WELL,—of all the cross-grain'd old Fellows breathing, my Ma­ster's Mistresses Father is one of the most hard to be dealt withal; and therefore 'tis for a Man of my Parts to suc­ceed in an Assair that has baffled the Wit [Page 2] of all my Fellow-Servants. I perswad­ed him, before he try'd his own Skill, to make proof of mine, and I'll warrant I'll get the Letter to the Lady's Hands, if once I come near enough to touch 'em. I have a strange Inclination to Woman-Hunting ever since I clamber'd over the House-top, and got to Bed to Moll at the next Door, through the Garret-Window. Stay, this is the House; let me see, I think I am Woman enough in the low­er Parts, and I am sure my upper won't fail me. I have Brass enough in my Face, and Depth enough in my Consci­ence to be really what I look to be—an Exchange Girl, Ifakins, I'll knock, come on't what will; I am sure I am safe enough in this Dress, for tho' 'tis no new thing to find a Knave in Petticoats, 'tis an immodest and an unlawful thing to look for him there.

Who's at the Door?

'Tis I.

'Tis I, who's I? What's your Business?

I would speak with Madam Leo­nora, Sir Timothy Tough's Daughter.

In what Language would you speak with her?

In what Language? Why in good old English.

Good old Engllsh! I'd have you to know you must speak good plain English, if you talk with my Daughter.

Is your Worship Sir Timothy Tough his own self then?

I am the Man.

I beg your Worship's pardon, I come from Mrs. Stitch in the New-Exchange, so please you, Sir, and have brought home a new Head for the young Lady.

Wait, Maiden, you shall have Admittance.

Rare Fortune, I faith! Well, I must needs say in my own Commendation, 'tis not every Body's Talent to manage a thing discreetly. What will this Master of mine owe me for so great a Service as I shall certainly do him? When a Man has good luck among Women, they say he was born under Caper-corn, I think they call it; and I shall go near to prove that Caper-corn my Master's best Planet. Adsme, I hear 'em opening the Door, now for it.

Bless my Heart, what Figures are here?

Houswife! I suspect you for a wicked Hypocritical designing Person, that has a felonious intention to corrupt the Obedience of my Daughter, and, lest [Page 4] you should have more Rogues in Ambush, I issue arm'd, to defend the Honour of my Family. What are you? I say what are you?

Oh, dear Sir! what do you mean? I never did you any harm in my Life, Sir—Oh! oh! loving Sir, have Mercy upon me dear Sir, for the sake of my spotless Vir­ginity.

What are you? Speak or you die.

Slife Sir, don't shoot me, I'm Robin.

Adso, a bad mistake! I am dim­sighted truly; but where is the Whore, the Bawd? I know what sort of a Shop she keeps, by hanging out the Sign of a Band-box. What do you do behind, Housewife? your Business is with the Foreparts. Harry, Robin, present with me thus, and when I speak the Word, give Fire.

Oh dear Gentlemen, spare me, spare me, good Gentlemen, don't shoot me, and I'll tell you all.

In the first place, as you hope to preserve that abominable Life of yours, answer me the Truth, and nothing but the Truth, whence come you?

From the Exchange, an't please you.

What business had you?

The Exchange, Sir.

And what are you? Jilt, speak presently, what are you?

The New-Exchange in the Strand Sir.

What are you the New-Exchange? 'Slife, speak sense or you die, I don't think the Tone of your Voice treble enough for a Whore, and therefore you must be a Rogue, Sirrah.

The New-Exchange indeed, Sir.

Sirrah, tell me truly what Sex you are of, Sirrah?

The Exchange, upon my Word, Sir.

Is the Exchange your Sex, Rogue? Are you a Man, or a Whore, Sirrah?

About the middle of the Inner Walk Sir.

Adslife, Robin, make ready.

Oh! oh! spare my Life, and take my band-box, Sir.

Give it me, you Whore.

I'm no Whore, upon my Honour, Sir, I am but 'Squire Sprightly's Rogue Toby, make the worst of me. Wou'd I were buried 6 Foot deep in my Master's Dunghil.

Let's see, what's here, a Letter? Oh, Rogue! here, Harry, Robin, rifle the Ribons, and see if there's never another Snake in the Fools Grass. What's here,

To the lovely Hands of the engaging Leonora—Fool, Ass, ad­zooks this Fellow makes love like an Oxford Scholar. I'll open the Seal.

Timor adds—Wing as.

After many vain En­deavours to get a Letter to your Hands, the trusty Toby undertook—Oh Rogue, did you so—I'll—Ha! where is he?

An't please your Worship, I believe he got off while we were rummaging the band-box.

I'll rummage you, you careless Rascals; I'll teach you to plunder before you have secur'd the Enemy, you Dogs you.

Nay, Faith, Toby, I pitty thee with all my Heart; but thou may'st make a mo­ral use of this unlucky Accident, and learn to believe thy self no wiser than other People. Go, lay aside the Woman, and and take up the Statue; all things are now ready for the last Trial, and it shall be put in Execution this very Evening.

Truly, Sir, if your Worship pleas­es, I had rather be the Carver's Man, than the Statue; for if the old Knight shou'd find out a Trick, my Disguise wou'd be so heavy that I cou'd not run away, and he might chance to shoot me thro' the Head with his Blunderbuss.

Pish! Fool! you know he's so purblind he can scarce see.

Ay, but if he can't see, he can feel tho'; and, Sir, if he should happen to tickle my Sides, I shou'd burst out a laughing, and discover all.

It's impossible he shou'd su­spect thee. I saw the Statue at the Stone-Cutter's, who told me, the old Gentleman expects it to be brought home every day, My painted Canvas is exactly copied from the Original, and the Pedestal 'tis to be plac'd on in the Hall is so high, that he won't be able to reach your Sides; or if he did, the Daub is so hard and so thick, 'twou'd deceive a nicer Touch than his I'll warrant thee. But are the Fellows at hand, who are to be concern'd in the management.

They are all drinking at the next Ale-house, and the Gentleman who is to act the Statue instead of me, Sir, is a Man every Inch of him. He married a Wo­man who had beat six Husbands to death with the But-ends of their own Muskets, and in three Nights time made the wild Beast so very tame, Sir, that she fawns upon him like a Spaniel Bitch when she's afraid of a Kicking.

Thou hast chose an odd sort of a Simile, Toby; but hark! some body knocks; Go, see who it is.

An't please your Worship, this is the Gentleman we were discoursing about.

May I know your Name, Sir?

I am vulgarly known by the Name of Corporal Cuttum; I have been a Soldier from my Cradle, and a Cuckold from my Marriage-Bed, Sir: I have run thro' all the Mazes of Fortune, but cou'd ne'r lay hold of the Gypsie: I believe I'm too honest to be prosperous in this Age! and if I live much longer, I shall be too old to be knavish. I wou'd gladly make some use of my time, Sir; for I have late­ly learn'd to remember, that I come of a Race so much the Reverse of my way of living hitherto, that egad—if I continue honest much longer, I shall be the only Fool of my Family!

Pray, Mr. Cuttum, what Coun­try are you of?

Why, Sir, to tell you the plain Truth, there is no Country will own us, and we own no Country; we should be French by our Air, and Spaniards by our steps, Sir; but a parcel of scoundrel Rogues about Town will needs have the Cuttums to be an Irish Family, sor no other Reason egad, than the reach of their assurance.

Have you no Friends in Town to apply to?

Yes, Sir, there's a Relation of mine generally known about Town; he's a kind of a Wit, and has writ Plays; but he has an odd Humour, that makes him incapa­ble of serving a Kinsman.

What Humour is that, pray?

Why, Sir, he has been so fond of fathering Strangers Children, that he scarce knows how to look upon the Son of a poor Relation.

Well, Mr. Cuttum, you are a merry Fellow; you know the task and the reward design'd you, I suppose.

My worthy Friend, Mr. Toby here, has inform'd me at large; and I am ready to prove with how much Zeal I would un­dertake an action of greater difficulty up­on a less temptation.

I assure you you have heard the utmost of your danger; come the worst to the worst 'tis but a beating, and that I presume you could bear with Resolution.

Am I a Cuttum, and do you ask that Question? 'slife, Sir! bear a beat­ing?—Why, there's not a Branch of our Family, but has Patience enough that way sor an informing Constable, Bailiff's follower, Female Tatler, or Marshal of France, egad.

That's well; I think all things are now in a readiness, we'll go in, and about it presently. But heark'e, Toby, is your disguise come home yet?

Four hours ago, Sir—But now you talk of a Disguise, am I to be a Jew, or a Gentile?

Oh! a Jew by all means. Come along Mr. Corporal; while you are getting [Page 10] ready I'll instruct you what to say to the Lady, for the ill Success of my last Let­ter forbids me all Thoughts of sending a­nother.

Well! o'my Conscience, my Ma­ster is the first that ever went about to send a Message by a Stone Porter!—

'Sbud, don't tell me of my Pro­mise; ask any Statesman in Christendom, if Promises are Chains on a wise Man's Will. 'Tis true, I told the young Fool Sprightly he should have you, but that was when no Body of a better Estate was of his Mind, Girl.

The ties of Duty, Sir, first led me to encourage Mr. Sprightly's Addresses, in obedience to your Commands; and now the ties of Honour forbid me to wrong a Man who so sincerely loves me.

I gave him my word, that if he could outwit me, he should keep what he got, with my good Will, and a good Fortune; but alas, poor young Fool, his Birdlime is no better than Chaff, and an old Fowl is too wise to be taken by it. I have defeated five or six of his Projects al­ready; and if he comes within the reach of my Blunderbuss, have at him, by Sir Jeremy.

Oh, Sir, you are the most barba­rous of Fathers! and have contrived this surest way to make me miserable.

Goodnow, Goodnow, pretty Turtle-Dove; how naturally it mourns the loss of its Mate: Come, come, 'tis just your Sex should share a little in the Sorrow you bestow, Housewise. A Woman's Tears are like Showers in April, a necessary In­gredient to make up her natural Compo­sition of Change and Inconstancy.

Sir, here's a Man without has brought home a great Stone Thing, that looks like the Great Turk, Sir.

How! the Statue! bring him in, bring him in, Sirrah.

Sir, you are likely to talk of what I don't understand, and if you please I'll retire to my Chamber.

No, no, pray stay, Daughter; I'll warrant you, if Sprightly was coming instead of the Statue, you would not be in such haste to be gone; but you Women never care much for a Man of Marble

I am all Obedience, Sir.

Save you, Sir!—have a care, have a care, gently, gently, I say,—Sir, Mr. Chissel has sent home your Statue, Sir, and where would you please it should be set? Have a care, I say, gently, gently.

Stay, let me put on my Spe­ctacles, and I'll tell you presently—Humph, who are you, Sir?

I am by Profession a Statuary, by Country a Portuguese, but brought up in England; by Quality a Foreman, alias a Journeyman, and by Religion a Jew, Sir.

A Jew! adzooks, what have you to do in a Christian Country, Sirrah?

Ha, ha, you are pleas'd to be mer­ry, Sir! But where must the Statue be pla­ced, an't please you?

Plac'd?

Egad I don't like this Fellow, he says he's a Jew, but he looks like a Philistin.

Set him down there, gently, gent­ly, be careful how you place him, pray, Gen­tlemen—So, now he stands right; go—stay without till I come to you.

Let me see how this Statue looks.—Ads my Life, a pretty piece of Workman­ship truly: But pray, Friend, why did not Mr. Chissel come himself? Am I so bad a Customer that he must send Servants to do my Business? Nay, and Heathen Servants too!

Your Worship, I perceive, is a fa­cetious old Gentleman. But my Master, an't please you, is sick a present.

Old Gentleman! Sirrah! Is that your Hebrew Breeding! Get out of my House, you Rogue! that Levitical Face of thine stirs up my Indignation.

I beg your pardon heartily, if I have said any thing that offends you, Sir; but pray don't be in a Passion for nothing; is not the Work done as you expected it?

Expected it, Sirrah! I did not expect to have the Figure to be sent home by a Rogue of a Jew, Sirrah! Let me look all round the piece, egad, 'tis 10 to 1 but the superstitious Dog has circumcis'd my Statue.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Villain, Rascal, what, am I to be laughed at to my Face?

Ha, ha, ha, you must excuse me, Sir, ha, ha, ha, I vow you are the pleasant'st Gen­tleman of your age that ever I met with.

Again at my age, Sirrah; here, Robin, Jonathan, quickly, bring me my Blun­derbuss. Sirrah, get out of my House, or I'll break off a Limb of the Statue, and knock out your Brains with it.

'Slife! all's out: I'll make off while I can.

Rogues! Murder! help! Dogs! Murder! Murder!

Heav'ns, Sir! what's the Matter?

Matter! you Baggage? Don't you see what's the Matter? That long bearded Rogue of a Jew has affronted me to my Face, and beat out my Teeth behind my Back. Rogues! Robin, Harry, Jonathan, what, must I be murder'd, and no body come in to my assistance.

I am glad he's gone, for my Heart ak'd plaguily when he came to pull my Leg off. 'Tis a lucky Mistake that he thinks To­by struck him; but I'll take this Opportuni­ty to speak to the Lady. Madam—Madam—

Oh! Heav'ns, what's here! Ghosts! Spirits! Devils! ah! help! help! help!

Nay, now we are all undone, and e­gad! if you die a Maid, 'tis no more than you deserve for your damu'd unseasonable squeaking.

Ah me! I see too late this is a Trick of Sprightly's.

Oh! Sir! I was half frighted, but beg your [Page 15] pardon for alarming you; being in a me­lancholy Humour, I had forgot the Statue stood upon the Table, and looking that way on the sudden took it for a naked Man.

Oh! did you so, good Daugh­ter! I see very well what you would be at; this Excess of your Folly betrays the Lewd­ness of your Thoughts. Let's see, that Ras­cal Jew beat off my Spectacles—oh! here they lie—Well, I vow this is a very cu­rious piece of Sculpture, no real Flesh and Blood could appear more lively. If that Knave Chissel had not sent it by a Jew, I could have been extreamly pleas'd with it.

But stay, I forgot to look whether I have not-hurt the Leg tho'—adso! what's here? I am sure this Limb does not stand as it did just now. Daughter, Daughter. Leon. Sir.

Look here, is it the right Po­sture or no?

Right, Sir? Yes, pray what ails it?

Ails it? 'Slife I am bewitch'd—I am sure the Devil's either in me, or my Spectacles; why 'twas but this moment the Leg stood here, and now—

Death, Sir, stand out of my way, or you're as dead as a door-nail.

'Slife, I'll be gone while I may; if I stay a quarter of an hour longer, I shall be poun­ded in a Mortar.

Hey day! is my House become an enchanted Castle? What a plague, I shall be hooted at as I walk along the streets if this Jest passes on me. Here follow me, ye Rascals, I'll statue the Dog, I'll warrant him.

What a wretched Condition has my Folly brought me to? if I slip this Op­portunity of escaping while the House is in so great a Confusion, I shall be miserable for ever. I'll get out the back-way, and trust for­tune for the Event of my Undertaking.

Here have I crawl'd about this quarter of an hour, and can find no means to reach the Door, without being discover'd by some of the old Fellow's Maidenhead-watchers; and, if I stay here much longer, the danger will be equal. A Pox take Pet­ticoats for Toby, if this be the Effect of fol­lowing them. What shall I do?—let me think a little—adsbobs I have it, I have an old black Mask in my Pocket with Horns upon it, I'll tie it on, and creep down into yonder Well, it looks like a dry one; or if I am drown'd, 'tis a better Death than to be drubb'd to Destruction—I'll lie quietly all Night, and in the Morn­ing bolt thro' the Door in my Vizor and black Wastcoat; it may so happen, that [Page 17] the Rogues will take me for the Devil that they say walks in this Neighbour­hood, and give me free Passage—But first, down Cloak, that if the Well be deeper than ordinary, I may be sure to fall softly; I'll tie on the Mask when I'm safe at the bottom. So now for it, Neck or nothing, as the Proverb says.

Who would have thought that the four Rogues who brought in that Dog of a Statue, should have waited so cun­ningly to carry him off again upon occa­sion? Adzooks but we maul'd them in their Retreat. Go, ye Rogues, get ye in­to the Cellar, and drink your selves drunk, as a Reward for your Valour.

Well, after all, this Sprightly is a brave bold Fellow, and deserves the Baggage heartily; for I never could imagine till now, that a­ny Woman in the World was worth a Man's venturing a knock on the Pate for. My Daughter is afraid of a Reprof, and is crept silently into her Closet. I'll not di­sturb her till Morning, but go write an Account of this Nights Works to her good old Grandmother in the Country.

Here, honest Thomas, here's to thee.

Prithee, what Subject shall we be on to Night, Politics are grown musty, Learning is below Men of a genteel Edu­cation, and Scandal you know is taking upon us the Conversation of our Betters.

Why faith, since we have leave to be merry, honest Thomas had best give us a Song.

A Match, Boys—I'll sing you a Song of my own making.

Of thy making! What, a Foot­man turn Poet?

A Footman turn Poet! ay, Sir; why not? Since the Peots have met with Footmen's Encouragement, Footmen have taken up the Poets Profession.

But how can a Fellow without Learning, Brother Thomas, be Master of that seeling, touching way that the Poets talk of?

Pugh, Fool, the Art of Poetry is the Gift of Nature, and 'twould be no new thing to tell the World, that there's many a Footman can touch, and move, and feel, and stir up the Passions with the best Poet in Christendom. But listen to the Song, Boys.

Rarely sung, 'sfaith Thomas.

Adzookers, he has pleas'd me so well, that I'll e'en make bold with a Bottle of the fine Wine my Master has set a cool­ing in the old Well there, and treat ye like Gentlemen.

Why, that's kindly done now.

Let's see, I think I have got the right sort, no, 'tis not;—this is the Rot­gut Rhenish—

Ah! the Devil, the Devil.

'Slife, there's the Devil in good earnest!

Rogues, Thieves, I'll be among you suddenly.

Oons, Roger, fly, the Devil's a­mongst us.

Help, help! the Devil, the Devil, the Devil!

Here, Harry, Thomas Jonathan, Rogues, Rascals, where are you? What's [Page 20] the Matter below? Hey day! what's here to do?—

Help, help! the Devil!

The Pope, the Pope! the Devil!

Oh, Sir! the Devil has taken pos­session of your Worship's Cellar.

The Devil, ye Rogues! and are ye such pitiful, cowardly, unchristian soul'd Fellows, as to be afraid of the Devil. Ads­bob, wou'd he had been impudent enough to have come into my presence, I'd have Devil'd him with a—'Slife, Rogues stand out of my way—Help, help, help!

Well, I have better luck now I'm a Devil, than I had when I was a Woman; and some arch Wags would from thence take occasion to swear that the Devil is the least of the two Evils. But I have no time to be witty at present. I see the Street Door open, and will lay hold on the Op­portunity.

Is he gone?

I think the Coast is clear at present.

I'll ordain a Yearly Thanks­giving to be kept on this Day through­out [Page 21] my Family, for the wonderful Deli­verance.

Stand close here, for Heav'ns sake stand close, for I'm afraid he's a coming again.

Deliver me, ye Pow'rs, for yon­der's the Devil return'd with his whole Family.

Ha, ha, ha, poon Sir Timothy, 'tis a Devil of my Breeding.

'Tis I, my own self, in very deed, Sir.

Why then in very deed, Sir, I wish the real Devil would run away with the pretended one.

Adsme, Sir, if you wish your Wish­es upon me, I'll snatch off my Friend the Statue's Leg here, and knock your Brains out.

to Cut. Why, were you the Dog that was turn'd into Stone, Sir?

The very same, at your Service, Sir.

O, Sir, Love has been Author of stranger Metamorphoses, than any in Ovid.

And pray, Mr. Sprightly, what pretty Part are you to act in your turn here?

A double one, Sir, in Conjuncti­on with this Lady.

Our first Request, Sir, is for your pardon; and our next, that you will please to ratifie our Articles of Agreement, accor­ding to the Promise you were pleas'd to make us.

Confusion! Furies! Devils! Witchcraft! Rogues! Tricks! Damnation! Conjuration! and Destraction!

Come, lovely Leonora, let us fol­low him, and mollifie his Passion by Sub­mission and Entreaty; and may our Ex­ample teach the World this certain Maxim: