Heir to a bless’d Eternity.

O Lord! who meditates what thou hast wrought,

Is lost at first in pleasing, dreadful Thought;

But feels a Particle within, that tells,

His Soul is lasting as his God reveals:

From thence he does the boundless Pow’r confess,

May do what he can’t think, as what he can’t

And owns the Greater Wonder from the Less:

Thus G11r 141

Thus when he finds, that the Immortal Son

Grew Mortal, to make Men Immortal grow;

Straight does his grateful Breast with Ardor glow,

His Fears are vanish’d, and his Terrors gone.

The Man who thus conceives

Christ’s Goodness, and this Mystery believes,

Nor menac’d Pains, nor promis’d Joys controul;

Fix’d by Affections rooted in his Soul,

He his Redeemer views, with Joy, Above,

And, swallow’d in the Ocean of his Love,

Needs nothing else his working Faith to move.


’Tis in this Light, O Saviour! that we view,

We, who are honour’d with the Christians Name,

The wondrous Acts that You vouchsafe to do,

To pay our Forfeit, and redeem our Claim.

Then we recount the Wonders of that Age,

When Heav’ns High Lord trod on this Earth’s
Low Stage.

We G11v 142

We read, How Men, quite Lame, did Christ

Ran, by one Miracle, to see a New.

When straight Blind Mortals feel the visual Ray,

And the First Man they see, is Author of the Day.

The Dumb, lamenting Silence, this behold,

When straight their Loosening Tongues new Miracles

Dœmoniacks foam’d and curst to see the Deed,

But blest the Author when from Dœmons freed.

Up from the Dead a Carcass newly rais’d,

Join’d with the Living, and Death’s Victor prais’d.

Man’s Union hence with God ev’n Reason can,

Tho’ but by Consequence and faintly, scan:

Enough, howe’er, to lead to Faith’s true Road,

Since this we find was done by Man,

And could not but by God:

By these Reflections, which thy Preachers raise,

Those that were Dumb, sing out aloud thy Praise;

Those seek Thee that were in Devotion Lame,

Like bounding Roes, that, thirsty, seek the Stream.

Those that were Blind, here get the Eye of Faith,

And, pressing forward to Salvation’s Path,

The 143

The stubborn Jews they, left behind, invite

To follow them from Error’s foggy Night:

Bid them from obstinate Delusions fly,

Who most are Proofs of what they most deny:

Curs’d by the Lord, they live on Earth by

Thro’ the Wide World, like Vagabonds, they

Princes and Lords in Wealth,

But Lords without a Home:

Tho’ suff’ring still, they still thy Laws despise,

Since Seventeen Cent’ries cannot make them wise:

Since from their rooted Sin they cannot part;

Melt (for Thou canst!) the hardest Heart,

And open Blindest Eyes:

Make All on Earth, as All in Heav’n, join,

Since All in Heav’n and Earth alike are Thine.