and his honour, he dispatched him to Miss Tishy with the following letter; which we here in sert, not only as we take it to be extremely curious, but to be a much better pattern for that epistolary kind of writing, which is generally called Love-letters, than any to be found in the Academy of Compliments, and which we challenge all the beaus of our time to excel either in matter or spelling.

"Most deivine and adwhorable creeture, "I doubt not but those IIs, briter than the son, which have kindled such a flam in my hart, have likewise the faculty of seeing it. It would be the hiest preassumption to imagin you eggnorant of my loav. No, madam, I sollemly purtest, that of all the butys in the unaversal glob, there is none kapable of hateracting my IIs like you. Corts and pallaces would be to me deserts without your kumpany, and with it a wilderness would have more chams than haven itself. For I hop you will beleve me when I sware every place in the univarse is a haven with you. I am konvinced you must be sinsibel of my violent passion for you, which, if I endevored to hid it, would be as impossible as for you, or the son to hide your buty's. I assure you I have not slept a wink since I had the hapness of seeing you last; therefore hop you will, out of Kumpassion, let me have the honour of seeing you this afternune; for I am with the greatest adwhoration,

"Most deivine creeture, "Iour most passionate amirer, "Adwhorer and slave, "JOHANATAN WYLD."

If the spelling of this letter be not so strictly orthographical, the reader will be pleased to remember, that such a defect might be worthy of censure in a low and scholastic character; but can be no blemish in that sublime greatness, of which we endeavour to raise a complete idea in this history. In which kind of composition, spelling, or, indeed, any kind of human literature, hath never been thought a necessary ingredient; for if these sort of great personages can but complot and contrive their noble schemes, and hack and hew mankind sufficiently, there will never be wanting fit and able persons who can spell, to record their praises. Again, if it should be observed, that the style of this letter doth not exactly correspond with that of our hero's speeches, which we have here recorded, we answer, it is sufficient if in these the historian adheres faithfully to the matter, though he embellishes the diction with some flourishes of his own eloquence, without which, the excellent speeches recorded in ancient historians (particularly in Sallust,) would have scarce been found in their writings. Nay, even amongst the moderns, famous as they are for elocution, it may

be doubted whether those inimitable harangues, published in the monthly magazines, came literally from the mouths of the HURGOS, &c., as they are there inserted, or whether we may not rather suppose some historian of great eloquence hath borrowed the matter only, and adorned it with these rhetorical flowers for which many of the said HURGOS are not so extremely eminent.

CHAP. VII.

Matters preliminary to the marriage between Mr Jonathan Wild, and the chaste Lætitia.

BUT to proceed with our history. Fireblood, having received this letter, and promised on his honour, with many voluntary asseverations, to discharge his embassy faithfully, went to visit the fair Lætitia. The lady having opened the letter, and read it, put on an air of disdain, and told Mr Fireblood she could not conceive what Mr Wild meant by troubling her with his inpertinence; she begged him to carry the letter back again, saying, had she known from whom it came, she would have been d―d before she had opened it. "But with you, young gentle man," says she, "I am not in the least angry. I am rather sorry, that so pretty a young man should be employed in such an errand." accompanied these words with so tender an accent, and so wanton a leer, that Fireblood, who was no backward youth, began to take her by the hand, and proceeded so warmly, that, to imitate his actions with the rapidity of our narration, he in a few minutes ravished this fair creature, or at least would have ravished her, if she had not, by a timely compliance, prevented him.

She

Fireblood, after he had ravished as much as he could, returned to Wild, and acquainted him, as far as any wise man would, with what had passed; concluding with many praises of the young lady's beauty; with whom, he said, if his honour would have permitted him, he should himself have fallen in love: but, d-n him, if he would not sooner be torn in pieces by wild horses, than even think of injuring his friend. He asserted, indeed, and swore so heartily, that had not Wild been so thoroughly convinced of the impregnable chastity of the lady, he might have suspected his success: however, he was, by these means, entirely satisfied of his friend's inclination towards his mistress.

Thus constituted were the love-affairs of our hero, when his father brought him Mr Snap's proposal. The reader must know very little of love, or indeed of any thing else, if he requires any information concerning the reception which his proposal met with. Not guilty never sounded sweeter in the ears of a prisoner at the bar,

nor the sound of a reprieve to one at the gallows, than did every word of the old gentleman in the ears of our hero. He gave his father full power to treat in his name, and desired nothing more than expedition.

The old people now met; and Snap, who had information from his daughter of the violent passion of her lover, endeavoured to improve it to the best advantage, and would have not only declined giving her any fortune himself, but have attempted to cheat her of what she owed to the liberality of her relations, particularly of a pint silver caudle cup, the gift of her grandmother. However, in this, the young lady herself afterwards took care to prevent him. As to the old Mr Wild, he did not sufficiently attend to all the designs of Snap, as his faculties were busily employed in designs of his own, to overreach (or, as others express it, to cheat,) the said Mr Snap, by pretending to give his son a whole number for a chair, when in reality he was intitled to a third only.

While matters were thus settling between the old folks, the young lady agreed to admit Mr Wild's visits; and, by degrees, began to entertain him with all the shew of affection, which the great natural reserve of her temper, and the greater artificial reserve of her education, would permit. At length, every thing being agreed between their parents, settlements made, and the lady's fortune (to wit, seventeen pounds and nine shillings in money and goods,) paid down, the day for their nuptials was fixed, and they were celebrated accordingly.

Most private histories, as well as comedies, end at this period; the historian and the poet both concluding they have done enough for their hero when they have married him: or intimating rather, that the rest of his life must be a dull calm of happiness, very delightful indeed to pass through, but somewhat insipid to relate; and matrimony in general must, I believe, without any dispute, be allowed to be this state of tranquil felicity, including so little variety, that, like Salisbury Plain, it affords only one prospect, a very pleasant one it must be confessed, but the

same.

Now, there was all the probability imaginable, that this contract would have proved of such happy note, both from the great accomplishments of the young lady, who was thought to be possessed of every qualification_necessary to make the marriage state happy, and from the truly ardent passion of Mr Wild: but whether it was, that nature and fortune had great designs for him to execute, and would not suffer his vast abilities to be lost and sunk in the arms of a wife, or whether neither nature nor fortune had any hand in the matter, is a point I will not determine. Certain it is, that this match did not produce that serene state we have mentioned above; but resembled the most turbulent and ruffled, rather than the most calm sea.

I cannot here omit a conjecture ingenious enough of a friend of mine, who had a long intimacy in the Wild family. He hath often told me, he fancied one reason of the dissatisfactions which afterwards fell out between Wild and his lady, arose from the number of gallants to whom she had before marriage granted favours; for, says he, and indeed very probable it is too, the lady might expect from her husband what she had before received from several, and being angry not to find one man as good as ten, she had, from that indignation, taken those steps which we cannot perfectly justify.

From this person I received the following dialogue, which, he assured me, he had overheard, and taken down verbatim. It passed on the day fortnight after they were married.

CHAP. VIII.

A dialogue-matrimonial, which passed between Jonathan Wild, Esq. and Lætitia his wife, on the morning of the day fortnight on which his nuptials were celebrated; which concluded more amicably than those debates generally do.

Jonathan. My dear, I wish you would lie a little longer in bed this morning.

Lætitia. Indeed, I cannot; I am engaged to breakfast with Jack Strongbow.

Jonathan. I don't know what Jack Strongbow doth so often at my house. I assure you I am uneasy at it; for though I have no suspicion of your virtue, yet it may injure your reputation in the opinion of my neighbours.

Lætitia. I don't trouble my head about my neighbours; and they shall no more tell me what company I am to keep, than my husband shall.

Jonathan. A good wife would keep no company which made her husband uneasy.

Lætitia. You might have found one of those good wives, sir, if you had pleased; I had no objection to it.

Jonathan. I thought I had found one in you. Lætitia. You did! I am very much obliged to you for thinking me so poor-spirited a creature; but I hope to convince you to the contrary. What! I suppose you took me for a raw, senseless girl, who knew not what other married women do!

Jonathan. No matter what I took you for: I have taken you for better and worse.

Lætitia. And at your own desire too: for, I am sure, you never had mine. I should not have broken my heart, if Mr Wild had thought proper to bestow himself on any other more happy woman-Ha, ha!

Jonathan. I hope, madam, you don't imagine that was not in my power, or that I married you out of any kind of necessity?

Lætitia. O no, sir, I am convinced there are

silly women enough. And far be it from me to accuse you of any necessity for a wife. I believe you could have been very well contented with the state of a bachelor: I have no reason to complain of your necessities; but that, you know, a woman cannot tell beforehand.

Jonathan. I can't guess what you would insinuate; for I believe no woman had ever less reason to complain of her husband's want of fond

ness.

Lætitia. Then some, I am certain, have great reason to complain of the price they give for them. But I know better things. [These words were spoken with a very great air, and toss of the head.

Jonathan. Well, my sweeting, I will make it impossible for you to wish me more fond.

Lætitia. Pray, Mr Wild, none of this nauseous behaviour, nor those odious words. I wish you were fond!—I assure you—I don't know what you would pretend to insinuate of me. I have no wishes which misbecome a virtuous woman -no, nor should not, if I had married for love. And especially now, when nobody, I am sure, can suspect me of any such thing.

Jonathan. If you did not marry for love, why did you marry?

Lætitia. Because it was convenient, and my parents forced me.

Jonathan. I hope, madam, at least, you will not tell me to my face you have inade your convenience of me.

Lætitia. I have made nothing of you; nor do I desire the honour of making any thing of

Jonathan. You should think yourself obliged to me for that desire.

Latitia. La! sir, you was not so singular in it. I was not in despair. I have had other offers, and better too.

Jonathan. I wish you had accepted them, with all my heart.

Lætitia. I must tell you, Mr Wild, this is a very brutish manner of treating a woman, to whom you have such obligations; but I know how to despise it, and to despise you too for shewing it me. Indeed, I am well enough paid for the foolish preference I gave to you. I flattered myself that I should at least have been used with good manners. I thought I had married a gentleman: but I find you every way contemptible, and below my concern.

Jonathan. D-n you, madam, have not I more reason to complain, when you tell me you married me for your convenience only?

Lætitia. Very fine, truly. Is it behaviour worthy a man to swear at a woman? yet why

should I mention what comes from a wretch whom I despise.

Jonathan. Don't repeat that word so often. I despise you as heartily as you can me. And, to tell you a truth, I married you for my convenience likewise, to satisfy a passion which I have now satisfied, and you may be d-d for any thing I care.

Lætitia. The world shall know how barbarously I am treated by such a villain.

Jonathan. I need take very little pains to acquaint the world what a b-ch you are, your actions will demonstrate it.

Lætitia. Monster! I would advise you not to depend too much on my sex, and provoke me too far; for I can do you a mischief, and will, if you dare use me so, you villain!

Jonathan. Begin whenever you please, madam; but assure yourself, the moment you lay aside the woman, I will treat you as such no longer; and if the first blow is yours, I promise you the last shall be mine.

Lætitia. Use me as you will; but d—n me if ever you shall use me as a woman again; for may I be cursed if ever I enter your bed more.

Jonathan. May I be cursed if that abstinence be not the greatest obligation you can lay upon me: for I assure you faithfully, your person was all I had ever any regard for; and that I now loath and detest as much as ever I liked it.

Laetitia. It is impossible for two people to agree better; for I always detested your person, and, as for any other regard, you must be convinced I never could have any for you.

Jonathan. Why, then, since we are come to a right understanding, as we are to live together, suppose we agreed, instead of quarrelling and abusing, to be civil to each other?

Lætitia. With all my heart.

Jonathan. Let us shake hands then, and henceforwards never live like man and wife; that is, never be loving, nor ever quarrel.

Lætitia. Agreed.-But pray, Mr Wild, why b-ch? Why did you suffer such a word to escape you?

Jonathan. It is not worth your remembrance. Lætitia. You agree I shall converse with whomsoever I please?

Jonathan. Without controul. And I have the same liberty?

Lætitia. When I interfere, may every curse you can wish attend me.

Jonathan. Let us now take a farewell kiss, and may I be hanged if it is not the sweetest you

But Wild resolved to perform works of supererogation in the way of honour; and though no hero is obliged to answer the challenge of my Lord Chief Justice, or indeed of any other magistrate, but may with unblemished reputation slide away from it; yet such was the bravery, such the greatness, the magnanimity of Wild, that he appeared in person to it.

Indeed, Envy may say one thing which may lessen the glory of this action, namely, that the said Mr Wild knew nothing of the said warrant or challenge; and, as thou mayst be assured, reader, that the malicious fury will omit nothing which can anywise sully so great a character, so she hath endeavoured to account for this second visit of our hero to his friend Heartfree, from a very different motive than that of asserting his own innocence.

CHAP. X.

Mr Wild, with unprecedented generosity, visits his friend Heartfree, and the ungrateful recep

tion he met with.

IT hath been said, then, that Mr Wild, not being able, on the strictest examination, to find in a certain spot of human nature called his own heart, the least grain of that pitiful low quality called honesty, had resolved, perhaps a little too generally, that there was no such thing. He therefore imputed the resolution with which Mr Heartfree had so positively refused to concern himself in murder, either to a fear of bloodying his hands, or the apprehension of a ghost, or lest he should make an additional example in that excellent book called God's Revenge against Murder; and doubted not but he would (at least in his present necessity) agree without scruple to a simple robbery, especially where any considerable booty should be proposed, and the safety of the attack plausibly made appear; which, if he could prevail on him to undertake, he would immediately get him impeached, convicted, and hanged. He no sooner, therefore, had discharged his duties to Hymen, and heard that Heartfree had procured himself the liberties of the Fleet, than he resolved to visit him, and to propose a robbery, with all the allurements of profit, ease, and safety.

This proposal was no sooner made, than it was answered by Heartfree in the following manner: I might have hoped the answer which I gave to your former advice would have prevented me from the danger of receiving a second affront of this kind. An affront I call it ; and surely if it be so to call a man a villain, it can be no less to shew him you suppose him one. Indeed it may be wondered how any man can arrive at the boldness, I may say impudence, of first making such an overture to another; surely it is seldom done, unless to those who have previously betrayed

some symptoms of their own baseness. If I have therefore shewn you any such, these insults are more pardonable; but I assure you, if such appear, they discharge all their malignance outwardly, and reflect not even a shadow within; for to me baseness seems inconsistent with this rule, OF DOING NO OTHER PERSON AN INJURY

FROM ANY MOTIVE, OR ON ANY CONSIDERA

TION WHATEVER. This, sir, is the rule by which I am determined to walk; nor can that man justify disbelieving me, who will not own he walks not by it himself. But whether it be allowed to me or no, or whether I feel the good effects of its being practised by others, I am resolved to maintain it: for surely no man can reap a benefit from my pursuing it, equal to the comfort I myself enjoy. For, what a ravishing thought! how replete with ecstasy must the consideration be, that Almighty Goodness is, by its own nature, engaged to reward me! How indifferent must such a persuasion make a man to all the occurrences of this life! What trifles must he represent to himself, both the enjoyments and afflictions of this world! How easily must he acquiesce under missing the former, and how patiently will he submit to the latter, who is convinced that his failing of a transitory imperfect reward here, is a most certain argument of his obtaining one permanent and complete hereafter! Dost thou think, then, thou little, paltry, mean animal, (with such language did he treat our truly Great Man,) that I will forego such comfortable expectations for any pitiful reward which thou canst suggest or promise to me? for that sordid lucre for which all pains and labour are undertaken by the industrious, and all barbarities and iniquities committed by the vile? for a worthless acquisition, which such as thou art can possess, can give, or can take away ?" The former part of this speech occasioned much yawning in our hero, but the latter roused his anger; and he was collecting his rage to answer, when Friendly and the constable, who had been sum moned by Heartfree on Wild's first appearance, entered the room, and seized the great man just as his wrath was bursting from his lips.

The dialogue which now ensued is not worth relating; Wild was soon acquainted with the reason of this rough treatment, and presently conveyed before a magistrate.

Notwithstanding the doubts raised by Mr Wild's lawyer on his examination, he insisting that the proceeding was improper; for that a Writ de Homine replegiando should issue, and on the return of that, a Capias in Withernam, the justice inclined to commitment; so that Wild was driven to other methods for his defence. He therefore acquainted the justice, that there was a young man likewise with him in the boat, and begged that he might be sent for, which request was accordingly granted, and the faithful Achates (Mr Fireblood) was soon produced to bear testimony for his friend, which he