Part 13

But imagining this Faction was not so powerful, nor encouraging as the _Anabaptists_; and finding that the fading Gourds of his foolish hopes and expectations of preferment began to wither; he in downright terms fell about telling his Congregation, they must be Re-baptized, or they must not hope for Salvation. He was amongst the _Anabaptists_ so long, till (notwithstanding he was so highly cryed up for his powerful teaching,) he had got seven young Sisters with Child in less than a year, and it was shrudely suspected that he had made four of his Brethren Cuckolds. Therefore he was by the voice of the whole Congregation excommunicated, and delivered unto Satan. His hand being now in, he was resolved to try all, till he might advance himself by one. So that he might not be beholding to any. In this juncture the good old Religion so long raked up in the dust, began to shew its heavenly countenance again, whose glorious light these Owls and Batts durst not look upon.

It is observed, that it hath been the fashion to wear yellow Ruffs; but after one Mrs. _Turner_, a notoriously wicked Woman, was hang’d with one of them about her neck, that Mode not only vanisht, but became shamefully ridiculous; So this our Hypocrite seeing so many of his Brethren (who had poysoned more with their Doctrines, than Mrs. _Turner_ with her Potions) go to the Gallows wearing the Liveries of a Sectarian, thought it more eligible to turn Cat in the Pan, and become an _A la mode_ Episcopalian, than let the fowl Fiend play the Hobgoblin with him, as he had done many, tumbling such in the Mire, who lately sat in the Saddle, tossing others till their necks were broken, and crippling others both in their Estates and Opinions.

_Down with all such, let them no longer stand, Base_ Caterpillars _that consum’d the_ Land, _Who rent the Common-prayer-book and Lawn-sleeves, And made the_ house of God a den of Theeves, _And may the Sacred Pulpit e’re be free, From such_ Quack-salvers _in_ Divinity.

Every one knowing how great a Changling this fellow was in Religion, no body believed a word that he said; nor would either trust or imploy him upon any account whatsoever; so that he was necessitated to take this course, or do worse, by adding one more to the number of _Barbadoes_ Inhabitants; neither did he want a Volunteer abroad, upon the same design, a lusty young sprightly fellow, a Man both of wit and courage, though of slender Fortunes, and calls himself,

_A Souldier of Fortune_.

He was well born, and gentilely educated, who lived in a pamper’d condition till the age of seventeen; at which time his Father dying, the Estate fell to the Elder Brother, who mounting into his Fathers (yet warm) seat, could not conceal his _Turkish_ cruel disposition against his Brethren; yet though the Law held his hands from cutting off their Heads, his austere countenance, and severe carriage towards them, did notwithstanding cut off their hopes from ever expecting more than barely what their Father left them in Money. Two hundred Pounds was this Gentlemans Portion, who returning it to _London_, soon followed after, where equipping himself suitable to the _Grandeur_ of the Place, and Gallantry of the Persons he came acquainted with; he spent his time in things so agreeable to his constitution, that his thoughts never climb’d any other Heaven, than this his imaginary one, which he wisht might ever continue. He scattered his Money apace, and how could he otherwise; for his Exchange was a Tavern, his Lodging a Brothel; his _Hide-park_, a Gaming Ordinary, his Study, a Play-house; his Associates, Bully Ruffins; his Mistresses, Courtezana’s; had his constant attendants, Pimps, Parasites, Spongers, Wheedlers, and such like. The Devil’s in them all, if one was not enough to impoverish a Mint, or drain a Silver-mine, though it reacht to the Centre of the Earth.

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By this you may imagine his two hundred Pounds could not last long; his Hangers on perceiving his Money was at the last gasp, fell off, being loath to see so dear a friend depart. He was now left Moneyless, and Friendless, and, what came nearest his heart, he was jeared, and flouted by such he had formerly liberally expended on. As he past the streets, he hath heard his old Comrades say one to the other: _There goes such a one, shall we call him, and drink a Glass of Wine together? No, no, let him go, pox on him: he hath not a Penny in his Pocket to bless himself withall; he had Money once, but like a Fool, he could not keep it_; which made him often repeat this true saying of the Poet;

_Non habet infœlix paupertas durius in se Quam quod ridiculos homines facit——_

Were it not for that, Poverty is a property we might pride in; nor would the Philosopher voluntarily have Shipwrakt his Fortunes, but that he might purchase thereby that glorious Motto; _Omnia mea mecum porto_. _Dioclesian_ so great an Emperor, that _Lætus_ parallels him with _Jupiter_; nay, he allow’d himself to be call’d Lord, and God, and would be sued unto, as a God; but having at last tryed sufficiently the vanity of his own vain-glory, he freely without compulsion, laid aside his Empire, and returned to a private life; being sollicited afterwards by several to resume his former Power, and Glory, he absolutely refus’d it, saying, _Did you see the Herbs set with my own hands in my Garden at_ Salona, _you would think me too good a Gardner, to become a miserable Emperour_.

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There was nothing grated on his Spirit more than to be slighted in this his low condition, by such as he had supported from sinking into the Earth: and that he might not longer be afflicted in this manner, he projected several wayes, how might imploy himself in something, that might remove him from the scorn and reproach of the world. His credit was quite worn out, owing something in all the Taverns and Ale-houses that he was acquainted withal, through the whole City, and would have ran farther in their Debt, but that they not only hindred him from so doing, but likewise threatned him, by taking a course for what he owed already. This made him remove his Quarters to another remote quarter of the City. His Cloaths were so good as that they gained him credit for a Months Lodging and Dyet, in which time, he wrote several Ballads, which he sold in the _Old Bailey_, getting for the worst half a Crown or three shillings; but his Chapmen finding themselves losers by his works, did so revile and vilifie him the next time they saw him, that he was resolved to write no more, for it seems he had not writ Non-sense enough to please the Commonalty; he had taken too much pains to express his wit, and that spoiled all; soaring so high, the dim sighted vulgar could not discern him.

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One day walking abroad Melancholy to think his first design was frustrated, he fell accidentally into the company of four or five, so unsuitably or antickly habited, that he verily thought they could not have cloathed themselves more out of fashion, than if for so doing, they had consulted all the Brokers in _Long-lane_, or _Houns-ditch_. At length by their toning of several scraps of Plays, and the whining out of Lovers parts, he judged them to be Players of the worst Edition, and that wanting some to compleat their number, they endeavoured to perswade him to make one of their Stroling Company.

They needed not many words to perswade one, that knew not what to do with himself; wherefore, he readily consented to their propositions. Viewing them well, and their Habits, he absolutely concluded, that their Company had been lately broken, and that they had shared house-hold-stuff, every one taking what he could lay his hands on of the Properties, (though very improper to wear publickly) with which, necessity since hath forc’d them to cover their own nakedness. However, he was resolv’d to go through, with what he promised, and so calling for what was to pay, being one and twenty pence among them all, they made a hard shift to pay the shot within three half-pence, and so marcht off. They provided him a lodging, where they all lay that night, and the next morning, their undertaker came, who summoning them all into a large Room, there appeared also three or four Women, who with the rest rehearsed their parts in _Actæon_ and _Diana_. After rehersal the undertaker being informed what our _Soldier of Fortune_ was, came and saluted him kindly, and welcom’d him into their Society, and giving him his part to study, carried him to the Tavern, with some of the three-quarter-sharers, and made him drunk at his initiation.

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Having studied _Actæon_ and _Diana_, _Jack Swabber_, _Simkin in the Chest_, _Miles the Miller_, _Simpleton the Smith_, with divers other drolling farces, away they strolled into the Countrey, some in a Coach (by reason of the Properties they carried with them,) others on Foot of the meaner sort, and some on Horseback; had the most intelligent met them, it would have puzzled him to have told what they were. The first thing they did when they came to a Town, was to acquaint the Mayor thereof with their intent, producing their Patent which authoriz’d them. Having the grant of the Mayor, most commonly they were permitted the Town-Hall to play in. At first, commonly they had usually such great audiences, and got so much Money, that it undid them, for it made them insolent, idle, careless, always drunk and continually quarrelling, so that the Town and Countrey growing weary of them, their poverty also made them weary of the Town. The next place they came at, it may be, there they would endeavour to regulate those disorders; but no sooner were they flusht, but they fell into the like confused Chaos. There was seldom a Rehearsal in the morning, in which there was not some scuffle; sometimes altogether by the ears, all engaged in a Quarrel, but none knowing the cause of it. Their differences most commonly did arise from ones exalting his own worth, by the undervaluing anothers, saying that such a one had a greater share than he, though he deserved more; that such a fellow had a noble part, when he had that of a Servant, whereas he better merited to be a Prince, than the other a Foot-Boy; _Damn me_, said another, that Fellow that speaks now hath no Soul; a Parrot would be taught to speak better, and understand more than he; a Baboon treads a Stage a thousand degrees beyond him; See but yonder Horse-fac’d Lover, is he fit to act that part with that hunting face of his? it is enough without the help of a Vizard to fright his Mistress into Convulsion fits, or make a young Woman miscarry, that hath not half gone her time. If reviling one another would not put them together by the ears, there was another expedient would infallibly do it. There was one well stricken in years, yet far more amorous or salacious than the younger, and when she found not her accustomed pleasures, she judg’d that one of those three, had stoll them from her; when jealousie had possest her of that Opinion, she ne’re capitulated with them otherwise, than with her hands, which she used so nimbly together with the nails, that had not black Patches been in Fashion, I know not how without shame they could have played. The Men on the other side, being known Rivals to one another, could not forbear shewing their animosities, (as their parts permitted them) one being run into the hand, another through the Arm, making a real Tragedy of what was but pretended. Their Stock of Clothes was very small so that a Parson was forc’d to Act in a Loyars Gown, instead of one that was Canonical; a Bishop, with a Shepherds Crook, instead of a Crozier, and a Cushion so dented, that the Corners might be more perspicuous, instead of a Miter; they wanted a Target, and knew not what to do, at last, the invention of one of the wittiest, helpt them to a large Wooden Tray, and nailing a piece of Tape to the sides within, served rarely well. The Actors were few, wherefore some Acted three or four parts, nay one Acted two parts at once upon the Stage, the King, and the Nobleman; when as a Nobleman in a long mourning Cloak, (for they could get nothing else, that could nearer represent him by) he spake to an _Indian_ Gown that lay in a Chair, with a Past-board Crown that lay upon it, all bedawbed with yellow, (and I know not what Colours) by a Countrey Sign-Painter, to make it look like. Having ended his Speech, he threw off the long Cloak, and putting on the Crown and Gown, he then as a King returned an answer to the Cloak, I mean the Nobleman, making a many changes, till the conference was over. The Nobleman _i. e._ the Cloak, being taken off the Stage, that is, having made his _exit_, it was the Kings Cue to seat himself a while, to give audience to a person, that had great concerns with his Majesty, whole Speech being long and his memory treacherous, he had not gone a quarter through his Speech, but that he was irrecoverably out, past all prompting; the King not knowing how to help, and the audience eagerly expecting his going on, at last it came into his head, ingenuously to tell him that he had heard enough, he would hear the rest within, by which means the Play went on.

One Market-day, (which was the chief time they pitcht on) they Acted a Play, (by the invitation of some Gentlemen in a Tavern,) in which there were two which fought on the stage, which were supposed Clowns, and were to baste one another to some purpose. A Countrey Gentleman being there present, and having never seen a play, but this Acted once before, and seeing them fight again in the same manner, as they had done before, steps hastily down stairs, and bringing up a Bottle of Wine in his hand, interposes between them; telling them they should not thus bear a grudge one to the other, but that they should be friends; and to that end he had brought a Bottle of Wine, that they should shake hands, and drink to each other, and would not stir, off the place, till he had seen them so do, and go too, off a several way. That Scene was spoyled, however they played on, and coming to the third Scene in the fourth Act, these Fellows were to enter again; the Gentleman seeing them together, and facing each other, ran from his seat to them again; swearing that he that gave the first blow, should beat him too; _What_, said he, _cannot we be quiet here, but you two Logger-heads must spoil the Play_? This put the whole audience into such laughter and confusion, that the Play was forced to be deferred till another days action.

They staid not long in a place, the People being tired with such costly novelties as they call’d them, which made them ramble every where. Coming to _York_, they had the same success at first, as they found else where, but had like to have been scared out of their wits. For one day acting a Play, wherein the King of _Scots_ was to be murdered barbarously by his Subjects, and having intimation of the suddain coming of the Assassinates, condoled his own unhappy Fate, and condemns the treachery of his Subjects proceedings; is there no hope of Life, is there never a true Scot, that now dares stand by me? A Scot there present, seeing the murderers come in with their drawn Swords, cryed out, _there is one left still, my neen sel, yar een Country-man. Let the Deel fill my wem with smaw steans, if I make not the Loons eat my Sward as smaw as_ Saunies _durch_. And thereupon drew his broad Sword, and at them he came as desperately resolved, as if they had been real enemies; and notwithstanding the King intreated him to be patient, he grew more furious, and would have prosecuted them to death, had not his supposed Majesty held him in his arms, till they had made their escape. Not long after this they were invited to act at a Gentlemans house in the Countrey, where they acted their parts so badly, by stealing several pieces of Plate, that some of them had like to have acted their last; Our Soldier of Fortune fearing by their ends, he might come to his last, fled away privately to _London_; where he betook himself to his Pen again, altering the Scene of his former design. Observing what large encouragement some received from their Dedications, he resolved to make tryal of scribling too: the first that he wrote was indifferently well accepted of, it being an _Hodge podge_ of Translation, Transcription, Collection, and his own Composition; he Dedicating it to a Person of Quality, was largely rewarded; had he stuck here he had done well, but being infected with the base ingratitude of Mercenary Scriblers, he presented his Book to at least twenty more, with the same Dedication, the name onely altered, which brought him into so great dis-esteem amongst such as would have been his constant Benefactors, that ever after they would never accept of his Presentations.

And now poor Gentleman, not knowing what to do, walking melancholy in the _New Exchange_, he took special notice of a young Trader, who eyed him as much, as he her (for he was a handsom proper young man, and had cloaths on his back, a Gentleman needed not to be ashamed to wear,) they gazed at each other a pretty while at a distance, but Love quickly brought them nearer together. For having money in his Pocket, he approacht the Shop with a Pretence to buy some Linnen, where having seen some of several sorts, he bought some, the better to engage her in a discourse. He askt her whether she was single, and whether that was her Shop? she answered, she was married, and therefore had nothing she could call her own. _How Madam_, (said he) _I cannot doubt but that you have many Virtues, which you may justly call your own; you have Beauty too, and admirable outward parts_. I thank your good opinion, _Sir_, (said she) but I look upon her as unworthy to deserve the name of an owner, that either cannot, or durst not give what is in her possession; _though you cannot give, Madam, yet you may so dispose of that beautious mirrour of your Sex, your Face, or what else you have, as that the frequent loan thereof, may be esteemed equal to the gift_. She was quick of apprehension, and understood his drift, and though she answered him not, yet her smiles shewed a sufficient satisfaction to his amorous discourse, and her blushes bid him do if he durst. To be short, he won her so absolutely to himself, in a little time, that she had nothing in her Power, which she did not freely give him, till her Husband had almost nothing left, and suspecting the infidelity of his Wife, watcht her so narrowly, that her Enamorato enjoyed her rarely, and seldomer had his wants supplyed.

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Now was he forced to look out again, but it was not long before he was informed of a Maid that was very well to pass in the world, somewhat ancient, and had she not had some few natural deformities, she had never lived a Maid so long, for she was long-nos’d, thin lipt, beetle-brow’d, short neckt, bunch-backt, and hopper-arst. This dismaid not him, knowing she had Mony to make all good; and so with a little Court-ship; (she being already ravisht to think, (her hopes of marrying having long since taken leave of her,) she should be joyned to a young man, and a handsome man to;) I say the Marriage was quickly hudled up: I did not hear they had many quarrels the first week; but not many weeks past over their heads, before his extravagancy, and her covetousness, could not agree. Besides, she grew intolerable jealous, (as most do who are conscious of their own imperfections,) and shewed so many of her damned qualities, that he lived a hellish life with her; had he not been a fool, he might have known before what she was.

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She had better been quiet, for the more unquietly he lived at home, the more jocundly he spent abroad; till in fine he spent all, so that he resolved to leave her, and return to his former Mistress, who is now aboard, I mean

_The New-Exchange-Girl_.

She was born in _Lancashire_, and coming up to _London_ with the Carrier to get a Service, it was ten to one she had not been pickt up by some Bawd, they continually laying wait at all the Inns in the Town, for the coming up of handsome Girles. It was the hap of a Semstress in the _New-Exchange_ to meet with her: and seeing her to have a well featured, and well coloured Countenance, took so great a liking to her, that she took her home with her. She knew well enough what she did, being not ignorant, that a handsome young Girl in a Shop, will attract as many Beauty hunters to her shop, as sweet things will draw Flies to a Confectioners Stall. She had not lived long with her Mistress, but as she was envyed by her Neighbouring Apprentices, so she was admired and courted by many of the Gallants of that end of the Town. Her Mistress, who found the sweetness of the incomes of her new-come Servant gave her much more liberty, and countenance, than she had done any before, cloathing her in as good a habit, as might become such an excellent Face, and the Esteem that Gentlemen of Quality had for it.

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She had by this time purged her self of the barbarisms and impurities of the English tongue, by the daily converse she had with the Ladies, and Gallants of the Court, and had learnt _decorums_ in Carriage, as well as elegancies in Language. Her Mistress was much too blame in suffering her to wait upon Gentlemen at their Chambers, with Shirts, Sleeves, Cravats, _&c._ though it is customary, yet dangerous to those that would preserve their Honour. By which means she had so many temptations offered to her, that the like would have taken in the _Maiden Fortress_ of a _Vestal Votaress_. They courted her with those Golden-Showers, which infallibly conquer, (having _Jove_ for their President) no wonder then if she yielded to her overcomers.

* * * * *

This still brought in more Grists to her Mistresses’s Mill who gave her good Council to have a care of the Temptations of the Flesh; but she could discern by her Eyes her advice came too late: and knowing that Trade would not last long, gave her in a manner her own freedom, asking her leave, when she went abroad; but yet her Mistress was not such a Fool, but she knew well enough to whom she granted liberty to go abroad with her Servant; good Customers you may be sure. There was not a day hardly past, but she was Coacht; but at length she hackney’d it so long, that she got an ambling Nagg. Being recovered, she scorn’d to be dismaid for one hard bargain, but ventured at it again, and again; and now she was grown to that pass, she cared not, but cryed, _Clap that Clap can_, bearing in among them, firing Gun for Gun.

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