believe you to be an honest man, and that’s the cause of all
my confidence in you.’
‘Well, well,’ says he, ‘and so I am, I hope, too. but I am
something else too, madam; for,’ says he, ‘to be plain with you,
I am a cuckold, and she is a whore.’ He spoke it in a kind of
jest, but it was with such an awkward smile, that I perceived
it was what struck very close to him, and he looked dismally
when he said it.
‘That alters the case indeed, sir,’ said I, ‘as to that part you
were speaking of; but a cuckold, you know, may be an honest
man; it does not alter that case at all. Besides, I think,’ said
I, ‘since your wife is so dishonest to you, you are too honest
to her to own her for your wife; but that,’ said I, ‘is what I
have nothing to do with.’
‘Nay,’ says he, ‘I do not think to clear my hands of her; for,
to be plain with you, madam,’ added he, ‘I am no contended
cuckold neither: on the other hand, I assure you it provokes
me the highest degree, but I can’t help myself; she that will
be a whore, will be a whore.’
I waived the discourse and began to talk of my business; but
I found he could not have done with it, so I let him alone, and
he went on to tell me all the circumstances of his case, too
long to relate here; particularly, that having been out of England
some time before he came to the post he was in, she had had
two children in the meantime by an officer of the army; and
that when he came to England and, upon her submission, took
her again, and maintained her very well, yet she ran away from
him with a linen-draper’s apprentice, robbed him of what she
could come at, and continued to live from him still. ‘So that,
madam,’ says he, ‘she is a whore not by necessity, which is
the common bait of your sex, but by inclination, and for the
sake of the vice.’
Well, I pitied him, and wished him well rid of her, and still
would have talked of my business, but it would not do. At
last he looks steadily at me. ‘Look you, madam,’ says he,
‘you came to ask advice of me, and I will serve you as faithfully
as if you were my own sister; but I must turn the tables, since
you oblige me to do it, and are so friendly to me, and I think
I must ask advice of you. Tell me, what must a poor abused
fellow do with a whore? What can I do to do myself justice
upon her?’
‘Alas! sir,’ says I, ”tis a case too nice for me to advise in, but
it seems she has run away from you, so you are rid of her
fairly; what can you desire more?’ ‘Ay, she is gone indeed,’
said he, ‘but I am not clear of her for all that.’
‘That’s true,’ says I; ‘she may indeed run you into debt, but
the law has furnished you with methods to prevent that also;
you may cry her down, as they call it.’
‘No, no,’ says he, ‘that is not the case neither; I have taken
care of all that; ’tis not that part that I speak of, but I would
be rid of her so that I might marry again.’
‘Well, sir,’ says I, ‘then you must divorce her. If you can
prove what you say, you may certainly get that done, and then,
I suppose, you are free.’
‘That’s very tedious and expensive,’ says he.
‘Why,’ says I, ‘if you can get any woman you like to take your
word, I suppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with
you that she takes herself.’
‘Ay,’ says he, ‘but ‘twould be hard to bring an honest woman
to do that; and for the other sort,’ says he, ‘I have had enough
of her to meddle with any more whores.’
It occurred to me presently, ‘I would have taken your word