mercer told me very civilly he was sorry for the mistake, and
hoped I would not take it ill; that they had so many things of
this nature put upon them every day, that they could not be
blamed for being very sharp in doing themselves justice. ‘Not
take it ill, sir!’ said I; ‘how can I take it well! If you had
dismissed me when your insolent fellow seized on me it the
street, and brought me to you, and when you yourself
acknowledged I was not the person, I would have put it by,
and not taken it ill, because of the many ill things I believe
you have put upon you daily; but your treatment of me since
has been insufferable, and especially that of your servant; I
must and will have reparation for that.’
Then be began to parley with me, said he would make me any
reasonable satisfaction, and would fain have had me tell him
what it was I expected. I told him that I should not be my
own judge, the law should decide it for me; and as I was to be
carried before a magistrate, I should let him hear there what
I had to say. He told me there was no occasion to go before
the justice now, I was at liberty to go where I pleased; and so,
calling to the constable, told him he might let me go, for I
was discharge. The constable said calmly to him, ‘sir, you
asked me just now if I knew whether I was a constable or
justice, and bade me do my duty, and charged me with this
gentlewoman as a prisoner. Now, sir, I find you do not
understand what is my duty, for you would make me a justice
indeed; but I must tell you it is not in my power. I may keep
a prisoner when I am charged with him, but ’tis the law and
the magistrate alone that can discharge that prisoner; therefore
’tis a mistake, sir; I must carry her before a justice now,
whether you think well of it or not.’ The mercer was very
high with the constable at first; but the constable happening
to be not a hired officer, but a good, substantial kind of man
(I think he was a corn-handler), and a man of good sense,
stood to his business, would not discharge me without going
to a justice of the peace; and I insisted upon it too. When the
mercer saw that, ‘Well,’ says he to the constable, ‘you may
carry her where you please; I have nothing to say to her.’
‘But, sir,’ says the constable, ‘you will go with us, I hope, for
’tis you that charged me with her.’ ‘No, not I,’ says the
mercer; ‘I tell you I have nothing to say to her.’ ‘But pray, sir,
do,’ says the constable; ‘I desire it of you for your own sake,
for the justice can do nothing without you.’ ‘Prithee, fellow,’
says the mercer, ‘go about your business; I tell you I have
nothing to say to the gentlewoman. I charge you in the king’s
name to dismiss her.’ ‘Sir,’ says the constable, ‘I find you
don’t know what it is to be constable; I beg of you don’t oblige
me to be rude to you.’ ‘I think I need not; you are rude enough
already,’ says the mercer. ‘No, sir,’ says the constable, ‘I am
not rude; you have broken the peace in bringing an honest
woman out of the street, when she was about her lawful
occasion, confining her in your shop, and ill-using her here
by your servants; and now can you say I am rude to you? I
think I am civil to you in not commanding or charging you in
the king’s name to go with me, and charging every man I see
that passes your door to aid and assist me in carrying you by
force; this you cannot but know I have power to do, and yet I
forbear it, and once more entreat you to go with me.’ Well, he
would not for all this, and gave the constable ill language.