The Works of Aphra Behn - Volume V
by Aphra Behn
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—If "oe" displays as a single character, and apostrophes and quotation marks are "curly" or angled, you have the UTF-8 version (best). If any part of this paragraph displays as garbage, try changing your text reader's "character set" or "file encoding". If that doesn't work, proceed to: —In the Latin-1 version, "oe" is two letters, but French words like "role" and "mere" have accents and "ae" is a single letter. Apostrophes and quotation marks will be straight ("typewriter" form). Again, if you see any garbage in this paragraph and can't get it to display properly, use: —The ASCII-7 or rock-bottom version. All necessary text will still be there; it just won't be as pretty. Note that in the Introduction to "Agnes de Castro", the name "Constanca" has a cedilla and "Penafiel" has a tilde.

In the printed book, all notes were grouped at the end of the volume. For this e-text, they have been placed after their respective stories. The Epistle Dedicatory to Oroonoko was printed as an Appendix. In keeping with the editor's intention (see second paragraph of Note), it has been placed immediately before the novel.

Where appropriate, cross-references from other volumes of the Complete Works are quoted after the Notes. The "N.E.D." (New English Dictionary) is now known as the OED.

Typographic note: In the printed book, all references to plays give the Act in lower-case Roman numerals and the Scene in small capital Roman numerals; the two look identical except for the dots over the i's. For this plain-text version, the conventional "IV, iv" sequence was used instead. Italic passages used Roman type for emphasis; this is shown as Name.]






The Black Lady — The King of Bantam The Unfortunate Happy Lady — The Fair Jilt Oroonoko — Agnes de Castro The History of the Nun — The Nun The Lucky Mistake — The Unfortunate Bride The Dumb Virgin — The Wandering Beauty The Unhappy Mistake



[See Transcriber's Note at beginning of text for handling of Notes and Appendix.]


The Adventure of the Black Lady 1 The Court of the King of Bantam 11 The Unfortunate Happy Lady: A True History 35 The Fair Jilt 67 Oroonoko; or, The Royal Slave 125 Agnes De Castro 209 The History of the Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker 257 The Nun; or, The Perjur'd Beauty 325 The Lucky Mistake 349 The Unfortunate Bride; or, The Blind Lady a Beauty 399 The Dumb Virgin; or, The Force of Imagination 415 The Wandering Beauty 445 The Unhappy Mistake; or, The Impious Vow Punish'd 469 Appendix 507 Notes 513

* * * * * * * * *


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

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

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

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

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


NOTES: The Black Lady.

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

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

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

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

* * * * * * * * *


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now we're alone (said Sir Philip) let me assure you, Sir, I resent this Affront done to you by Mr. Goodland, almost as highly as you can: and tho' I can't wish that you should take such Satisfaction, as perhaps some other hotter Sparks would; yet let me say, his Miscarriage ought not to go unpunish'd in him. Fear not (reply'd t'other) I shall give him a sharp Lesson. No, Sir (return'd Friendly) I would not have you think of a bloody Revenge; for 'tis that which possibly he designs on you: I know him brave as any Man. However, were it convenient that the Sword should determine betwixt you, you should not want mine: The Affront is partly to me, since done in my House; but I've already laid down safer Measures for us, tho' of more fatal Consequence to him: that is, I've form'd them in my Thoughts. Dismiss your Coach and Equipage, all but one Servant, and I will discourse it to you at large. 'Tis now past Twelve; and if you please, I would invite you to take up as easy a Lodging here, as my House will afford. (Accordingly they were dismiss'd, and he proceeded:)—As I hinted to you before, he is in love with my youngest Niece, Philibella; but her Fortune not exceeding five hundred Pound, his Father will assuredly disinherit him, if he marries her: tho' he has given his Consent that he should marry her eldest Sister, whose Father dying ere he knew his Wife was with child of the youngest, left Lucy three thousand Pounds, being as much as he thought convenient to match her handsomly; and accordingly the Nuptials of young Goodland and Lucy are to be celebrated next Easter. They shall not, if I can hinder them (interrupted his offended Majesty.) Never endeavour the Obstruction (said the Knight) for I'll shew you the Way to a dearer Vengeance: Women are Women, your Majesty knows; she may be won to your Embraces before that time, and then you antedate him your Creature. A Cuckold, you mean (cry'd King in Fancy:) O exquisite Revenge! but can you consent that I should attempt it? What is't to me? We live not in Spain, where all the Relations of the Family are oblig'd to vindicate a Whore: No, I would wound him in his most tender Part. But how shall we compass it? (ask'd t'other.) Why thus, throw away three thousand Pounds on the youngest Sister, as a Portion, to make her as happy as she can be in her new Lover, Sir Frederick Flygold, an extravagant young Fop, and wholly given over to Gaming; so, ten to one, but you may retrieve your Money of him, and have the two Sisters at your Devotion. Oh, thou my better Genius than that which was given to me by Heaven at my Birth! What Thanks, what Praises shall I return and sing to thee for this! (cry'd King Conundrum.) No Thanks, no Praises, I beseech your Majesty, since in this I gratify my self—You think I am your Friend? and, you will agree to this? (said Friendly, by way of Question.) Most readily, (returned the Fop King:) Would it were broad Day, that I might send for the Money to my Banker's; for in all my Life, in all my Frolicks, Encounters and Extravagances, I never had one so grateful, and so pleasant as this will be, if you are in earnest, to gratify both my Love and Revenge! That I am in earnest, you will not doubt, when you see with what Application I shall pursue my Design: In the mean Time, My Duty to your Majesty; To our good Success in this Affair. While he drank, t'other return'd, With all my Heart; and pledg'd him. Then Friendly began afresh: Leave the whole Management of this to me; only one thing more I think necessary, that you make a Present of five hundred Guineas to her Majesty, the Bride that must be. By all means (return'd the wealthy King of Bantam;) I had so design'd before. Well, Sir (said Sir Philip) what think you of a set Party or two at Piquet, to pass away a few Hours, till we can sleep? A seasonable and welcome Proposition (returned the King;) but I won't play above twenty Guineas the Game, and forty the Lurch. Agreed (said Friendly;) first call in your Servant; mine is here already. The Slave came in, and they began, with unequal Fortune at first; for the Knight had lost a hundred Guineas to Majesty, which he paid in Specie; and then propos'd fifty Guineas the Game, and a hundred the Lurch. To which t'other consented; and without winning more than three Games, and those not together, made shift to get three thousand two hundred Guineas in debt to Sir Philip; for which Majesty was pleas'd to give him Bond, whether Friendly would or no,

Seal'd and deliver'd in the Presence of,

The Mark of (W.) Will. Watchful. And, (S) Sim. Slyboots.

A couple of delicate Beagles, their mighty Attendants.

It was then about the Hour that Sir Philip's (and, it may be, other Ladies) began to yawn and stretch; when the Spirits refresh'd, troul'd about, and tickled the Blood with Desires of Action; which made Majesty and Worship think of a Retreat to Bed: where in less than half an Hour, or before ever he cou'd say his Prayers, I'm sure the first fell fast asleep; but the last, perhaps, paid his accustom'd Devotion, ere he begun his Progress to the Shadow of Death. However, he waked earlier than his Cully Majesty, and got up to receive young Goodland, who came according to his Word, with the first Opportunity. Sir Philip receiv'd him with more than usual Joy, tho' not with greater Kindness, and let him know every Syllable and Accident that had pass'd between them till they went to Bed: which you may believe was not a little pleasantly surprizing to Valentine, who began then to have some Assurance of his Happiness with Philibella. His Friend told him, that he must now be reconcil'd to his Mock-Majesty, tho' with some Difficulty; and so taking one hearty Glass a-piece, he left Valentine in the Parlour to carry the ungrateful News of his Visit to him that Morning. King —— was in an odd sort of taking, when he heard that Valentine was below; and had been, as Sir Philip inform'd Majesty, at Majesty's Palace, to enquire for him there: But when he told him, that he had already school'd him on his own Behalf, for the Affront done in his House, and that he believ'd he could bring his Majesty off without any loss of present Honour, his Countenance visibly discover'd his past Fear, and present Satisfaction; which was much encreas'd too, when Friendly shewing him his Bond for the Money he won of him at play, let him know, that if he paid three thousand Guineas to Philibella, he would immediately deliver him up his Bond, and not expect the two hundred Guineas overplus. His Majesty of Bantam was then in so good a Humour, that he could have made Love to Sir Philip; nay, I believe he could have kiss'd Valentine, instead of seeming angry. Down they came, and saluted like Gentlemen: But after the Greeting was over, Goodland began to talk something of Affront, Satisfaction, Honour, &c. when immediately Friendly interpos'd, and after a little seeming Uneasiness and Reluctancy, reconcil'd the hot and cholerick Youth to the cold phlegmatick King.

Peace was no sooner proclaim'd, than the King of Bantam took his Rival and late Antagonist with him in his own Coach, not excluding Sir Philip by any means, to Locket's, where they din'd: Thence he would have 'em to Court with him, where he met the Lady Flippant, the Lady Harpy, the Lady Crocodile, Madam Tattlemore, Miss Medler, Mrs. Gingerly, a rich Grocer's Wife, and some others, besides Knights and Gentlemen of as good Humours as the Ladies; all whom he invited to a Ball at his own House, the Night following; his own Lady being then in the Country. Madam Tattlemore, I think was the first he spoke to in Court, and whom first he surpriz'd with the happy News of his Advancement to the Title of King of Bantam. How wondrous hasty was she to be gone, as soon as she heard it! 'Twas not in her Power, because not in her Nature, to stay long enough to take a civil Leave of the Company; but away she flew, big with the empty Title of a fantastick King, proclaiming it to every one of her Acquaintance, as she passed through every Room, till she came to the Presence-Chamber, where she only whisper'd it; but her Whispers made above half the honourable Company quit the Presence of the King of Great-Britain, to go make their Court to his Majesty of Bantam: some cry'd, God bless your Majesty! Some Long live the King of Bantam! Others, All Hail to your Sacred Majesty; In short, he was congratulated on all Sides. Indeed I don't hear that his Majesty King Charles II. ever sent an Ambassador to compliment him; tho' possibly, he saluted him by his Title the first time he saw him afterwards: For, you know, he is a wonderful good-natur'd and well-bred Gentleman.

After he thought the Court of England was universally acquainted with his mighty Honour, he was pleas'd to think fit to retire to his own more private Palace, with Sir Philip and Goodland, whom he entertain'd that Night very handsomly, till about seven o'Clock; when they went together to the Play, which was that Night, A King and no King. His Attendant-Friends could not forbear smiling, to think how aptly the Title of the Play suited his Circumstances. Nor could he choose but take Notice of it behind the Scenes, between Jest and Earnest; telling the Players how kind Fortune had been the Night past, in disposing the Bean to him; and justifying what one of her Prophetesses had foretold some Years since. I shall now no more regard (said he) that old doating Fellow Pythagoras's Saying Abstineto a Fabis, That is, (added he, by way of Construction) Abstain from Beans: for I find the Excellency of 'em in Cakes and Dishes; from the first, they inspire the Soul with mighty Thoughts; and from the last our Bodies receive a strong and wholesom Nourishment. That is, (said a Wag among those sharp Youths, I think 'twas my Friend the Count) these puff you up in Mind, Sir, those in Body. They had some further Discourse among the Nymphs of the Stage, ere they went into the Pit; where Sir Philip spread the News of his Friend's Accession to the Title, tho' not yet to the Throne of Bantam; upon which he was there again complimented on that Occasion. Several of the Ladies and Gentlemen who saluted him, he invited to the next Night's Ball at his Palace.

The Play done, they took each of them a Bottle at the Rose, and parted till Seven the Night following; which came not sooner than desired: for he had taken such Care, that all things were in readiness before Eight, only he was not to expect the Musick till the End of the Play. About Nine, Sir Philip, his Lady, Goodland, Philibella, and Lucy came. Sir Philip return'd him Rabelais, which he had borrow'd of him, wherein the Knight had written, in an old odd sort of a Character, this Prophecy of his own making; with which he surpriz'd the Majesty of Bantam, who vow'd he had never taken Notice of it before; but he said, he perceiv'd it had been long written by the Character; and here it follows, as near as I can remember:

When M. D. C. come L. before, Three XXX's, two II's and one I. more; Then KING, tho' now but Name to thee, Shall both thy Name and Title be.

They had hardly made an End of reading it, ere the whole Company, and more than he had invited, came in, and were receiv'd with a great deal of Formality and Magnificence. Lucy was there attended as his Queen; and Philibella, as the Princess her Sister. They danc'd then till they were weary; and afterwards retired to another large Room, where they found the Tables spread and furnished with all the most seasonable cold Meat; which was succeeded by the choicest Fruits, and the richest Desert of Sweetmeats that Luxury could think on, or at least that this Town could afford. The Wines were all most excellent in their Kind; and their Spirits flew about thro' every Corner of the House: There was scarce a Spark sober in the whole Company, with drinking repeated Glasses to the Health of the King of Bantam, and his Royal Consort, with the Princess Philibella's who sat together under a Royal Canopy of State, his Majesty between the two beautiful Sisters: only Friendly and Goodland wisely manag'd that part of the Engagement where they were concern'd, and preserv'd themselves from the Heat of the Debauch.

Between Three and Four most of them began to draw off, laden with Fruit and Sweetmeats, and rich Favours compos'd of Yellow, Green, Red and White, the Colours of his new Majesty of Bantam. Before Five they were left to themselves; when the Lady Friendly was discompos'd, for want of Sleep, and her usual Cordial, which obliged Sir Philip to wait on her Home, with his two Nieces: But his Majesty would by no means part with Goodland; whom, before Nine that Morning, he made as drunk as a Lord, and by Consequence, one of his Peers; for Majesty was then, indeed, as great as an Emperor: He fancy'd himself Alexander, and young Valentine his Hephestion; and did so be-buss him, that the young Gentleman fear'd he was fallen into the Hands of an Italian. However, by the kind Persuasions of his condescending and dissembling Majesty, he ventur'd to go into Bed with him; where King Would-be fell asleep, hand-over-head: and not long after, Goodland, his new-made Peer, follow'd him to the cool Retreats of Morpheus.

About Three the next Afternoon they both wak'd, as by consent, and called to dress. And after that Business was over, I think they swallow'd each of 'em a Pint of Old-Hock, with a little Sugar, by the way of healing. Their Coaches were got ready in the mean time; but the Peer was forced to accept of the Honour of being carried in his Majesty's to Sir Philip's, whom they found just risen from Dinner, with Philadelphia and his two Nieces. They sat down, and ask'd for something to relish a Glass of Wine, and Sir Philip order'd a cold Chine to be set before 'em, of which they eat about an Ounce a-piece; but they drank more by half, I dare say.

After their little Repast, Friendly call'd the Would-be-Monarch aside, and told him, that he would have him go to the Play that Night, which was The London-Cuckolds; promising to meet him there in less than half an Hour after his Departure: telling him withal, that he would surprize him with a much better Entertainment than the Stage afforded. Majesty took the Hint, imagining, and that rightly, that the Knight had some Intrigue in his Head, for the Promotion of the Commonwealth of Cuckoldom: In order therefore to his Advice, he took his leave about a quarter of an Hour after.

When he was gone, Sir Philip thus bespoke his pretended Niece: Madam, I hope your Majesty will not refuse me the Honour of waiting on you to a Place where you will meet with better Entertainment than your Majesty can expect from the best Comedy in Christendom. Val, (continued he) you must go with us, to secure me against the Jealousy of my Wife. That, indeed (return'd his Lady) is very material; and you are mightily concern'd not to give me Occasion, I must own. You see I am now, (replied he:) But—come! on with Hoods and Scarf! (pursued he, to Lucy.) Then addressing himself again to his Lady; Madam, (said he) we'll wait on you. In less Time than I could have drank a Bottle to my Share, the Coach was got ready, and on they drove to the Play-House. By the way, said Friendly to Val.—Your Honour, noble Peer, must be set down at Long's; for only Lucy and I must be seen to his Majesty of Bantam: And now, I doubt not, you understand what you must trust to.—To be robb'd of her Majesty's Company, I warrant (return'd the other) for these long three Hours. Why (cry'd Lucy) you don't mean, I hope, to leave me with his Majesty of Bantam? 'Tis for thy Good, Child! 'Tis for thy Good (return'd Friendly.) To the Rose they got then; where Goodland alighted, and expected Sir Philip; who led Lucy into the King's Box, to his new Majesty; where, after the first Scene, he left them together. The over-joy'd fantastick Monarch would fain have said some fine obliging Things to the Knight, as he was going out; but Friendly's Haste prevented 'em, who went directly to Valentine, took one Glass, call'd a Reckoning, mounted his Chariot, and away Home they came: where I believe he was welcome to his Lady; for I never heard any thing to the contrary.

In the mean Time, his Majesty had not the Patience to stay out half the Play, at which he was saluted by above twenty Gentlemen and Ladies by his new and mighty Title: but out he led Miss Majesty ere the third Act was half done; pretending, that it was so damn'd a bawdy Play, that he knew her Modesty had been already but too much offended at it; so into his Coach he got her. When they were seated, she told him she would go to no Place with him, but to the Lodgings her Mother had taken for her, when she first came to Town, and which still she kept. Your Mother, Madam, (cry'd he) why, is Sir Philip's Sister living then? His Brother's Widow is, Sir, (she reply'd.) Is she there? (he ask'd.) No, Sir, (she return'd;) she is in the Country. Oh, then we will go thither to chuse. The Coach-man was then order'd to drive to Jermain-Street; where, when he came in to the Lodgings, he found 'em very rich and modishly furnish'd. He presently call'd one of his Slaves, and whisper'd him to get three or four pretty Dishes for Supper; and then getting a Pen, Ink and Paper, writ a Note to C——d the Goldsmith with Temple-Bar, for five hundred guineas; which Watchful brought him, in less than an Hour's time, when they were just in the Height of Supper; Lucy having invited her Landlady, for the better Colour of the Matter. His Bantamite Majesty took the Gold from his Slave, and threw it by him in the Window, that Lucy might take Notice of it; (which you may assure yourself she did, and after Supper wink'd on the goodly Matron of the House to retire, which she immediately obey'd.) Then his Majesty began his Court very earnestly and hotly, throwing the naked Guineas into her Lap: which she seemed to refuse with much Disdain; but upon his repeated Promises, confirm'd by unheard of Oaths and Imprecations, that he would give her Sister three thousand Guineas to her Portion, she began by Degrees to mollify, and let the Gold lie quietly in her Lap: And the next Night, after he had drawn Notes on two or three of his Bankers, for the Payment of three thousand Guineas to Sir Philip, or Order, and received his own Bond, made for what he had lost at Play, from Friendly, she made no great Difficulty to admit his Majesty to her Bed. Where I think fit to leave 'em for the present; for (perhaps) they had some private Business.

The next Morning before the Titular King was (I won't say up, or stirring, but) out of Bed, young Goodland and Philibella were privately marry'd; the Bills being all accepted and paid in two Days Time. As soon as ever the fantastick Monarch could find in his Heart to divorce himself from the dear and charming Embraces of his beautiful Bedfellow, he came flying to Sir Philip, with all the Haste that Imagination big with Pleasure could inspire him with, to discharge it self to a suppos'd Friend. The Knight told him, that he was really much troubled to find that his Niece had yielded so soon and easily to him; however, he wish'd him Joy: To which the other return'd, that he could never want it, whilst he had the Command of so much Beauty, and that without the ungrateful Obligations of Matrimony, which certainly are the most nauseous, hateful, pernicious and destructive of Love imaginable. Think you so, Sir? (ask'd the Knight;) we shall hear what a Friend of mine will say on such an Occasion, to-morrow about this Time: but I beseech your Majesty to conceal your Sentiments of it to him, lest you make him as uneasy as you seem to be in that Circumstance. Be assur'd I will, (return'd the other:) But when shall I see the sweet, the dear, the blooming, the charming Philibella? She will be with us at Dinner. Where's her Majesty? (ask'd Sir Philip) Had you enquir'd before, she had been here; for, look, she comes! Friendly seems to regard her with a Kind of Displeasure, and whisper'd Majesty, that he should express no particular Symptoms of Familiarity with Lucy in his House, at any Time, especially when Goodland was there, as then he was above with his Lady and Philibella, who came down presently after to Dinner.

About Four o'Clock, as his Majesty had intrigu'd with her, Lucy took a Hackney-Coach, and went to her Lodgings; whither about an Hour after, he follow'd her, Next Morning, at nine, he came to Friendly's, who carry'd him up to see his new-married Friends—But (O Damnation to Thoughts!) what Torments did he feel, when he saw young Goodland and Philibella in bed together; the last of which return'd him humble and hearty Thanks for her Portion and Husband, as the first did for his Wife. He shook his Head at Sir Philip, and without speaking one Word, left 'em, and hurry'd to Lucy, to lament the ill Treatment he had met with from Friendly. They coo'd and bill'd as long as he was able; she (sweet Hypocrite) seeming to bemoan his Misfortunes; which he took so kindly, that when he left her, which was about three in the Afternoon, he caus'd a Scrivener to draw up an Instrument, wherein he settled a hundred Pounds a Year on Lucy for her Life, and gave her a hundred Guineas more against her Lying-in: (For she told him, and indeed 'twas true, that she was with child, and knew her self to be so from a very good Reason—) And indeed she was so—by the Friendly Knight. When he return'd to her, he threw the obliging Instrument into her Lap; (it seems he had a particular Kindness for that Place—) then call'd for Wine, and something to eat; for he had not drank a Pint to his Share all the Day, (tho' he had ply'd it at the Chocolate-House.—) The Landlady, who was invited to sup with 'em, bid 'em good-night, about eleven; when they went to bed, and partly slept till about six; when they were entertain'd by some Gentleman of their Acquaintance, who play'd and sung very finely, by way of Epithalamium, these Words and more:

Joy to great Bantam! Live long, love and wanton! And thy Royal Consort! For both are of one Sort, &c.

The rest I have forgot. He took some Offence at the Words; but more at the Visit that Sir Philip, and Goodland, made him, about an Hour after, who found him in Bed with his Royal Consort; and after having wish'd 'em Joy, and thrown their Majesties own Shoes and Stockings at their Head, retir'd. This gave Monarch in Fancy so great a Caution that he took his Royal Consort into the Country, (but above forty Miles off the Place where his own Lady was) where, in less than eight Months, she was deliver'd of a Princely Babe, who was Christen'd by the Heathenish Name of Hayoumorecake Bantam, while her Majesty lay in like a pretty Queen.

NOTES: The King of Bantam.

p. 17 last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683. The new plays acted at the Theatre Royal in 1682 were: Southerne's The Loyal Brother; or, The Persian Prince; Tate's Ingratitude of a Commonwealth; or, The Fall of Caius Marius Coriolanus; Settle's The Heir of Morocco, with the Death of Gayland; Banks' The Unhappy Favourite; or, the Earl of Essex; D'Urfey's The Injur'd Princess; or, The Fatal Wager. There were also an unusual number of revivals of the older plays at this house. At Dorset Garden the following were produced: Otway's Venice Preserved; or, A Plot Discovered; Mrs. Behn's The City Heiress; or, Sir Timothy Treatall; D'Urfey's The Royalist; Mrs. Behn's The False Count; or, A New Way to Play an Old Game; Banks' Virtue Betray'd; or, Anna Bullen; Mrs. Behn's The Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause; Ravenscroft's The London Cuckolds; and Romulus and Hersilia; or, The Sabine War, an anonymous tragedy. There were also notable revivals of Randolph's The Jealous Lovers, and Fletcher's The Maid in the Mill. The two Companies amalgamated in the autumn, opening at the Theatre Royal, 16 November, for which occasion a special Prologue and Epilogue were written by Dryden. 4 December, Dryden and Lee's famous tragedy, The Duke of Guise, had a triumphant first night. It will be remembered that Mrs. Behn is writing of incidents which took place on 6 January, 1683, Twelfth Night, so 'the last new plays' must refer to the productions of 1682. Of course, fresh songs, and probably musical entertainments, would be inserted at the different revivals of the older plays which were so frequent during that year.

p. 20 Statira, . . . Roxana. In allusion to the two rival princesses for Alexander's love as they appear in Nat Lee's famous tragedy, The Rival Queens; or, Alexander the Great, produced at Drury Lane, 1677. It held the stage over a century and a half, longest of his plays, and is indeed an excellent piece. Originally, Hart played Alexander; Mrs. Marshall, the glowing Roxana; and Mrs. Boutell, Statira. Genest chronicles a performance at Drury Lane, 23 June, 1823, with Kean as Alexander; Mrs. W. West, Statira; Mrs. Glover, Roxana.

p. 24 forty the Lurch. 'Lurch' is a very common old term (now rare) 'used in various games to denote a certain concluding state of the game in which one player is enormously ahead of the other; often a "maiden set" or love-game'—N.E.D. cf. Urquhart's Rabelais (1653), II, xii: 'By two of my table-men in the corner point I have gained the lurch.' Gouldman's Latin Dictionary (1674), gives: 'A lurch; duplex palma, facilis victoria.'

p. 26 to Locket's, where they din'd. This fashionable Ordinary stood on the site of Drummond's Bank, Charing Cross. It was named from Adam Locket, the landlord, who died in 1688. In 1702, however, we find an Edward Locket, probably a son, as proprietor. The reputation of the house was on the wane during the latter years of Anne, and in the reign of George I its vogue entirely ceased. There are very frequent references. In The Country Wife (1675), Horner tells Pinchwife: 'Thou art as shy of my kindness as a Lombard-street alderman of a courtier's civility at Locket's' (IV, iii). In Shadwell's The Scowerers (1691), old Tope, replying to a health, cries: 'I'll answer you in a couple of Brimmers of Claret at Locket's at Dinner' (I, i). In Vanbrugh's The Relapse (1696), Lord Foppington, when asked if he dines at home, surmises: ''tis passible I may dine with some of aur House at Lacket's,' which shows that it was then the very rendezvous of fashion and quality.

p. 27 A King and no King. Langbaine testifies to the popularity of Beaumont and Fletcher's play both before and after the Restoration. Pepys saw it 14 March, 1661, and again, 26 September the same year. The 1676 quarto 'as it is now acted at the Theatre Royal by his Majestie's Servants' gives a full cast with Hart as Arbaces; Kynaston, Tigranes; Mohun, Mardonius; Lacy, Bessus; Mrs. Betty Cox, Panthea; Mrs. Marshall, Spaconia. In the earlier production Nell Gwynne had acted Panthea. The two Companies amalgamated in 1682, opening 16 November. Hart 'never Acted more' after this date. Mrs. Marshall had retired in 1677; and in 1683 Betterton was playing Arbaces with quite a new allotment of the other roles.

p. 27 The Rose. There are repeated references to this celebrated tavern which stood in Russell Street, Covent Garden. vide The Younger Brother, I, ii (Vol. IV), Motteux' Song: 'Thence to the Rose where he takes his three Flasks,' and the note on that passage.

p. 29 The London-Cuckolds. Ravenscroft's rollicking comedy, which had been produced with great success at the Duke's House in 1682 (4to, 1682), long kept the boards with undiminished favour, being very frequently given each season. Genest has the following true and pertinent remark: 'If it be the province of Comedy not to retail morality to a yawning pit but to make the audience laugh and to keep them in good humour this play must be allowed to be one of the best Comedies in the English language.' 29 October (the old Lord Mayor's Day), 1751, Garrick substituted Eastward Hoe at Drury Lane for the annual performance of The London Cuckolds, a change not approved by the audience, who promptly damned their new fare. Ravenscroft's comedy was given that evening at Covent Garden, and on 9 November, the following year. It was also performed there in 1753. 9 November, 1754, George II ordered The Provoked Husband. It has often been stated (e.g. by Professor A. W. Ward—'Ravenscroft'—Dictionary of National Biography) that this royal command gave The London Cuckolds its final conge, but such was neither the intent nor the case. The play is billed at Covent Garden, 10 November, 1755; in 1757; and 9 November, 1758. Shuter excelled as Dashwell. A two act version was played at Covent Garden, 10 April, 1782, and repeated on the 12th. This was for the benefit of Quick, who acted Doodle.

p. 30 Your Honour . . . must be set down at Long's. Long's was a famous Ordinary in the Haymarket. It was here that in 1678 Lord Pembroke killed Mr. Coney with his fist. He was tried by his Peers and acquitted. There was at the same period a second tavern in Covent Garden kept by Ben Long, Long's brother. In Dryden's Mr. Limberham (1678), Brainsick cries: 'I have won a wager to be spent luxuriously at Long's.' In Etheredge's The Man of Mode (1676), the following conversation occurs:—

Bellair. Where do you dine? Dorimant. At Long's or Locket's. Medley. At Long's let it be.

p. 30 the King's Box. The seats in the boxes of the Restoration Theatre were let out severally to separate persons, and although the King had, of course, his own private box when he saw a play, yet when he was not present even the royal box was apportioned to individuals as the rest. There are many allusions to this which prove, moreover, that the front row of the King's box was the most conspicuous and highly coveted position in the house. In Etheredge's The Man of Mode (1676), Dorimant, hearing of a young gentlewoman lately come to town and being taken with his own handsome face, wagers that she must be 'some awkward, ill-fashioned, country toad, who, not having above four dozen of black hairs on her head, has adorned her baldness with a large white fruz, that she may look sparkishly in the forefront of the King's box at an old play.' In Tom Brown's Letters from the Dead to the Living[1] we have one from Julian, 'late Secretary to the Muses,' to Will. Pierre of Lincoln's Inn Fields Playhouse, wherein, recalling how in his lampoons whilst he lived characters about town were shown in no very enviable light, he particularizes that 'the antiquated Coquet was told of her age and ugliness, tho' her vanity plac'd her in the first row in the King's box at the playhouse.'

p. 31 Jermain-Street. Jermyn Street runs parallel with Piccadilly from the Haymarket to St. James. It was built circa 1667, and derives its name from Henry Jermyn, Earl of St. Albans. Shadwell spells it Germin Street, and it was in a house here that old Snarl was wont to receive amorous castigation at the hands of Mrs. Figgup.—The Virtuoso (1676), III, ii. It was a fashionable quarter. From 1675 to 1681 the Duke of Marlborough, then Colonel Churchill, lived here. La Belle Stuart, Duchess of Richmond, had a house near Eagle Passage, 1681-3, and was succeeded therein by the Countess of Northumberland. Next door dwelt Henry Saville, Rochester's friend, 1681-3. Three doors from the Duchess again was living in 1683 Simon Verelest, the painter. In 1684 Sir William Soames followed him. In after years also there have been a large number of famous residents connected with this favourite street.

p. 34 after having . . . thrown their Majesties own Shoes and Stockings. For this old bridal custom see ante, Vol. III (p. 223), The Lucky Chance, II, ii: 'we'll toss the Stocking'; and the note on that passage.

[Footnote 1: This actual letter was written by Boyer, together with the reply which is dated 5 November, 1701. Julian was a well-known journalistic scribbler and ribald ballader of the time. William Peer [Pierre], a young actor of little account, is only cast for such walk-on roles as Jasper, a valet, in Shadwell's The Scowerers (1691); the Parson in D'Urfey's Love for Money (1696).]

Cross-References from Critical Notes: The King of Bantam

Note to p. 27: vide The Younger Brother, I, ii (Vol. IV), Motteux' Song: 'Thence to the Rose where he takes his three Flasks,' and the note on that passage.

Younger Brother text:

Then jogs to the Play-house, and chats with the Masks, And thence to the Rose, where he takes his three Flasks.

Younger Brother note:

the Rose. This celebrated house stood in Russell Street, Covent Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable references to it. The greater portion of the 'Rose' was demolished in 1776, when a new front was being built to the theatre.

Note to p. 34: For this old bridal custom see ante, Vol. III (p. 223), The Lucky Chance, II, ii: 'we'll toss the Stocking'; and the note on that passage.

Lucky Chance text:

Come, Gentlemen, one Bottle, and then—we'll toss the Stocking.

Lucky Chance note:

we'll toss the Stocking. This merry old matrimonial custom in use at the bedding of the happy pair is often alluded to. cf. Pepys, 8 February, 1663: 'Another story was how Lady Castlemaine, a few days since, had Mrs. Stewart to an entertainment, and at night begun a frolique that they two must be married; and married they were, with ring and all other ceremonies of church service, and ribbands, and a sack posset in bed and flinging the stocking; but in the close it is said my Lady Castlemaine, who was the bridegroom, rose, and the King come and take her place.'

* * * * * * * * *


I cannot omit giving the World an account, of the uncommon Villany of a Gentleman of a good Family in England practis'd upon his Sister, which was attested to me by one who liv'd in the Family, and from whom I had the whole Truth of the Story. I shall conceal the unhappy Gentleman's own, under the borrow'd Names of Sir William Wilding, who succeeded his Father Sir Edward, in an Estate of near 4000l. a Year, inheriting all that belong'd to him, except his Virtues. 'Tis true, he was oblig'd to pay his only Sister a Portion of 6000l. which he might very easily have done out of his Patrimony in a little Time, the Estate being not in the least incumbred. But the Death of his good Father gave a loose to the Extravagancy of his Inclinations, which till then was hardly observable. The first Discovery he made of his Humour, was in the extraordinary rich Equipage he prepar'd for his Journey to London, which was much greater than his fair and plentiful Fortune cou'd maintain, nor were his Expences any way inferior to the Figure he made here in Town; insomuch, that in less than a Twelve-Month, he was forc'd to return to his Seat in the Country, to Mortgage a part of his Estate of a Thousand Pounds a Year, to satisfy the Debts he had already contracted in his profuse Treats, Gaming and Women, which in a few Weeks he effected, to the great Affliction of his Sister Philadelphia, a young Lady of excellent Beauty, Education, and Virtue; who, fore-seeing the utter Ruin of the Estate, if not timely prevented, daily begg'd of him, with Prayers and Tears, that might have mov'd a Scythian or wild Arab, or indeed any thing but him, to pay her her Portion. To which, however, he seemingly consented, and promis'd to take her to Town with him, and there give her all the Satisfaction she cou'd expect: And having dipp'd some paltry Acres of Land, deeper than ever Heaven dipp'd 'em in Rain, he was as good as his Word, and brought her to Town with him, where he told her he would place her with an ancient Lady, with whom he had contracted a Friendship at his first coming to London; adding, that she was a Lady of incomparable Morals, and of a matchless Life and Conversation. Philadelphia took him in the best Sense, and was very desirous to be planted in the same House with her, hoping she might grow to as great a Perfection in such excellent Qualifications, as she imagined 'em. About four Days therefore after they had been in Town, she sollicits her Brother to wait on that Lady with her: He reply'd, that it is absolutely Necessary and Convenient that I should first acquaint her with my Design, and beg that she will be pleas'd to take you into her Care, and this shall be my chief Business to Day: Accordingly, that very Hour he went to the Lady Beldams, his reverend and honourable Acquaintance, whom he prepar'd for the Reception of his Sister, who he told her was a Cast-Mistress of his, and desir'd her Assistance to prevent the Trouble and Charge, which she knew such Cattle would bring upon young Gentlemen of plentiful Estates. To morrow Morning about Eleven, I'll leave her with your Ladyship, who, I doubt not, will give her a wholesome Lesson or two before Night, and your Reward is certain. My Son, (return'd she) I know the Greatness of your Spirit, the Heat of your Temper has both warm'd and inflam'd me! I joy to see you in Town again—Ah! That I could but recal one twenty Years for your Sake!—Well—no matter.—I won't forget your Instructions, nor my Duty to Morrow: In the mean time, I'll drink your Health in a Bottle of Sherry or two, O! Cry your Mercy, good my Lady Beldam, (said the young Debauchee) I had like to have forfeited my Title to your Care, in not remembring to leave you an Obligation. There are three Guinea's, which, I hope, will plead for me till to Morrow.—So—Your Ladyship's Servant humbly kisses your Hand. Your Honours most Obedient Servant, most gratefully Acknowledges your Favours.—Your humble Servant, Good Sir William, added she, seeing him leave her in haste.

Never were three Persons better pleas'd for a Time than this unnatural Man, his sweet innocent Sister, and the Lady Beldam; upon his return to Philadelphia, who could not rest that Night, for thinking on the Happiness she was going to enjoy in the Conversation of so virtuous a Lady as her Brother's Acquaintance, to whom she was in Hopes that she might discover her dearest Thoughts, and complain of Sir William's Extravagance and Unkindness, without running the Hazzard of being betray'd; and at the same Time, reasonably expect from so pious a Lady all the Assistance within her Capacity. On the other side, her Brother hugg'd himself in the Prospect he had of getting rid of his own Sister, and the Payment of 6000l. for the Sum of forty or fifty Guineas, by the Help and Discretion of this sage Matron; who, for her part, by this Time, had reckon'd up, and promis'd to herself an Advantage of at least three hundred Pounds, one way or other by this bargain.

About Ten the next Morning, Sir William took Coach with his Sister, for the old Lady's Enchanted Castle, taking only one Trunk of hers with them for the present, promising her to send her other Things to her the next Day. The young Lady was very joyfully and respectfully received by her Brother's venerable Acquaintance, who was mightily charm'd with her Youth and Beauty. A Bottle of the Best was then strait brought in, and not long after a very splendid Entertainment for Breakfast: The Furniture was all very modish and rich, and the Attendance was suitable. Nor was the Lady Beldam's Conversation less obliging and modest, than Sir William's Discourse had given Philadelphia occasion to expect. After they had eaten and drank what they thought Convenient, the reverend old Lady led 'em out of the Parlour to shew 'em the House, every Room of which they found answerably furnish'd to that whence they came. At last she led 'em into a very pleasant Chamber, richly hung, and curiously adorn'd with the Pictures of several beautiful young Ladies, wherein there was a Bed which might have been worthy the Reception of a Dutchess: This, Madam, (said she) is your Apartment, with the Anti-chamber, and little Withdrawing-Room. Alas, Madam! (returned the dear innocent unthinking Lady) you set too great a Value on your Servant; but I rather think your Ladyship designs me this Honour for the sake of Sir William, who has had the Happiness of your Acquaintance for some Months: Something for Sir William, (returned the venerable Lady Beldam) but much more for your Ladyship's own, as you will have Occasion to find hereafter. I shall Study to deserve your Favours and Friendship, Madam, reply'd Philadelphia: I hope you will, Madam, said the barbarous Man. But my Business now calls me hence; to Morrow at Dinner I will return to you, and Order the rest of your Things to be brought with me. In the mean while (pursu'd the Traytor, kissing his Sister, as he thought and hop'd the last time) be as chearful as you can, my Dear! and expect all you can wish from me. A thousand Thanks, my dearest Brother, return'd she, with Tears in her Eyes: And Madam, (said he to his old mischievous Confederate, giving her a very rich Purse which held 50 Guineas) be pleas'd to accept this Trifle, as an humble Acknowledgment of the great Favour you do this Lady, and the Care of her, which you promise; and I'm sure she cannot want. —So, once more, (added he) my Dear! and, Madam! I am your humble Servant Jusqu' a Revoir, and went out bowing. Heavens bless my dear Brother! (cry'd Philadelphia) your Honour's most Faithful and obedient Servant, said the venerable Beldam.

No sooner was the treacherous Brother gone, than the old Lady taking Philadelphia by the Hand, led her into the Parlour; where she began to her to this Effect: If I mistake not, Madam, you were pleas'd to call Sir William Brother once or twice of late in Conversation: Pray be pleas'd to satisfy my Curiosity so far as to inform me in the Truth of this Matter? Is it really so or not? Philadelphia reply'd, blushing, your Ladyship strangely surprizes me with this Question: For, I thought it had been past your Doubt that it is so. Did not he let you know so much himself? I humbly beg your Pardon, Madam, (returned the true Offspring of old Mother Eve) that I have so visibly disturb'd you by my Curiosity: But, indeed, Madam, Sir William did not say your Ladyship was his Sister, when he gave me the Charge of you, as of the nearest and dearest Friend he had in the World. Now our Father and Mother are dead, (said the sweet Innocent) who never had more Children than us two, who can be a nearer or dearer Friend unto me, than my Brother Sir William, or than I his Sister to him? None? Certainly, you'll excuse me, Madam, (answer'd t'other) a Wife or Mistress may. A Wife indeed, (return'd the beautiful Innocent) has the Pre-eminence, and perhaps, a Mistress too, if honourably lov'd and sought for in Marriage: But, (she continu'd) I can assure your Ladyship that he has not a Wife, nor did I ever hear he had a Mistress yet. Love in Youth (said old Venerable) is very fearful of Discovery. I have known, Madam, a great many fine young Gentlemen and Ladies, who have conceal'd their violent Passions and greater Affection, under the Notion and Appellation of Brother and Sister. And your Ladyship imagines, Sir William and I do so? reply'd Philadelphia, by way of Question. 'Twere no imprudence, if you did, Madam, return'd old Lady Beldam, with all the Subtlety she had learn'd from the Serpent. Alas! Madam, (reply'd she) there is nothing like Secrecy in Love: 'Tis the very Life and Soul of it! I have been young myself, and have known it by Experience. But, all this, Madam, (interrupted Philadelphia, something nettl'd at her Discourse) all this can't convince me, that I am not the true and only Sister both by Father and Mother of Sir William Wilding; however, he wou'd impose upon your Ladyship, for what Ends, indeed, I know not, unless (unhappily, which Heaven forbid!) he designs to gain your Ladyship's Assistance in defeating me of the Portion left me by my Father: But, (she continued with Tears) I have too great an Assurance of your Virtue, to Fear that you will consent to so wicked a Practise. You may be confident, Madam, (said t'other) I never will. And, supposing that he were capable of perpetrating so base an Act of himself, yet if your Ladyship will be guided and directed by me, I will shew you the Means of living Happy and Great, without your Portion, or your Brother's Help; so much I am charm'd with your Beauty and Innocence.

But, pray, Madam, (pursu'd she) what is your Portion? And what makes you doubt your Brother's Kindness? Philadelphia then told her, how much her Brother was to pay her, and gave her an Account of his Extravagancies, as far as she knew 'em; to which t'other was no Stranger; and (doubtless) cou'd have put a Period to her Sorrows with her Life, had she given her as perfect a Relation of his riotous and vicious Practices, as she was capable of: But she had farther Business with her Life, and, in short, bid her be of good Comfort, and lay all her Care on her, and then she cou'd not miss of continual Happiness. The sweet Lady took all her Promises for sterling, and kissing her Impious Hand, humbly return'd her Thanks. Not long after they went to Dinner; and in the Afternoon, three or four young Ladies came to visit the Right Reverend the Lady Beldam; who told her new Guest, that these were all her Relations, and no less than her own Sister's Children. The Discourse among 'em was general and very modest, which lasted for some Hours: For, our Sex seldom wants matter of Tattle. But, whether their Tongues were then miraculously wearied, or that they were tir'd with one continued Scene of Place, I won't pretend to determine: But they left the Parlour for the Garden, where after about half an Hour's Walk, there was a very fine Desert of Sweetmeats and Fruits brought into one of the Arbours. Cherbetts, Ros Solis, rich and small Wines, with Tea, Chocolate, &c. compleated the old Lady's Treat; the Pleasure of which was much heighten'd by the Voices of two of her Ladyship's Sham-Nieces, who sung very charmingly. The Dear, sweet Creature, thought she had happily got into the Company of Angels: But (alas!) they were Angels that had fallen more than once. She heard talk of Nunneries, and having never been out of her own Country till within four or five Days, she had certainly concluded she had been in one of those Religious-Houses now, had she but heard a Bell ring, and seen 'em kneel to Prayers, and make use of their Beads, as she had been told those happy people do. However it was, she was extremely pleas'd with the Place and Company. So nearly do's Hell counterfeit Heaven sometimes. At last, said one of the white Devils, wou'd my dear Tommy were here! O Sister! (cry'd another) you won't be long without your wish: For my Husband and he went out together, and both promis'd to be here after the Play. Is my Brother Sir Francis with him there? (ask'd the first) yes, (answer'd the third) Sir Thomas and Sir Francis took Coach from St. James's, about two Hours since: We shall be excellent Company when they come, (said a fourth); I hope they'll bring the Fiddlers with 'em, added the first: Don't you love Musick, Madam? (ask'd the old Lady Beldam) Sometimes, Madam, (reply'd Philadelphia) but now I am out o'tune myself. A little harmless Mirth will chear your drooping Spirits, my dear, (return'd t'other, taking her by the Hand) come! These are all my Relations, as I told you, Madam; and so consequently are their Husbands. Are these Ladies all marry'd, Madam? Philadelphia ask'd. All, all, my dear Soul! (reply'd the insinuating Mother of Iniquity;) and thou shalt have a Husband too, e're long. Alas, Madam! (return'd the fair Innocent) I have no Merit, nor Money: Besides, I never yet could Love so well as to make Choice of one Man before another.

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