His   Travells,   Amours,
  and other Pa±ages of his life,
  no leƒs ¥range than delightful,
  are faithfully ƒet down by
  an Impartial hand.

To my Honored Friend
   E. H. Eƒq;

  Worthy Sir,
In an age, when books had better be burnt for Hereticks, than preƒume to appear without the dull formality of an Epi¥le; ƒuch a notable defe¢ would preƒent them in as rediculous a Querpo, as a Courtier without the property of his Sword, though to both equally uƒeleƒs; therefore,lea¥ I ¬ould be taxed with too much ignorance or preƒumption, to you who are our petty Heroes particular friend, and the depoƒitary of his greate¥ ƒecrets.  To you who have been an eye witneƒs of ƒome of the mo¥ remarkable inconveniences that his natural curioƒity, re¥leƒs diƒpoƒition, Amours, Inclination, and fiery nature have plung'd him in: finally to you, that by conƒequence can be¥ diƒcerne what fruits are of his own growth, from what he may have borrowed from his neighbours Orchards, I dedicate theƒe following ¬eets.  I am ƒenƒible that now I ¬ould proceed to the ƒetting forth of your praiƒes, and humbly ƒupplicate for your generous prote¢ion, but really I am ƒo little accu¥om'd to the flattering ¥ile of a Dedication, that I know not what more to ƒay, therefore would gladly take the opportunity to end with the general concluƒion of, Sir, your mo¥ humble ƒervant, B.
    But then, what would the Bookƒeller ƒay?  who yet does expe¢ ƒo much ƒcribbling as mu¥ fill up ƒome empty pages of the la¥ ¬eet?  why Faith to pleaƒe all parties (if it be po±ible) I will make bold to lay you aƒide, and ƒpeak a word or two to the Curteous R eader, and that I hope will do the jobb.
    In the fir¥ place, I will let him know, that he will find here ƒuch varieties of humours, as, I hope, will pleaƒe him, provided he adds not a number amoung¥ the peripatetick Cinicks.  To ƒuch I mu¥ confeƒs theƒe things would prove eyeƒores, at lea¥ if not a Scandalum Magnatum, but to the Gay, Airy, and witty ƒort this may be uƒeful while they leave the knoty points of the more moroƒe part of learning to be cleav'd in ƒunder with the Beetles of the ƒowr Philoƒophers under¥anding.
    In the fir¥ part you will meet with ƒuch accidents as wild young Travellers are apt to fall into, and if you pleaƒe, you may make good uƒe of them [...] But I adviƒe you not to pin your Faith on all I ƒay, for it may not in every point prove to be Madam truth in its puris naturalibus.
    And why you ¬ould expe¢ to find more reality in a Romantic ¥ory then in the Alcymi¥s religiouƒly grave Vollumes, I know not, except, Ridendo dicere verum, come in your mind, and delude you into the fooles Paradice.  Well take your chance friend [...]
   Now Curteous R eader, but that I think you wiƒer than my ƒelf, I would adviƒe you to follow what is good in the whole, (If you can find any) and ƒo to take warning by others harms, as to go to bed in a whole ƒkin, and the next morning ƒing to the tune of ƒome new Ballad.

Felix quem faciunt, aliena pericula cautum.

Farewell.
 

[Noble, the "English Monsieur" of the title, is on his way to Paris but gets sidetracked at an inn, where he makes the acquaintance of two friars and a curate. Back to top.]

11

The Curate's Tale.

Certain Good man, who had lately married a young Woman, again¥ a good time was telling his Wife, that he deƒign'd to go to Confe±ion, and that he would have her do the like, ¬e excus'd her ƒelf by informing her Huƒband, that ¬e having never yet been at Confe±ion, did not know the manner of it, nor knew ¬e to whom ¬e ¬ould addreƒs her ƒelf, ƒweetheart, ƒaid the good man to his Wife, in the Mona¥ery of the Carmelites, there is a certain Religious man of my acquaintance, to whom I will recommend you; for my ƒake he will in¥ru¢ you, and will ¬rive you very well, ƒo giving his Wife the name of the Frier, he ƒends her to the Convent. The good woman got thither inquires after the Frier, and ¬e is ordered to wait for him in the Church; not long after comes unto her the arty, who inquires what ¬e deƒired; to which with a Curteƒie, ¬e made Anƒwer, that her Huƒband, ƒuch a one 12 had ƒent her to him to confe±ion, knowing tha he was a godly man, and ¬e young and unexperienc'd in ƒuch matters. At this the Frier pricks up his ears, and within his heart thanks his good fate, for preƒenting him with ƒo good a Fortune, with that he takes her to an obƒcure place of the Church, where he us'd to confeƒs others, and there, he holding her by the hand, began his Interrogations, and through his diligent Care and good In¥ru¢ions, he made the Innocent Creature anƒwer very dire¢ly unto all his que¥ions. The Frier by this time having found by the ƒillineƒs of her own Anƒwers, that ¬e was much Fairer than Wiƒe, he reƒolv'd to bear up cloƒe to her, continuing his diƒcourƒe in this manner. My dear Child, hitherto you have anƒwer'd very pun¢ually to all my que¥ions, and accordingly I ¬all abƒolve you, but there is yet remaining one thing in which you mu¥ be very ju¥, or you will commit a very great Sacriledge. Therefore be ƒure to give me a very exa¢ account of what I am going to 13 aƒk of you. The poor ƒilly Creature having made anƒwer to a yea, Sir, and a ¬ort Curteƒie, he drawing her ¥ill more in the dark, ƒo that they could [not] be perceived! It is my kindneƒs to you, ƒaid he, which makes me lead you ƒo in the dark, that you may with more freedom anƒwer to what I ¬all aƒk you, and with that holding her by the hand with one hand, and under the Chin with the other, dear Child, continued he, how often has your Huƒband lain with you? Be ƒure you Anƒwer me ju¥ly, and hid nothing from me? At this the ƒilly young thing, anƒwer'd with a great ƒigh, truly ƒo often within the compaƒs of the half year they had been married, that it was impo±ible for her to know the number. At this Anƒwer, the Frier ƒeeming much ƒurpriz'd; how ƒaid he, not know the number, how can the Church have the Tithe then? And how can you hope for an abƒolution ƒo long as you withold the Church of its rights; I am very ƒorry, continued he, that you are in ƒo dangerous a condition, and for the Love I bear you, and by reaƒon 14 of your want of knowledge in ƒuch matters, I would gladly find out ƒome way to redreƒs this great error, thus went the Frier on ¥ill aggravating each Circum¥ance, which ƒo a·righted the poor ƒilly woman, that ¬e fell trembling upon her knees at the Friers feet, and all in Tears and Sobs earne¥ly begg'd, that he would contrive ƒome way to abƒolve her from this ƒo hainous a ƒin, ƒeeing that ¬e had committed it out of meer ignorance, and that her huƒband was very much to blame, that he had not given her timely notice of it; and humbly intreated him to take the Tithes himƒelf, as much as he thought fit, and rather more than leƒs, that ¬e might be abƒolutely freed and abƒolved from that grievous ƒin. The good Frier did what he could to appeaƒe her, and having ƒetled her mind a little by his comfortable ƒayings, he told her, that for the preƒent, he would be contented with ƒome ƒmall part of the Tithes, but that he would take a longer time to compute what as due in all, for as he 15 would not have the Church to loƒe any advantage, neither would he for the World wrong her good Huƒband of the worth of a pin, with that he takes her by the Arm and conveys her by a ƒecret pa±age into his Chamber, where he took what part of the Tithe he pleas'd, which having done and ki±ing the young woman, go, my Child, ƒaid he, and be chearful, I ¬all come ƒometimes at your houƒe, to take the re¥ of the Tithes, but one thing more I mu¥ inform you of before you go, know that is a mortal ƒin for any one to reveal any the lea¥ part of Confe±ion, therefore you mu¥ be ƒure not to declare, by any means ƒoever, either to your Huƒband or any body elƒe, what has paƒs'd between you and me, for if you do, you will be damn'd for ever without redemption. To which the Penitent woman having anƒwer'd, that ¬e would be ƒure to keep ƒilence, and deƒiring him once more to take a larger quantity of the remaining Tithes, lea¥ any evil ¬ould happen to her or her Huƒband, by detaining them any longer, he, to 16 gratifie her, and put her out of all fears, did make a further dedu¢ion of the arrears, and ƒo diƒmiƒs'd her the ƒame way ¬e had come in, with his ble±ing, ƒending her home to the good man her Huƒband, with an a±urance that he would come to her houƒe and take the re¥ of the Tithes, when ever ¬e would give him notice of her Huƒbands abƒence. The Curate had proceeded ƒo far, when one of the Friers with a great deal of impatiency did thus Interrupt his diƒcourƒe.

I have had much patience to hear you ƒpeak all this while, though all that you have ƒaid is very true, and that the Story goes on a great way further, but that which makes me thus impatient at preƒent is, that you ¬ould have the confidence to put upon any religious Order, that of which you your ƒelf are guilty, you being the very perƒon that did this horrid a¢, for which you were deƒervedly puni¬ed by the Huƒband and afterwards turn'd out of that Benefice, which you had then in a Church 17 in the City of Lyons, where this filthy Sacriledge of yours was committed, I happened at that time to be there, and I remember you very well: How you came to be entertain'd Vicar in this place, I wonder at, but I a±ure you, that I will make a ¥ri¢ inquiry after it, and have you puni¬ed as you deƒerve, being ƒo great a ƒcandal to the whole Church.

The good Frier would have gone on, and perhaps his Zeal to Religion, and his abomination of ƒuch Crimes would have occaƒion'd a learned declamation again¥ ƒuch Sacrilegious perƒons, but that the Ho¥ willing to befriend the Curate (who was one of his con¥ant gue¥s) interrupted the good Frier, deƒiring him to forbear at preƒent any further diƒcourƒe on that ƒubje¢.

The Curate at this was not mute, but in a Cha·ing manner told the Company, that he would maintain all that he had ƒaid was of a Carmelite Frier, that he knew him very well, that he would immediately go fetch ƒome Writings in which they all ¬ould 18 ƒee the Name and Sirname of the perƒons concerned, and where and at what time this was done; ƒo in a great fury he went down Stairs. Mean time, the good Frier having intreated Le Noble to give him but one quarter of an hours attention, that he might justifie his Order, and set the saddle on the right Horse, he thus continu'd the Story.

The continuance of the Curates Story.

Ou have already heard the notorious Villanies of this wicked Curate from his own mouth, though he would gladly lay it upon ƒome other, the crime appearing ƒo hainous to himƒelf; that he is a¬amed to own it, I will begin where he left o·, and that he is the very perƒon, I ¬all prove to morrow by undeniable evidence.

This abominable man, being impatient to purƒue what he had ƒo wickedly began, ¥aid not long till he went to viƒit this abuƒed young Woman, and his viƒits grew ƒo frequent 19 that at la¥, the good Huƒband having ƒome kind of ƒuƒpition of the buƒineƒs, did one day wait for this bea¥ly man, and ƒoon did intrap him ploughing with his heifer. The Prie¥ (for ƒo he was then) finding himƒelf diƒcovered withdrew to his home as ƒuddenly and ƒecretly as he could po±ible. And the poor abuƒed Huƒband having found by the Silly Anƒwers, which his ƒimple Innocent Wife made to his que¥ions about the buƒineƒs, that ¬e had been, through her great ƒimplicity, mo¥ abominably abuƒed by this wicked fellows ƒubtle and devilli¬ pra¢ices; he was not angry with her, but having in¥ru¢ed and admoni¬ed her, he left her very ƒorrowful and penƒive, and immediately went to complain to the Bi¬op, of the abuƒe done unto him in the perƒon of his Wife. The Bi¬op, with much patience heard out the poor man's Complaint, and ƒeeming very angry, gave order that the Prie¥ ¬ould immediately be ƒent for, which was accordingly done, ƒo ƒoon as he was in 20 the Bi¬ops preƒence; he aƒked him in a very angry and furious manner, what tempted him to do ƒo wicked a thing, and after many threats and chidings, not giving him once leave to anƒwer, he told him, that he would ƒeverely puni¬ him for it, after theƒe and many more big ƒpeeches having fir¥ diƒmiƒs'd all that were in the Room, but the Planti· and the Delinquent, he ¥ri¢ly did forbid him ever for any more ƒetting his foot into the injur'd man's houƒe, nor ever to dare to ƒpeak to his Wife, or ƒo much as look upon her, and for a further puni¬ment, he charg'd him upon pain of Excommunication, not to enter into any Church during three whole dayes, and ƒo diƒmiƒs'd them both. The Prie¥ went home much diƒcontented that he ¬ould no longer have ƒo eaƒie an acceƒs, as he had formerly to the good man's Wife, but what troubled him wor¥ of all was the fears, that the Huƒband had diƒabus'd his poor innocent Wife, and better inform'd her for the future, ƒo that ¬e ¬ould be put to new pra¢ices, 21 before he could reclaim her again. As concerning his excluƒion from Church, it fitted ƒo well his humour and inclinations, that he was the better pleas'd with it, becauƒe it gave him more leaƒure to retire and contrive new ways to once more Inƒnare that poor innocent ƒoul.

The Huƒband on the other hand being not at all contented, with ƒuch a ƒort of ƒatiƒfa¢ion as he had received from the Bi¬op, reƒolves to make his complaint to the Governour of the City, with that he immediately goes to his appartment, and acquaints him with the whole Story, and mo¥ earne¥ly begg'd upon his knees, that he would do him ƒuch Ju¥ice, as were ƒuitable to the o·ence he had received, ƒince that he could not have it from the Bi¬op, who of Right was to have done it. The governour, who was a perƒon of as great integrity and goodneƒs, as he was pun¢ual and ƒevere in his Government, told the poor fellow, that it was out of his power to do him Ju¥ice; but continued he, yet I would 22 not have ƒuch notorious villanies paƒs unpuni¬ed, therefore hone¥ friend ƒince thou can¥ not get any other redreƒs from the Bi¬op then what thou ha¥ mention'd unto me, which is ƒo inƒignificant, and I knowing by very good informations, that both the Bi¬op and Prie¥ are perƒons of lewd Lives and Converƒation, I do adviƒe thee that the next time thou find'¥ the Prie¥ to attempt any thing upon thy Wife, thou gets ƒome friends to a±i¥ thee, and having intrap'd him, Cudgle him to ƒome purpoƒe, but take care of [not] killing him, or breaking any of his Limbs, and when thou ha¥ done come to me, and declare before thoƒe perƒons, that I ¬all have there on purpoƒe, the whole buƒineƒs both of the wrong done thee, the Bi¬ops ƒentence again¥ the o·ender, and thy revenge upon him, and let me alone with the re¥, I ¬all take care that no hurt ¬all come to thee thereby. The good man, having thank'd the Governour, goes his way home again with a firm reƒolution to have his full Revenge, and to that purpoƒe 23 watches the Prie¥ narrowly, and admoni¬es his Wife to do the like, which ¬e gladly undertook, being highly incenƒed again¥ him, now that her Huƒband had undeceived her. They both were not long before they had an opportunity preƒented them, for the Laƒcivous Prie¥ thinking the time long till he were at his bea¥ly Embraces again, though the three dayes pennance were not yet fully expired, writ a pa±ionate kind letter to the young Woman, and had it privately convey'd to her by an Old woman, that us'd to be employ'd by him in ƒuch Emba±ies, who found an opportunity to deliver it privately into the young Womans hands, who going into ƒome other place, as if to Read it in private, ¬e gave it to her Huƒband, who having opened it found writ in it as follows. 24
 

My dear Child,

This letter being read, the Huƒband, after a little pauƒe, bid the Wife tell the Me±enger that had brought it, that the Prie¥ ¬ould not fail to come to her in the Orchard at midnight, were ¬e long'd to ƒee him and do ju¥ice to the Church, that ¬e would leave the back door open, and that there they might be very ƒecure from her Huƒbands Jealouƒie, with this anƒwer away goes the Me±enger back, who made the Prie¥ overjoy'd with this mo¥ favorable Anƒwer, applauding his own wit and 26 ƒubtlety, and longed mo¥ impatiently for the happy hour. In the mean time the Huƒband gets in readineƒs two of his neighbours with lu¥y Cudgels to entertain the Gallant with all, according to his deƒerts, at the appointed place.

The hour came: into the Orchard came the Prie¥ likewiƒe; where in liew of the good woman's kind reception, he met with one ƒomewhat more crabbed at the hands of the Huƒband and his a±i¥ants. In ¬ort, they all thre did ƒo well handle their weapons, that in a ¬ort time they left the poor lover not able to ¥ir a limb, which invited them to be ƒo civil as to carry him between them at a little di¥ance from the orchard, where near a high way they left him.

In the morning, when people began to ¥ir abroad, the half dead ƒinner was found in this condition by ƒome going that way, preƒently it was reported to the Bi¬op, and the noiƒe of it ƒpread all over the City. The Prie¥ is taken up, laid on a Hearƒe covered, and in great ƒolemnity, and 27 demon¥ration of ƒorrow carried about all the quarters of the City, with a proce±ion of Prie¥s following after, and the hard uƒage of him told to every one that inquired into the matters, though not one word mention'd of the cauƒe thereof, all this being done by the Bi¬ops order; you mu¥ know, to ¥rike ƒorrow and compa±ion, and that the ƒevere puni¬ment, which he intended to infli¢ upon the delinquent, ¬ould be the leƒs wondered at. The Governour hearing, that there was ƒuch a proce±ion on foot, and not knowing the occaƒion, made ƒome of his Servants inquire the reaƒon of it, the buƒineƒs being reported to him, he takes cognizance of the matter, ƒends for the Criminal, and will have a buƒineƒs that caus'd ƒo much di¥urbance in the City, to be diƒcu±ed before him, and thoƒe Magi¥rates, as us'd to ƒit on criminal cauƒes, to a±i¥ him in a matter of ƒo ¥range a nature; the Criminal is brought before the bench, he confe±es the fa¢, and withal the reaƒons that did move him to do it; the accuƒers 28come to aggravate the Crime, the Bi¬op himƒelf appears in the behalf of the Church, repreƒents the a·ront done to the Clergy, and the evil conƒequences of it. The Governour upon that, aƒks of the Criminal why he had not complained to the Bi¬op, if he had had any wrong done him by any of the Clergy, who doubtleƒs would have done him Ju¥ice, and not o·er to carve to himƒelf as he pleas'd out of Ju¥ices ¥ore! To which, the poor man anƒwers, that he had made his complaints to the Bi¬op, but had received ƒo little ƒatiƒfa¢ion the fir¥ time, and the puni¬ment was ƒo inƒignificant to the Delinquent, that it had not deterr'd him from committing the ƒame fault over again, very ƒuddenly after, ƒo that he was reƒolved to do himƒelf Ju¥ice. The Governour inquires into the manner and nature of the puni¬ment, to know whether it was proportion'd to the Crime, and being Certified, that what the Malefa¢or had told him of the Bi¬ops ƒentence upon the Prie¥ was true, he ¥ood up, 29 and pronounced this ƒentence with a loud voice; For as much as the Criminal, that ¥ands at the Bar before us, has confe±ed the Crime he is accuƒed of, and that it is ƒu·iciently proved by the injured perƒons own mouth, and the markes that remain yet upon the Body of the ill treated, which he has lately received from the ƒaid perƒon; I hear declare and pronounce, that the ƒaid Criminal, ¬all be ƒuƒpended, and is hereby ƒuƒpended, from going into any Tavern during three whole dayes; and that in caƒe the ƒaid Delinquent does o·er to ƒet his foot into any Tavern, whatƒoever and whereƒoever, during the ƒaid time, after the giving of this ƒentence, that then he ¬all be proceeded again¥, as ¬all be judged fit.

This Ironical, but ju¥ ƒentence; having produc'd much joy on the one ƒide, and more ƒpight and vexation on the other. The Bi¬op in the name of the Clergy, ¥ood up, and ƒaid, that he would appeal of this a·ront done to the Church in his Perƒon, to a Supreme Power, ƒo 30 went his way, with the re¥ of the Crew.

He was after that as good as his word, and the Governour, (who did ¥ick cloƒe to him and the Delinquent Prie¥) having exhibited thoƒe evidences, which he had gathered again¥ them both, and the witne±es being heard, the Bi¬op was quietly laid aƒide, and the Prie¥ degraded and turn'd out of his Benefice, all as privately as might be, that the leƒs ƒcandal ¬ould ariƒe to the Church, by the wicked a¢ions of ƒuch dangerous men. Now, Sir, I have made an end of my Relation, which I will avouch to be true to a tittle.
 

[At the same inn Noble also meets Susetta, who later tell him the story of a trick she and some friends played upon her first suitor. Back to top.]
87

The Hiƒtory of  S U S E T T A.

Was born ƒome eighteen years ƒince in the City of Roan in Normandy, my Father was a Prie¥, who having a pritty young woman to his houƒe ƒervant, he took a fancy to her, and ƒo between them I was got, my Mother ƒome time after I came into the World, took the pains to go out of it, and the good man, my Father, what with ƒorrow for the loƒs of his dear Suƒanna (ƒo was my Mother call'd) and partly to take away all occaƒions of talk, which had been but too loud among¥ the neighbourhood concerning them two he took to him a good old woman, who has ever ƒince ƒerv'd to look to his houƒe, and dreƒs his Meat; I was baptiƒed Suƒetta, in remembrance of my Mother, and preƒently after ƒent to Cane, to be Nurs'd up by a Si¥er of my Fathers, who took a ƒpecial care of me, according to the orders ¬e had receiv'd from the good Prie¥, 88 he had a ƒingular love for me, I being the only Child that he ever had, though ƒome are of another opinion, who ƒay, that the good Prie¥, not being able to give my Mother as much as ¬e expe¢ed, ¬e call'd a Gentleman to the a±i¥ance, who took the pains to make me: But let that paƒs, the good Prie¥ being pleas'd to own me for his Daughter, in gratitude I mu¥ acknowledge him for my Father. I was not quite ƒeven years old, when being impatient to live any longer without the continual ƒight of me, ƒent for me home, he did expreƒs all the kindneƒs imaginable to me, and when I was grown up to it, ƒet me to learn all the pritty things and Exerciƒes that young Maids uƒe, and ever after, pa±ing all over Roan for his Si¥ers Daughter, I call'd him my uncle and he me his Neece. Before I was quite fifteen, I had appear'd agreeable in the Eyes of divers perƒons, whom would fain have been nibbling. But the good man, who ever carried a watchful eye over me, would put them all by; ƒome 89 he thought too wild, others too rich, ƒome again too poor, and others too ƒober; yet gue±ing by himƒelf, and my Mothers con¥itutions of what temper I might be, and remembring that Cat will to kind, he endeavour'd to find out a fit match to rid his hands of me, ƒo ƒoon as he could, knowing that a maid at fifteen is the mo¥ di·icult thing in the World to be kept, reƒolving if he once met with a man to his mind, to be¥ow me upon him, with that he had gathered, during his forty years ƒervice in the Church. Among¥ the re¥ of my Suiters, for I had many and of all ƒorts, there was one that the good man did approve of; he was an ill bred Chip of an rough hewen block: And doubtleƒs, dire¢ly deƒcended from the ancient family of the Clowns, and nearly allied to that of the La Fooles: But he was very rich, and a thriving man, and conƒequently e¥eem'd a very fit match for me, by my good Unkle, who did not conƒider that it was very reaƒonable if he would cut that I ¬ould chooƒe, however I was of 90 that mind, and I behav'd my ƒelf accordingly… 91

My Clown, who was of a ba¬ful nature, would frequently ƒit half a day by me, and not ƒpeak a word; and for fear I ¬ould divert him from that agreeable ƒilence, neither would I ƒay any thing to him, nor ƒo much as look towards him, though his eyes were continually fixed upon me.

On a day, after he had ƒate ƒome four hours before me, at a pritty di¥ance, as la¥ his Hat dropt at his feet, he being fa¥ aƒleep; I ƒeeing that, went ha¥ily out of the Room, and locked the door after me, for I was not ƒo hard hearted as to awaken him from ƒo ƒweet a ƒleep, as ƒome more unkind would have done. But on the contrary, making the lea¥ noiƒe I could, I retired, and there I left him enjoying his agreeable dreams, and went my wayes with the Key of the Room, to paƒs the Evening with a young 92 ¬e companion of mine, our very next neighbour: We were ƒitting very attentively at our works, when there came in a couple more of young Maidens with an intention to be merry, while every one was aƒking; what we ¬ould do, and how we ¬ould paƒs away our time: It came into my head that my ƒleeping Gallant, who I had left without fire or Candle, might be a fit ƒubje¢ for our nights recreation, with that I ca¥ about within me, how I ¬ould contrive it, and having thought on ƒomething, I propos'd to the re¥, that if they would joyn with me in a deƒign I had, it would a·ord them ƒu·iciently of Mirth, for to paƒs that Evening away, at the co¥ of one of my Lovers, who I had lockt up in a Chamber, where he was fallen aƒleep.

Thoƒe three mad Wenches that lov'd roguery as well as I did, that is with all their hearts, did preƒently embrace the propoƒition, and every one lent their invention to the compoƒing of this frolick. By go 93 fortune, the good Prie¥ my Unkle, being gone Supper to a friends houƒe, we had more liberty and conveniency to a¢ our Sport, therefore we preƒently went all to our houƒe, taking along with us an overgrown Baboon, that was very tame and gentle, and a Cat alƒo; we got all into a Parlour joyning the Room my Lover was in, whence we could hear him ƒnore as if for a wager, having got all things that was thought nece±ary to carry our deƒign in a readineƒs, we begun to prepare. Two of my Companions were dre±ing the Baboon all in white fixing a Candle in his head, while my other Comrade and my ƒelf, were fa¥ening of Walnut ¬ells, on the Cats Claws with Pitch, rubbing her backƒide with Ginger, and ƒetting a paper Ru· about her neck. This done, I went to open the door, while the others brought with them the Baboon and the Cat, they were preƒently let looƒe in the ƒleepers Room, after we had placed a piece of ƒmall ƒearing Candle in one of the Corners of the Chimney, which gave but a very 94 ƒmall light, the door being ¬ut again, we ¥ood at the Window without, as much conceal'd as we could in expe¢ation of the event, we had no ƒooner po¥ed our ƒelves, but we heard a mo¥ fearful ratling, which the Baboon made running after the Cat, our-Chears, Tables, Cupboards, and all things in the Room, dragging his long Chain after him, with a mo¥ hideous noiƒe, and the Cat did make ƒuch ƒlidings upon the boards, when ¬e would endeavour to ¬un the Baboon, as were very pleaƒant, and ƒometimes leaping again¥ the hangings to get out of the enemies reach, it would make ƒuch an odd kind of noiƒe, when it fell down again upon the Nut ¬ells, that it preƒently awakened my poor ƒlumbering Lover. But had you ƒeen him, when yet between ƒleep and wake, he did but half diƒcern, through the dim light in the Chimney (for that upon the Baboons head was extingui¬t) what a fear ƒeiz'd him, you would have laugh't your fill, he ¥air'd, his Hairs ¥ood an end, his Face as pale as a¬es, and all his 95 Limbs as ¥i·, as if he had been frozen to death. But at la¥, the Cat being hard put to it, and forc'd for its ƒafety to leap into the Lovers lap, the Baboon got immediately after it upon his ¬oulders, ¥ill as he run round after the Cat, winding his Chain about this poor Lovers neck, and then on a ƒudden giving it a twich as he was jumping down after the Cat, that had chang'd her quarters, he pull'd the Lover down after him, all along upon the ground tugging with all his ¥rength to get looƒe, and our Lover holding the Chain, with both his Hands to prevent ¥rangling, who at la¥ cryed out good ƒweet Ma¥er Devil, forgive me this time and let me looƒe again, and if ever I o·er to think or dream of woman again, you ¬all do with me what you pleaƒe, while he was with theƒe and ƒuch like humble ƒupplications, begging of the Devil for Life, the Baboon by force and violent ¥rugling, having broke his Chain retir'd to the Corner of the Chimney near the Candle, and our 96 Lover thinking that the Devil had done this at his reque¥, took the boldneƒs to ƒit up, and then turning upon his knees, ¥ill having the Chain about his neck, he returned his Devil¬ip his mo¥ humble thanks, for kind deƒi¥ing from tormenting him, promiƒing him faithfully that if he ever he got on earth again, he would never think more of Mi¥reƒs Suƒetta, for whom he did believe all this evil had befallen him, which was the more excuƒable in him added he, by reaƒon that it was not of his own ƒeeking, but of her unkles, who would not let him be quiet, but ¥ill put him on to make Love to his Neece, thus was he going on with his excuƒes to his ƒuppos'd Devil, when the Baboon having perceiv'd the Cat behind our Lover, made towards him with a great deal of eagerneƒs; the Cat who had found that place its be¥ refuge, being loth to quit that po¥, ƒo advantagious to him, did dodge round our Lover, and his Adverƒary after him, which ƒet our Lover in ƒuch a 97 fright, that he run up and down the Room over all he met in his way, and crying out, murther, Devils, help, as loud as he could roar, tumbling in the dark over Chairs and Stools, till at la¥ being quite ƒpent, he fell down on a ƒudden, crying out that he was dead.

That word, and we ƒeeing him lie without motion, did ƒet us all in ƒome apprehenƒion that the fool might die with fear: Therefore I went and open'd the door where he lay, and preƒently we ¥ole all away, to give him leave to do likewiƒe. The door of the Chamber had not been long open, when the Cat run out of it into the Yard, from whence ¬e crept into a ƒmall hole, where the Baboon, who had followed her cloƒe, at the Heels, was forc'd to leave o· his Chaƒe, the noiƒe that thoƒe two Creatures had made in the Yard, having been heard by the old woman (who had not heard any thing of that, which had been made in the Chamber, becauƒe it was at a further di¥ance, and the door and Windows ¬ut) made ha¥e down ¥airs, to ƒee what 98 was the matter, at which we all ran out of the houƒe into that from whence we came, and the Baboon after us: As we paƒs'd by the Window, we hear'd our poor Lover groan, and ƒay, I wonder whether I am dead or no, this ƒet us out of fears, ƒo that we went, and ƒate us down upon a bench, that was before our neighbours door, laughing mo¥ heartily at the trick we had put upon my Lover, which, I hope, would deter him from e're coming more near our door.

We had but ju¥ undreƒs'd the Baboon and let him in, when my Unkle came by from his Company, with whom he had ƒupp'd and drank'd ƒo plentifully, that he paƒs'd by and did not know me. But went into his houƒe and pull'd the door after him, being come into the yard he over heard this Dialogue, which paƒs'd between the Lover and the Old Woman, which I alƒo heard hearkening at the Window of the ¥reet.

The Old woman, who had been ƒearching about to know what was the cauƒe of that noiƒe, was come at la¥ to 99 the Chamber door, where our Lover lay on the floor, in the dark, among¥ a company of tumbled Chairs, Stools, Cu¬ions, and Carpets: She having heard him fetch a deep ƒigh, Jeƒu Maria, whoƒe there, ƒaid ¬e; our Lover hearing a humane voyce, with ƒuch a pious van-guard to its interrogation; he pluck'd up a little heart, and thus made anƒwer, Pater No¥er, it is I, and who in the name of all the ¬e Saints in Heaven are you, continued the woman; in the Name of all the he Saints on Earth; I am Matthew Clod, that have been tormented in Hell all this Night, by two furious Devils, which have but very lately left me, in a mo¥ ƒad pickle, for Heavens ƒake continued he, ƒay all the Kyry's, you know, and all the Aves for my ƒoul, for though I think this place is too cold to be Hell, yet I believe I am in purgatory: in Purgatory, reply'd the Old woman, Heavens forbid that my Ma¥ers houƒe were a Purgatory, why do you not ƒee that you are in the very Room, in which you uƒe to make Love to one Suƒetta. Oh ƒpeak not a 100 word more of that I beƒeech you, reply'd my Lover, lea¥ that the Devils return and torment me again. Why ƒure, you are mad ƒaid the woman, ƒo coming nearer him with the Candle, the tippled Prie¥, mean time, ¥ole up to his Chamber with an intention to clear his houƒe from thoƒe evil ƒpirits. The old woman having ƒeen what a confuƒion was in the room, and beheld poor Matthews face all bloody. I think the Devils have been here indeed, ƒaid ¬e, Lord what a ¥ink they have left behind them. But in the name of wonder, how came you here, at this time o'th' night? Why truly reply'd Matthew, all that I know of it is, that I being fa¥ aƒleep in bed at home, the Devils have drag'd me hither with this Chain about my neck, and having brought me into this dark room, where I uƒe to gaze on Suƒetta, theƒe cruel Devils, or Spirits, I know not which, but one of the two I am ƒure of, have ƒet me in this pickle, and all the things thus confuƒedly ƒcattered about the room. But now you talk of our Suƒetta where is ¬e, ƒaid the 101 old woman; pray Heaven ¬e be ƒafe, at this the Cat with the Wallnut ¬els having been di¥urb'd from its re¥ by the Prie¥, who took it for a Devil by the noiƒe it made, and the ru· about its neck, came for refuge into that room again, at which poor Matthew, more a·righted than ever, cry'd out as loud as ever he could, the Devil is come again, the old woman hearing and ƒeeing the Cat in that dreƒs, in her fright took it for no leƒs then an Imp, which made her run ha¥ily out of the Chamber, ju¥ as her Ma¥er was running into in, in purƒuit of the Cat, they run ƒo furiouƒly again¥ one another, that they both threw themƒelves backwards upon the floor; the poor woman with her fright and her fall, was in a ƒound, and the poor Prie¥ very much indamag'd, but he being pot valliant, and by good fortune his hollowed Candle, which he had in his hand having kept lighted, beƒides all his holy attire, the holy water, the Croƒs, and the book of Exorciƒm, which he had about him, in which things he put great 102 confidence; all theƒe things; I ƒay, did highly inƒence him again¥ thoƒe vils Spirits that did haunt his houƒe, he ha¥ily aroƒe to proceed forward, the Prie¥ being got into the Room, and having beheld all this confuƒion, he began his Exorciƒm. The old woman lying all this while on her back, with her Cloaths half up, the Candle in her hand, Matthew taking the Prie¥ for an Illuƒion crying out, Murther, the Devils, more Spirits come to torment me, not once daring to move from within the middle of the Chair frame, where he was got, I having had my fill of laughing, I went to the door which I found but latcht, having got in, and advanced ƒo far as the door of the Chamber, I receiv'd a good flap on the Chaps, which my Unkle gave me with his Holy water ƒprinkling he a±uredly taking me for another Spirit than I was, at this Matthew fell a roaring worƒe than ever, crying out? Oh, and is the chief Devil come hither alƒo, now there's no hopes left, I am dead, I am dead, and ƒo lay groning: by this time the Prie¥ was 103 mumbling of his Charmes, and now and then throwing of hollowed water at me, I adventured to aƒk him what was the matter, making my ƒelf the greate¥ ¥ranger to all this that could be, he continued his muttering without anƒwerings, I had a good mind once to have pull'd him by the Arm, but then again I dur¥ not, when I remembred the blow he had given me, lea¥ I ¬ould bring ƒome further miƒchiefe upon my ƒelf; I perceiving that I could do no good there; I came to the old woman again, I took her up, and a±ured her, that I was no Apparition but the mo¥ real Suƒetta, at la¥ I perƒwaded her to go up with me in my Chamber, where after I had told her, that all this confuƒion had happened through a trick, that I and ƒome of my Companions had put on Matthew, ¬e having put me to bed, went down ¥aires again, to undeceive the re¥.

She found them in the ƒame po¥ure that we had left them in, ƒo ƒoon as ¬e came near my Unkle he beƒprinkled her with holy water, of which he was very lavi¬, at which ¬e ƒaid to 104 him come, come, tis time to leave o· your Conjurings, and you (turning towards Matthew) your folly, you may even thank that unlucky patch Suƒetta for all this, ¬e it was, that brought in all thoƒe Devils which have ƒo a·righted you both, to which the Prie¥ with a deal of wrath and indignation, made this reply avoyd thou Satanneƒs, that woulds delude me, and this poor miƒerable po±e±ed wretch, pointing at Matthew, I know thou art a deluding Devil, and I will ƒend thee from me, with that he flung all the holy water he had left, in the old womans face, which ¬e took ƒo ill from him, that ƒaying the Devil take you both, ¬e went her wayes and came not near them all that night.

What the Prie¥, and his di¥re±ed lover did after, that I could never learn, but the next morning, the old woman and I riƒing early, we went down to ƒee what was become of them, we found them both fa¥ aƒleep, my Unkle in a Chair, and Matthew in the ƒame po¥ure we had left him, we 105 awakened the good man, who was almo¥ ¥arv'd with cold, he at fir¥ wondred where he was, and told us that he had had a very ¥range dream, which he would tell us at ƒome other time, but now he was ƒo cold and ƒleepy that he would go to bed, he Chid us both for letting him fall a ƒleep in a Chair in ƒo cold a place, and ƒo away he went: but fir¥ you mu¥ know that while he ƒlept we had dive¥ed him of all his Church Ornaments, and had laid them out of the way, and ƒet all things elƒe in their right places, except Matthew, who was in a Corner of the Room, wedged in the frame of the Chair that he could not be got out.

While I was getting the good man to bed, I told him, that when he ¬ould wake again, I would give him an account of that dream he ƒpoke of, at which having anƒwer'd, that I was a fooli¬ Girl, turn'd himƒelf to ƒleep. During the time I had employed my ƒelf in laying the good Prie¥ to bed: The Old woman had awakened Matthew, and with much ado got him out of 106 the frame of the Chair, and having delivered him of the Chain that was about his neck, ¬e was comforting him, and endeavouring, as well as ¬e could, to perƒwade him of the truth of the buƒineƒs, but he ¥ill perƒi¥ed in the belief, that all he had ƒeen was real, while they two were thus arguing the caƒe, ƒome body knockt at the fore door, I went to ƒee who it was, and I found it to be one of Matthews Fathers Plowmen, that was come to inquire after Matthew, who he ƒaid had not come home all night, I made him no other anƒwer then that he ¬ould go into the yard, and turn into the Room on his right hand, which he die; I dur¥ not appear, for fear of ƒetting the fool into ƒome new fit, which would have made us been the longer troubled with him, and I car'd not how ƒoon we were quit of him, Matthew was very glad to ƒee Clunch ƒo near him, who told him that his Father had ƒent him to ƒeek after him, who was much troubled at his abƒence, and that he was very glad to have found him in ƒo good a place; 107 I think you have all ploted to make me mad, ƒaid Matthew, why, was not I at home, and in my own bed la¥ night? No truly, reply'd Clunch, there was no body in all our houƒe that did ƒee you la¥ night there, and no doubt but you would hardly a gone to bed without your Supper, beƒides I ¬ut all the doors at ten of the clock, and I am ƒure that then you were not come home; well, reply'd Matthew, ƒay what you will, and do what you will, but I know what I know, and feel what I feel, and think what I think, and I ¬all tell, my Father another ¥ory when I get home, and ƒo I'le be gone, then ¬aking his head, and leaning upon Clunch his ¬oulder, and dragging his legs after him, good boy, continued he, I am going, but if ever you catch me here again, let all the Devils that tormented me la¥ night, torment me ten thouƒand times more, I that hearkened to him all that while, got out of the way, that I might not be a new ob¥acle to his going, ƒo away went he, and his man Clunch together, and 108 from that time I never did ƒee him more.

When my Father was awake again, the old woman and I were very buƒie in perƒwading him, that all which he had been and done were real, but he would have it all a dream, and ƒeeing, that do what we could, we could not perƒwade him to the contrary, and that he began to be angry, thinking we play'd too long upon him; we left him in his own opinion, and ƒo there was no more of that buƒineƒs talk'd of at that time.

How my Father and my poor Lover did make up the buƒineƒs between them, the next time they ƒaw one another, I know not, but thus much I can tell you, that by this roguery of mine, I was for a long time freed from all manner of importunities on that Fools account.

Entered 27 June, 1999
CogWeb at http://cogweb.ucla.edu/Restoration/English_Monsieur.html
Francis Steen
UC Santa Barbara
 
 
 

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