that he saw I was detained there by force. I told him I should
want his evidence in another place, and it should not be the
worse for him to speak. The porter said he would serve me
with all his heart. ‘But, madam,’ says he, ‘let me hear them
refuse to let you go, then I may be able to speak the plainer.’
With that I spoke aloud to the master of the shop, and said,
‘Sir, you know in your own conscience that I am not the
person you look for, and that I was not in your shop before,
therefore I demand that you detain me here no longer, or tell
me the reason of your stopping me.’ The fellow grew surlier
upon this than before, and said he would do neither till he
thought fit. ‘Very well,’ said I to the constable and to the
porter; ‘you will be pleased to remember this, gentlemen,
another time.’ The porter said, ‘Yes, madam’; and the
constable began not to like it, and would have persuaded the
mercer to dismiss him, and let me go, since, as he said, he
owned I was not the person. ‘Good, sir,’ says the mercer to
him tauntingly, ‘are you a justice of peace or a constable? I
charged you with her; pray do you do your duty.’ The constable
told him, a little moved, but very handsomely, ‘I know my
duty, and what I am, sir; I doubt you hardly know what you
are doing.’ They had some other hard words, and in the
meantime the journeyman, impudent and unmanly to the last
degree, used me barbarously, and one of them, the same that
first seized upon me, pretended he would search me, and began
to lay hands on me. I spit in his face, called out to the constable,
and bade him to take notice of my usage. ‘And pray, Mr.
Constable,’ said I, ‘ask that villain’s name,’ pointing to the
man. The constable reproved him decently, told him that he
did not know what he did, for he knew that his master
acknowledged I was not the person that was in his shop; ‘and,’
says the constable, ‘I am afraid your master is bringing himself,
and me too, into trouble, if this gentlewoman comes to prove
who she is, and where she was, and it appears that she is not
the woman you pretend to.’ ‘Damn her,’ says the fellow again,
with a impudent, hardened face, ‘she is the lady, you may depend
upon it; I’ll swear she is the same body that was in the shop,
and that I gave the pieces of satin that is lost into her own hand.
You shall hear more of it when Mr. William and Mr. Anthony
(those were other journeymen) come back; they will know her
again as well as I.’
Just as the insolent rogue was talking thus to the constable,
comes back Mr. William and Mr. Anthony, as he called them,
and a great rabble with them, bringing along with them the
true widow that I was pretended to be; and they came sweating
and blowing into the shop, and with a great deal of triumph,
dragging the poor creature in the most butcherly manner up
towards their master, who was in the back shop, and cried
out aloud, ‘Here’s the widow, sir; we have catcher her at last.’
‘What do ye mean by that?’ says the master. ‘Why, we have
her already; there she sits,’ says he, ‘and Mr.—-,’ says he,
‘can swear this is she.’ The other man, whom they called Mr.
Anthony, replied, ‘Mr. —- may say what he will, and swear
what he will, but this is the woman, and there’s the remnant
of satin she stole; I took it out of her clothes with my own hand.’
I sat still now, and began to take a better heart, but smiled and
said nothing; the master looked pale; the constable turned
about and looked at me. ‘Let ’em alone, Mr. Constable,’ said
I; ‘let ’em go on.’ The case was plain and could not be denied,
so the constable was charged with the right thief, and the