M9r

Fantomina:

Or,
Love in a Maze.

A young Lady of distinguished
Birth, Beauty, Wit, and Spirit, happened
to be in a Box one Night at
the Playhouse; where, though there
were a great Number of celebrated
Toasts, she perceived several Gentlemen
extremely pleased themselves
with entertaining a Woman who sat in a Corner of the
Pit, and, by her Air and Manner of receiving them,
might easily be known to be one of those who come
there for no other Purpose, than to create Acquaintance
with as many as seem desirous of it. She could not
help testifying her Contempt of Men, who, regardless
either of the Play, or Circle, threw away their
Time in such a Manner, to some Ladies that sat by
her: But they, either less surprised by being more accustomed
to such Sights, than she who had been
bred for the most Part in the Country, or not of a
Disposition to consider any Thing very deeply, took
but little Notice of it. She still thought of it, however;
and the longer she reflected on it, the greater
was her Wonder, that Men, some of whom she knew
were accounted to have Wit, should have Tastes so very M9v 258
very depraved.---This excited a Curiosity in her to
know in what Manner these Creatures were address’d:
was young, a Stranger to the World,
and consequently to the Dangers of it; and having no
Body in Town, at that Time, to whom she was oblig’d
to be accountable for her Actions, did in every Thing
as her Inclinations or Humours render’d most agreeable
to her: Therefore thought it not in the least a
Fault to put in practice a little Whim which came
immediately into her Head, to dress herself as near as
she cou’d in the Fashion of those Women who make
sale of their Favours, and set herself in the Way of
being accosted as such a one, having at that Time no
other Aim, than the Gratification of an innocent Curiosity.
had no sooner design’d this Frolick, than
she put it in Execution; and muffling her Hoods over
her Face, went the next Night into the Gallery-Box,
and practising as much as she had observ’d, at that
Distance, the Behaviour of that Woman, was not long
before she found her Disguise had answer’d the Ends
she wore it for:----A Crowd of Purchasers of all Degrees
and Capacities were in a Moment gather’d about
her, each endeavouring to out-bid the other, in offering
her a Price for her Embraces.----She listen’d to ’em
all, and was not a little diverted in her Mind at the
Disappointment she shou’d give to so many, each of
which thought himself secure of gaining her.----She
was told by ’em all, that she was the most lovely Woman
in the World; and some cry’d, “Gad, she is mighty
like my fine Lady Such-a-one,”----naming her own
Name. She was naturally vain, and receiv’d no small
Pleasure in hearing herself prais’d, tho’ in the Person
of another, and a suppos’d Prostitute; but she dispatch’d
as soon as she cou’d all that had hitherto attack’d her,
when she saw the accomplish’d Beauplaisir was making
his Way thro’ the Crowd as fast as he was able, to
reach the Bench she sat on. She had often seen him
in the Drawing-Room, had talk’d with him; but then
her Quality and reputed Virtue kept him from using
her with that Freedom she now expected he wou’d do, M10r 259
do, and had discover’d something in him, which had
made her often think she shou’d not be displeas’d, if
he wou’d abate some Part of his Reserve.----Now
was the Time to have her Wishes answer’d:----He
look’d in her Face, and fancy’d, as many others had
done, that she very much resembled that Lady whom
she really was; but the vast Disparity there appear’d between
their Characters, prevented him from entertaining
even the most distant Thought that they cou’d be
the same.---He address’d her at first with the usual Salutations
of her pretended Profession, as, “Are you engag’d,
Madam?----Will you permit me to wait on you home
after the Play?----By Heaven, you are a fine Girl!---
How long have you us’d this House?”----And such
like Questions; but perceiving she had a Turn of Wit,
and a genteel Manner in her Raillery, beyond what is
frequently to be found among those Wretches, who
are for the most part Gentlewomen but by Necessity,
few of ’em having had an Education suitable to
what they affect to appear, he chang’d the Form of
his Conversation, and shew’d her it was not because
he understood no better, that he had made use of Expressions
so little polite.----In fine, they were infinitely
charm’d with each other: He was transported to find
so much Beauty and Wit in a Woman, who he
doubted not but on very easy Terms he might enjoy;
and she found a vast deal of Pleasure in conversing
with him in this free and unrestrain’d Manner.
They pass’d their Time all the Play with an equal Satisfaction;
but when it was over, she found herself involv’d
in a Difficulty, which before never enter’d into
her Head, but which she knew not well how to get
over.----The Passion he profess’d for her, was not
of that humble Nature which can be content with
distant Adorations:----He resolv’d not to part from
her without the Gratifications of those Desires she had
inspir’d; and presuming on the Liberties which her
suppos’d Function allow’d off, told her she must either
go with him to some convenient House of his
procuring, or permit him to wait on her to her own Lodgings.— M10v 260
Lodgings.----Never had she been in such a Dilemma:
Three or four Times did she open her Mouth to confess
her real Quality; but the Influence of her ill Stars prevented
it, by putting an Excuse into her Head, which
did the Business as well, and at the same Time did not
take from her the Power of seeing and entertaining
him a second Time with the same Freedom she had
done this.---She told him, she was under Obligations
to a Man who maintain’d her, and whom she durst not
disappoint, having promis’d to meet him that Night
at a House hard by.----This Story so like what those
Ladies sometimes tell, was not at all suspected by
Beauplaisir; and assuring her he wou’d be far from
doing her a Prejudice, desir’d that in return for the
Pain he shou’d suffer in being depriv’d of her Company
that Night, that she wou’d order her Affairs, so as
not to render him unhappy the next. She gave a solemn
Promise to be in the same Box on the Morrow
Evening; and they took Leave of each other; he to the
Tavern to drown the Remembrance of his Disappointment;
she in a Hackney-Chair hurry’d home to indulge
Contemplation on the Frolick she had taken,
designing nothing less on her first Reflections, than to
keep the Promise she had made him, and hugging herself
with Joy, that she had the good Luck to come
off undiscover’d.

But these Cogitations were but of a short Continuance,
they vanish’d with the Hurry of her Spirits,
and were succeeded by others vastly different and ruinous:
the Charms of Beauplaisir came fresh into
her Mind; she languish’d, she almost dy’d for another
Opportunity of conversing with him; and not all the
Admonitions of her Discretion were effectual to oblige
her to deny laying hold of that which offer’d itself the
next Night.---She depended on the Strength of her
Virtue, to bear her safe thro’ Tryals more dangerous
than she apprehended this to be, and never having been
address’d by him as Lady,---was resolv’d to receive
his Devoirs as a Town-Mistress, imagining a world
of Satisfaction to herself in engaging him in the Characterracter M11r 261
of such a one, and in observing the Surprise he
would be in to find himself refused by a Woman, who
he supposed granted her Favours without Exception.---
Strange and unaccountable were the Whimsies she was
possess’d of,---wild and incoherent her Desires,---
unfix’d and undetermin’d her Resolutions, but in that
of seeing Beauplaisir in the Manner she had lately done.
As for her Proceedings with him, or how a second
Time to escape him, without discovering who she was,
she cou’d neither assure herself, nor whither or not in
the last Extremity she wou’d do so.--Bent, however,
on meeting him, whatever shou’d be the Consequence,
she went out some Hours before the Time of going
to the Playhouse, and took Lodgings in a House not
very far from it, intending, that if he shou’d insist on
passing some Part of the Night with her, to carry
him there, thinking she might with more Security
to her Honour entertain him at a Place where she was
Mistress, than at any of his own chusing.

The appointed Hour being arriv’d, she had the
Satisfaction to find his Love in his Assiduity: He was
there before her; and nothing cou’d be more tender
than the Manner in which he accosted her: But from
the first Moment she came in, to that of the Play
being done, he continued to assure her no Consideration
shou’d prevail with him to part from her again,
as she had done the Night before; and she rejoic’d to
think she had taken that Precaution of providing herself
with a Lodging, to which she thought she might
invite him, without running any Risque, either of her
Virtue or Reputation.---Having told him she wou’d
admit of his accompanying her home, he seem’d perfectly
satisfy’d; and leading her to the Place, which
was not above twenty Houses distant, wou’d have
order’d a Collation to be brought after them. But she
wou’d not permit it, telling him she was not one of
those who suffer’d themselves to be treated at their
own Lodgings; and as soon she was come in, sent
a Servant, belonging to the House, to provide a very
handsome Supper, and Wine, and every Thing was serv’d M11v 262
serv’d to Table in a Manner which shew’d the Director
neither wanted Money, nor was ignorant how it
shou’d be laid out.

This Proceeding, though it did not take from
him the Opinion that she was what she appeared to
be, yet it gave him Thoughts of her, which he had
not before.--He believ’d her a Mistress, but believ’d
her to be one of a superior Rank, and began to
imagine the Possession of her would be much more
Expensive than at first he had expected: But not being
of a Humour to grudge any Thing for his Pleasures,
he gave himself no farther Trouble, than what
were occasioned by Fears of not having Money enough
to reach her Price, about him.

Supper being over, which was intermixed with
a vast deal of amorous Conversation, he began to explain
himself more than he had done; and both by
his Words and Behaviour let her know, he would
not be denied that Happiness the Freedoms she allow’d
had made him hope.---It was in vain; she would
have retracted the Encouragement she had given:---
In vain she endeavoured to delay, till the next Meeting,
the fulfilling of his Wishes:--She had now gone
too far to retreat:---He was bold;---he was resolute:
She fearful,---confus’d, altogether unprepar’d
to resist in such Encounters, and rendered more so, by
the extreme Liking she had to him.---Shock’d, however,
at the Apprehension of really losing her Honour,
she struggled all she could, and was just going to reveal
the whole Secret of her Name and Quality, when
the Thoughts of the Liberty he had taken with her,
and those he still continued to prosecute, prevented
her, with representing the Danger of being expos’d, and
the whole Affair made a Theme for publick Ridicule.
much, indeed, she told him, that she
was a Virgin, and had assumed this Manner of Behaviour
only to engage him. But that he little regarded,
or if he had, would have been far from obliging
him to desist;---nay, in the present burning
Eagerness of Desire, ’tis probable, that had he been acquainted M12r 263
acquainted both with who and what she really was,
the Knowledge of her Birth would not have influenc’d
him with Respect sufficient to have curb’d the
wild Exuberance of his luxurious Wishes, or made him
in that longing,---that impatient Moment, change
the Form of his Addresses. In fine, she was undone;
and he gain’d a Victory, so highly rapturous, that
had he known over whom, scarce could he have
triumphed more. Her Tears, however, and the Destraction
she appeared in, after the ruinous Extasy
was past, as it heighten’d his Wonder, so it abated
his Satisfaction:---He could not imagine for what
Reason a Woman, who, if she intended not to be a
Mistress, had counterfeited the Part of one, and taken
so much Pains to engage him, should lament a Consequence
which she could not but expect, and till the
last Test, seem’d inclinable to grant; and was both
surpris’d and troubled at the Mystery.---He omitted
nothing that he thought might make her easy; and
still retaining an Opinion that the Hope of Interest
had been the chief Motive which had led her to act
in the Manner she had done, and believing that she
might know so little of him, as to suppose, now she
had nothing left to give, he might not make that
Recompence she expected for her Favours: To put
her out of that Pain, he pulled out of his Pocket a
Purse of Gold, entreating her to accept of that as an
Earnest of what he intended to do for her; assuring
her, with ten thousand Protestations, that he would
spare nothing, which his whole Estate could purchase,
to procure her Content and Happiness. This Treatment
made her quite forget the Part she had assum’d,
and throwing it from her with an Air of Disdain,
“Is this a Reward” said she “for Condescentions, such
as I have yeilded to?---Can all the Wealth you are possess’d
of, make a Reparation for my Loss of Honour?--
Oh! no, I am undone beyond the Power of Heaven
itself to help me!”---She uttered many more such
Exclamations; which the amaz’d Beauplaisir heard
without being able to reply to, till by Degrees sinkinging M12v 264
from that Rage of Temper, her Eyes resumed
their softning Glances, and guessing at the Consternation
he was in, “No, my dear Beauplaisir,” added
she, “your Love alone can compensate for the Shame
you have involved me in; be you sincere and constant,
and I hereafter shall, perhaps, be satisfy’d with
my Fate, and forgive myself the Folly that betray’d
me to you.”

Beauplasir thought he could not have a
better Opportunity than these Words gave him of enquiring
who she was, and wherefore she had feigned
herself to be of a Profession which he was now convinc’d
she was not; and after he had made a her thousand
Vows of an Affection, as inviolable and ardent
as she could wish to find in him, entreated she would
inform him by what Means his Happiness had been
brought about, and also to whom he was indebted
for the Bliss he had enjoy’d.---Some Remains of yet
unextinguished Modesty, and Sense of Shame, made
her blush exceedingly at this Demand; but recollecting
herself in a little Time, she told him so much of
the Truth, as to what related to the Frolick she had
taken of satisfying her Curiosity in what Manner
Mistresses, of the Sort she appeared to be, were treated
by those who addressed them; but forbore discovering
her true Name and Quality, for the Reasons
she had done before, resolving, if he boasted of this
Affair, he should not have it in his Power to touch
her Character: She therefore said she was the Daughter
of a Country Gentleman, who was come to
Town to buy Cloaths, and that she was call’d Fantomina.
He had no Reason to distrust the Truth of
this Story, and was therefore satisfy’d with it; but
did not doubt by the Beginning of her Conduct, but
that in the End she would be in Reallity, the Thing
she so artfully had counterfeited; and had good Nature
enough to pity the Misfortunes he imagin’d would
be her Lot: But to tell her so, or offer his Advice in
that Point, was not his Business, as least, as yet.

They N1r 265

They parted not till towards Morning; and she
oblig’d him to a willing Vow of visiting her the next Day
at Three in the Afternoon. It was too late for her
to go home that Night, therefore contented herself
with lying there. In the Morning she sent for the
Woman of the House to come up to her; and easily
perceiving, by her Manner, that she was a Woman
who might be influenced by Gifts, made her a Present
of a Couple of Broad Pieces, and desir’d her, that
if the Gentleman, who had been there the Night before,
should ask any Questions concerning her, that
he should be told, she was lately come out of the
Country, had lodg’d there about a Fortnight, and that
her Name was Fantomina. “I shall” also added she
“lie but seldom here; nor, indeed, ever come but in
those Times when I expect to meet him: I would, therefore,
have you order it so, that he may think I am
but just gone out, if he should happen by any Accident
to call when I am not here; for I would not,
for the World, have him imagine I do not constantly
lodge here.” The Landlady assur’d her she would do
every Thing as she desired, and gave her to understand
she wanted not the Gift of Secrecy.

Every Thing being ordered at this Home for
the Security of her Reputation, she repaired to the
other, where she easily excused to an unsuspecting
Aunt, with whom she boarded, her having been
abroad all Night, saying, “she went with a Gentleman
and his Lady in a Barge, to a little Country
Seat of theirs up the River, all of them designing to
return the same Evening; but that one of the Bargemen
happ’ning to be taken ill on the sudden, and no
other Waterman to be got that Night, they were
oblig’d to tarry till Morning.” Thus did this Lady’s
Wit and Vivacity assist her in all, but where it was
most needful.---She had Discernment to forsee, and avoid
all those Ills which might attend the Loss of her
Reputation, but was wholly blind to those of the Ruin of
her Virtue; and having managed her Affairs so as to
secure the one, grew perfectly easy with the Remembrance,N brance, N1v 266
she had forfeited the other.----The more she
reflected on the Merits of Beauplaisir, the more she
excused herself for what she had done; and the Prospect
of that continued Bliss she expected to share
with him, took from her all Remorse for having engaged
in an Affair which promised her so much Satisfaction,
and in which she found not the least Danger
of Misfortune.--“If he is really” said she, to herself
“the faithful, the constant Lover he has sworn
to be, how charming will be our Amour?----And
if he should be false, grow satiated, like other Men,
I shall but, at the worst, have the private Vexation of
knowing I have lost him;----the Intreague being a
Secret, my Disgrace will be so too:----I shall hear no
Whispers as I pass,---She is Forsaken:---The odious
Word Forsaken will never wound my Ears; nor will
my Wrongs excite either the Mirth or Pity of the
talking World:---It will not be even in the Power of
my Undoer himself to triumph over me; and while
he laughs at, and perhaps despises the fond, the yielding
Fantomina, he will revere and esteem the virtuous,
the reserv’d Lady.”---In this Manner did she applaud
her own Conduct, and exult with the Imagination
that she had more Prudence than all her Sex beside.
And it must be confessed, indeed, that she preserved
an OEconomy in the management of this Intreague,
beyond what almost any Woman but herself ever
did: In the first Place, by making no Person in the
World a Confident in it; and in the next, in concealing
from Beauplaisir himself the Knowledge who she
was; for though she met him three or four Days in
a Week, at the Lodging she had taken for that
Purpose, yet as much as he employ’d her Time and
Thoughts, she was never miss’d from any Assembly
she had been accustomed to frequent.---The Business
of her Love has engross’d her till Six in the Evening,
and before Seven she has been dress’d in a different
Habit, and in another Place.---Slippers, and a NightGown
loosely flowing, has been the Garb in which
he has left the languishing Fantomina;---Lac’d, and adorn’d N2r 267
adorn’d with all the Blaze of Jewels, has he, in less
than an Hour after, beheld at the Royal Chapel, the
Palace Gardens, Drawing-Room, Opera, or Play, the
Haughty Awe-inspiring Lady---A thousand Times
has he stood amaz’d at the prodigious Likeness between
his little Mistress, and this Court Beauty; but
was still as far from imagining they were the same,
as he was the first Hour he had accosted her in the
Playhouse, though it is not impossible, but that her
Resemblance to this celebrated Lady, might keep his
Inclination alive something longer than otherwise
they would have been; and that it was to the Thoughts
of this (as he supposed) unenjoy’d Charmer, she
ow’d in great measure the Vigour of his latter Caresses.

But he varied not so much from his Sex as to
be able to prolong Desire, to any great Length after
Possession: The rifled Charms of Fantomina soon lost
their Poinancy, and grew tastless and insipid; and
when the Season of the Year inviting the Company
to the Bath, she offer’d to accompany him, he made
an Excuse to go without her. She easily perceiv’d
his Coldness, and the Reason why he pretended her
going would be inconvenient, and endur’d as much
from the Discovery as any of her Sex could do: She
dissembled it, however, before him, and took her
Leave of him with the Shew of no other Concern
than his Absence occasion’d: But this she did to take
from him all Suspicion of her following him, as
she intended, and had already laid a Scheme for.---
From her first finding out that he design’d to leave
her behind, she plainly saw it was for no other Reason,
than being tir’d of her Conversation, he was
willing to be at liberty to pursue new Conquests;
and wisely considering that Complaints, Tears, Swoonings,
and all the Extravagancies which Women make
use of in such Cases, have little Prevailence over a
Heart inclin’d to rove, and only serve to render those
who practise them more contemptible, by robbing
them of that Beauty which alone can bring back the N2 fugitive N2v 268
fugitive Lover, she resolved to take another Course;
and remembring the Height of Transport she enjoyed
when the agreeable Beauplaisir kneel’d at her Feet,
imploring her first Favours, she long’d to prove the
same again. Not but a Woman of her Beauty and
Accomplishments might have beheld a Thousand in
that Condition Beauplaisir had been; but with her
Sex’s Modesty, she had not also thrown off another
Virtue equally valuable, tho’ generally unfortunate, Constancy:
She loved Beauplaisir; it was only he whose Solicitations
could give her Pleasure; and had she seen the
whole Species despairing, dying for her sake, it might,
perhaps, have been a Satisfaction to her Pride, but none
to her more tender Inclination.---Her Design was once
more to engage him, to hear him sigh, to see him languish,
to feel the strenuous Pressures of his eager Arms, to be
compelled, to be sweetly forc’d to what she wished
with equal Ardour, was what she wanted, and what
she had form’d a Stratagem to obtain, in which she
promis’d herself Success.

She no sooner heard he had left the Town, than
making a Pretence to her Aunt, that she was going
to visit a Relation in the Country, went towards
Bath, attended but by two Servants, who she found
Reasons to quarrel with on the Road and discharg’d:
Clothing herself in a Habit she had brought with
her, she forsook the Coach, and went into a Waggon,
in which Equipage she arriv’d at Bath. The
Dress she was in, was a round-ear’d Cap, a short Red
Petticoat, and a little Jacket of Grey Stuff; all the
rest of her Accoutrements were answerable to these,
and join’d with a broad Country Dialect, a rude unpolish’d
Air, which she, having been bred in these
Parts, knew very well how to imitate, with her
Hair and Eye-brows black’d, made it impossible for
her to be known, or taken for any other than what
she seem’d. Thus disguis’d did she offer herself to
Service in the House where Beauplaisir lodg’d, having
made it her Business to find out immediately
where he was. Notwithstanding this Metamorphosis she N3r 269
she was still extremely pretty; and the Mistress of the
House happening at that Time to want a Maid, was
very glad of the Opportunity of taking her. She
was presently receiv’d into the Family; and had a
Post in it (such as she would have chose, had she
been left at her Liberty,) that of making the Gentlemen’s
Beds, getting them their Breakfasts, and
waiting on them in their Chambers. Fortune in
this Exploit was extremely on her side; there were
no others of the Male-Sex in the House, than an
old Gentleman, who had lost the Use of his Limbs
with the Rheumatism, and had come thither for the
Benefit of the Waters, and her belov’d Beauplaisir; so
that she was in no Apprehensions of any Amorous Violence,
but where she wish’d to find it. Nor were her
Designs disappointed: He was fir’d with the first
Sight of her; and tho’ he did not presently take any
farther Notice of her, than giving her two or three
hearty Kisses, yet she, who now understood that
Language but too well, easily saw they were the
Prelude to more substantial Joys.---Coming the
next Morning to bring his Chocolate, as he had order’d,
he catch’d her by the pretty Leg, which the
Shortness of her Petticoat did not in the least oppose;
then pulling her gently to him, ask’d her, “how long she
had been at Service?----How many Sweethearts she
had? If she had ever been in Love?” and many other
such Questions, befitting one of the Degree she appear’d
to be: All which she answer’d with such seeming Innocence,
as more enflam’d the amorous Heart of
him who talk’d to her. He compelled her to sit in his
Lap; and gazing on her blushing Beauties, which, if
possible, receiv’d Addition from her plain and rural
Dress, he soon lost the Power of containing himself.
wild Desires burst out in all his Words
and Actions: he call’d her little Angel, Cherubim,
swore he must enjoy her, though Death were to
be the Consequence, devour’d her Lips, her Breasts
with greedy Kisses, held to his burning Bosom her half-
yielding, half-reluctant Body, nor suffer’d her to get loose, N3 till N3v 270
till he had ravaged all, and glutted each rapacious
Sense with the sweet Beauties of the pretty Celia,
for that was the Name she bore in this second Expedition.
as Liberality itself to all who
gave him Joy this way, he gave her a handsome
Sum of Gold, which she durst not now refuse, for
fear of creating some Mistrust, and losing the Heart
she so lately had regain’d; therefore taking it with an
humble Curtesy, and a well counterfeited Shew of
Surprise and Joy, cry’d, “O Law, Sir! what must I
do for all this?” He laughed at her Simplicity, and
kissing her again, tho’ less fervently than he had done
before, bad her not be out of the Way when he came
home at Night. She promis’d she would not, and
very obediently kept her Word.

His Stay at Bath exceeded not a Month; but in
that Time his suppos’d Country Lass had persecuted
him so much with her Fondness, that in spite of
the Eagerness with which he first enjoy’d her, he
was at last grown more weary of her, than he had
been of Fantomina; which she perceiving, would not
be troublesome, but quitting her Service, remained
privately in the Town till she heard he was on his
Return; and in that Time provided herself of another
Disguise to carry on a third Plot, which her inventing
Brain had furnished her with, once more to renew
his twice-decay’d Ardours. The Dress she had order’d to
be made, was such as Widows wear in their first Mourning,
which, together with the most afflicted and
penitential Countenance that ever was seen, was no
small Alteration to her who us’d to seem all Gaiety.
add to this, her Hair, which she was accustom’d
to wear very loose, both when Fantomina
and Celia, was now ty’d back so straight, and her Pinners
coming so very forward, that there was none
of it to be seen. In fine, her Habit and her Air
were so much chang’d, that she was not more difficult
to be known in the rude Country Girl, than she
was now in the sorrowful Widow.

She N4r 271

She knew that Beauplaisir came alone in his Chariot
to the Bath, and in the Time of her being Servant
in the House where he lodg’d, heard nothing of
any Body that was to accompany him to London, and
hop’d he wou’d return in the same Manner he had
gone: She therefore hir’d Horses and a Man to attend
her to an Inn about ten Miles on this side Bath,
where having discharg’d them, she waited till the
Chariot should come by; which when it did, and she
saw that he was alone in it, she call’d to him that
drove it to stop a Moment, and going to the Door
saluted the Master with these Words:

“The Distress’d and Wretched, Sir,” said she, “never
fail to excite Compassion in a generous Mind; and I
hope I am not deceiv’d in my Opinion that yours is
such:----You have the Appearance of a Gentleman,
and cannot, when you hear my Story, refuse that Assistance
which is in your Power to give to an unhappy
Woman, who without it, may be render’d the
most miserable of all created Beings.”

It would not be very easy to represent the Surprise,
so odd an Address created in the Mind of him
to whom it was made.----She had not the Appearance
of one who wanted Charity; and what other
Favour she requir’d he cou’d not conceive: But telling
her, she might command any Thing in his Power,
gave her Encouragement to declare herself in this
Manner: “You may judge,” resumed she, “by the melancholy
Garb I am in, that I have lately lost all that
ought to be valuable to Womankind; but it is impossible
for you to guess the Greatness of my Misfortune, unless
you had known my Husband, who was Master
of every Perfection to endear him to a Wife’s Affections.
notwithstanding, I look on myself
as the most unhappy of my Sex in out-living
him, I must so far obey the Dictates of my Discretion,
as to take care of the little Fortune he left behind
him, which being in the Hands of a Brother of
his in London, will be all carry’d off to Holland, where
he is going to settle; if I reach not the Town beforeN4 fore N4v 272
he leaves it, I am undone for ever.----To which
End I left Bristol, the Place where we liv’d; hoping
to get a Place in the Stage at Bath, but they were
all taken up before I came; and being, by a Hurt I
got in a Fall, render’d incapable of travelling any
long Journey on Horseback, I have no Way to go to
London, and must be inevitably ruin’d in the Loss of
all I have on Earth, without you have good Nature
enough to admit me to take Part of your Chariot.”

Here the feigned Widow ended her sorrowful
Tale, which had been several Times interrupted by a
Parenthesis of Sighs and Groans; and Beauplaisir,
with a complaisant and tender Air, assur’d her of his
Readiness to serve her in Things of much greater
Consequence than what she desir’d of him; and told
her, it would be an Impossibility of denying a Place in
his Chariot to a Lady, who he could not behold
without yielding one in his Heart. She answered
the Compliments he made her but with Tears,
which seem’d to stream in such abundance from her
Eyes, that she could not keep her Handkerchief
from her Face one Moment. Being come into the
Chariot, Beauplaisir said a thousand handsome Things
to perswade her from giving way to so violent a
Grief, which, he told her, would not only be distructive
to her Beauty, but likewise her Health. But all
his Endeavours for Consolement appear’d ineffectual,
and he began to think he should have but a dull Journey,
in the Company of one who seem’d so obstinately
devoted to the Memory of her dead Husband,
that there was no getting a Word from her on any
other Theme:--But bethinking himself of the celebrated
Story of the Ephesian Matron, it came into his
Head to make Tryal, she who seem’d equally susceptible
of Sorrow, might not also be so too of Love;
and having begun a Discourse on almost every other
Topick, and finding her still incapable of answering,
resolv’d to put it to the Proof, if this would have
no more Effect to rouze her sleeping Spirits:----
With a gay Air, therefore, though accompany’d with the N5r 273
the greatest Modesty and Respect, he turned the Conversation,
as though without Design, on that Joy-giving
Passion, and soon discover’d that was indeed the
Subject she was best pleas’d to be entertained with;
for on his giving her a Hint to begin upon, never
any Tongue run more voluble than hers, on the prodigious
Power it had to influence the Souls of those
posses’d of it, to Actions even the most distant from
their Intentions, Principles, or Humours.----From
that she pass’d to a Description of the Happiness of
mutual Affection;---the unspeakable Extasy of those
who meet with equal Ardency; and represented it in
Colours so lively, and disclos’d by the Gestures with
which her Words were accompany’d, and the Accent
of her Voice so true a Feeling of what she said, that
Beauplaisir, without being as stupid, as he was really
the contrary, could not avoid perceiving there were
Seeds of Fire, not yet extinguish’d, in this fair Widow’s
Soul, which wanted but the kindling Breath
of tender Sighs to light into a Blaze.----He now
thought himvelf as fortunate, as some Moments before
he had the Reverse; and doubted not, but, that
before they parted, he should find a Way to dry the
Tears of this lovely Mourner, to the Satisfaction of
them both. He did not, however, offer, as he had
done to Fantomina and Celia, to urge his Passion directly
to her, but by a thousand little softning Artifices,
which he well knew how to use, gave her leave
to guess he was enamour’d. When they came to the
Inn where they were to lie, he declar’d himself
somewhat more freely, and perceiving she did not
resent it past Forgiveness, grew more encroaching
still:----He now took the Liberty of kissing away
her Tears, and catching the Sighs as they issued from
her Lips; telling her if Grief was infectious, he was
resolv’d to have his Share; protesting he would gladly
exchange Passions with her, and be content to bear
her Load of Sorrow, if she would as willingly ease
the Burden of his Love.----She said little in answer
to the strenuous Pressures with which at last he ventur’d N5v 274
ventur’d to enfold her, but not thinking it Decent,
for the Character she had assum’d, to yield so suddenly,
and unable to deny both his and her own Inclinations,
she counterfeited a fainting, and fell motionless
upon his Breast.----He had no great Notion that she
was in a real Fit, and the Room they supp’d in happening
to have a Bed in it, he took her in his Arms
and laid her on it, believing, that whatever her Distemper
was, that was the most proper Place to convey
her to.--He laid himself down by her, and endeavour’d
to bring her to herself; and she was too
grateful to her kind Physician at her returning Sense,
to remove from the Posture he had put her in, without
his Leave.

It may, perhaps, seem strange that Beauplaisir
should in such near Intimacies continue still deceiv’d:
I know there are Men who will swear it is an Impossibility,
and that no Disguise could hinder them
from knowing a Woman they had once enjoy’d.
In answer to these Scruples, I can only say, that besides
the Alteration which the Change of Dress made
in her, she was so admirably skill’d in the Art of
feigning, that she had the Power of putting on almost
what Face she pleas’d, and knew so exactly
how to form her Behaviour to the Character she represented,
that all the Comedians at both Playhouses
are infinitely short of her Performances: She could
vary her very Glances, tune her Voice to Accents the
most different imaginable from those in which she spoke
when she appear’d herself.--These Aids from Nature,
join’d to the Wiles of Art, and the Distance between
the Places where the imagin’d Fantomina
and Celia were, might very well prevent his having
any Thought that they were the same, or that the
fair Widow was either of them: It never so much as
enter’d his Head, and though he did fancy he observed
in the Face of the latter, Features which
were not altogether unknown to him, yet he could
not recollect when or where he had known them;---
and being told by her, that from her Birth, she had never N6r 275
never remov’d from Bristol, a Place where he nevenever
was, he rejected the Belief of having seen her, and
suppos’d his Mind had been deluded by an Idea of
some other, whom she might have a Resemblance
of.

They pass’d the Time of their Journey in as
much Happiness as the most luxurious Gratification
of wild Desires could make them; and when they
came to the End of it, parted not without a mutual
Promise of seeing each other often.----He told her
to what Place she should direct a Letter to him; and
she assur’d him she would send to let him know
where to come to her, as soon as she was fixed in
Lodgings.

She kept her Promise; and charm’d with the Continuance
of his eager Fondness, went not home,
but into private Lodgings, whence she wrote to
him to visit her the first Opportunity, and enquire
for the Widow Bloomer.----She had no sooner dispatched
this Billet, than she repair’d to the House
where she had lodg’d as Fantomina, charging the
People if Beauplaisir should come there, not to let
him know she had been out of Town. From thence
she wrote to him, in a different Hand, a long Letter
of Complaint, that he had been so cruel in not sending
one Letter to her all the Time he had been absent,
entreated to see him, and concluded with subscribing
herself his unalterably Affectionate Fantomina.
She received in one Day Answers to both these.
The first contain’d these Lines:

“To the Charming Mrs. Bloomer, It would be impossible, my Angel! for me to express
the thousandth Part of that Infinity of
Transport, the Sight of your dear Letter gave me.----
Never was Women form’d to charm like you: Never
did any look like you,----write like you,----bless like
you;----nor did ever Man adore as I do.----Since Yesterday N6v 276
Yesterday we parted, I have seem’d a Body without a
Soul; and had you not by this inspiring Billet, gave me
new Life, I know not what by To-morrow I should
have been.----I will be with you this Evening about
Five:----O, ’tis an Age till then!----But the cursed
Formalities of Duty oblige me to Dine with my
Lord---who never rises from Table till that Hour;---
therefore Adieu till then sweet lovely Mistress of the
Soul and all the Faculties of Your most faithful, Beauplaisir.”

The other was in this Manner:

“To the Lovely Fantomina. If you were half so sensible as you ought of your
own Power of charming, you would be assur’d,
that to be unfaithful or unkind to you, would be among
the Things that are in their very Natures Impossibilities.
was my Misfortune, not my Fault, that
you were not persecuted every Post with a Declaration of
my unchanging Passion; but I had unluckily forgot the
Name of the Woman at whose House you are, and knew
not how to form a Direction that it might come safe
to your Hands.--And, indeed, the Reflection how
you might misconstrue my Silence, brought me to Town
some Weeks sooner than I intended.----If you knew
how I have languish’d to renew those Blessings I am
permitted to enjoy in your Society, you would rather
pity than condemn Your ever faithful, Beauplaisir. P.S. N7r 277 P.S. I fear I cannot see you till To-morrow; some Business
has unluckily fallen out that will engross my
Hours till then.----Once more, my Dear, Adieu.”

“Traytor!” cry’d she, as soon as she had read
them, “’tis thus our silly, fond, believing Sex are serv’d
when they put Faith in Man: So had I been deceiv’d
and cheated, had I like the rest believ’d, and sat down
mourning in Absence, and vainly waiting recover’d
Tendernesses.----How do some Women” continued
she “make their Life a Hell, burning in fruitless Expectations,
and dreaming out their Days in Hopes
and Fears, then wake at last to all the Horror of
Dispair?----But I have outwitted even the most
Subtle of the deceiving Kind, and while he thinks
to fool me, is himself the only beguiled Person.”

She made herself, most certainly, extremely happy
in the Reflection on the Success of her Stratagems;
and while the Knowledge of his Inconstancy and Levity
of Nature kept her from having that real Tenderness
for him she would else have had, she found
the Means of gratifying the Inclination she had for
his agreeable Person, in as full a Manner as she could
wish. She had all the Sweets of Love, but as yet had
tasted none of the Gall, and was in a State of Contentment,
which might be envy’d by the more Delicate.

When the expected Hour arriv’d, she found that
her Lover had lost no part of the Fervency with
which he had parted from her; but when the next
Day she receiv’d him as Fantomina, she perceiv’d a
prodigious Difference; which led her again into
Reflections on the Unaccountableness of Men’s
Fancies, who still prefer the last Conquest, only because
it is the last.----Here was an evident Proof of
it; for there could not be a Difference in Merit, because
they were the same Person; but the Widow
Bloomer was a more new Acquaintance than Fantomina,
and therefore esteem’d more valuable. This,
indeed, must be said of Beauplaisir, that he had a greater N7v 278
greater Share of good Nature than most of his Sex,
who, for the most part, when they are weary of an
Intreague, break it entirely off, without any Regard
to the Despair of the abandon’d Nymph. Though he
retain’d no more than a bare Pity and Complaisance
for Fantomina, yet believing she lov’d him to an Excess,
would not entirely forsake her, though the Continuance
of his Visits was now become rather a Penance
than a Pleasure.

The Widow Bloomer triumph’d some Time longer
over the Heart of this Inconstant, but at length
her Sway was at an End, and she sunk in this Character,
to the same Degree of Tastlesness, as she had
done before in that of Fantomina and Celia.----
She presently perceiv’d it, but bore it as she had
always done; it being but what she expected, she
had prepar’d herself for it, and had another Project
in embrio, which she soon ripen’d into Action. She
did not, indeed, compleat it altogether so suddenly as
she had done the others, by reason there must be
Persons employ’d in it; and the Aversion she had to
any Confidents in her Affairs, and the Caution with
which she had hitherto acted, and which she was still
determin’d to continue, made it very difficult for
her to find a Way without breaking thro’ that Resolution
to compass what she wish’d.----She got over
the Difficulty at last, however, by proceeding in a
Manner, if possible, more extraordinary than all her
former Behaviour:----Muffling herself up in her
Hood one Day, she went into the Park about the
Hour when there are a great many necessitous Gentlemen,
who think themselves above doing what
they call little Things for a Maintenance, walking in
the Mall, to take a Camelion Treat, and fill their Stomachs
with Air instead of Meat. Two of those,
who by their Physiognomy she thought most proper
for her Purpose, she beckon’d to come to her;
and taking them into a Walk more remote from
Company, began to communicate the Business she
had with them in these Words: “I am sensible, Gentlemen,tlemen, N8r 279”
said she, “that, through the Blindness of
Fortune, and Partiality of the World, Merit frequently
goes unrewarded, and that those of the best Pretentions
meet with the least Encouragement:----I ask your
Pardon,” continued she, perceiving they seem’d surpris’d,
“if I am mistaken in the Notion, that you two
may, perhaps, be of the Number of those who have
Reason to complain of the Injustice of Fate; but if
you are such as I take you for, have a Proposal to make
you, which may be of some little Advantage to you.”
Neither of them made any immediate Answer, but
appear’d bury’d in Consideration for some Moments,.
At length, “We should, doubtless, Madam,” said one of
them, “willingly come into any Measures to oblige you,
provided they are such as may bring us into no Danger,
either as to our Persons or Reputations. That which
I require of you,” resumed she, “has nothing in it criminal:
All that I desire is Secrecy in what you are intrusted,
and to disguise yourselves in such a Manner
as you cannot be known, if hereafter seen by the Person
on whom you are to impose.---In fine, the Business
is only an innocent Frolick, but if blaz’d abroad,
might be taken for too great a Freedom in me:----
Therefore, if you resolve to assist me, here are five
Pieces to drink my Health, and assure you, that I
have not discours’d you on an Affair, I design not
to proceed in; and when it is accomplish’d fifty more
lie ready for your Acceptance.” These Words, and,
above all, the Money, which was a Sum which,
’tis probable, they had not seen of a long Time, made
them immediately assent to all she desir’d, and press
for the Beginning of their Employment: But Things
were not yet ripe for Execution; and she told
them, that the next Day they should be let into the
Secret, charging them to meet her in the same Place
at an Hour she appointed. ’Tis hard to say, which
of these Parties went away best pleas’d; they, that
Fortune had sent them so unexpected a Windfall; or
she, that she had found Persons, who appeared so
well qualified to serve her.

Inde- N8v 280

Indefatigable in the Pursuit of whatsoever her
Humour was bent upon, she had no sooner left her
new-engag’d Emissaries, than she went in search of
a House for the compleating her Project.----She
pitch’d on one very large, and magnificently furnished,
which she hir’d by the Week, giving them the
Money before-hand, to prevent any Inquiries. The
next Day she repaired to the Park, where she met
the punctual ’Squires of low Degree; and ordering
them to follow her to the House she had taken, told
them they must condescend to appear like Servants,
and gave each of them a very rich Livery. Then
writing a Letter to Beauplaisir, in a Character vastly
different from either of those she had made use of,
as Fantomina, or the fair Widow Bloomer, order’d
one of them to deliver it into his own Hands, to
bring back an Answer, and to be careful that he
sifted out nothing of the Truth.----“I do not
fear,” said she, “that you should discover to him who
I am, because that is a Secret, of which you yourselves
are ignorant; but I would have you be so
careful in your Replies, that he may not think the
Concealment springs from any other Reasons than
your great Integrity to your Trust.----Seem therefore
to know my whole Affairs; and let your refusing
to make him Partaker in the Secret, appear to
be only the Effect of your Zeal for my Interest and Reputation.”
Promises of entire Fidility on the one side,
and Reward on the other, being past, the Messenger
made what haste he could to the House of Beauplaisir;
and being there told where he might find him,
perform’d exactly the Injunction that had been given
him. But never Astonishment exceeding that which
Beauplaisir felt at the reading this Billet, in which
he found these Lines:

To N9r 281 “To the All-conquering Beauplaisir. I Imagine not that ’tis a new Thing to you, to be
told, you are the greatest Charm in Nature to our
Sex: I shall therefore, not to fill up my Letter with
any impertinent Praises on your Wit or Person, only tell
you, that I am infinite in Love with both, and if you
have a Heart not too deeply engag’d, should think myself
the happiest of my Sex in being capable of inspiring
it with some Tenderness.----There is but one Thing in
my Power to refuse you, which is the Knowledge of
my Name, which believing the Sight of my Face will
render no Secret, you must not take it ill that I conceal
from you.----The Bearer of this is a Person I
can trust; send by him your Answer; but endeavour
not to dive into the Meaning of this Mystery, which
will be impossible for you to unravel, and at the same
Time very much disoblige me:----But that you may
be in no Apprehensions of being impos’d on by a Woman
unworthy of your Regard, I will venture to assure
you, the first and greatest Men in the Kingdom, would
think themselves blest to have that Influence over me
you have, though unknown to yourself acquir’d.---But
I need not go about to raise your Curiosity, by giving
you any Idea of what my Person is; if you think fit to
be satisfied, resolve to visit me To-morrow about Three
in the Afternoon; and though my Face is hid, you shall
not want sufficient Demonstration, that she who takes
these unusual Measures to commence a Friendship
with you, is neither Old, nor Deform’d. Till then I
am, Yours, Incognita.”

He had scarce come to the Conclusion, before he
ask’d the Person who brought it, from what Place
he came;----the Name of the Lady he serv’d;---- if N9v 282
if she were a Wife, or Widow, and several other
Questions directly opposite to the Directions of the
Letter; but Silence would have avail’d him as much
as did all those Testimonies of Curiosity: No Italian
Bravo, employ’d in a Business of the like Nature,
perform’d his Office with more Artifice; and the
impatient Enquirer was convinc’d that nothing but
doing as he was desir’d, could give him any Light
into the Character of the Woman who declar’d
so violent a Passion for him; and little fearing any
Consequence which could ensue from such an Encounter,
resolv’d to rest satisfy’d till he was inform’d
of every Thing from herself, not imagining this Incognita
varied so much from the Generality of her
Sex, as to be able to refuse the Knowledge of any
Thing to the Man she lov’d with that Transcendency
of Passion she profess’d, and which his many
Successes with the Ladies gave him Encouragement
enough to believe. He therefore took Pen and Paper,
and answer’d her Letter in Terms tender enough
for a Man who had never seen the Person to whom
he wrote. The Words were as follows:

“To the Obliging and Witty
Incognita. THough to tell me I am happy enough to be lik’d
by a Woman, such, as by your Manner of Writing,
I imagine you to be, is an Honour which I can never
sufficiently acknowledge, yet I know not how I am
able to content myself with admiring the Wonders of
your Wit alone: I am certain, a Soul like yours must
shine in your Eyes with a Vivacity, which must bless
all they look on.----I shall, however, endeavour to
restrain myself in those Bounds you are pleas’d to set
me, till by the Knowledge of my inviolable Fedility, I
may be thought worthy of gazing on that Heaven I
am now but to enjoy in Contemplation.---You need not
doubt my glad Compliance with your obliging Summons: There N10r 283
There is a Charm in your Lines, which gives too sweet
an Idea of their lovely Author to be resisted.----I am
all impatient for the blissful Moment, which is to throw
me at your Feet, and give me an Opportunity of convincing
you that I am, Your everlasting Slave, Beauplaisir.”

Nothing could be more pleas’d than she, to
whom it was directed, at the Receipt of this Letter;
but when she was told how inquisitive he had
been concerning her Character and Circumstances,
she could not forbear laughing heartily to think of
the Tricks she had play’d him, and applauding her
own Strength of Genius, and Force of Resolution,
which by such unthought-of Ways could triumph
over her Lover’s Inconstancy, and render that very
Temper, which to other Women is the greatest
Curse, a Means to make herself more bless’d.----
“Had he been faithful to me,” said she, to herself,
“either as Fantomina, or Celia, or the Widow Bloomer,
the most violent Passion, if it does not change its
Object, in Time will wither: Possession naturally
abates the Vigour of Desire, and I should have had,
at best, but a cold, insipid, husband-like Lover in
my Arms; but by these Arts of passing on him as
a new Mistress whenever the Ardour, which alone
makes Love a Blessing, begins to diminish, for the
former one, I have him always raving, wild, impatient,
longing, dying.----O that all neglected Wives,
and fond abandon’d Nymphs would take this Method!
would be caught in their own Snare,
and have no Cause to scorn our easy, weeping,
wailing Sex!” Thus did she pride herself as if secure
she never should have any Reason to repent the present
Gaiety of her Homour. The Hour drawing
near in which he was to come, she dress’d herself in
as magnificent a Manner, as if she were to be that Night at N10v 284
at a Ball at Court, endeavouring to repair the want of
those Beauties which the Vizard should conceal, by
setting forth the others with the greatest Care and
Exactness. Her fine Shape, and Air, and Neck, appear’d
to great Advantage; and by that which was to
be seen of her, one might believe the rest to be perfectly
agreeable. Beauplaisir was prodigiously charm’d, as
well with her Appearance, as with the Manner she
entertain’d him: But though he was wild with Impatience
for the Sight of a Face which belong’d to
so exquisite a Body, yet he would not immediately
press for it, believing before he left her he should
easily obtain that Satisfaction.—A noble Collation
being over, he began to sue for the Performance of
her Promise of granting every Thing he could ask,
excepting the Sight of her Face, and Knowledge of
her Name. It would have been a ridiculous Piece of
Affection in her to have seem’d coy in complying
with what she herself had been the first in desiring:
She yielded without even a Shew of Reluctance:
And if there be any true Felicity in an Armour such
as theirs, both here enjoy’d it to the full. But not in
the Heighth of all their mutual Raptures, could he
prevail on her to satisfy his Curiosity with the Sight
of her Face: She told him that she hop’d he knew so
much of her, as might serve to convince him, she was
not unworthy of his tenderest Regard; and if he cou’d
not content himself with that which she was willing
to reveal, and which was the Conditions of their
meeting, dear as he was to her, she would rather
part with him for ever, than consent to gratify an
Inquisitiveness, which, in her Opinion, had no Business
with his Love. It was in vain that he endeavour’d
to make her sensible of her Mistake; and that
this Restraint was the greatest Enemy imaginable to
the Happiness of them both: She was not to be perswaded,
and he was oblig’d to desist his Solicitations,
though determin’d in his Mind to compass what he
so ardently desir’d, before he left the House. He
then turned the Discourse wholly on the Violence of the N11r 285
the Passion he had for her; and express’d the
greatest Discontent in the World at the Apprehensions
of being separated;--swore he could dwell for
ever in her Arms, and with such an undeniable Earnestness
pressed to be permitted to tarry with her the
whole Night, that had she been less charm’d with
his renew’d Eagerness of Desire, she scarce would
have had the Power of refusing him; but in granting
this Request, she was not without a Thought
that he had another Reason for making it besides the
Extremity of his Passion, and had it immediately
in her Head how to disappoint him.

The Hours of Repose being arriv’d, he begg’d
she would retire to her Chamber; to which she consented,
but oblig’d him to go to Bed first; which he
did not much oppose, because he suppos’d she would
not lie in her Mask, and doubted not but the Morning’s
Dawn would bring the wish’d Discovery.-----
The two imagin’d Servants usher’d him to his new
Lodging; where he lay some Moments in all the Perplexity
imaginable at the Oddness of this Adventure.
But she suffer’d not these Cogitations to be of any
long Continuance: She came, but came in the Dark;
which being no more than he expected by the former
Part of her Proceedings, he said nothing of; but
as much Satisfaction as he found in her Embraces,
nothing ever long’d for the Approach of Day with
more Impatience than he did. At last it came; but
how great was his Disappointment, when by the
Noises he heard in the Street, the Hurry of the
Coaches, and the Crys of Penny-Merchants, he was
convinc’d it was Night no where but with him? He
was still in the same Darkness as before; for she had
taken care to blind the Windows in such a manner, that
not the least Chink was left to let in the Day.-----He
complain’d of her Behaviour in Terms that she would
not have been able to resist yielding to, if she had
not been certain it would have been the Ruin of her
Passion:--She, therefore, answered him only as she had
done before; and getting out of the Bed from him, flew N11v 286
flew out of the Room with too much Swiftness for
him to have overtaken her, if he had attempted it.
The Moment she left him, the two Attendants enter’d
the Chamber, and plucking down the Implements
which had skreen’d him from the Knowledge
of that which he so much desir’d to find out, restored
his Eyes once more to Day:----They attended
to assist him in Dressing, brought him Tea, and by
their Obsequiousness, let him see there was but one
Thing which the Mistress of them would not gladly
oblige him in.----He was so much out of Humour,
however, at the Disappointment of his Curiosity,
that he resolv’d never to make a second Visit.-----
Finding her in an outer Room, he made no Scruple
of expressing the Sense he had of the little Trust
she reposed in him, and at last plainly told her, he
could not submit to receive Obligations from a Lady,
who thought him uncapable of keeping a Secret,
which she made no Difficulty of letting her Servants
into.----He resented,---he once more entreated,---
he said all that Man could do, to prevail on her to
unfold the Mystery; but all his Adjurations were
fruitless; and he went out of the House determin’d
never to re-enter it, till she should pay the Price of
his Company with the Discovery of her Face and
Circumstances.----She suffer’d him to go with
this Resolution, and doubted not but he would recede
from it, when he reflected on the happy Moments
they had pass’d together; but if he did not, she comforted
herself with the Design of forming some other
Stratagem, with which to impose on him a fourth
Time.

She kept the House, and her Gentlemen-Equipage
for about a Fortnight, in which Time she continu’d
to write to him as Fantomina and the Widow
Bloomer, and received the Visits he sometimes made
to each; but his Behaviour to both was grown so
cold, that she began to grow as weary of receiving
his now insipid Caresses as he was of offering them:
She was beginning to think in what Manner she should N12r 287
should drop these two Characters, when the sudden
Arrival of her Mother, who had been some Time in
a foreign Country, oblig’d her to put an immediate
Stop to the Course of her whimsical Adventures.----
That Lady, who was severely virtuous, did not approve
of many Things she had been told of the Conduct
of her Daughter; and though it was not in the
Power of any Person in the World to inform her of
the Truth of what she had been guilty of, yet she
heard enough to make her keep her afterwards in a
Restraint, little agreeable to her Humour, and the
Liberties to which she had been accustomed.

But this Confinement was not the greatest Part
of the Trouble of this now afflicted Lady: She found
the Consequences of her amorous Follies would be,
without almost a Miracle, impossible to be concealed:
was with Child; and though she would
easily have found Means to have skreen’d even this
from the Knowledge of the World, had she been at
liberty to have acted with the same unquestionable
Authority over herself, as she did before the coming
of her Mother, yet now all her Invention was at a
Loss for a Stratagem to impose on a Woman of
her Penetration:----By eating little, lacing prodigious
strait, and the Advantage of a great Hoop-Petticoat,
however, her Bigness was not taken notice of,
and, perhaps, she would not have been suspected till
the Time of her going into the Country, where
her Mother design’d to send her, and from whence
she intended to make her escape to some Place where
she might be deliver’d with Secrecy, if the Time
of it had not happen’d much sooner than she expected.
Ball being at Court, the good old Lady
was willing she should partake of the Diversion of it
as a Farewel to the Town. ----It was there she
was seiz’d with those Pangs, which none in her
Condition are exempt from:----She could not conceal
the sudden Rack which all at once invaded her;
or had her Tongue been mute, her wildly rolling
Eyes, the Distortion of her Features, and the Convulsionssions N12v 288
which shook her whole Frame, in spite of her,
wou’d have reveal’d she labour’d under some terrible
Shock of Nature.----Every Body was surpris’d,
every Body was concern’d, but few guessed at the
Occasion.--Her Mother griev’d beyond Expression,
doubted not but she was struct with the Hand
of Death; and order’d her to be carried Home in a
Chair, while herself follow’d in another.----A Physician
was immediately sent for: But he was presently
perceiving what was her Distemper, call’d the old
Lady aside, and told her, it was not a Doctor of his
Sex, but one of her own, her Daughter stood in need
of.---Never was Astonishment and Horror greater
than that which seiz’d the Soul of this afflicted Parent
at these Words: She could not for a Time believe
the Truth of what she heard; but he insisting
on it, and conjuring her to send for a Midwife, she
was at length convinc’d if it.----All the Pity and
Tenderness she had been for some Moment before
possess’d of, now vanish’d, and were succeeded by
an adequate Shame and Indignation:----She flew to
the Bed where her Daughter was lying, and telling
her what she had been inform’d of, and which she
was now far from doubting, commanded her to reveal
the Name of the Person whose Insinuations had
drawn her to this Dishonour.----It was a great
while before she could be brought to confess any
Thing, and much longer before she could be prevailed
on to name the Man whom she so fatally
had lov’d; but the Rack of Nature growing more
fierce, and the enraged old Lady protesting no Help
should be afforded her while she persisted in her Obstinacy,
she, with great Difficulty and Hesitation in
her Speech, at last pronounc’d the Name of Beauplaisir.
She had no sooner satisfy’d her weeping Mother,
than that sorrowful Lady sent Messengers at
the same Time, for a Midwife, and for that Gentleman
who had occasion’d the other’s being wanted.--
He happen’d by Accident to be at home, and immediately
obey’d the Summons, though prodigiously surpris’d O1r 289
surpris’d what Business a Lady so much a Stranger
to him could have to impart.----But how much
greater was his Amazement, when taking him into
her Closet, she there acquainted him with her Daughter’s
Misfortune, of the Discovery she had made,
and how far he was concern’d in it?---All the Idea
one can form of wild Astonishment, was mean to
what he felt:----He assur’d her, that the young Lady
her Daughter was a Person who he had never,
more than at a Distance, admir’d:---That he had
indeed, spoke to her in publick Company, but that
he never had a Thought which tended to her Dishonour.
Denials, if possible, added to the Indignation
she was before enflam’d with:----She
had no longer Patience; and carrying him into the
Chamber, where she was just deliver’d of a fine
Girl, cry’d out, “I will not be impos’d on: The Truth
by one of you shall be reveal’d”.----Beauplaisir being
brought to the Bed side, was beginning to address
himself to the Lady in it, to beg she would clear
the Mistake her Mother was involv’d in; when she,
covering herself with the Cloaths, and ready to die a second
Time with the inward Agitations of her Soul,
shriek’d out, “Oh, I am undone!---I cannot live, and
bear this Shame!”----But the old Lady believing that
now or never was the Time to dive into the Bottom
of this Mystery, forcing her to rear her
Head, told her, she should not hope to Escape the
Scrutiny of a Parent she had dishonour’d in such
a Manner, and pointing to Beauplaisir, “Is this the
Gentleman,” said she, “to whom you owe your
Ruin? or have you deceiv’d me by a fictitious
Tale? Oh! no,” resum’d the trembling Creature,
“he is, indeed, the innocent Cause of my Undoing:---
Promise me your Pardon,” continued she, “and I will
relate the Means.” Here she ceas’d, expecting what
she would reply, which, on hearing Beauplaisir cry Vol. III. O you O1v 290
out, “What mean you Madam? I your Undoing,
who never harbour’d the least Design on you in my
Life”, she did in these Words, “Though the Injury
you have done your Family,” said she, “is of a Nature
which cannot justly hope Forgiveness, yet be
assur’d, I shall much sooner excuse you when satisfied
of the Truth, than while I am kept in a Suspence,
if possible, as vexatious as the Crime itself is to
me.” Encouraged by this she related the whole
Truth. And ’tis difficult to determine, if Beauplaisir,
or the Lady, were most surpris’d at what they
heard; he, that he should have been blinded so often
by her Artifices; or she, that so young a Creature
should have the Skill to make use of them. Both
sat for some Time in a profound Resvery; till
at length she broke it first in these Words: “Pardon,
Sir,” said she, “the Trouble I have given you: I
must confess it was with a Design to oblige you to
repair the supposed Injury you had done this unfortunate
Girl, by marrying her, but now I know
not what to say;----The Blame is wholly her’s,
and I have nothing to request further of you, than
that you will not divulge the distracted Folly she
has been guilty of.”----He answered her in Terms
perfectly polite; but made no Offer of that which,
perhaps, she expected, though could not, now
inform’d of her Daughter’s Proceedings, demand.
He assured her, however, that if she would commit
the new-born Lady to his Care, he would discharge
it faithfully. But neither of them would
consent to that; and he took his Leave, full of
Cogitations, more confus’d than ever he had known
in his whole Life. He continued to visit there, to
enquire after her Health every Day; but the old Lady
perceiving there was nothing likely to ensue from
these Civilities, but, perhaps, a Renewing of the
Crime, she entreated him to refrain; and as soon as her O2r 291
her Daughter was in a Condition, sent her to a Monastery
in France, the Abbess of which had been `
her particular Friend. And thus ended an Intreague,
which, considering the Time it lasted, was as full
of Variety as any, perhaps, that many Ages has produced.

Finis.