The Works of Aphra Behn

From Bristol he arriv’d to London with his Servant Goodlad; to whom he propos’d, either that he should return to Sir Henry, or share in his Fortunes Abroad: The faithful Servant told him, he would rather be unhappy in his Service, than quit it for a large Estate. To which his kind Master return’d, (embracing him) No more my Servant now, but my Friend! No more Goodlad, but Truelove! And I am —Lostall! ’Tis a very proper Name, suitable to my wretched Circumstances. So after some farther Discourse on their Design, they sold their Horses, took Shipping, and went for Germany, where then was the Seat of War.

Miles’s Person and Address soon recommended him to the chief Officers in the Army; and his Friend Truelove was very well accepted with ’em. They both then mounted in the same Regiment and Company, as Volunteers; and in the first Battel behav’d themselves like brave English-men; especially Miles, whom now we must call Mr. Lostall, who signaliz’d himself that Day so much, that his Captain and Lieutenant being kill’d, he succeeded to the former in the Command of the Company, and Truelove was made his Lieutenant. The next Field-Fight Truelove was kill’d, and Lostall much wounded, after he had sufficiently reveng’d his Friend’s Death by the Slaughter of many of the Enemies. Here it was that his Bravery was so particular, that he was courted by the Lieutenant-General to accept of the Command of a Troop of Horse; which gave him fresh and continu’d Occasions of manifesting his Courage and Conduct. All this while he liv’d too generously for his Pay; so that in the three or four Years Time, the War ceasing, he was oblig’d to make use of what Jewels and Money he had left of his own, for his Pay was quite spent. But at last his whole Fund being exhausted to about fifty or threescore Pounds, he began to have Thoughts of returning to his native Country, England; which in a few Weeks he did, and appear’d at the Tower to some of his Majesty’s (King Charles the Second’s) Officers, in a very plain and coarse, but clean and decent Habit: To one of these Officers he address’d himself, and desir’d to mount his Guards under his Command, and in his Company; who very readily receiv’d him into Pay. (The Royal Family had not then been restor’d much above a Twelve-Month.) In this Post, his Behaviour was such, that he was generally belov’d both by the Officers and private Soldiers, most punctually and exactly doing his Duty; and when he was off the Guard, he would employ himself in any laborious Way whatsoever to get a little Money. And it happen’d, that one Afternoon, as he was helping to clean the Tower Ditch, (for he refus’d not to do the meanest Office, in Hopes to expiate his Crime by such voluntary Penances) a Gentleman, very richly dress’d, coming that Way, saw him at Work; and taking particular Notice of him, thought he should know that Face of his, though some of the Lines had been struck out by a Scar or two: And regarding him more earnestly, he was at last fully confirm’d, that he was the Man he thought him; which made him say to the Soldier, Prithee, Friend, What art thou doing there? The unhappy Gentleman return’d, in his Country Dialect, Why, Master, Cham helping to clear the Tower Ditch, zure, an’t please you. ’Tis very hot, (said t’other) Art thou not a dry? Could’st thou not drink? Ay, Master, reply’d the Soldier, with all my Heart. Well, (said the Gentleman) I’ll give thee a Flaggon or two; Where is the best Drink? At yonder House, Master, (answer’d the Soldier) where you see yon Soldier at the Door, there be the best Drink and the best Measure, zure: Chil woit a top o your Worship az Zoon as you be got thare. I’ll take thy Word, said t’other, and went directly to the Place; where he had hardly sate down, and call’d for some Drink, e’er the Soldier came in, to whom the Gentleman gave one Pot, and drank to him out of another. Lostall, that was the Soldier, whipp’d off his Flaggon, and said, bowing, Well, Master, God bless your Worship! Ich can but love and thank you, and was going; but the Gentleman, who had farther Business with him, with some Difficulty prevail’d on him to sit down, for a Minute or two, after the Soldier had urg’d that he must mind his Business, for he had yet half a Day’s Work almost to complete, and he would not wrong any Body of a Quarter of an Hour’s Labour for all the World. Th’art a very honest Fellow, I believe, said his Friend; but prithee what does thy whole Day’s Work come to? Eighteen-pence, reply’d Lostall: Look, there ’tis for thee, said the Gentleman. Ay; but an’t like your Worship, who must make an End of my Day’s Business? (the Soldier ask’d.) Get any Body else to do it for thee, and I’ll pay him. Can’st prevail with one of thy Fellow-Soldiers to be so kind? Yes, Master, thank God, cham not so ill belov’d nother. Here’s honest Frank will do so much vor me, Zure: Wilt not, Frank? (withal my Heart, Tom, reply’d his Comrade.) Here, Friend, (said Lostall’s new Acquaintance) here’s Eighteen-pence for thee too. I thank your Honour, return’d the Soldier, but should have but Nine-pence. No Matter what thou should’st have, I’ll give thee no less, said the strange Gentleman. Heavens bless your Honour! (cry’d the Soldier) and after he had swigg’d off a Pot of good Drink, took Lostall’s Pick-ax and Spade, and went about his Business. Now (said the Stranger) let us go and take a Glass of Wine, if there be any that is good hereabouts, for I fancy thou’rt a mighty honest Fellow; and I like thy Company mainly. Cham very much bound to behold you, Master, (return’d Lostall) and chave a Fancy that you be and a West-Country-Man, zure; (added he) you do a take zo like en; vor Mainly be our Country Word, zure. We’ll talk more of that by and by, said t’other: Mean while I’ll discharge the House, and walk whither thou wilt lead me. That shan’t be var, zure; (return’d Lostall) vor the Gun upon the Hill there, has the best Report for Wine and Zeck Ale hereabouts. There they arriv’d then in a little Time, got a Room to themselves, and had better Wine than the Gentleman expected. After a Glass or two a-piece, his unknown Friend ask’d Lostall what Country-Man he was? To whom the Soldier reply’d, That he was a Zomerzetshire Man, zure. Did’st thou never hear then of one Sir Henry Hardyman? (the Stranger ask’d.) Hier of’n! (cry’d t’other) yes, zure; chave a zeen ’en often. Ah! Zure my Mother and I have had many a zwindging Pitcher of good Drink, and many a good Piece of Meat at his House. Humh! (cry’d the Gentleman) It seems your Mother and you knew him, then? Ay, zure, mainly well; ich mean, by zight, mainly well, by zight. They had a great deal of farther Discourse, which lasted near two Hours; in which Time the Gentleman had the Opportunity to be fully assur’d, that this was Miles Hardyman, for whom he took him at first. At that first Conference, Miles told him his Name was honest Tom Lostall; and that he had been a Souldier about five Years; having first obtain’d the Dignity of a Serjeant, and afterward had the Honour to be a Trooper, which was the greatest Post of Honour that he could boast of. At last, his new Friend ask’d Miles, if he should see him there at Three in the Afternoon the next Day? Miles return’d, That he should be at his Post upon Duty then; and that without Leave from his Lieutenant, who then would command the Guards at the Tower, he could not stir a Foot with him. His Friend return’d, That he would endeavour to get Leave for him for an Hour or two: After which they drank off their Wine; the Gentleman pay’d the Reckoning, and gave Miles a Broad piece to drink more Wine ’till he came, if he pleas’d, and then parted ’till the next Day. When his Friend was gone, Miles had the Opportunity of reflecting on that Day’s Adventure. He thought he had seen the Gentleman’s Face, and heard his Voice, but where, and upon what Occasion, he could not imagine; but he was in Hopes, that on a second Interview, he might recollect himself where it was he had seen him. ’Twas exactly Three a-Clock the next Afternoon, when his Friend came in his own Mourning-Coach, accompany’d by another, who look’d like a Gentleman, though he wore no Sword. His Friend was attended by two of his own Foot-men in black Liveries. Miles was at his Post, when his Friend ask’d where the Officer of the Guard was? The Soldier reply’d, That he was at the Gun. The Gentleman went directly to the Lieutenant, and desir’d the Liberty of an Hour or two for Miles, then Tom Lostall, to take a Glass of Wine with him: The Lieutenant return’d, That he might keep him a Week or two, if he pleas’d, and he would excuse him; for (added he) there is not a more obedient nor better Soldier than Tom was in the whole Regiment; and that he believ’d he was as brave as obedient. The Gentleman reply’d, That he was very happy to hear so good a Character of him; and having obtain’d Leave for his Friend, made his Compliment, and return’d, to take Miles along with him: When he came to the trusty Centinel, he commanded the Boot to be let down, and desir’d Miles to come into the Coach, telling him, That the Officer had given him Leave. Ah! Sir, (return’d Miles) altho’ he has, I cannot, nor will quit my Post, ’till I am reliev’d by a Corporal; on which, without any more Words, the Gentleman once more went to the Lieutenant, and told him what the Soldier’s Answer was. The Officer smil’d, and reply’d, That he had forgot to send a Corporal with him, e’er he was got out o’ Sight, and begg’d the Gentleman’s Pardon that he had given him a second Trouble. Then immediately calling for a Corporal, he dispatch’d him with the Gentleman to relieve Miles, who then, with some little Difficulty, was prevail’d on to step into the Coach, which carry’d ’em into some Tavern or other in Leadenhall-street; where, after a Bottle or two, his Friend told Miles, that the Gentleman who came with him in the Coach, had some Business with him in another Room. Miles was surpriz’d at that, and look’d earnestly on his Friend’s Companion; and seeing he had no Sword, pull’d off his own, and walk’d with him into the next Room; where he ask’d the Stranger, What Business he had with him? To which the other reply’d, That he must take Measure of him. How! (cry’d Miles) take Measure of me? That need not be; for I can tell how tall I am. I am (continu’d he) six Foot and two Inches high. I believe as much (said t’other.) But, Sir, I am a Taylor, and must take Measure of you to make a Suit of Cloaths or two for you; or half a Dozen, if you please. Pray, good Mr. Taylor (said Miles) don’t mock me; for tho’ cham a poor Fellow, yet cham no Vool zure. I don’t, indeed, Sir, reply’d t’other. Why, who shall pay for ’em? Your Friend, the Gentleman in the next Room: I’ll take his Word for a thousand Pounds, and more; and he has already promis’d to be my Pay-Master for as many Suits as you shall bespeak, and of what Price you please. Ah! mary, (cry’d Miles) he is a Right Worshipful Gentleman; and ich caunt but love ’n and thank ’n. The Taylor then took Measure of him, and they return’d to the Gentleman; who, after a Bottle or two a-piece, ask’d Miles when he should mount the Guard next? Miles told him four Days thence, and he should be posted in the same Place, and that his Captain would then command the Guard, who was a very noble Captain, and a good Officer. His Friend, who then had no farther Business with Miles at that Time, once more parted with him, ’till Three a-Clock the next Saturday; when he return’d, and ask’d if the Captain were at the Gun, or no? Miles assur’d him he was. His Friend then went down directly to the Tavern, where he found the Captain, the Lieutenant, and Ensign; upon his Address the Captain most readily gave his Consent that Miles might stay with him a Month, if he would; and added many Things in Praise of his trusty and dutiful Soldier. The Gentleman then farther entreated, that he might have the Liberty to give him and the other Officers a Supper that Night; and that they would permit their poor Soldier, Tom Lostall, the Honour to eat with ’em there. To the first, the Captain and the rest seem’d something averse; but to the last they all readily agreed; and at length the Gentleman’s Importunity prevail’d on ’em to accept his Kindness, he urging that it was in Acknowledgment of all those Favours they had plac’d on his Friend Tom. With his pleasing Success he came to Miles, not forgetting then to take a Corporal with him. At this second Invitation into the Coach, Miles did not use much Ceremony, but stepp’d in, and would have sate over against the Gentleman, by the Gentleman-Taylor; but his Friend oblig’d him to sit on the same Seat with him. They came then again to their old Tavern in Leadenhall-street, and were shew’d into a large Room; where they had not been above six Minutes, e’er the Gentleman’s Servants, and another, who belong’d to Monsieur Taylor, brought two or three large Bags; out of one they took Shirts, half Shirts, Bands, and Stockings; out of another, a Mourning-Suit; out of a third, a Mourning Cloak, Hat, and a large Hatband, with black Cloth-Shoes; and one of the Gentleman’s Servants laid down a Mourning Sword and Belt on the Table: Miles was amaz’d at the Sight of all these Things, and kept his Eyes fix’d on ’em, ’till his Friend cry’d, Come, Tom! Put on your Linnen first! Here! (continu’d he to his Servant) Bid ’em light some Faggots here! For, tho’ ’tis Summer, the Linnen may want Airing, and there may be some ugly cold Vapours about the Room, which a good Fire will draw away. Miles was still in a Maze! But the Fire being well kindled, the Gentleman himself took a Shirt, and air’d it; commanding one of his Servants to help Tom to undress. Miles was strangely out o’ Countenance at this, and told his Friend, that he was of Age and Ability to pull off his own Cloaths; that he never us’d to have any Valets de Chambre; (as they call’d ’em) and for his Part, he was asham’d, and sorry that so worshipful a Gentleman should take the Trouble to warm a Shirt for him. Besides (added he) chave Heat enough (zure) to warm my Shirt. In short, he put on his Shirt, half Shirt, his Cloaths and all Appurtenances, as modishly as the best Valet de Chambre in Paris could. When Miles was dress’d, his Friend told him, That he believ’d he look’d then more like himself than ever he had done since his Return to England. Ah! Noble Sir! said Miles. Vine Feathers make vine Birds. But pray, Sir, Why must I wear Mourning? Because there is a particular Friend of mine dead, for whose Loss I can never sufficiently mourn my self; and therefore I desire that all whom I love should mourn with me for him, return’d the Gentleman; not but that there are three other Suits in Hand for you at this Time. Miles began then to suspect something of his Father’s Death, which had like to have made him betray his Grief at his Eyes; which his Friend perceiving, took him by the Hand, and said, Here, my dear Friend! To the Memory of my departed Friend! You are so very like what he was, considering your Difference in Years, that I can’t choose but love you next to my Wife and my own Sister. Ah! Sir! (said he, and lapping his Handkerchief to his Eyes) How can I deserve this of you? I have told you (reply’d t’other.) But – Come! Take your Glass, and about with it! He did so; and they were indifferently pleasant, the Subject of Discourse being chang’d, ’till about a quarter after Five; when the Gentleman call’d to pay, and took Coach with Miles only, for the Gun-Tavern; where he order’d a very noble Supper to be got ready with all Expedition; mean while they entertain’d one another, in a Room as distant from the Officers as the House would permit: Miles relating to his new Friend all his Misfortunes Abroad, but still disguising the true Occasion of his leaving England. Something more than an Hour after, one of the Drawers came to let ’em know, that Supper was just going to be serv’d up. They went then directly to the Officers, whom they found all together, with two or three Gentlemen more of their Acquaintance: They all saluted the Gentleman who had invited ’em first, and then complimented Miles, whom they mistook for another Friend of the Gentleman’s that gave ’em the Invitation; not in the least imagining that it was Tom Lostall. When they were all sat, the Captain ask’d, Where is our trusty and well-beloved Friend Mr. Thomas Lostall? Most honoured Captain! (reply’d Miles) I am here, most humbly at your Honour’s Service, and all my other noble Officers. Ha! Tom! (cry’d the Lieutenant) I thought indeed when thou first cam’st in, that I should have seen that hardy Face of thine before. Face, Hands, Body, and Heart and all, are at your, all your Honours Service, as long as I live. We doubt it not, dear Tom! (return’d his Officers, unanimously.) Come, noble Gentlemen! (interrupted Miles’s Friend) Supper is here, let us fall to: I doubt not that after Supper I shall surprise you farther. They then fell to eating heartily; and after the Table was clear’d they drank merrily: At last, after the King’s, Queen’s, Duke’s, and all the Royal Family’s, and the Officers Healths, his Friend begg’d that he might begin a Health to Tom Lostall; which was carry’d about very heartily; every one had a good Word for him, one commending his Bravery, another, his ready Obedience; and a third, his Knowledge in material Discipline, &c. ’till at length it grew late, their Stomachs grew heavy, and their Heads light; when the Gentleman, Miles’s Friend, calling for a Bill, he found it amounted to seven Pounds ten Shillings, odd Pence, which he whisper’d Tom Lostall to pay; who was in a Manner Thunder-struck at so strange a Sound; but, recollecting himself, he return’d, That if his Friend pleas’d, he would leave his Cloak, and any Thing else, ’till the House were farther satisfy’d: T’other said, He was sure Miles had Money enough about him to discharge two such Bills: To which Miles reply’d, That if he had any Money about him, ’twas none of his own, and that ’twas certainly conjur’d into his Pockets. No Matter how it came there (said t’other;) but you have above twenty Pounds about you of your own Money: Pray feel. Miles then felt, and pull’d out as much Silver as he could grasp, and laid it down on the Table. Hang this white Pelf; (cry’d his Friend) pay it in Gold, like your self, Come, apply your Hand to another Pocket: He did so, and brought out as many Broad-Pieces as Hand could hold. Now (continu’d his Friend) give the Waiter eight of ’em, and let him take the Overplus for his Attendance. Miles readily obey’d, and they were Very Welcome, Gentlemen.

Now, honoured Captain, (said his Friend) and you, Gentlemen, his other worthy Officers, be pleas’d to receive your Soldier, as Sir Miles Hardyman, Bar., Son to the late Sir Henry Hardyman of Somersetshire, my dear and honoured Brother-in-Law: Who is certainly – the most unhappy Wretch crawling on Earth! (interrupted Miles) O just Heaven! (persu’d he) How have I been rack’d in my Soul ever since the Impious Vow I made, that I never would see my dearest Father more! This is neither a Time nor Place to vent your Sorrows, my dearest Brother! (said his Friend, tenderly embracing him.) I have something now more material than your Expressions of Grief can be here, since your honoured Father has been dead these five Years almost: – Which is to let you know, that you are now Master of four thousand Pounds a Year; and if you will forgive me two Years Revenue, I will refund the rest, and put you into immediate and quiet Possession; which I promise before all this worthy and honourable Company. To which Miles return’d, That he did not deserve to inherit one Foot of his Father’s Lands, tho’ they were entail’d on him, since he had been so strangely undutiful; and that he rather thought his Friend ought to enjoy it all in Right of his Sister, who never offended his Father in the whole Course of her Life: – But, I beseech you, Sir, (continu’d he to his Friend) how long is it since I have been so happy in so good and generous a Brother-in-Law? Some Months before Sir Henry our Father dy’d, who gave us his latest Blessing, except that which his last Breath bequeath’d and sigh’d after you. O undutiful and ungrateful Villain that I am, to so kind, and so indulgent, and so merciful a Father: (cry’d Miles) But Heaven, I fear, has farther Punishments in Store for so profligate a Wretch and so disobedient a Son. – But your Name, Sir, if you please? (persu’d he to his Brother) I am Lewis Constance, whom once you unhappily mistook for your Rival. Unhappily, indeed: (return’d Miles) I thought I had seen you before. Ay, Sir, (return’d Constance) but you could never think to have seen me again, when you wounded and left me for dead, within a Mile of my House. O! thou art brave, (cry’d his Brother, embracing him affectionately) ’tis too much Happiness, for such a Reprobate to find so true a Friend and so just a Brother. This, this does in some Measure compensate for the Loss of so dear a Father. – Take, take all, my Brother! (persu’d he, kissing Lewis’s Cheek) Take all thou hast receiv’d of what is call’d mine, and share my whole Estate with me: But pardon me, I beseech you my most honour’d Officers, and all you Gentlemen here present, (continu’d he to the whole Company, who sate silent and gazing at one another, on the Occasion of so unusual an Adventure) pardon the Effects of Grief and Joy in a distracted Creature! O, Sir Miles, (cry’d his Captain) we grieve for your Misfortune, and rejoice at your Happiness in so noble a Friend and so just a Brother. Miles then went on, and gave the Company a full but short Account of the Occasion of all his Troubles, and of all his Accidents he met with both Abroad and at Home, to the first Day that Constance saw him digging in the Tower-Ditch. About one that Morning, which preceded that Afternoon (persu’d he) whereon I saw my dear Brother here, then a Stranger to me, I dream’d I saw my Father at a Distance, and heard him calling to me to quit my honourable Employment in his Majesty’s Service: This (my Thought) he repeated seven or nine Times, I know not which; but I was so disturb’d at it, that I began to wake, and with my Eyes but half open was preparing to rise; when I fancy’d I felt a cold Hand take me by the Hand, and force me on my hard Bolster again, with these Words, take thy Rest, Miles! This I confess did somewhat surprize me; but I concluded, ’twas the Effect of my Melancholy, which, indeed, has held me ever since I last left England: I therefore resolutely started up, and jump’d out of Bed, designing to leave you, and sit up with my Fellow-Soldiers on the Guard; but just then I heard the Watchman cry, Past one a Clock and a Star-light Morning; when, considering that I was to be at Work in the Ditch by four a Clock, I went to Bed again, and slumber’d, doz’d, and dream’d, ’til Four; ever when I turn’d me, still hearing, as I foolishly imagin’d, my Father crying to me, Miles! Sleep, my Miles! Go not to that nasty Place, nor do such servile Offices! tho’ thou dost, I’ll have thee out this Day, nay, I will pull thee out: And then I foolishly imagin’d, that the same cold Hand pull’d me out of the Ditch; and being in less than a Minute’s Time perfectly awake, I found my self on my Feet in the Middle of the Room; I soon put on my Cloaths then, and went to my Labour. Were you thus disturb’d when you were Abroad? (the Captain ask’d) O worse, Sir, (answer’d Miles) especially on a Tuesday Night, a little after One, being the Twelth of November, New Style, I was wak’d by a Voice, which (methought) cry’d, Miles, Miles, Miles! Get hence, go Home, go to England! I was startled at it, but regarded it only as proceeding from my going to Sleep with a full Stomach, and so endeavour’d to sleep again, which I did, till a second Time it rouz’d me, with Miles twice repeated, – hazard not thy Life here in a foreign Service! Home! to England! to England! to England! This disturb’d me much more than at first; but, after I had lay’n awake near half an Hour, and heard nothing of it all that Time, I assur’d my self ’twas nothing but a Dream, and so once more address’d my self to Sleep, which I enjoy’d without Interruption for above two Hours; when I was the third Time alarm’d, and that with a louder Voice, which cry’d, as twice before, Miles! Miles! Miles! Miles! Go Home! Go to England! Hazard not thy Soul here! At which I started up, and with a faultering Speech, and Eyes half sear’d together, I cry’d, In the Name of Heaven, who calls? Thy Father, Miles: Go Home! Go Home! Go Home! (it said.) O then I knew, I mean, I thought I knew it was my Father’s Voice; and turning to the Bed-Side, from whence the Sound proceeded, I saw, these Eyes then open, these very Eyes, at least, my Soul saw my Father, my own dear Father, lifting up his joined Hands, as if he begg’d me to return to England. I saw him beg it of me. – O Heaven! The Father begs it of the Son! O obstinate, rebellious, cruel, unnatural, barbarous, inhuman Son! Why did not I go Home then! Why did I not from that Moment begin my Journey to England? But I hope, e’er long, I shall begin a better. Here his o’ercharg’d Heart found some little Relief at his Eyes, and they confess’d his Mother: But he soon resum’d the Man, and then Constance said, Did you ne’er dream of your Sister, Sir? Yes, often, Brother, (return’d Miles) but then most particularly, before e’er I heard the first Call of the Voice; when (my Thought) I saw her in Tears by my Bed Side, kneeling with a Gentleman, whom I thought I had once seen; but knew him not then, tho’, now I recal my Dream, the Face was exactly yours. ’Twas I, indeed, Sir, (return’d Lewis) who bore her Company, with Tears, at your Father’s Bed-Side; and at twelve a Clock at Night your Father dy’d. But come, Sir, (persu’d he) ’tis now near twelve a Clock, and there is Company waits for you at Home, at my House here in Town; I humbly beg the Captain’s Leave, that I may rob ’em of so dutiful a Soldier for a Week or two. Sir, (return’d the Captain) Sir Miles knows how to command himself, and may command us when he pleases. Captain, Lieutenant, and Ensign, (reply’d Sir Miles) I am, and ever will continue, during Life, your most dutiful Soldier, and your most obedient and humble Servant. Thus they parted.