So deep was she wounded, she could no more rest,
The tortures of love so inflame her breast.
Then said the young beautiful lady, I find
That now I am greatly perplex'd in my mind;
In love I am deeply entangled, she cry'd,
Oh! that I could be, but that gentleman's bride.
Methinks how delighted I'd be with the choice,
I do like his temper, and likewise his voice:
His courteous behaviour, in every degree,
So fine is, so sweet, and so pleasing to me.
I never shall rest 'till I find out his name,
And learn by some method from what place he came;
But now if my passion to him I unfold,
I fear he would slight me and call me too bold.
But rather than I will quite languish and die,
In a very short time I am resolved to try,
Perhaps I by policy then may contrive,
To gain him I fancy, my heart to revive.
Soon after, this beautiful young lady gay,
In man's fine apparel herself did array;
And for this spruce gentleman enquiry made,
Because now to love him her heart was betray'd.
They told her from St. Edmund's Bury he came,
Which is in the county of Suffolk by name;
Disguised she rode down to Suffolk we find,
In order to ease her poor troubled mind.
In the fair town of Bury then, as it is told,
This damsel then sought for this gentleman bold,
And in a short time did find out where he dwelt,
But who can express now the passion she felt.
This lady then went to a tavern hard by,
But drest like a man that no one might esspy
That she was a woman, thus in her disguise,
You'll say that she acted both cunning and wise.
She sent for this gentleman with a design
To come and take part of a bottle of wine;
And soon to the tavern this gentleman came,
To visit this stranger of honour and fame.
The lady was like a young man to behold,
And said, sir, excuse me for being so bold;
Though I am a stranger no harm do I mean,
In fair London city your face I have seen.
The gentleman straitway replied in mirth,
You are not a person of breeding and birth ;
Is not your intention, I ask, me to cheat?
Now what is your business, pray let me intreat.
Sir, I came from London (I hope no offence)
To you in great business, and 'ere I go hence,
The truth of the matter you too soon shall know:
This set him a sighing, when she talked so.
They called for a supper, and when it was o'er,
The gentleman said, sir, I do you implore
To tell me your business. Then in her disguise,
She acted her part now both cunning and wise.
Sir, I have a sister, a lady by birth,
She is the most beautiful creature on earth;
And she is worth hundreds and thousands a year,
To tell you the truth she does love you most dear.
My sister lies languishing now for your sake,
And therefore compassion I hope you will take,
And slight not a captive, in love so confin'd,
Your answer I hope will be loving and kind.
The gentleman answer'd without more ado,
You question me hardly, but now tell me true,
If that your faces resemble alike,
Then I with your sister a bargain will strike.
Dear sir, she is like me in every part :
Why then I can love her with all my fond heart; If there be no bubble nor trick in the
Your sister's kind proffer I mean to embrace.
She said, I must ride on to Cambridge with speed;
But since you have answer'd so kindly indeed,
I will ride to London, before you get there,
And, sir, you shall find that all matters are fair.
The gentleman then, between hope and despair,
His journey to London forthwith did repair;
He found where this beautiful lady did dwell,
And of her good fame he was pleased right well.
The lady got home, as before she had said,
And he was admitted by her waiting maid
To the young lady's presence; approaching the room,
To her his visit he then did presume.
Dear honour'd lady, excuse me nor blame,
From Bury St. Edmund's in Suffolk I came,
I had the good fortune your brother to see,
Who told me you had a great value for me.
Sir, what do you mean? I declare on my death,
I have not a brother alive on the earth!
This filled the gentleman with much discontent,
And he said, on a fool's errand then I am sent.
So taking his leave, on his going away,
This beautiful lady she caus'd him to stay;
And then unto supper she did him invite,
The charms of her beauty his soul to delight.
Worthy sir, she exclaimed, right welcome you be,
But pray now relate the whole matter to me,
What person it was that made use of my name,
Because to affront you he was much to blame:
Dear sir, I am sorry and grieved in heart,
That you should have had such affront on your part,
Then all the whole matter he soon did declare;
The lady she smil'd, for she could not forbear.
He had but small stomach to eat at the first,
Her kind entertainment made him to mistrust
That it was but some juggle the matter to prove,
He greeted the lady with proffers of love.
She said, I now fancy that you have red hair,
Dear madam, you wrong me, I solemnly swear:
So his wig he pull'd off, and then throwing it down,
Cry'd, madam, behold now my hair it is dark brown.
The lady burst out into laughter, and said,
Your wig will just fit me, as I am a maid;
She her head dress pull'd off, and his wig she put on,
Saying, sir, do I look like a handsome young man ?
The gentleman's heart then began to rejoice,
Saying, that is the face and the sweet pretty voice,
Which I met with at Bury, therefore be not coy,
For now I am crowned with rapture and joy.
Why sir, are you sure on it, perhaps you mistake?
No madam, I do not, my oath I can take.
Then how do you like me, sir, tell unto me?
Sweet honoured lady, right happy I be.
Then a lady excuse sir, I beg and intreat,
For I'm a poor captive who lies at your feet;
I now crave your pardon for being so rude
On such a kind gentleman thus to intrude.
'Tis true sir, I want not for silver or gold:
I hope you'll excuse me for being so bold;
For love is a witchcraft, none can it withstand,
When little brisk Cupid gets the upper hand.
Dear lady, your love makes amends for it all,
And therefore in right happy splendor we shall
Be crowned with comfort, when we are both ty'd,
And I shall be bless'd with a beautiful bride.
At Bow-church in London then married they were;
Attended with gentlemen and ladies fair,
They rode down to Bury, and as many say,
Great feastings there lasted for many a day.
SPOKEN AT THE LOWESTOFT THEATRE,
On Thursday, August 14, 1790.
On Thursday, August 14, 1790, previously to the performance of the "School for Scandal" by Mr. Hamston's Company of Comedians, the following excellent Prologue, written by a Gentleman of Lowestoft, was spoken by Mr. R. Hamstow.
Votaries of Pleasure! who delight to gaze
On Fashion's scenes, in London's midnight blaze,
Such sickening joys Hygeia bids you quit,
And offers genuine health for spurious wit.
The rosy goddess here her blessings pours,
And Peers resort to Lowestoft's* peerless shores.
* Lowestoft, in whose delightful and invigorating sea-breezes the valetudinarian seeks for health, and the healthy for pleasure, stands upon an eminence commanding a fine and extensive pros
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