THE Cheating Gallant: Or, The False Count Brion. A Pleasant NOVEL:  
Translated from the French.  
LONDON, Printed for James Magnes, and Richard Bentley, in Russel-street in Covent-garden, near the Piazza's. M. DC. LXX VII.   

Licenced,  
Novemb. 17th. 1676. Roger L' Estrange.   

TO THE Right Honourable JOHN, EARL of Mulgrave, Gentleman of his Majesty's Bedchamber, Knight of the Noble Order of the GARTER, etc.  
My Lord,  
WEre an Author, who Dedicates a Book, obliged to Choose a Subject equal to the Merit of the Person to whom he Addresses It; I should appear Guilty of an inexcusable Fault, in presenting You This, which contains Noihing worthy the Perusal of a Wit so Delicate, and so Clear, as Your Lordship's. And the Impatience I was under, to make You an Offering out of my poor Stock, must have submitted to the Censure and Condemnation of a Crime. But, my Lord, the Merit of Persons of Your Rank is not measured by Books: Those who are Born under the Influence of Stars so happy as Yours, Read not to Learn; and seldom find Books Capable to Instruct Them. I, who am only an Author of Trifles, can pretend to no more than the Honour of giving You a little Divertisement. My Book may pass for another Scaramouche; The Hero of my Play having Acted (especially when London was his Scene) a very pleasant Part, which many have thought worthy the Publishing in Print: I might have, perhaps, succeeded better in my Description, had I been allowed the Liberty to Represent it fully as it was: But there were too many concerned; who, though they bore part in the Adventures of my Hero, would doubtless have been loath to appear in his Memoires. There was a necessity to suppress many Particulars; and what is suppressed, is often the best part of the Story: I have said this rather to excuse myself to Your Lordship, than to Justify myself to the Public. I could have wished, that though the Present I offer be really a Trifle, yet that my Trifle should not have been Imperfect; but it was not in my Power; and an Historian must not always Writ the whole Truth of his Story.  
Thus far, my Lord, this Epistle hath nothing common with ordinary. Dedications; which are usually made up of Eloges, as well true as false: Yet, I confess, that an Author as I am, who pretend much to Sincerity, ought not to have let slip so fair an Occasion (without the help of Art or Eloquence) to Represent in Your Lordship's Person, the Wit, the Courage, and all other Qualities of a Hero Highborn, and every way Complete: But this is a Subject too Excellent, to appear in the Front of a Book of this Nature. I will reserve myself that Honour for a better Occasion, in some serious Peice; and rest satisfied at present, to have Written an Epistle for no other end, than to make it appear, With how much Respect, and how deep a Passion, I am,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's most humble, and obedient Servant, S. Bremond.   

Some Books Printed this Term for J. Magnes, and R. Bentley.  

THe Happy Slave, a Novel.  
The false Count Brion, a Novel.  


French Novels.  
L' Gallant Esorock.  
L' Horux Eslave.  
L' Horux Eslave, Second Part.    


Plays.  
Abdellatzar.  
Sir Timothy Paudery: Or, The Town-Fop.  
Madam Fickle: Or, The Witty False One.  
The Plain-Dealer.  
The Fool Turned Critic: In the Press.    
Essays Moral. Translated from the French: In the Press.    

THE Cheating Gallant: OR, COUNT BRION.  
NEver did Men more affect an appearance of Honesty than in our days, yet never was Age more fruitful in Cheats; they grow in all countries', each Sex and Condition produces new instances; and those who Converse in the World, quickly find, there are not subtler Knaves, or greater Masters of Craft than some who are taken for the Simplest of Men.  
The Gallant I writ of, was a Hero of this Make: The best account of his Pedigree, (being somewhat obscure) is, That he was of the Race of Melchisedec, and knew no Father, but a Country Curate, whose Nephew he passed for, though strongly suspected to be his Son; being so very like him, it gave cause to believe, that when he was Begot, the Curate had more than a finger in the Pye.  
The Curate in his younger days, had been taken for a Gamester; having a Complexion and Mein, that discovered an inclination in him to labour no less for the Increase, than the Salvation of his Flock: However, the great care he took of his Nephew, and the kindness he had for him, made Men (who judge according to Appearances) easily believe, The Curate had no small interest in him. And the rather, for that a considerable part of the Revenue of the fat Benefice he had, was bestowed yearly on the Education of his Nephew John Le Brun, for so was his Name: And, as to his Qualities, he was handsome and witty; but from a Child, a little given to Cozening and Cheating.  
The good Inclinations of Youth must be Cultivated with continual Care to bring them to perfection; the ill, grow up of themselves. Thus the hopeful Nephew did constantly exercise the patience of his good Uncle, by doing every day one shrewd turn or other, and playing a thousand wild pranks, attended with as many Complaints from the Neighbourhood; so that the Curate despaired at last of ever bringing him to Good. But John (at length) being about three and twenty years old, and moved by the Remonstrances of his good Uncle, or growing more sober with Age, was so far Reform, as to give some hopes of Amendment. There was no more talk of his Fooleries, no Complaints for his Froliques; not but that he continued as very a Rogue as before, but that he was grown up to the Wit of covering his Knavery, and concealing his Extravagances.  
The good Curate thought it the work of Heaven, and gave God thanks for the blessed Reformation. John, who knew himself a handsome Lad, was willing to try his Fortune in Gallantry: The Village he was born in, could not furnish him with a Beauty suitable to his own; which, he thought, might expect a civil Respect from a Lady of greater Merit, than a Country Girl could pretend to: And to compass his Design, he resolved the Scene of his first Adventure, should be a Castle belonging to the Lord of the Manor: There he soon met with a Chambermaid, who might serve very well for his first Essay in Gallantry; being a very pretty Wench, and of a very good Family. He had no sooner discovered his passion to her, but he promised himself Success. The plain Country Lovers, use commonly very little Formality in their Amours; 'tis but telling one another they are in Love, and the business is done. But our Gallant had read Romances; and strictly observing the Punctilios of Gallantry, made his Declaration in due time and place, and was kindly received by his excellent Mistress.  
Diana, the Nymph I am speaking of, was more honest and innocent, than those of her Character ordinarily are: Chambermaids in the Country, having not the Advantages incident to those of the Town; who, in a short time, become such Proficients in the Mysteries of Gallantry, that they quickly Commence Mistresses of the Art. John Le Brun had the Dexterity to persuade her, That his Passion was arrived to that height, that nothing but her pity could secure him from present Death. The good-natured Girl, who would have been troubled in Conscience, to see a young Man (who loved her so tenderly) die for want of her help, easily resolved to give him Ease. This Scene of Love was to be acted in a Garden; where, under pretence of eating Cherries, Diana took John with her to shake the Tree. I know very well (said she, with a Counterfeit Modesty) that what I do here is contrary to my Duty, and a blemish to my Honour: But seeing the necessity of losing you, or myself, I find the Consideration of my Life a great deal too light to be balanced with yours: But I hope I shall have to do with a Man of Honour, and Honesty, who will take care of my Reputation, and not abuse me for that which Love forces me to in kindness to him. The Gallant, you may imagine, failed not on this occasion to make use of the deepest Oaths, and the highest Protestations of Love and Fidelity, to strengthen the Inclination, and settle the mind of so kind a Mistress.  
John, being so nearly related to the Curate, needed no other Recommendation to gain liberty of Access to the Castle, and maintain awhile his Correspondence and Familiarity with the Chambermaid, without Interruption: But by degrees, notice was taken of a particular Kindness between them, though no body dreamt of their being so intimate, as they really were. Among all the Family, Diana made choyoe of the Lady of the Place, to be her only Confident: But, though she had singled her out from a multitude of others, she daily Conversed with, she did not think fit to trust her with the Adventure of the Cherrytree; being so Romantique, that she judged it not proper to be Communicated to any; but especially, to her Mistress.  
The Lady was Handsome, and very Inclinable: and to cover her Sins, had taken a Husband advanced in Years; who, warned by some Visions concerning his Honour, had taken a Resolution to quit the Town, and retire into the Country; in hopes, by the benefit of that Air, to be cured of the Headache, that troubled him in the Town. But let us do what we can, we shall all have our Fortunes; and he that is born to have a kind Wife, is sure to go to Heaven, if Horns can help him thither. The poor Lady confined to a Village, where she could scarce see once in a Month a Man any way Tolerable, had no other Pleasure in her Solitude, but to meditate sometimes on her good Actions passed; and relate them to Diana, whom she found a very good Girl, and capable of a Secret.  
This Lady being a very experienced Lover, was the first that discovered the Amour of the Chambermaid, and the curate's Nephew, and was so far from opposing it, as some proud ill-natured Mistress would have done, that she favoured their Intrigues, by taking frequent Walks into the Garden, and the Fields; and making Diana partaker of that pleasure, gave her the opportunity of meeting John Le-Brun almost every day, and took singular delight to see these Country-Lovers Court and make Love; but made as if she knew nothing of the business, nor took the least notice of it to Diana. But the good natured Maid, thinking herself obliged by these favours from her Mistress, (to let her know something) she took the occasion as they were sitting under a Tree, discoursing of Love, to discover to her a Secret of mighty importance (wherein she prayed her advice) that the curate's Nephew had a great passion for her, and that she found herself pretty well inclined, but apprehended some Consequences which perplexed her mind, that she knew not what to resolve on. Her Mistress smiling, and with an air of kindness, laying her Arm over her Neck, desired her to tell her truly if she were gone no further. Diana blushed, not knowing what Answer to make.  
The Mistress taking advantage of the Confusion of the Lover, told her she had too good an opinion of John Le-Brun, to believe he had so long left her in a Condition to doubt in this point; and that if she would confess the truth, she must acknowledge, she asked Counsel too late about that particular, that she need not hid it from her, being already assured she Loved him, and willing to serve her in any thing for her advantage. So much Compleasance, and so extraordinary Kindness from a Mistress, in whose power it was to do very much for her, did so charm Diana, that it engaged her at the same time to speak a little more freely of the affair: So that the Lady, who was very dextrous at pumping out Secrets, made her confess that what at first she had termed a bare inclination, was in truth a settled Passion. That if John Loved Diana, she Loved him no less; and descending by degrees to matters of fact, they discoursed of some favours she had not had the power to deny him.  
The pretty Maid (in the end) ingeniously confessed they were come to some close Familiarities of Love, but she would take care he should find it a hard matter to proceed any further, unless he would Marry her.  
The Mistress, who had never descended to those fondnesses of Love, but where she designed to grant her Lover all he could wish, knew well enough what to think of the business, yet was unwilling at that time to press that point any further, but had the Curiosity to know the beginning and progress of the Amour, and fully informed herself of the smallest trifles and fooleries which gave her a very pleasant divertisement, till at last she perfectly learned the whole state of the affair, their Rendezvouz and places of Assignation, to the very Conclusion.  
The easy Diana knew not what a person she had to deal with, and to whom she had imparted her Secret. There is nothing whereof a Woman ought to be more distrustful, than of another Woman, especially in matters of Love; there being nothing in the World whereof a Woman is more jealous, than of the good Fortune of another. This was not the first time, that the Mistress became Rival to her Maid. The Lady was not only of a very susceptible Nature, but had already cast her Eyes on the Illustrious John Le Brun; who, for Handsomeness and Wit, was (without Contradiction) the Flower of the Village. But the many Measures she was to take, the hazard she was to run in trusting a Raw young Fellow, a mere Novice in Love; and the perpetual Watch of her Husband kept over her Actions, so startled her Reason, that till then, they had moderated (if not smothered) the Transports of her Amorous Soul. But the Inclination this Gallant had entertained for a Chambermaid, had highly fomented in the Heart of the Mistress those Seeds of Rebellion, and Revolt from her Duty, long since implanted there. And the Story she had newly heard of the state of their Amour, made her absolutely resolve to make use of the occasion, for sharing with her Maid in the Pleasure she had to see John Le Brun.  
You may easily believe, the Lady designed not to engage in the Conquest of her Chambermaid's Gallant; but was very willing Diana should have the Honour of it, allowing her Mistress a share in the use of it, to satisfy Nature, and no more: And Nature is commonly content with the Use, not troubling herself about the Property.  
We have all our Infirmities; and those of this Temper are the more pardonable, in that it is almost impossible to master them: and this passionate Lady was not disposed to offer any Violence to her Inclinations. She thought of her Pleasure, and the Joy that attends it, not troubling herself with scruples and doubts; and had form in her Mind a thousand Designs to obtain her Desires.  
John was looked upon in the Castle, as Diana 's Servant; which gave the Lady a fair occasion to laugh, to speak, to walk with him when she pleased, without any suspicion, if Diana were in Company. But the old Gentleman, whether searing the Amours of these two Lovers would set his Wife alonging, or that he was jealous of all the World, as of her, began to dislike the great Familiarity and Freedom John used in his House. He went to the Curate, and told him, It was pity a young Man as his Nephew, who had so good Parts to make him useful in the Church, should lose his time as he did: And that, being looked upon as worthy to succeed him in his Benefice, and be one day the Pastor of his Flock, should think of nothing but making of Love: That this proceeding did not edify at all: That he must begin betimes to implant in him a Contempt of the World, and an Affection for Retyredness. In a word, that Prayer and Study ought to be the principal Business of the Nephew of so honest a Gentleman as he was: That he told him this as a Friend, and hoped his Advice would be well taken.  
This Sermon being ended, the Curate gave his Worship humble Thanks for the Favour he did him, and his Nephew; and when time served, both should acknowledge it: But he knew well enough where his Worship was pinched. He had not kept his Jealousy so close, but the Curate knew the Disease he was troubled with; and might very well judge, That his Nephew (Young and Handsome as he ' was) could not spend his time so constantly in the Castle, without giving him some Umbrage. However, he forgot not to give his Nephew a Lecture when he came home at Night; and to forbid him (on pain of his Displeasure) to go any more to the Castle, for Reasons not to be made known at present; but received from so good a hand, there was no cause to sear he that gave them could be mistaken. John knew not what this meant; but meeting Diana on the Morrow (having watched above an Hour for an opportunity to speak to him) she told him the News, that cleared all doubts: acquainting him, That her Master had charged her Mistress, and her, to see him no more, nor take him along with them to walk; his Uncle having made it is Request, searing his Nephew's hankering after Women, might hinder him in his Vocation; and as for him, he was resolved it should not be said, he was spoiled in his House.  
John Le Brun was not a little astonished so see himself deprived in a moment, not only of the sight and Conversation of his Mistress, but of the lovely Company of his Lady; who had already discovered some good Inclinations, which (cultivated with Care) promised him more Good than could be expected from the Love of a Chambermaid. The Vanity of his Nature, and the good Opinion he had of himself, made him apt to flatter himself on any occasion: and, as to this Lady, he had certainly reason enough for it: For, the kindness she expressed for his Person, accompanied with that obliging Behaviour she seasoned it withal, gave him ground enough to hope for some Favour. But then, when he thought himself the happiest of Men, or (at least) in a fair way to be so; he received the sad News, which blasted his Pretensions, and made all his Hopes vanish. You might have expected to find him Irrecoverably swallowed up by Despair; and he had certainly been so; had not the simple Diana bid him not trouble himself for the matter; and told him, Her Mistress, and she, had thought of a way to see him; if not by Day as formerly, it should be at Night: That she had for that purpose, been that Morning betimes with one of her Friends, a Lock-Smith, and carried him in Wax, the print of the two Keys, to the Back-gate of the Castle; and that, before Night, she would give him an account of them, if he would but take the pains to be at that Place about Nine in the Evening. The Spirits of our afflicted Gallant were not a little raised by the hopes she gave him; and you may believe, he promised faithfully not to fail the Agssination.  
The poor Girl was in earnest, and thought herself extremely obliged to her Mistress; who all this while, laboured nothing more than to do her the worst Office one Woman can do another in Love; which is, to rob her of her Lover. But it was her Folly not to see, that the Concernment her Mistress expressed for John's misfortune was too great, to be free from Suspicion. She had not made such haste to find the means to let him into her House by Night, but that she was Particularly and Personally concerned. And it was apparent enough, that, running an equal Risque in all Dangers with Diana, she did in Justice expect to share in her Pleasures.  
The Lock-Smith made ready the Keys the same day; and was paid so nobly, as to oblige him to keep their Counsel. John was at the place of Rendezvouz at the Hour Diana had appointed him, who was as punctual as he; and told him, All was well, and that she just came from trying the Keys; and that, at Eleven a Clock, when the Old Gentleman was a bed: He had no more to do, but come to the Back-gate, which she would then open for him.  
This Gate opened to a back Stair to the Lady's Apartment, where the Gallant might attend without any danger: At Eleven a Clock he stood Centinel, as appointed, and was introduced. John, who perhaps was a little cloyed with the easy Possession of Diana, when he found her Mistress looked so kindly upon him; yet, ravished with the opportunity, found the Fire within him kindled so strongly at his being so near her in the Dark, with her Slippers under her Arms; that he could not stay till he came into the Chamber, to let her know how much he loved her; but put off his Shoes, to find some other Warmth for his Feet.  
The Lady, who expected them, growing impatient at their stay, would needs go see what stopped their coming: She went to the Stair-head, without Shoes or Light; and hearing nothing of them, had a mind to go down to the Gate. The two Lovers were careful not to make a Noise, being not well assured it was she, or else to conceal from her the Trade they then drove. They scarce breathed; so that, the Lady, whom the spirit of Curiosity pushed on to her Ruin, in going down Stairs, unfortunately made a false Step, and tumbled over them down several Steps. And how little soever she was beholding to Love for the Accident, she was certainly much obliged to Fortune, in that she escaped so well from so dangerous a Fall. You may imagine, what a peck of Troubles John and Diana were now in: The Noise her Mistress made in her Fall, was enough to raise all the House, but that it was in a Lodging, a part from those of the Servants: much more might it have awaked the good Man, where the greatest Danger lay, but he had the good Quality to sleep very sound; and, by good Luck, heard nothing at all.  
The first thing John did, was to get to the Gate for fear of misfortune; and, almost at the bottom of the Stairs, he found the Unfortunate Lady; which, had he had a Candle, would doubtless have been a very rare sight. Diana came to help her up the Stairs, which she had so nimbly gone down. She had happily saved her Face, which gave her some Comfort: but for the rest, there was not a part of her Body but was sensible of her Fall.  
The Gallant, judging they had business enough for that Night, to apply Remedies for the Bruises, without further use of him; withdrew softly, and went his way Home: He had News at his Rising, that the Lady was better; and that she was not so ill, but she desired to see him again that Night. He came the same Hour to the Gate; which being opened, he resolved not to lose time with Diana on these unfortunate Stairs, for fear of another ill Accident, but went straight, where the Lady expected him: She had told her Husband a fair story of her Mis-adventure; and made that advantage of it, that she obtained leave to lie alone for three or four Nights, in a Chamber near his. The good Man could not have imagined, that his Wife, in the Condition she was in, could think of Love: But this Passion takes away the sense of any other Affliction.  
John Le Brun was Conducted to the Chamber, where he found the fair Lady dressed in her Bed, like a Goddess: Some of the Servants were yet up; and Diana was ordered to hold them in talk, till they went to their Chambers, for fear they should come and hearken. Unless you will believe, the Mistress found out this sleeveless Errand for Diana, that she the while might have the Liberty, to speak a Word in Private to the Curate's Nephew. Well, John, (said she, with a Smile, as soon as the Chambermaid was gone) you see what we do for you; We expose ourselves to be talked of: We give ourselves trouble for you: We almost kill ourselves for you, and you (perhaps) haeve not the least Sense of it. You should do me wrong, Madam, (answered the Crafty Nephew) to accuse me of that: I was grievously troubled at the unhappy Accident befell you last Night: It is, impossible any Man could be more concerned than I was: I swear t' you, I could not sleep a Wink all Night; and this Morning, as soon as 'twas day, I burned with Impatience to hear News of you. Say what you please (Replied she) I will not believe you; you are a Dissembler, and this is not the first day I knew you such: But let that pass. Do you know (said she, letting fall her Voice, as if she would have told him a Secret) that I have had a great Quarrel for the Love of you. For the Love of me, Madam, (said he, much amazed at her Discourse!) Yes (Replied she) for the Love of you: My Husband hath been told, that you were in Love with me; And further, that you were not hated. I, (said John, with very great Humility) I Madam; should I, the Nephew of your Curate, lift up my Eyes, and fix them on the Wife of his Lord? Ah Madam, if there were cause, I could easily justify myself: I know too well the Respect I own you, Madam.— Respect (Replied she) is nothing in this Case; Poor Shepherds have been in Love with Queens, and Queens with Shepherds. You are Young, Handsome, and Witty; 'tis too well known. I am not satisfied with a Husband I was forted to Marry against my will: And the constant Resort you have for some time had to our Family, was more than enough to raise a Jealousy in the Parties concerned, you came upon design. But, Madam, (Replied the Gallant, charmed with this obliging News) 'tis very well known, I came for Love of Diana. Diana (said she) Alas poor innocent Soul! 'Tis easy to judge, a Youth such as you, if at Liberty to make his Court where he pleased, would sooner address himself to me, than to her. I thank Heaven (added she, blushing a little) you see, I want not what may render me amiable; and what is such a Girl good for, but to serve for a Colour when I am in place?  
John had by this time an eager desire to draw some advantage from this pleasant Discourse: Till now he stood in the Chamber, like a dutiful Vassal, in Presence of his Lord's Wife, his Hat under his Arm, and at three or four Paces distance from the Bed: But the kind Lady was pleased to make him draw nearer, and sit upon the Bed, that (as she said) she might not be obliged to speak so loud, for fear of awaking the good Man. The Door was shut, and no cause of Fear on his side; but rather on Diana's, who might chance to be frighted at so much Familiarity between John, and her Mistress; who, notwithstanding, never troubled herself for it, knowing Diana could not return very quickly.  
John having taken his place at the Beds-Feet, after twice or thrice bidding, and absolute Commands reiterated for doing so: And who, think you (said she) hath done you this ill Office with my Husband? Alas Madam (answered he) how should I know? There is no want of wicked People in the World, and I have enough in the Village, that envy my Happiness. It would surprise you (said she) to be told it is my Chambermaid. Who Diana (answered John, astonished to hear it)? Ah Madam, it cannot be; I know her too well, to believe her capable of such Treachery. Make not so much haste (Replied the Lady) to take her part: You have not, perhaps, more reason to defend her than I. Consider if ever I had cause to suspect her: She was always my Confident; I trusted her with all my Secrets: And though I knew you frequented my House for Love of her, I could not but let her understand, I loved your Wit, and took pleasure in your Conversation. I did more; and, perhaps, was guilty of too much Imprudence, when I bid her assure you from me, that I had Kindness for you, and that you might depend upon me as your Friend: That I desired very much to do for you, and advance you: That you could not want the thing I would not furnish you with for ask: And that I would have you speak to me freely. ' Had she been your Friend, she would not have concealed from you the kind and advantageous thoughts I had for you: But I see well enough, 'twas her Jealousy hindered her, and made her Reveal the Secret to some one of the House; who, without doubt, hath told it my Husband. The Gallant, who clearly saw what this Discourse tended to, answered, I assure you Madam, she never did me the favour to acquaint me with these obliging Evidences of your Goodness; otherwise, I had not been now to thank you for them: and now, methinks, I begin to believe what you say. The Lady, Ravished with Joy that John was of her mind, pushed on her Amorous Design; and made him absolutely believe Diana guilty of what she was accused; and that the best way to revenge her, was, to make a Fool of her. I know (said she) you love me: [John durst not say otherwise] and, though you never told me so, I have perceived it by your Eyes: But to make our best of this business, Diana must not know any thing I have told you; but use her as formerly, and you shall find you cannot be unhappy: To prove what I say, (added she, showing him a Purse taken from under her Pillow) here are fifty Pistols for you: Assure yourself, while you love me, and are discreet, you shall want for nothing. What Heart of the Temper of John 's, could have resisted such a Favour? Never did a Mistress in Romance acquit herself better: Ladies that dare not rely on their Charms of Beauty for Conquest, if they make use of this course, shall never want Lovers. The Gallant was so transported with the Present received, that (forgetting the Respect due to the Lady) he embraced her Knees a thousand times through the Bed-Cloaths. She, out of Modesty, would have put him off; but it was, that he might apply himself elsewhere. The Gallant, though naturally bold, durst not at first venture any farther: Yet he had the boldness to steal a Kiss, which he took, finding her so nigh him, that she seemed to offer it him. 'Tis enough (said she, with a languishing Voice); However, do not think, though I give you the Liberty to see me by Night, to be alone with me in my Chamber, and to sit on my Bed without Witness or Danger, that I will grant you any more. John Le Brun was too Intelligent, not to comprehend the Meaning of these Words; But Diana coming in, interrupted the course of this sweet Conversation.  
There passed nothing more at that time worthy Relation: John retiring presently after, so incensed against poor Diana, he had not the Patience to Caress her in the least, taking leave at the Gate, whither she accompanied him to lock it. But how could he longer Love a Chambermaid, which had given him at most, but some Knots of Ribbon, and two or three Cravats, or some other Trifles of inconsiderable Value; when he had sound a Mistress, who, for her first Compliment, honoured him with a Purse of fifty Pistols.  
He had never been so Rich in his Life; nor could he take any rest that Night, for thinking with what grace of Address she had made him that Present, and how he should lay it out: All these Fancies vanished at the Approach of Day; and he was no sooner up, but he wished with Impatience, that Night were come. His Thoughts were wholly taken up with the Charms of the Lady: He could not sufficiently admire, with what address she had made him understand she loved him, and desired that he should love her again: But that which Charmed him most, was her Grace in performing a Generous Action. He was ready to die with longing to see her again, as if all his Visits were to be paid with ready Money. He knew very well to make use of Opportunity, which, at this Day, is the best Science in the World, and the true use of Things. Night came at last, but it was long to Eleven a Clock; and in Conjunctions of this kind, Moment's are tedious.  
Diana, who knew not the reason he had entertained her so coldly the Night before, waited with as much Impatience as he, to see him again: But he was so cruel, that he made no more account of her this, than the former Night; nor would be persuaded to stay a moment to hear her; and when she reproached him for it, he answered her with Slights. The Poor Girl was amazed at the Change, and could not imagine any thing less than such a Perfidiousness, especially in her Mistress.  
John entered the Lady's Chamber, whom he found on a Bed of State, finer than ever he had seen her. Poor Diana was sent again to amuse the People of the House, though there was not the least need of it: But the truth is, they had no need of her there, and were willing to amuse her. Never till then did she know what Jealousy was, having loved in peace, and in a full Tranquillity; in Confidence, her Gallant had loved her as faitfully: The Indifference of a Lover, is an apparent Mark of Perfidiousness. The Distaste we have of one Object, is commonly the Effect of Pleasure taken in another. Love is an incurable Disease; and he that hath been once in Love, will ever be so with one thing or other.  
The dejected Diana went musing with herself, what cause she had given her Lover to use her thus: But the more she thought on what was past, the more she found he had nothing to reproach her with, but too much Love; and that the Change she observed in him, must be a pure Effect of his Inconstancy, which inclined him another way. This put her upon examining who should be her Rival: Is it (said she) the Steward's Daughter? No. Is it the Scrivenars Daughter? No. Is it such a ones Niece? or such a ones Sister? No, no. [Thus she ran over all the handsome Girls in the Village, without finding any just Ground of Suspicion.] Did he Love any of those I am thinking of? Or had be some new Inclination, where I cannot imagine; What had he to do here? And yet, What cause can he have to use me, as he does these two days past? 'Tis but three days since he swore to me, it were Death to him, to let him go to Bed without a sight of me; And this Evening he runs away from me; he will not speak to me; he will not so much as hear me: Whence comes this cruel proceeding? If he loves me no longer, why comes he so punctually to the Gate? He waited there before the time appointed; and as soon as he saw me, he thought no more of me. O Heavens, methinks I see the beginning of all this disorder: He is in Love with my Lady. I observe, she hath of late more Care than ever of her Person, and Dress; especially at Night, when he is to come; so much Dressing, so much Curling, so much Patching, so much Powder, so many Scents, are not for nothing. I am sent hither; What to do? Heavens! How innocent am I? My Love of him, and Confidence in her, have blinded me quite.  
These were stinging Reflections for a Girl in Love, to fancy herself not only betrayed, but made a Fool. She needed no more to make her leave the worthy Employment they had given her; and to go softly, to spy through the Keyhole, the Posture of those she suspected: She sees her perfidious Lover, and her honest Mistress so closely joined, she had reason to think them both of a piece: What a sight was this for the poor Diana! She wished herself blind, and was ready to die for Grief; and in this distress, fetched two or three deep Sighs, which those within might easily have heard, but that they were busy about somewhat else. This turned Diana's Grief into Despair; and now, nothing but Revenge can give her Satisfaction; which she might soon obtain, by giving the old Gentleman notice of what was a doing, and inviting him to see the Comedy in Action: This she resolved upon; but had scarce given too Knocks at his Chamber-door, but she relented into a tenderness, that moderated her Fury: [An Irresolution to which Persons in Love are usually subject, amidst their highest Transports.] She considered her Lover should be utterly undone, if the Old Gentleman found him with his Wife; and that it would be a means to lose him for herself, as well as for her Mistress: This Consideration prevailed over her Resentment: She pitied him, and thought it sufficient to go, and make them ashamed, by reproaching them to their Faces, for their Infamous Treachery.  
The good Man, who had half heard the last Knock, not knowing whether he had heard, or only dreamt of a Noise; to be satisfied, goes to the Door; and hearing some Body go back very softly, thought there were Thiefs in the House. He runs to his Sword, which had not been drawn since the Wars of Paris, where he had served in Person: He takes his Captain's Pike in his Hand, and puts his Helmet on his Head; which carried before, a sufficient load of his Wives putting on.  
Diana in the meantime, groping on the Wall; and considering how to take John and her Mistress in the Act, that they might not have any colour of Denial; met a Man, whom she presently took for her Perfidious Lover. Are these your tricks Iraytour (said she▪) Canst thou think such Falseness can escape unpunished? If none else, Heaven will Revenge me. The Old Gentleman, in the Emotion he was in, never minding on what side he had heard the Noise of the Thiefs, Ran in his Shirt without any Light, towards where he heard Diana's Voice; holding his Pike at full length, and before him; and making a Noise with it enough to raise the whole House: Who goes there, cried he, as loud as possible; which so frighted Diana, that, quitting him she had laid hold on, she went to hid herself, for fear her Master's Anger should all light upon her, if found with her Gallant. Who is there, said he once more: No Person stirred. In the mean time he brandished the Pike the one way, and the other, till at last he felt something under it: Then did he double his Fury, and with a thundering Voice, Speak (said he) who is there? or you die. Ah Sir (answered the Wretch that was caught, with a lamentable Tone) Pity your poor Curate, and do not kill him. No Curate, Replied the Choleric old Man, who, in the trouble he was in, understood not what was said, nor perceived that it was the Curate that spoke; but cried out, Thou shalt die like a Robber as thou art: Confess quickly, that I may dispatch thee: This he said, seconding every Word with a Blow.  
John Le Brun, and the Lady, frighted with this bustle, thought it high time to look about them: They knew not whether the Noise were raised about them, or on some other occasion; But the Gallant, for more Surety, held it best to save himself: They put out the Candle; and, opening the Door softly, he thought to slip away through the Crowd in the Dark; but (unfortunately) fell foul on the good Old Man, and laid him along on the ground, Pike, Helmet, and all. Then did he cry out to purpose; Thiefs, Thiefs; Help, help▪ I am dead! All the People of the House (having already heard part of the Noise he had made) ran to him thick and threefold: His Lady too, having had Leisure enough to alter her Dress (making as if she were in mighty haste in her Nightgown); no sooner saw the Light, but she came to know what the matter was: Amazed to see her Husband guarded round with all his Domestics in Arms, from the Kitchen; which made such a Clattering, that they understood not one another. But that which was most pleasant to see, was. The Old Man (like a Statue) laid flat on the Ground; his Helmet on his Head, his Pike in his Hand, a Belt over his Shoulder two Inches thick, a Rapier at his Side four or five Foot long; and all this in his Shirt only, which was an excellent Equipage, to draw a Portrait in ridicule by. None of the Servants, but had a Month's mind to Laugh; But the Lady Acted her Part best: She cried, the wept, she afflicted herself for the unhappy Accident besain her dear Husband, not knowing what Vision had appeared to him. The rest did their Master the best Service they could; some taking off his Helmet, others his Belt, others his Sword. The good Man took on grievously, extremely concerned lest the Thiefs should escape; and Commanding his Servants to pursue them; telling them, there were (at least) half a dozen in the House, and that had seen them, though all this while in the Dark. But his Wife having long since represented him, and made him pass for a Man much subject to Fancies, and Vagaries; his Servants, who knew what he affirmed was impossible, could not look at one another without Laughing.  
Just thus (said the Lady) when I fell the last Night, I thought there were Spirits in the House. Death (answered the old Man, in a Rage) these were no Spirits; witness my Pike, with which I have killed one, or (at least) miss but little of killing him; for, he called for the Curate to take his Confession. This Discourse set all the Folks a Laughing; which so vexed the Old Man, that, handling his Pike again, he threatened to be Revenged of them all, as so many Thiefs within doors, holding Correspondence with those without, unless they would pursue them. To satisfy him, they took upon them to make search for them in the Castle: But whether it were that the Lady reserved her own Quarter to be free from search, or employed them at distance, no notice was taken of; the back-gate being the Place of Rendezvouz.  
Diana, at length appeared before her Master; and, though much out of Humour, forgot not her Duty in making fast the Gate: This done, she went up to her Lady's Chamber, where she lay: Here was Acted the Scene that discovered the whole Plot. The Lady Laughed, and wondered Diana was so sad: And both being laid, What (said the Lady) you are troubled I warrant you, that your Lover is gone without seeing you? Fool, thou shalt see him to Morrow: Would you have had him stay till they had searched my Chamber? Ah Madam (answered Diana) I would to God they had found him here. And why, (replied the Lady, much surprised at the Answer) Why (said Diana) You know well enough; and that he came not hither for my sake. The subtle Lady, fell a Laughing; and Embracing Diana, told her, She now saw she loved John in good Earnest, since she was jealous of him, and upon her account, whom of all the World, she had least cause to fear; but she would pardon her unjust Suspicion. Diana unwilling to be altogether fooled, replied, That her Suspicions were too well grounded: And seeing her Lady continue Laughing at her, What Madam, said she, (with that Ardour and Vehemence Truth usually inspires into those who maintain it) have not I seen you with John in such and such Postures? Did not you tell him this? did not you tell him that?— Which the Lady hearing, How now Insolence (said she) are you a Spy on my Actions? May not I do what I please in my Chamber for you? Who in the middle of the Garden— and pausing at that Word, she afterwards proceeded, Witness the Cherrytree. Diana grew paler, and more confounded than ever: But knowing they were but equally matched one to one, she recovered her Courage; and with as much heat as her Lady, gave her story for story; and reproached her with all the Gallantries of her Life past, which she had the goodness to relate to her. The Lady, not able to endure it, without a transport of Rage, beyond what is allowed to Persons of Quality of her Sex, was not content to make use of her Hands (finding Diana as good at that Sport as herself) but ran for a stick, which she had in the Chamber. Diana perceiving it, thought it time to withdraw into a place of Safety; and finding no other than the Bed, as she was going under it, she sees a Man's Leg, and then another; and by degrees, the rest of the Body, dressed after the old Fashion: What a fright was she in? Her Mistress running after her, stumbled on the Feet of the Spirit, and fell to the Ground: Thus was the Anger of these Female Combatants appeased on the sudden; and they looked one on the other, to inquire who the Man should be; and how he came thither: Have you ever seen two Enemies join Forces at the Appearance of a Third, stronger than both? Just so did these Rivals agree in a Corner of the Chamber, where they durst scarce breath; taking the sight of this Object, for an Effect of Divine Justice: and believing it could be nothing else, but an Evil Spirit, sent from the other World to put them in mind of their Sins. At last, this Spirit spoke; and putting off an old Grey Hat he had upon his Head, Madam (said he) you must pardon your poor Curate, unhappily exposed to the Hazard both of Life, and Reputation; the Loss of both could not have been prevented, if (by good Fortune) he had not found your Chamber-door open; where he came to hid himself, when you were gone forth. The two Females, hearing the Voice and Name of their good Friend, the Curate, recovered a little Courage, but durst not yet adventure going nigh him; because Spirits are apt to Lie: And they had reason to fear, this same had a mind to abuse them; it being not propable, that Mr. Curate should be in their Chamber that time of Night, and in such an Equipage: But finding him at length a very peaceable Spirit, they ventured to go nigh him, and knew him. It was so surprising, and so pleasant a sight to see him in a great Grey Waistcoat, and a Hat dressed like a Sow-Gelder, that they could not forbear Laughing. 'Tis indeed a Laughing Business, said he, (somewhat angry for the small Compassion they had for him); but you have your share as well as I, in the Adventure: 'Tis true, I bear the Blows; But unless you would have me discover all, do your Endeavour to help me out from hence, that I may go Home. Mr. Curate (answered the Lady) what is written is written: You have been Young as we are; and you know, you should do so to others, as you would they should do to you. We have every one his part in what hath happened this Evening. I have too much to my share (said the Curate), and I feel it I am sure. Therefore (said the Lady) let us keep one another's Counsel: Diana shall go open you the Gate; But let us know first what Misfortune brought you hither, where you have so little Business. 'Tis true, Madam, (answered the Curate) I might very well have let alone the Business I had here; but the too great Affection I have for that Rogue, my Nephew, hath brought me to the fine Condition you see me in: For, three or four Nights last passed, I observed he went out of his Lodging at an unseasonable Hour, and returned very late: The Care I have always had of his Education, and the Charitable Remonstrance I lately had from my Lord your Husband, made me think myself obliged to follow him this Night, to see where he went. I saw him enter the Castle, at the Back-Gate; and intended to wait his Return, to ask him, What he had been doing? But growing impatient at his stay so long, I took the Pains to get up hither by the same Gate: And now I cannot but think it was by the Instigation of the Devil: For, as I came groping along the Rooms, I met Diana, who put me into a bodily Fear, and mistook me for my Nephew: Presently after, came in my Lord, your Husband, who frighted me to the purpose; For, not knowing whether to fly, I threw myself like a simple Sot under his Pike, with which he thought to kill me: At last, Madam, to conclude in a word, (said the Curate, Smiling when he saw them Laugh) I came, I saw; but the Mischief is, I was overcome, and sound beaten.  
The Curate had a pretty Faculty at Railing, which gave the Lady occasion to show him some Kindness; and prayed him, He would not ill use his Nephew. As to that, Madam, (answered he) I know what I have to do: I am willing for your sake to forget what is past; but must entreat you to take order for the future, that no Mischief come of it. Can my Nephew pay you his Respects without Consequence, and that my Honour were not concerned as well Yours, I should give him up to your dispose, to do with him what you pleased: But 'tis a wild Youth, who, in the end, will Ruin Tun, and Me; and 'tis (absolutely) necessary to let him go and Travel for some time, and learn to get his Living in another Country. The Lady would press him no further, hoping the Affection he had for his dear Nephew, would make him alter his Resolution.  
The Curate in the mean time takes his leave; and, Diana having opened the Gate for him, he went Home, where he found the Gallant in a very sweet Sleep: But his good Uncle having awaked him, he was amazed to see him at that Hour in his Chamber; and asked him, What he pleased to have? I come to tell you (answered the Curate) That my Lord would fain speak with you. Speak with me (replied John!) Yes, with you, (said the Curate) about some Froliques that have been done this Night in the Castle, for which a Friend of yours had like to have been well beaten. John was not a little surprised at the Discourse; but however, he swore and protested, He knew nothing of the Matter; That it was three Days since he had been in the Castle; and they did him wrong to charge him with their Disorders. They have done you wrong indeed (replied the Curate) but it was, in letting you escape as they did. Tell me, you Arch-Rogue, Went not you into the Castle by the Back-Gate, at Eleven a Clock this Evening? You think no body has seen you play your Pranks with the Lady; You came not out of her Chamber at the Noise made by the old Lord, whom you thought to have dispatched: All this, I know to be false; therefore, get you up, and clear yourself before him; 'Tis Hanging matter if you do it not. The unhappy Nephew was sufficiently troubled; not able to defend himself from Conviction, where the Proofs were so clear: He knew the Kindness his Uncle had in store for him, throws himself at his Feet, confesses all, and begs his Pardon. There is but one Remedy (said the Curate) you must put on your clothes, and be gone immediately for Paris, where they will teach you more Wit; for if you stay till Day, it will be too late; there is a Warrant for Apprehending you.  
John, who was very willing to be fairly quit of the business, and go Travel, took this as a Favour, rather than a Banishment from his Uncle: He gets up, makes up his Pack, takes a little Money, and gets into Paris; where he soon made himself known. He resolved to set the best Side outwards; takes a Boy, changes his Name from Le Brun to Le Bel: And, having laid out part of the Money he had from the Lady to put himself in Equipage, he visited the great Ones, and went every Day into the best Companies; And had Wit and Impudence enough to bring him off well; being not so Raw, as to be taken for a Country Squire.  
He soon gained considerable Acquaintance of the one Sex, and the other: But he was a little Knavishly given; and had in his Nature, an Inclination to Cheating, he could never get rid of, which spoiled all.  
He had many Adventures, both good and bad, Paris being a place proper for that; But the Adventure of his Lodging, was the worst of all, and sent him packing out of Town. You shall hear it in few Words:  
After several Cheats he had Acted here and there, his Money growing low; and, finding himself no longer in a condition to visit the Ladies, and keep the Company he had done at first, he was forced (for maintaining his Gallantry) to submit to make Love to his Landlady: She was a Woman not Unhandsome, and had pleased other Men. He was in her Debt; and in what Respect soever he considered the Conquest, he could not but think it of advantage. Women of her Character, are quickly familiar; their Calling obliges them to allow Men some Liberties, which make them believe, They will deny them nothing.  
Mr. John Le Bel, who, after the good Fortune he had met with in the Village, thought nothing so Impregnable, but it must yield to his Charms; found so much Kindness from his Landlady, from the first Day he spoke to her of Love, that he thought the Business done; and that she was deeply in Love with him; and that it was not for his purpose to be ill-conditioned to her. His Chamber was near that of his Landlords, and he could hear him go out to Market every Day, as soon as 'twas Light, and leave his Wife in Bed, to take her Morning Rest: The happy Monsieur Le Bel thought it the most favourable Occasion in the World: He gets up one Morning, puts on his Nightgown; and, without farther Ceremony, goes to his new Mistress' Chamber, and was at her Bedside before she awaked: He slips boldly into Bed; what he did there, I know not, it is not written in his Story; but certain it is, he was there above half an Hour with her, and no Noise at all; without doubt, she took him for her Husband: But at last (having known him I cannot tell how) finding her Mistake, she cried out withal her Force. It was in truth a great piece of Folly, and our Gallant paid dearly for it; For, the People of the House running in, armed Cap-a-pe, some with Broaches, some with Forks, some with Knives, and other Arms from the Kitchin-Magazin, enough to frighten a more dangerous Pallet, than the sieur of John Le Bells; Scarce gave him time to take his Breeches, and his Hat, the Blows flew so thick about his Ears: And this was that Jolly Combat, which he published so much for his Honour wherever he went; and got him the Surname of Monsieur du Joly Combat.  
He was glad to get to the door without Stockings, or Waistcoat; but, by Good Luck, he was not far from a Brokers, where, with the little Money remained, he bought a few clothes, to set him out as well▪ as an ill Suit could do, for a second Adventure; and, at the same time, changed Quarters, for fear of new Assaults.  
Paris is large; and those who would hid themselves, may easily do it: Monsieur Le Bel stood in need of such a Place; not only in regard of his Landlord, but of those Persons of Quality he had had the Honour to be acquainted with; being not then in a condition to maintain the Port he had appeared in. However, he must live; and every Day will not furnish us with the kind Lady of the Castle: But Folks sometimes meet with cross-grained Landladies.  
By good Luck, there was hard by his new Lodging, a Bath-keeper, who wanted a Boy: The Employment was somewhat mean; but those in Necessity, stand not much upon Terms and Punctilos of Honour. He offers his Service, and is entertained: And changing his Condition, would also change his Name, and calls himself, Champagne.  
And now John Le Brun, and John Le Bel, is become Champagne, a Bath-keepers Boy: He was naturally Ingenious, and very fit for that Trade, and might have done very well in it, but that he thought it beneath him: He did but wait the Hour to bid his Master adieu; and as soon as the good occasion was offered him of a Gentleman belonging to Court, that came to Bathe himself at his Masters; he took the pains to seize all his clothes, leaving him his Rags in Exchange. You may believe, that, being new rigged by this Shift, he made haste out of his Lodging, and traversed the Streets a pretty round Pace: He had not then form any Design. Cavaliers of his Order, commit themselves to Fortune, Espouse all Adventures, and think every Country their own: But meeting, as he passed along with a Stage-Coach; and seeing a handsome Lady in it, he asked the Coachman, What Place he was bound for? He told him, For Amiens. As Lucky as may be (answered our Gallant) 'twas the very thing I looked for; and, without more ado, steps into the Coach. Then did he begin at leisure, to examine the Prize he had new taken; but found it not so Rich, as he had promised himself. The Gentleman whose clothes he had borrowed, was a Man of Estate; but had newly lost all at Play, to Champagnes great Grief; who scarce found in his Pockets, enough to carry him to Amiens: But the worst Luck now, the better another time. The Lady in the Coach, was none of the least Beauties: There was but they two, and he was in hopes, his good Mein might Charm her to bear the Charge of his Journey, while they travelled together.  
He set himself out, he played the Wagg, he talked of Love; and persuaded the fair Lady (who was an Honest Picard) so far of his particular Merit, that she believed what he pleased: But, as ill Luck would have it, she was a Person more beholding to Nature than Fortune; and had the same Design upon him, he had upon her: So that, having felt one another's Pulses, they soon perceived, they must Club for their Journey: Having found out this Secret, their Love grew cold, and they parted at Amiens with a great deal of Indifference on either side.  
This Gallant, whom I dare no more call Champagne, Habited as he was, failed not to Lodge at the best Inn in the Town, and to Eat with some Officers who were all Persons of Quality; and among the rest, the Count De Brion.  
The Dress he was in, became him huge well; and no Man but would have taken him for a very honest Gentleman: But having neither Baggage, nor Servant, and no more known in the Town, than at his Lodging; the Innkeeper, who had learned not to trust any Passenger three days after his Arrival, came to bid him Good Morrow, and tell him, He was going to Market. The Cavalier presently understood what the Compliment meant; and beginning to Huff, asked, How much he wanted for Provisions for his House? That if fifty Pistols would do, he should speak the word, and have them within an Hour, down upon the Nail. In short, That he should give himself no trouble; That he would just dress himself, and pay him what he owed him. It was always his Maxim, to promise lustily, though he knew not how to perform; especially, at this time, when he could go neither backward nor forward to furnish himself.  
The Count De Brion Lodged in a Chamber hard by him: He was a generous Person, and one whom our Gallant had Courted above the rest, with design to make use of him in case of necessity. He never scrupled to Compliment him, and let him know, he was a Gentleman ill used by Fortune; and had Recourse to him, as a Person to whom he would choose to be obliged rather than any other. Count Brion took pity of him; and having bid him not trouble himself for such a Trifle as what he owed his Host, offered him a Place in his Troop; telling him, A young Man as he was, should not lose the Occasion of this War to advance himself, but endeavour to make his Fortune: As for him, he would serve him with all the Credit he had; and assured him, he should never want as long as he saw him do his Duty.  
Mr. Champagne was no great Lover of War; He was not born under the Planet of Mars: However, for Honour, or rather, for Necessity, he accepted (with much Joy) the place offered him by the Count De Brion; and within two Days, went along with him towards the place of Rendezvouz, for the Kings Army.  
That Champagne, though Glorious as the rest for that great Monarch, proved unfortunate for Count Brion, who was killed that Year. John Le Brun, as if he had been unwilling to Serve longer in the War, after the Death of his Captain; or rather, weary of the Service, as too hard for him, thought of nothing more, than how (handsomely) to run away: He was then in very ill Equipage; but Heaven provided for him.  
One who waited on Count Brion in his Chamber, and after his Death, had Listed himself in the Troop; having some clothes of his Masters, as he was going out on a Party one Morning, delivered them to Monsieur Champagne, to keep for him. Our Cavalier would not let slip the Occasion, but fastens his Portmantle behind him; and, in a time, when it Reigned as if Heaven and Earth would come together, falls off from the Army, and gets into Valenciennes; where he was very welcome, as all French Deserters are. From thence, he passes to Gaunt, where he Sold his Horse to furnish himself with Money, to carry him to Brussels. He goes into the Boat; And knowing of what Consequence it was to gain an Esteem in the Place, by the Habit he should appear in at his Arrival, he took out of his Portmantle one so very fit for him, as if it had been made for him; besides clean Linen, he found there a Belt, Silk Stockings, and every thing he wanted, save only a Hat; his own being not suitable to the Habit he wore, It was his good Fortune, to find in the same Boat a Merchant, who furnished him with a very fine Hat for some things he gave him in Exchange.  
Our Cavalier once more new fitted, entered Brussels in Triumph, and as fine as a Bridegroom; And, according to his Custom, took up a Lodging in one of the best Inns in the City; having his Portmantle carried after him, by a Boy he met casually in the Street: He made his Entry into his Lodging, under the Title of A discontented Officer of the French Army. He presently called a-loud for a handsome Chamber: Then he began to inquire, Whether there were in the Town any French Tailors to make him clothes, and Drapers, and Hosiers, and Shoemakers? He sent for some of all these Trades, and set them all to work, as well for himself, as his worthy Valet; giving them order to have all ready in three Days; that he would give them Content, and pay them with Interest.  
All the Discourse that Day in the Inn, was of the French Officer: He had already gained the Reputation of a Person of Quality, that was come to spend some time at Brussels. Besides, the Gallant had made it his Business, to inquire of the Persons of Quality there; and to inform himself of those in particular, who would give a Civil Reception to Persons of Merit and Birth like himself; with such other Particulars, as are necessary to be known by them who intent to visit the Great Ones. He had one of the best Rooms in the Inn; and the Ordinary he Eat at, was a Patacoon a Meal, which was somewhat high for an ordinary Officer.  
But our Gallant made a Bustle after the rate of a thousand a year: But the Maid going up at Suppertime to make his Bed, had the Curiosity, (or it may be a design, to finger some Spare Utenfill or other for her use) to Ransack his Portmantle, which she found open, and to see the fine things he had there: But was very much Surprised, to find it only a poor Soldiers Wardrobe, containing only an old Grace close Coat Lined with blue, worn threadbare within and without; a Greasy pair of Leather Breeches, a pair of Riding Stockings, all botched up with white Thread; an old Leather belt, and a black Taffety Cravat, with a Ribbon of so extraordinary a Colour, that none knew what to call it then, though it had probably been formerly, a straw-Colour or scarlet. The Maid found none of these rich Accoutrements for her turn; but was so Officious, to bring her Master the News of the discovery she had made; who presently went up to take a View of these Goods, and easily guessed how matters stood with our Officer; having before had to do with some Officers of the same kind; and having dearly bought his experience, he had no mind to be Cheated any more. He Let him sup quietly; but as he risen from Table, he took him aside, and prayed him Civilly, To pay him for the two Meals he had eaten there, and to take another Lodging more Convenient for him; telling him, he had expected that Evening a person of quality, who had hired for a year the Chamber he had taken; and that when he came, he could not deny it him; that he was much troubled at it, but knew not how to help it. If that be all, (answered our Officer, without standing on point of honour to be put out of his Chamber, to accommodate another) we must Comply; have not you other rooms in the Inn? You are honest people; And I should be sorry to Leave you; because I am to stay a pretty while in this Town. I am obliged to you for the favour (replied the Host) but let it be, if you please, at some other time when we are not so full. What (said he, smiling) would you have me go seek a Lodging at this time of night, when I know not as much as the Streets of the Town? 'tis no matter Sir (answered the Host) my Sheets are too fine, and I am not such an Ass to let them be Stolen. Your sheets, (replied the Officer Knitting his brows,) What's the meaning of that? Whom do you take me to be? I take you, answered the Host somewhat loudly, to be a discontented Officer, who may go to seek a Lodging elsewhere, with your beggarly Wallet, and your Port mantle full of Rages. How now insolence, replied the Officer, is this your course to Ransack my Boy's Clothes. The Host was so provoked at his Calling him insolent, that he ran for a stick; at the same time the Officer ran for a Fine Silver Sword, that was upon the Bed, and not only stood upon his Guard, but fell upon his Landlord so briskly, that he wanted the help of his Servants, who Coming in to his rescue, the Bustle increased. Never did Monsieur Le Bel appear so Courageous, as on this occasion; but the reason is, he was newly come from the Army. The Guests of the House ran in to see what the matter was, but sound such a Confusion among the Men and the Maids, (crying out for being hurt, or for fear of being so) they knew not what to make of it. In the midst of this bustle, our discontented Officer, whom Fortune never failed at a dead lift, took his opportunity, and got away with his Silver Sword naked; having lost nothing in the skirmish, but his Hat, without any harm but a few dry blows of no Great Consequence. This Jolly Combat was better than his former, having come off here with honour, and a good Sword for a trophy: The fear he was in of being pursued, made him take Shelter in a house, where he Spied the door standing half open; where, without more ado he boldly went in, Hoping to find a way to pass further; or at least, a place of refuge from his Enemy: There he could see but one little Staircase, which he got up softly; and found in the Chamber, a very handsome Lady, sitting all alone, and leaning on a Table, with a Book before her. The fair Lady was so surprised at his unexpected Arrival, that she fell down half dead at his Feet: Ah Sir, (said she) do what you please, only save my Life. This Action caused no less Astonishment, than Pity, in our Hero: And letting fall his Sword to the ground, like a Person disarmed, he took up the Lady in his Arms; and Embracing her with a great deal of Respect, lift her up from the Ground▪ Your Life, Madam, (said he) is too precious, to be in danger with a Man of Honour: Had any one a Design upon it (added he, taking his Sword into his Hand) he should soon find, I stand here in your Defence. But Madam, to put you out of the pain of guessing the occasion of my being here (which I am very sensible, cannot but surprise you, seeing me in your Chamher at this time of Night, with my Sword in my Hand); give me leave to acquaint you, I am a French Officer, of Quality, as you know well enough, that in France, they employ no other but Persons of Merit: I was taken Prisoner the last Engagement; And, having this Evening found some of my Guard asleep, after their Bellies full of Wine I had given them in the Day, I seized their Officer's Sword; and, having forced my Way through the midst of the rest, I saved myself, as you see. I have left them my Baggage, my Money, and all that I had; which, though very considerable, you may easily believe, I value not at all, when compared with my Liberty; which now, Madam, is in your Hands: It is in your Power to save, or to ruin, me: For, in the Effort I made to get out of their Hands, I know well enough, I have wounded two or three; and I fear, I have left one dead on the place. The Lady being a Person of Quality, and of a Generous Nature, would have been very glad to have done a Gentleman a Kindness on such an occasion; but she was just taking her Leave, and told him, It was not in her Power to do him any Service, but Recommend him to a Gentleman, her very good Friend; whose Faithfulness he might rely upon. Ah Madam, (answered our Officer) now you are leaving this Country, give me leave to bear you Company: It will be the far surer Way for me, than to go back again for France; and to stay here, were to run too great a Hazard of being taken. If your Business require it (Replied the Lady) I should be very glad of it: For, though I be of this Country; yet, perhaps, I may be in a better Condition elsewhere, to serve you: But (added she, smiling) you know not whither I am going. Go to what part of the World you please (answered our Cavalier) it matters not at all; I shall send for what is necessary to put me into Equipage. You do not know me (Replied the Lady); and, it may concern you to consider, how you engage to Travel with a Lady, who (perhaps) may be employed in some dangerous Business: For, in the Disorder you see me, you may easily believe, that this is none of my House. Ah Madam! As for Danger (Replied the Officer) I fear none but from your Eyes; As for any other, I have sufficiently learned at the Army, not to value my Life; and should esteem myself Happy, to find an occasion to lose it in your Service. A Discourse so Generous, and obliging for the Lady, produced abundance of Thanks; which the Hero answered with as many Congees down to the Ground.  
The Lady was Handsome and Witty, and had the Appearance of a Person of Quality; well acquainted with the Great Ones, and bred up amongst them. Monsieur John Le Bel our Officer, newly escaped out of Prison, thought her worth the looking after; and looked upon her already, as his Mistress; or rather, one he resolved to make a Fool of, by putting a Trick upon her. She was in a lose, but rich Dress; which, with his finding her Door open, made him believe, She expected some Bodies coming; of which, he made no very good Construction: But having Complemented her a fresh, of the Necessity he was under, to use the Liberty he had taken; he thought himself obliged, to entreat her, to permit him to withdraw into some other Room of her Apartment, if his stay in her Chamber were troublesome: She told him, No: That in truth, she expected a Visit from a Gentleman, her Friend; to whom she had sent her Footboy, who carelessly left the Door open; but that she believed, he would not come that Evening, having stayed away so long: However, he might find time enough to go into another Chamber: And so, she prayed him to take a Seat. I know not Madam (said the Officer, to raise a Discourse) what a Person you took me for, when you begged your Life of me on your Knees, as I entered your Chamber; but I will assure you, No Action I ever met with, surprised me so much, I confess Sir, (answered she) you put me into a terrible Fright, with that naked Sword in your Hand: I took you for one I had reason to be afraid of; but you see, I soon altered my Opinion: And to tell you the truth, You look not like an Assassin. An Assassin Madam, (cried the Officer!) What Villain could harbour such Thoughts against so Beautiful a Person? There-upon, he renewed his offers of Service, with greater Protestations than before; telling her, with an Air of Bravery, That her Enemies must be very strong, to do her any Out rage, while he should be so near her. Then pressing her to tell him the truth of the matter, he received from her the following Answer:  
Though the Confidence you have in me, in your particular Concerns, had not obliged me to impart Mine to you; yet they have made so much Noise in the World, I could not think fit to conceal them from a Person, whom (besides the Advantages of his Quality) I take for a Man of Honour, and Discretion. The Officer having returned the Compliment in a very Reverend Bow, she proceeded to tell him; I am a Lady of this Town, and of a Family considerable enough, both in the Court, and the Camp, to give me the Advantage of appearing in this Court with some Splendour: But the ill Understanding between my Husband and Me, hath made me so unhappy, that there is no staying for me here. Marriage, which serves for a Cloak to many others, hath robbed me both of Honour and Estate. I never Loved my Husband, which is a great piece of unhappinefs; and he hath Loved me too well, which proves a greater Mischief than the other. You cannot but be sensible, what Swarms there are of troublesome Husbands in out time; and, consequently, how great the number is of Discontented Wives: And, let it not surprise you, to let you know, I am one of Them. I have been reputed Handsome, and so many have told me so; that, though I had not been inclined to believe it; yet the multitude of those who affirmed it, must needs have persuaded me to think so: But what is Beauty good for but the Pleasure of being Beloved? I should account her a Fool, that should tell me, She put it to better use: gentle or simple, honest or kindhearted, We are willing to please; And there are ways to please the Severe and Morose, as well as the Airy and Free: I have had Trial of both: But this pleased not my Husband. But what came I into the World for? To live as in a Nunnery? He hath done all in his Power to make me leave Brussels, and go live in the Country: But missing of his Aim, he reduced me out of pure Spite, into such a Condition, that it was not in my Power to entertain a Gallant: But there is a Salve for every Sore: All the Bustle he made, did but increase his Disgrace, and proclaim him to be that, which every Wise Man should conceal to his Power. I confess, I lost a little Reputation among those they call, The Virtuous Ladies; but those of the contrary Title are so numerous, that for one that Condemns me, there are a hundred to Excuse me: And perhaps, every Woman, that hath a Husband like mine, is excusable for all the little Follies she Commits. This very Day, a Gentleman his Friend, sent me word, He had ordered two Soldiers of the Army (where he hath a considerable Command) to come hither, and Murder me: Judge you Sir, if after this News, I had not reason to be afraid, when I saw you enter my Chamber: Upon this Intelligence from my Friend, I took my Measures; and by his Advice, left my own, to retire into this little House for some few Days, till I can order my Affairs, and take my Leave of this Country. Just as she was saying this, she heard a Noise at the Gate; which made her believe, the Gentleman was come, as in truth he was: She made the Officer presently withdraw; telling him, That one pair of Stairs higher, he should find a Chamber open. He got up thither, and saw (though without a Candle) several clothes, and other things, lie on the Table and Stools there, which might serve for a reasonable Prize: But being in hopes of better Fortune in time, this could not tempt him. But he had the Curiosity to inform himself a little, what Discourse there might pass between the good People below, who visited one another at such an unseasonable Hour. He had not very good Opinion of the Matter; and thought, if he could once discover the Secret, it would be enough to render him necessary for the Lady: He went down, and stood close by the Door, being more than half shut; where he heard the Gentleman speak to this purpose; I have taken the Liberty, Madam, to send your Boy to one of my Friends, to entreat him to lend me a Sword, having newly lost my own by a very pleasant Adventure: There came (said he) this Mornning to our Inn, a Young Frenchman; who made as if he were a Person of Quality, with a Lackey at his Heels, carrying a huge Portmantle full of nothing but Rags: Our Host at the first sight; believed him what he was willing to be taken for, and entertained him accordingly: But in the Evening (by what Chance I know not) he discovered, that this Honest Man, who pretended himself A Discontented Officer of the Army, was but a Deserter; and civilly prayed him to go out of his House: The Officer took it as an Affront: This occasioned high Words between them, and from Words they fed to Blows: Our Host had a Cudgel in his Hand; and to my sorrow, the Officer finding my Sword in the Room, laid hold upon it: We ran in to see what the matter was; and as we were busy about parting them, the French Cavalier went away with my Sword, and I came off with the Loss: Mine Host having seized on his Hat, and his Baggage; though so inconsiderable, 'twill scarce pay his Score. The Lady amazed at this Story, thinking the Discontented Officer, very near akin to the Officer escaped out of Prison; asked the Gentleman, What kind of Person the Frenchman was, and what Habit he had? which he described to be so like the Man, and Habit, she had newly seen in her Chamber, that she doubted no longer, but he was the very same: But whether out Prudence or Charity, she said nothing of it, (being willing to save from further trouble a Wretch, who had fled to her for Refuge; and fearing the bustle the Gentleman would make about it, being very passionate; and hoping to help him to his Sword again; which, though he should have lost, was no great matter to him) she did but Laugh hearty at the Story.  
But the Gallant, who had heard all this Discourse, did not think fit to slight an Information of so much Importance: He presently gets up Stairs again; and in a very short time, makes up his Pack, which he takes under his Arm, and straightway goes down the Stairs; and being unwilling to leave any thing behind, that was so justly his own, he slipped away with his naked Sword in his Hand: But, just as he was opening the Street-Door, he meets the lady's Boy with a Sword in his hand; who, you may well think, might be surprised, to find a Man like our Officer, coming in that Posture out of his Mistress' House: But our Officers Wit was so ready, that he presently asked the Boy, If that were not a Sword he carried to a Gentleman, who was there above Stairs? To which the Boy having answered, It was: Friend (says the Officer) you have no more to do but deliver it me; the Gentleman hath found his Sword, I have it here in my Hand, and am going for the Scabbard to his Landlord at the Inn: The Boy was Young, and the Trick so neat, it might have catched an old One: He gave him the Sword; and, at his new Friends Request, lent him his Hat till his Return from the Inn, whither he was going for the Gentleman's Scabbard.  
Monsieur Le Bel being thus got out of the Briers, the Boy gets up Stairs; The Gentleman presently asked him for his Sword: The Boy answered, He had given it the Man without a Hat, who had the other Sword in his Hand. What Man, (Replied the Gentleman?) The same (said the Boy) that is gone to the Inn for your Scabbard. The Gentleman knowing nothing of what the Boy meant, thought he was in Drink: But the Lady, who presently apprehended the Matter, and that the Discontented Officer had not been Content with one Sword; fell a Laughing so hearty, that the Gentleman, not knowing the reason, was somewhat displeased; and prayed her to tell him, (if she knew) What was become of his Sword? The Lady, with much ado forbearing to Laugh, answered, The same Rogue that had taken his First, had Cheated him of his Second, Sword. How, Madam, (Replied he) the Frenchman? Yes, the very same, (said she) your Discontented Officer. But why, Madam, d' you tell me so? How should you know it? You do but Raily: Let's hear what manner of Man this Man without a Hat was? The Boy Described him so much to the Life, it could not be doubted, but he was the Discontented Officer: The Gentleman more astonished than before, turns him to the Lady, and asks her, How she came to know this very fine Gentleman? Sir (said she) Give me time to breath, and I will tell you the Story: Then did she relate how he came to her Chamber; and the Tale he had told her of his being escaped out of Prison, which moved her to pity him; being not able (on so pressing an Occasion) to deny Refuge to a Person of Quality, as he seemed to be: The Gentleman answered, All this was well; but that she ought to have told him of his being at her Lodging; that it had, at least, saved him one of his Swords; and that, having understood so much of him, she might have concluded him a Rogue, that deserved not her Favour: She excused herself with the Considerations we have mentioned; being a Person of so tender a Soul, and truly good Natured, she could not find in her heart to do the worst of Men any harm. Madam (Replied the Gentleman) were it your case, would you be served so? Sir (says she) I fear I have lost more than you; and that my Compleasance hath (by this time) cost me very dear: For, when you came in, I sent him up into a Chamber, where all my things lay at Six and Seven: But the best of it is, he had not any Light. The Gentleman fell a Laughing at the Lady's Ingenuity, as if Thiefs wanted Light to find out their Booty; and told her, Such People's Eyes were in their Hands, and that their Fingers were their Candle. They asked the Boy, If the Man he had given the Sword to, carried any thing with him? Nothing (said the Boy) but a Bundle under his Arm: This Alarmed the Lady; and the Gentleman had his turn of Laughing at her. They went up to the Chamber, and found he had carried away in clothes, and other things, to the value of a hundred Pistols: The Lady was somewhat comforted, thinking he could not be gone far for want of a Hat: But the Boy presently told her, He had lent him his; which made them more Sport: So that in truth, they had no more to do, but sit down by the Loss; having all had their share (not excepting the Foot▪ boy) in suffering by the Cheats of the pretended Officer.  
Some Months after, this Lady (for whom Fortune had prepared new Adventures with our Here) went for England; and soon after her Arrival there, visited a Person of Quality, with whom she had Contracted a very intimate Acquaintance at Brussels: She was received with Expressions of the highest Joy and Affection; the Lady being extremely glad, at the Hopes of an Opportunity to pay her at London, the Civilities and Kindnesses received from her in Flanders.  
They passed from Compliment, to Discourse of their Friends; and from that, to the News at Court. The Stranger having a Design to continue some time in England, was very desirous to inform herself particularly, of the state of Affairs, and have some Knowledge of the Country; and was very well satisfied, she made her Address to a Lady very knowing in those Points; and one who failed not to give her a Relation, both general and particular, of all the fine Ladies, and their Gallants, in that Court. Her Discourse might have passed for a Chronicle in Epitome; containing, in short, The History of the Gallants of either Sex: As well the Ladies, who (by their good Conduct) preserved their Reputation, as those who had utterly forfeited and lost it: And of the Gentlemen, as well those who were worthy the pains of being Loved, as those who were looked upon, as the Scandal of Ladies. She proceeded yet further; and being ancient Acquaintance, gave the strange Lady some Maxims, and Rules of Conduct in that Court; which with a little Practice, should make her able to give Instruction to others.  
After this long Discourse, the Stranger, who knew that the Lady, her Acquaintance, being a very beautiful Person, had always had her share of the Gallantries in Fashion wherever she dwelled; asked her similing, Whether she continued still, the course of her Conquests? She answered somewhat Coily, That she bore no part in the Comedies now Acted on the Stage of the World, but was only a Spectator; not that she was become insensible, or that those who have been in Love, can ever cease to be so: but to speak truth, whether it were the weakness of her Fancy, or the goodness of her Judgement, she had no Inclination (at least) for those of this Country: That she was for Strangers, and especially the French, whom she most affected. You are not an Englishwoman then (Replied the Stranger.) Not by Inclination (answered she,) though Born in the middle of England: Did you but know (added she) the Air, and the Grace, the French have in Gallantry: but I need not tell it you, who come from a Court entirely French. There is one here whom I see sometimes; He is in no small Esteem among the Beauties. That may be the reason, Madam, (answered the Stranger) you are not altogether Impartial, as to those of this Country. You are my Friend (Replied she,) and I confess ingenuously, I have some Esteem for him; but that's all: He is a Person of Quality; he hath Wit; he is Handsome, and visits me oftener than others; which is enough to gain an Esteem from me, who am Naturally no Hater of the French. He might have got an Interest in a far handsomer Lady; and I know those who Aspired to the Conquest of his Heart: But his Stars, or perhaps some small Merit of mine, hath made him yield to those small Charms I carry with me. You shall see him here, it will not be long ere he comes; you shall give me your Judgement of him. The French (answered the Stranger) have certainly a good Mien, and are Witty; and to speak generally, surpass all other Nations in Gallantry, and are their Masters therein: But to tell you the truth, We are to take heed of them, especially in a strange Country: You shall have a poor Farmer's Son, shall give himself the Title of Marquis of the Place he was Born in: Another, who never was better qualified than a Valet De Chambre, shall call himself by his Master's Name; the better to Cheat some Shopkeeper or Tradesman: There is such a Swarm of such Gallants in the World; that I believe in good Earnest, that People of Quality must for the Future, carry with them Authentic Testimonials; or must be content to lie under Suspicion of not being what they justly pretend to. I can tell you a Story, Madam, what a Trick I was served some Months ago, for my willingness to Pleasure a Frenchman of this Character: Then she gave her an account at large, of all the Particulars concerning the pretended Officer at Brussels; at which the Lady Laughed very hearty, and confessed it was a notable Cheat: But, that Right must be done to Persons of Quality; and that there is a Difference between those that are Men of Honour, and those who are not.; The Person I speak of (added she) carries in his Countenance, the Character of Honesty; and hath in all his Actions, an Air Remote, and altogether different from any thing of Baseness and Meanness: That he may very well pass for a Pattern of Generosity and Virtue. He came hither with a Person of Quality: In a word, It is the Count Brion. Count Brion, Madam, (Replied the Stranger?) If I be not mistaken, I have Read in the Gazett, He was Dead. Yes, the Elder Brother (answered the Lady) but this is the Younger, who is come to a great Estate by the Death of his Brother. And, to the Advantages of Fortune and Birth, hath added that of the highest Merit: Some matter of Honour, as I understand by others: A Duel fought much to his Advantage, hath been the Cause of his flying hither for Refuge. He is not altogether unhappy, Madam, (answered the Flemish Lady) since Banished his own, he finds in this Country, some place in your Esteem; which cannot but be a very pleasant Refuge. You are always obliging, Madam, (Replied the English Lady) I have not Vanity enough, to flatter myself with an Opinion, of being able to serve Count Brion in his Misfortunes.— She had hardly done speaking when the Count entered; who, having heard the last Words of the Lady's Discourse, answered Smiling, If any thing can lessen the Misfortune you speak of, it must certainly be the Honour of your Esteem. I cannot call myself unhappy, since the Day I believed you have any Value for me. 'tis true Sir, (Replied the Lady) did your Happiness depend on that, you should have no great cause to complain of it; for, I should be sure to do you Justice: This I aver in Presence of this Lady; who, though a Stranger, is long since acquainted with the Sincerity of my Heart. The Count, who had only a slight View of the Flemish Lady in passing by, finding by the Discourse that she was a Stranger, went up to her to Salute her: But having fixed his Eye upon her, he was not a little astonished: He easily knew her by her Countenance, and was at a stand; and twice or thrice changed Colour. He knew not what to say, and had scarce the Confidence to Salute her. The Lady as much surprised as he, advanced not a step to do him that Honour; and indeed, had scarce the Patience to endure it. The English Lady, having observed all these different Actions, the Trouble of the one, and Coldness of the other, knew not what to think of it; and seeing there passed not a Word between them, she asked, If they knew one another? And, being no less astonished than they, added, Were you not both my Friends, I know not what I should think of this Business. I confess, Madam, (answered Count Brion, endeavouring to Recover himself) this Lady is so exactly like a Person of Quality, I formerly had the Honour to know, and be extremely obliged to, that I could not see her without Remorse for my Ingratitude towards her; whereof I own myself Guilty, and should think a thousand Lives (if I had them) well bestowed, to Expiate my Offence. The Fault must have been Great (Replied the English Lady) and I cannot believe you a Man capable of such a Crime. 'Tis great indeed, Madam; And had I not hopes of Pardon from her Goodness, I should die for very Grief and Shame. And what say you to this, Madam, (answered the English Lady, addressing herself to the Stranger?) Does this Matter concern you? There must be some Cause for that Disorder and Trouble I observed in your Countenance on this Occasion. Madam, (Replied the Stranger) the cause of my Surprise is just like that of the Gentleman's; A Person very like him, behaved himself towards me not so well as he ought; and I took him for the Man. There is something Extraordinary in this Adventure (answered the English Lady;) and you must excuse me, if I believe neither of you in what you have said: I am very well assured, Madam, you came but Yesterday to Town, and that the Count was never at Brussels: So that, I cannot comprehend where you could have seen one another, but here. Pray clear this doubt, and tell me freely, What is the business. The Gentleman (Replied the Stranger) can do it far better than I. There are some things (said the Count) not fit to be spoken at all times; And then rising up; I shall leave all (said he) to the Discretion and Generosity of this Lady, and withdraw for the present; being not very well: With that, taking Leave of the Ladies, he went his way.  
If ever Person was in Pain, if ever Woman had the Curiosity to know any thing, you may believe the English Lady, so affected on the present Occasion: For, having really had, and as frankly owned, an Esteem for the Count, she was very much concerned for him upon all Accounts; and, particularly, those where any other of the Sex appeared any way concerned for him. Well, Madam, (said she, to the Stranger) will not you tell me what the Meaning of this is? Shall I not know the Adventure brought you acquainted with the Count? I never had Reserve for you; Your time is come to requite my Freedom. The Lady refused a long time, out of scruple to Ruin the Reputation of a Man, who might (perhaps) be a Person of Quality, and forced by Necessity to do what he had done: But fearing he was nothing less; and that her Friend might be abused by her good Opinion of the Count, she made her first Promise not to speak of the business; and then told her plainly, This was the Officer she had told her of, who had Escaped out of Prison. Who, Count Brion, (answered the Lady, with a Tone and Action that sufficiently declared her Surprise!) Is he the Honest Man who stole your clothes, and the two Swords from the Gentleman your Friend? Yes, Madam, (answered she) the very same. It is not possible (Replied the English Lady), nor shall you make me believe, though you make see it with my Eyes. What you please (said the Stranger); but I assure you, I know him on no other Account: And if you will take the Pains to examine and reflect on what he said to me, you may guests whether this be true or not. Heavens! (cried she) is it possible, that a Man of his Quality, should be reduced to the necessity of Acting such a Cheat? He had reason to tell me, He had never been at Brussels. However, he is still a Man of Birth, and of Parts; and I might have said, of Merit too, but for this unhappy Adventure. 'Twas but a Trick of Youth (said the other) and so may be pardoned: You know, Men are but Men; and France being at Wars with us, he thought (perhaps) Robbing me was but Plundering the Enemy: But now, that he is in a better Condition than formerly, he may make me amends, and express his Sorrow for the Fact, by making me Restitution. Yes, Madam, (Replied the English Lady) I will undertake he shall do it: For, besides the Generosity of his Nature, he is a Person of Honour; and will not fail to appear so, on such an Occasion as this: If such a thing should be known of him here, where he has the Esteem and the Love of so many Persons of Quality, What would become of him? I would not for the World it should come to their Ears: For, as he Visits me ofner than any other, I must expect to have the greatest share in his Disgrace. Let me beg of you, Madam, it may go no further. The Lady promised it; and having other Visits to make, took her Leave to go to the Lodging of another Lady, of her Acquaintance; Where, Entering the Chamber, she found her at some Difference with another Person; who, upon her coming in, quitted the Room.  
The Fair Fleming was received at this Visit, with the same Joy and Honours she had found at the first: And having past the first Compliments of Civility; and observed before, that when she came in, the Lady was in business with her who went forth, she thought herself obliged to make her Excuse for disturbing them, and interrupting their Discourse. You may believe, Madam, by our Actions you saw, that our Discourse was none of the Pleasantest; and I verily think, you did both of us a Pleasure; For, had you not come in, we should have certainly quarrelled: She was a French Lady, who came to demand Money of me, for two pair of Embroidered Bodyce I had of a Frenchman, in Payment for Money I won of him at Play, about two Months ago; She tells me, The Bodyce were her●, and that she had only trusted the Frenchman with them, to Sell them for her. I answered, I knew nothing of that, and that I had honestly bought them; and that she was to look after payment from her Commissioner: The Stranger fell a Laughing at the Title of Commissioner; and asked, Who that honest Gentleman might be, who paid his Debts with other People's Goods; and to discharge what he owed one Lady, borrowed the Bodyce of another? This (added she) is a new piece of Gallantry, not very much in Mode among the Persons of Quality. Yes, (Replied the English Lady) this Frenchman would pass here for a Gallant by Profession; and calls himself, The Count De Brion: But I never looked upon him, as other than a Valet De Chambre Travesty; having neither the Wit, nor the Manners, nor the Sentiments, non Carriage, of a Person of Quality: Nor do I see what Ground there is for that Esteem some Persons have for him here, unless it be, for that he is a Stranger. He hath appeared at Court, under the Auspice of a French Lord; whose Favour alone, might gain a Man Credit: And that, I believe, hath Contributed most to the Honour a Man so little deserving, hath received there. But there are many who have changed their Opinion of him; and think with me, that he is not the Man he pretends to be: Besides, there are a number of People, who knows the House of Brion; and assure us, there was but one Son of the Family, and that he died in the Army. It may be, Madam, (says the Flemish Lady) the Gentleman you speak of, may be some near Relation of the Counts. No, no, (replied the other) he says, He is the Count Biron's own Brother and Heir, and would pass for such at Court.  
I was Yesterday with a Lady of my Acquaintance; and as we were talking of some of his Cheating Tricks, he happened to come in; and told the Lady, That a Duchess (he named) having seen the fair Diamond Pendants at her Ears, had a great Desire to have such another pair made for her; and knowing he had the Honour to be acquainted with her, had sent him on purpose to entreat her, to lend her her Pendants for an Hour: The Lady presently cast her Eyes upon me, and I Mine on her; both looking on one another, but in such a manner, that each of us understood well enough, how Suspicious this Embassy appeared to the other. My Friend having too much Wit to be catched in such Traps, excused herself with saying, She was engaged that Afternoon to make some Visits of Consequence, and could not then spare her Pendants, being at her Ears; but that on the Morrow, she would return him his Visit, and afford him a sight of them: This Day we shall know the Truth, it being not probable, that Lady would have sent such a Person as he, on a Message of that Nature. But I entertain vou too long, Madam, with this Subject; yet the Gentleman I speak of, being one who is very much talked of, you may (perhaps) be glad to know him; and the Description I have given you, is much to the Life.  
The strange Lady thanked her for the Favour she did her; telling her, She took so much Pleasure to hear her, that it might pass for a Kindness, to have a further Account of what she knew of this Count; which, perhaps, she might requite her for, by finding a time to Entertain her with Relations of a very like Nature.  
You shall not be long here (Replied she) but you'll see him; and in a few Days, you may expect a Visit from him; being indeed, the most Impudent of Men, and one who intrudes into all Places, where Persons of Quality may be seen. He is not Unhandsome; and, could we judge of Men's Birth by their Shapes, we might believe him well Born: but this is not the first time, we have known the Man handsomer than the Master: And as for me, I will never be persuaded he is any other than a Servingman: All his Actions are mean and base; his Words having nothing in them, that carries the least Taste of a Noble and Elevated Wit: And were it not for the Discourses he makes of his Person, which he boasts to the Skies, on the account both of Gallantry and Bravery (which, I must tell you, he maintains but very poorly by his Actions) 'tis the pitifullest Fellow for Conversation, that ever I met with. His best Talon is Impudence: He calls himself, the Friend or Relation of all the People of Quality in France. In a word, He made two Gentlemen believe, he was with them at the Academy, though neither of them could remember he had ever seen him before: But that which will chief surprise you, is, The Impudence he expressed about a Letter he found on a Lady's Table, of my Acquaintance (where I was at Play); He took it with him to the Playhouse, to show it three or four Gentlemen; who verily believed, the Letter was addressed to him: And the Person who had Written it, being very considerable for Merit and Birth; the Gentlemen seeing he treated the Count De Brion so obligingly, had a better Opinion of him than formerly: But it happened, that one of these Gentlemen going from the Playhouse, went to the Lady to whom the Letter belonged, being directed to her; and knowing the Familiarity between her, and the Person who writ it, asked her, What Acquaintance the Count Brion had with her Illustrious Friend?  
Not any, I believe, (said she) and I think so the rather, for that he hath lately made use of my Interest with him, to procure him a Letter from him in his Favour, to a Minister of State, with whom (he said) he had Business of Importance. I know not what to think of it (Replied the Gentleman,) but can assure you, I just now saw a very obliging Letter he hath written to the Count A Letter (answered the Lady!) You shall find it was mine he found on the Table, and gives it out for his own.  
It fell out accordingly; for the Letter to her was not to be found; and what she told the Gentleman, put it out of doubt, that it was the same Letter. As they were speaking of it, Count Brion comes in: The Lady was unwilling they should say any thing to him, and to put him into such a Confusion at her Lodging, as the Discovery of his Vanity must have certainly reduced him to; But they brought it insensibly into Discourse by degrees: You might imagine, Madam, the Count would have split on this Rock: I looked for no less: But his Impudence brought him off. He maintained stoutly, that he had been long acquainted with the Gentleman, and had received several Letters from him; and told us a hundred Particulars of him: At last, he played his part so well, that if he did not abuse us all, yet he left the one half of the Company donbtful, whether what he said might not be true. The Lady seeing herself engaged, and knowing what he said was absolutely false, pressed him more than the rest; but he had the Dexterity to perplex her so much, that the Victory seemed to lean to his side: Then falling into his Tone of Raillery, he told her, She was very much mistaken, if she thought that Gentleman Writ to none but to her: That she was not the only Person received Letters from him; That there were above ten Ladies in London, could show Letters from him as full of Gallantry, as any she could produce; And he would engage to let her see above a dozen, if she would have Patience to stay till the Morrow: So free was he of his Promises. The Lady I believe, was seriously concerned at his Discourse; and the rest of the Company knew not what to think of it: She would have Laid her Watch worth Threescore pounds' Value, against Tenn Guinneyes, he would not perform what he undertook: The Count Honestly told her, That in not Laying the Wager, he made her a Present of her Watch; and that he would not put her to that Charge to find out the Truth: That she need but to have Patience till the next Day, he promised upon the Word of a Gentleman, as he was, to let her see several of those Letters.  
I know not whether the Lady stepped well that Night or not; but I have been told, That when she was up, the Count Brion made her a Visit; and turning all into Raillery, complained of her for driving on the business so far before so good Company; excusing himself, that he was obliged to do as he had done, to save his Reputation: That he knew very well, she was the sole Person in England, that the Gentleman had an Esteem for; And that he would give him an Account, of the Perplexity he had put her in on his score; which was no small Sign, she had no little Esteem for him.  
This Lady, whether satisfied with this Acknowledgement, or slighting further Satisfaction, said no more of the Business. He had the Fortune to meet many Adventures of this sort; against which, his Impudence was proof, and saved him out of all: The only one, I observed him out of Countenance in, was, That of his Dancing at a Ball; where having come off well enough, he went to make his boast to one of the Principal Lords at Court, that he had Danced alone at an Entry at a Ballet, which he named: This Lord being an Excellent Dancer, and a great Critic in that Art, engaged him to let him see that Entry. The Count goes to the Musicians; who, having played several Airs, hit at last upon that which the Count might have wished had never been found; being the Air for the Entry he had named: They pressed him to Dance it; The Ladies joined their Forces with the rest of the Company, to prevail with him; but all to no purpose: And the Answer he made them, was, He would not give them Cause to Laugh at him; but they took the Liberty to do it. A whole Day will be too short, to tell you all I know of this Person; but he is by this time, pretty well known to most, though all are not yet disabused; but his Credit stands good. He came hither in a very wretched Condition; but quickly recovered the Equipage of a very great Lord, at the Charges of three or four, whom he got into his Snare: And as for his poor Creditors, he Entertains them with Expectation of some Bills of Exchange (which have been long enough a coming) to have arrived from Japan; but you shall see, at last, he'll go fetch them himself.  
The Ladies having ended their Discourse of Count Brion, spoke of other things; till at last, the Stranger having other Visits to make, took her Leave; and was scarce got down Stairs, but she found the Lady she had made her first Visit to, Disputing Somewhat hotly with two Chair-men. The strange Lady took the Liberty to ask her, What the matter was? The other made Answer, That Count Brion having returned to her Lodging, had Lent her his Chair, and that the Chair-men would make her pay for it; which was no usual thing: The Count in the meantime comes in; and enraged at the sight of the Abuse offered the Lady by the Chair-men, he took up his Cane, and gave them three or four Blows: But he soon found as good as he brought; for, the Chair-men thinking the Bastonado intolerable, returned him Blows with Usury: Two to one was not so even a Match for Beating as Carrying. The Ladies were much troubled, but knew not how to help him: But, by good Fortune, a Gentleman came by, with another behind him, who parted the Fray: The Man I last mentioned, was a Frenchman, who being newly arrived from Paris; and having cast his Eye on Count Brion, came up to him to Salute him:  Ah Monsieur Champagne (says he) I am hearty glad to meet you here. Monsieur Champagne (replied the Count?) What d'ye mean by that? Whom d'ye take me to be? I mean (answered the other) that your Name is Champagne; and I take you for a Bath-keeper's Boy I knew at Paris, and— 
Friend (Replied the Count, Interrupting him) you mistake yourself, I am Count Brion. I do not mistake myself (says the other), and by this very good Token, That you stole away the clothes of a Person of Quality, which I was forced to pay for:  
He spoke this so loud, that all who stood by, heard him what he said. The Count was glad to take him by the Hand, to draw him aside; telling him, He was mistaken: The other as stiffly maintained, He was not; and threatened to have him Arrested, if he would not pay him for the clothes. But I am Count Brion (answered he, much more troubled with this one Frenchman, than he was with the two Porters. You may be what you please (says he) when you have paid me for my clothes; but till then Champagne, Champagne, and no Count Brion. While they were engaged in this Fine Dialogue, the Gentleman who had parted the Count, and the Chair-men when they fought, entertained himself in Discourse with the two Ladies; but seeing a new Quarrel like to arise, he stepped aside, and asked them what the matter was? Nothing (says the Count) but an Insolent Fellow loves to hear himself talk, and will needs take me for I know not who: He is certainly Drunk; and were it not for Respect to you, I should make him know who I am. The Man was going to Answer; and had doubtless said worse than he had hitherto done, but the Gentleman persuaded him to withdraw; and so, did the Count a great Piece of Service. After this the Count sent in search of the Frenchman, and did all in his Power to persuade him, He was not Champagne; and submitted however, to pay for the clothes in Question: But all to no purpose.  
This, with many other Reasons, made him resolve to leave London; having Reigned there too long, to continue any longer. His Fortune was at the Height, and he apprehended the Danger; that, if he endeavoured to Climb any Higher, he might chance to take the Way to Heaven in a String.  
The Lady of Brussels, and the Man of Champagne, were the Evil Stars that boded him a Storm of Bastonades. It is the Prudence of Man kind, to prevent such Tempests. CHEATS, who have Wit, are very sensible how subject their Life is to Dangers of that kind. He easily saw a Cloud of Misfortune gathering over his Head, for his Insolence and Impudence at London; and that it was time to withdraw: Every thing hath its Season; and he, the better to know the proper Hour for packing away, went to a Watchmaker; who, taken with his good Mien, trusted him with two Gold-Watches; with the help of which, he took the Lucky Moment so right for getting away, that neither Landlord, nor Draper, nor Tailor; nor Tradesman whatever, nor any other Creditor (for he had of all sorts) dreamt of his Journey; only the Chair-men had him in the Wind, being (as the Story goes) told of it by his Footboy; who then were paid more than their due. But to conclude his Cheats here, and that he might go out of England so as he came in, that is, at other men's Charges; when he came to Harwich, he went to a Merchant, and told him, He had a Letter from one of his Friends, to desire him, to procure him with all speed a Vessel for France; but that he had unhappily lost it. The Merchant Seeing him a handsome Man, and in very good Equipage, told him, A Letter was needless; and presently found him a Vessel, bound for France, & agreed for six Pieces; and with very much Ceremony, saw him Embarked.  
The Gentleman gets into France; and having no desire it should be at his own Charges, he found a way to differ with the Seamen; who having agreed with the Merchant of Harwich for six Pieces, the Count would pay them but six Pistols: which the Mariners being unwilling to accept of; he sent them with a Billet to him, with whom they agreed; and so got out of their Clutches.  
So much may suffice for the Acts of Count Brion: And now that he hath changed Country, he must also change Name: He gives himself the Title of The Baron of Vachere; which, it is reported, was the same he passed under in his Voyage for England. The New Title was attended with New Adventures: But we must hasten to find him at Paris; where his Planet having always had very ill Influence on him, made him fall into the Hands of a Gentleman, with whom he passed from deep to Harwich; who finding himself somewhat concerned in the Insolences of this pretended Count, caused him to be taken, and clapped up in Prison: He designed to send him into England; but upon a Lady's Intercession, was content to see him Condemned to the Galleys; where, it is said, he doth Wonders.  
A sorry End for the Hero of a Rom ance: It had been better for him to have been a Country Curate: But who can resist his Fate? And who knows but worse might have befallen him? Leading the Life he then led, he had reason to expect to Hang one Day between Heaven and Earth; and hath reason to think himself happy, he is now out of Danger of cutting Capors at Tyburn.  
THE END.