Aphra Behn - The Works of Aphra Behn

About the Beginning of last June (as near as I can remember) Bellamora came to Town from Hampshire , and was obliged to lodge the first Night at the same Inn where the Stage-Coach set up. The next Day she took Coach for Covent-Garden , where she thought to find Madam Brightly , a Relation of hers, with whom she design’d to continue for about half a Year undiscover’d, if possible, by her Friends in the Country: and order’d therefore her Trunk, with her Clothes, and most of her Money and Jewels, to be brought after her to Madame Brightly’s by a strange Porter, whom she spoke to in the Street as she was taking Coach; being utterly unacquainted with the neat Practices of this fine City. When she came to Bridges-Street p. 3 Bridges-Street. Brydges Street lies between Russell Street and Catherine Street. Drury Lane Theatre is at its N.E. corner. It early acquired no very enviable repute, e.g. In the Epilogue to Crowne’s Sir Courtly Nice (1685) we have: ‘Our Bridges Street is grown a strumpet fair’; and Dryden, in the Epilogue to King Arthur (1691), gave Mrs. Bracegirdle, who entered, her hands full of billets-doux, the following lines to speak: — Here one desires my ladyship to meet [ Pulls out one. At the kind couch above in Bridges-Street. Oh sharping knave! that would have – you know what, For a poor sneaking treat of chocolate. p. 8 Star-Inn on Fish-street-Hill. Fish Street Hill, or, New Fish Street, runs from Eastcheap to Lower Thames Street, and was the main thoroughfare to old London Bridge, cf. 2 Henry VI , iv, VIII: ‘ Cade. Up Fish Street! down St. Magnus’ corner! kill and knock down! throw them into the Thames.’ p. 9 the Exchange. The New Exchange, a kind of bazaar on the South side of the Strand. It was an immensely popular resort, and continued so until the latter years of the reign of Queen Anne. There are innumerable references to its shops, its sempstresses and haberdashers. Thomas Duffet was a milliner here before he took to writing farces, prologues and poems. , where indeed her Cousin had lodged near three or four Years since, she was strangely surprized that she could not learn anything of her; no, nor so much as meet with anyone that had ever heard of her Cousin’s Name: Till, at last, describing Madam Brightly to one of the House-keepers in that Place, he told her, that there was such a kind of Lady, whom he had sometimes seen there about a Year and a half ago; but that he believed she was married and remov’d towards Soho . In this Perplexity she quite forgot her Trunk and Money, &c , and wander’d in her Hackney-Coach all over St. Anne’s Parish; inquiring for Madam Brightly , still describing her Person, but in vain; for no Soul could give her any Tale or Tidings of such a Lady. After she had thus fruitlessly rambled, till she, the Coachman, and the very Horses were even tired, by good Fortune for her, she happen’d on a private House, where lived a good, discreet, ancient Gentlewoman, who was fallen to Decay, and forc’d to let Lodgings for the best Part of her Livelihood: From whom she understood, that there was such a kind of Lady, who had lain there somewhat more than a Twelvemonth, being near three Months after she was married; but that she was now gone abroad with the Gentleman her Husband, either to the Play, or to take the fresh Air; and she believ’d would not return till Night. This Discourse of the Good Gentlewoman’s so elevated Bellamora’s drooping Spirits, that after she had beg’d the liberty of staying there till they came home, she discharg’d the Coachman in all haste, still forgetting her Trunk, and the more valuable Furniture of it.

When they were alone, Bellamora desired she might be permitted the Freedom to send for a Pint of Sack; which, with some little Difficulty, was at last allow’d her. They began then to chat for a matter of half an Hour of things indifferent: and at length the ancient Gentlewoman ask’d the fair Innocent (I must not say foolish) one, of what Country, and what her Name was: to both which she answer’d directly and truly, tho’ it might have prov’d not discreetly. She then enquir’d of Bellamora if her Parents were living, and the Occasion of her coming to Town. The fair unthinking Creature reply’d, that her Father and Mother were both dead; and that she had escap’d from her Uncle, under the pretence of making a Visit to a young Lady, her Cousin, who was lately married, and liv’d above twenty Miles from her Uncle’s, in the Road to London , and that the Cause of her quitting the Country, was to avoid the hated Importunities of a Gentleman, whose pretended Love to her she fear’d had been her eternal Ruin. At which she wept and sigh’d most extravagantly. The discreet Gentlewoman endeavour’d to comfort her by all the softest and most powerful Arguments in her Capacity; promising her all the friendly Assistance that she could expect from her, during Bellamora’s stay in Town: which she did with so much Earnestness, and visible Integrity, that the pretty innocent Creature was going to make her a full and real Discovery of her imaginary insupportable Misfortunes; and (doubtless) had done it, had she not been prevented by the Return of the Lady, whom she hop’d to have found her Cousin Brightly . The Gentleman, her Husband just saw her within Doors, and order’d the Coach to drive to some of his Bottle-Companions; which gave the Women the better Opportunity of entertaining one another, which happen’d to be with some Surprize on all Sides. As the Lady was going up into her Apartment, the Gentlewoman of the House told her there was a young Lady in the Parlour, who came out of the Country that very Day on purpose to visit her: The Lady stept immediately to see who it was, and Bellamora approaching to receive her hop’d-for Cousin, stop’d on the sudden just as she came to her; and sigh’d out aloud, Ah, Madam! I am lost – It is not your Ladyship I seek. No, Madam (return’d the other) I am apt to think you did not intend me this Honour. But you are as welcome to me, as you could be to the dearest of your Acquaintance: Have you forgot me, Madame Bellamora ? (continued she.) That Name startled the other: However, it was with a kind of Joy. Alas! Madam, (replied the young one) I now remember that I have been so happy to have seen you; but where and when, my Memory can’t tell me. ’Tis indeed some Years since, (return’d the Lady) But of that another time. – Mean while, if you are unprovided of a Lodging, I dare undertake, you shall be welcome to this Gentlewoman. The Unfortunate returned her Thanks; and whilst a Chamber was preparing for her, the Lady entertain’d her in her own. About Ten o’Clock they parted, Bellamora being conducted to her Lodging by the Mistress of the House, who then left her to take what Rest she could amidst her so many Misfortunes; returning to the other Lady, who desir’d her to search into the Cause of Bellamora’s Retreat to Town.

The next Morning the good Gentlewoman of the House coming up to her, found Bellamora almost drown’d in Tears, which by many kind and sweet Words she at last stopp’d; and asking whence so great Signs of Sorrow should proceed, vow’d a most profound Secrecy if she would discover to her their Occasion; which, after some little Reluctancy, she did, in this manner.

I was courted (said she) above three Years ago, when my Mother was yet living, by one Mr. Fondlove , a Gentleman of good Estate, and true Worth; and one who, I dare believe, did then really love me: He continu’d his Passion for me, with all the earnest and honest Sollicitations imaginable, till some Months before my Mother’s Death; who, at that time, was most desirous to see me disposed of in Marriage to another Gentleman, of much better Estate than Mr.