When I came, my person and dress having answered Will.’s description, the people were ready to worship me.  I now-and-then sighed, now-and-then put on a lighter air; which, however, I designed should show more of vexation ill-disguised, than of real cheerfulness; and they told Will. it was such a thousand pities so fine a lady should have such skittish tricks; adding, that she might expose herself to great dangers by them; for that there were rakes every where—­[Lovelaces in every corner, Jack!] and many about that town, who would leave nothing unattempted to get into her company; and although they might not prevail upon her, yet might they nevertheless hurt her reputation; and, in time, estrange the affections of so fine a gentleman from her.

Good sensible people these!—­Hey, Jack!

Here, Landlord, one word with you.—­My servant, I find, has acquainted you with the reason of my coming this way.—­An unhappy affair, Landlord!  —­A very unhappy affair!—­But never was there a more virtuous woman.

So, Sir, she seems to be.  A thousand pities her ladyship has such ways—­ and to so good-humoured a gentleman as you seem to be, Sir.

Mother-spoilt, Landlord!—­Mother-spoilt!—­that’s the thing!—­But [sighing] I must make the best of it.  What I want you to do for me is to lend me a great-coat.—­I care not what it is.  If my spouse should see me at a distance, she would make it very difficult for me to get at her speech.  A great-coat with a cape, if you have one.  I must come upon her before she is aware.

I am afraid, Sir, I have none fit for such a gentleman as you.

O, any thing will do!—­The worse the better.

Exit Landlord.—­Re-enter with two great-coats.

Ay, Landlord, this will be best; for I can button the cape over the lower part of my face.  Don’t I look devilishly down and concerned, Landlord?

I never saw a gentleman with a better-natured look.—­’Tis pity you should have such trials, Sir.

I must be very unhappy, no doubt of it, Landlord.—­And yet I am a little pleased, you must needs think, that I have found her out before any great inconvenience has arisen to her.  However, if I cannot break her of these freaks, she’ll break my heart; for I do love her with all her failings.

The good woman, who was within hearing of all this, pitied me much.

Pray, your Honour, said she, if I may be so bold, was madam ever a mamma?

No—­[and I sighed.]—­We have been but a little while married; and as I may say to you, it is her own fault that she is not in that way. [Not a word of a lie in this, Jack.] But to tell you truth, Madam, she may be compared to the dog in the manger—­

I understand you, Sir, [simpering,] she is but young, Sir.  I have heard of one or two such skittish young ladies, in my time, Sir.—­But when madam is in that way, I dare say, as she loves you, (and it would be strange if she did not!) all this will be over, and she may make the best of wives.