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Became a by-word, and you scorn'd the means

By which you were raised, my brother's fond indulgence,
Giving the reins to it; and no object pleased you
But the glittering pomp and bravery of the court;
What a strange, nay, monstrous, metamorphosis follow'd!
No English workman then could please your fancy,
The French and Tuscan dress your whole discourse;
This bawd to prodigality, entertain'd

To buzz into your ears what shape this countess
Appear'd in the last masque, and how it drew
The young lord's eyes upon her; and this usher
Succeeded in the eldest prentice' place,
To walk before you→→→→

L. Frugal. Pray you, end.

Holdfast (Sir John Frugal's steward). Proceed, sir;
I could fast almost a prenticeship to hear you,
You touch them so to the quick.

Luke. Then, as I said,

The reverend hood cast off, your borrow'd hair,
Powder'd and curl'd, was by your dresser's art
Form'd like a coronet, hang'd with diamonds,
And the richest orient pearl; your carcanets
That did adorn your neck, of equal value:
Your Hungerland bands, and Spanish quellio ruffs;
Great lords and ladies feasted to survey
Embroider'd petticoats; and sickness feign'd,
That your night-rails of forty pounds a-piece
Might be seen, with envy, of the visitants;
Rich pantofles in ostentation shewn,

And roses worth a family: you were served in plate,
Stirr'd not a foot without your coach, and going

To church, not for devotion, but to shew

Your pomp, you were tickled when the beggars cried,
Heaven save your honour! this idolatry

Paid to a painted room.

And when you lay

In childbed, at the christening of this minx,

I well remember it, as you had been

An absolute princess, since they have no more,
Three several chambers hung, the first with arras,
And that for waiters; the second crimson satin,
For the meaner sort of guests; the third of scarlet
Of the rich Tyrian die; a canopy

To cover the brat's cradle; you in state,

Like Pompey's Julia.

L. Frugal. No more, I pray you.

Luke. Of this, be sure, you shall not. I'll cut off Whatever is exorbitant in you,

Or in your daughters, and reduce you to

Your natural forms and habits; not in revenge

Of your base usage of me, but to fright

Others by your example: 'tis decreed
You shall serve one another, for I will
Allow no waiter to you. Out of doors
With these useless drones!


The catastrophe is the reformation of 'The City Madam,' and the disgrace of the tyrannical Luke, when his brother reappears, and demands his own. The towering audacity of th hypocritical spendthrift raised to sudden riches is at its height before his final fall :

Lord Lacy. You are well met,

And to my wish- and wondrous brave! your habit
Speaks you a merchant royal.

Luke. What I wear

I take not upon trust.

L. Lacy. Your betters may,

And blush not for't.

Luke. If you have nought else with me

But to argue that, I will make bold to leave you.

L. Lacy. You are very peremptory; pray you stay:-
I once held you

An upright, honest man.

Luke. I am honester now

By a hundred thousand pound, I thank my stars for't,
Upon the Exchange; and if your late opinion

Be alter'd, who can help it? Good, my lord,

To the point; I have other business than to talk
Of honesty, and opinions.

L. Lacy. Yet you may

Do well, if you please, to shew the one, and merit
The other from good men, in a case that now

Is offer'd to you.

Luke. What is it? I am troubled.

L. Lacy. Here are two gentlemen, the fathers of
Your brother's prentices.

Luke. Mine, my lord, I take it,

L. Lacy. Goldwire, and Tradewell.

Luke. They are welcome, if

They come prepared to satisfy the damage

I have sustain'd by their sons.

Goldwire. We are, so you please

To use a conscience.

Tradewell. Which we hope you will do,

For your own worship's sake.

Luke. Conscience, my friends,

And wealth, are not always neighbours. Should I part

With what the law gives me, I should suffer mainly

In my reputation; for it would convince me

Of indiscretion: nor will you, I hope, move me
To do myself such prejudice.

L. Lacy. No moderation?

Luke. They cannot look for't, and preserve in me
A thriving citizen's credit. Your bonds lie

For your son's truth, and they shall answer all
They have run out: the masters never prosper'd
Since gentlemen's sons grew prentices: when we look
To have our business done at home, they are
Abroad in the tennis-court, or in Partridge alley,
In Lambeth Marsh, or a cheating ordinary,

Where I found your sons. I have your bonds, look to 't.
A thousand pounds a-piece, and that will hardly
Repair my losses.

L. Lacy. Thou dar'st not shew thyself

Such a devil!

Luke. Good words.

L. Lacy. Such a cut-throat! I have heard of
The usage of your brother's wife and daughters;

You shall find you are not lawless, and that your moneys
Cannot justify your villainies.

Luke. I endure this.

And, good my lord, now you talk in time of moneys,
Pay in what you owe me. And give me leave to wonder

Your wisdom should have leisure to consider

The business of these gentlemen, or my carriage

To my sister, or my nieces, being yourself

So much in my danger.

L. Lacy. In thy danger?

Luke. Mine.

I find in my counting-house a manor pawn'd,

Pawn'd, my good lord; Lacy manor, and that manor

From which you have the title of a lord,

An it please your good lordship! You are a nobleman;
Pray you pay in my moneys: the interest

Will eat faster in't than aquafortis in iron,

Now though you bear me hard, I love your lordship.

I grant your person to be privileged

From all arrests; yet there lives a foolish creature

Call'd an under-sheriff, who, being well paid, will serve
An extent on lord's or lown's land. Pay it in:

I would be loth your name should sink, or that
Your hopeful son, when he returns from travel,

Should find you, my lord, without land. You are angry
For my good counsel: look you to your bonds; had I known
Of your coming, believe 't, I would have had serjeants ready.
Lord, how you fret! but that a tavern's near,

You should taste a cup of muscadine in my house,
To wash down sorrow; but there it will do better:
I know you'll drink a health to me.


[WAR is a pompous thing, and to read of a glorious victory is an exciting occupation. But war cannot be understood unless we become familiar with some of the details of wickedness and suffering which follow in its train. There is no lack of such melancholy narratives. We give one published in Harte's 'Life of Gustavus Adolphus;' being the relation of a clergyman who witnessed the storm of Magdeburg in the Thirty Years' War, when Tilly, the general of the Imperial troops, ravaged that devoted city, and gave it up to all the excesses of his mercenary soldiers. The poor minister of the Gospel of Peace escaped;-but we may imagine what became of the wretched people, who had no worldly goods wherewith to propitiate their brutal assailants.]

Going out of church immediately after sermon, some people of St. James's parish passed by, and told me the enemy had entered the town. With difficulty could I persuade myself that this was any thing more than a false alarm; but the news unfortunately proved too true. I then lost my presence of mind, and as my wife and maid-servant were with me, we ran directly to my colleague, M. Malsio's house, and left our own house open. At M. Malsio's we found many people, who had fled to him in great perplexity. We comforted and exhorted each other, as far as the terror of our minds would give us leave. I was summoned thence to discharge the last duties to a colonel who lay dangerously wounded. I resolved to go, and sent my maid to fetch my gown: but before my departure from my wife and neighbours, I told them that the affair appeared to me to be concluded, and that we should meet no more in this world. My wife reproached me in a flood of tears, crying, "Can you prevail on yourself to leave me to perish all alone? You must answer for it before God?" I represented to her the obligations of my function, and the importance of the moments I was called upon to give my assistance in.

As I crossed the great street a multitude of matrons and young women flocked about me, and besought me, in all the agonies of distress, to advise them what to do. I told them, my best advice was to recommend themselves to God's protecting grace, and prepare for death. At length I entered the colonel's lodging, and found him stretched on the floor, and very weak. I gave him such consolation as the disorder of my mind would permit me: he heard me with great attention, and ordered a small present of gold to be given me, which I left on the table. In this interval, the enemy poured in by crowds at the Hamburg gate, and fired on the multitude as upon beasts of prey. Suddenly my wife and maid-servant entered the room, and persuaded me to remove immediately, alleging we should meet with no quarter, if the enemy found us in an apartment filled with arms. We ran down into the court-yard of the house, and placed ourselves in the gateway. Our enemies soon burst the gate open with an eagerness that cannot be described. The first address they made to me was, "Priest, deliver thy money." I gave them about four and twenty shillings in a little box, which they accepted with good will: but when they opened the box, and found only silver, they raised their tone, and demanded gold. I represented to them that I was at some distance from my house, and could not at present possibly give them more. They were reasonable enough to be contented with my auswer, and left us, after having plundered the house, without offering us any insult. There was a well-looking youth among the crowd, to whom my wife addressed herself, and besought him in God's name to protect us: "My dear child," said he, "it is a thing impossible; we must pursue our enemies;" and so they retired.

In that moment another party of soldiers rushed in, who demanded also our inoney. We contented them with seven shillings and a couple of silver spoons, which the maid frotunately had concealed in her pocket. They were scarce gone

before a soldier entered alone with the most furious countenance I ever saw; each cheek was puffed out with a musket-ball, and he carried two muskets on his shoulder. The moment he perceived me, he cried with a voice of thunder, "Priest, give me thy money, or thou art dead." As I had nothing to give him, I made my apology in the most affecting manner: he levelled a piece to shoot me, but my wife luckily turned it with her hand, and the ball passed over my head. At length, finding we had no money, he asked for plate: my wife gave him some silver trinkets, and he went his way.

A little after came four or five soldiers, who only said, "Wicked priest, what doest thou here?" Having said thus much, they departed.

We were now inclined to shelter ourselves in the uppermost lodgings of the house, hoping there to be less exposed and better concealed. We entered a chamber that had several beds in it, and passed some time there in the most insupportable agonies. Nothing was heard in the streets but the cries of the expiring people; nor were the houses much more quiet; every thing was burst open or cut to pieces. We were soon discovered in our retirement: a number of soldiers poured in, and one who carried a hatchet made an attempt to cleave my skull, but a companion hindered him and said, "Comrade, what are you doing, don't you perceive that he is a clergyman?"

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When these were gone, a single soldier came in, to whom my wife gave a crape handkerchief off her neck; upon which he retired without offering us any injury. His successor was not so reasonable: for entering the chamber with his sword drawn, he immediately discharged a blow upon my head, saying, "Priest, give me thy money." The stroke stunned me; the blood gushed out in abundance, and frightened my wife and servant to that degree that they both continued motionless. The barbarian turned round to my wife, aimed a blow at her, but it glanced fortunately on her gown, which happened to be lined with furs, and wounded her not. Amazed to see us so submissive and patient, he looked at us fixedly for some moments. I laid hold of this interval to represent to him that I was not in my own house, being come to the place where I was to discharge my duty to a dying person, but if he would grant us quarter, and protect us to our home, I would then bestow upon him all I had. Agreed, priest," said he, "give me thy wealth, and I will give thee the watch-word: it is Jesu Maria; pronounce that, and no one will hurt theo." We went down stairs directly, highly contented to have found such a protector. The street was covered with the dead and dying their cries were enough to have pierced the hearts of the greatest barbarians. We walked over the bodies, and when we arrived at the church of St. Catherine, met an officer of distinction on horseback. This generous person soon discovered us, and seeing me covered with blood, said to the person who conducted us, "Fellow-soldier, fellow-soldier, take care what you do to these persons." At the same time he said to my wife, "Madam, is yonder house yours?" My wife having answered that it was, Well," added he, "take hold of my stirrup, conduct me thither, and you shall have quarter." Then turning to me, and making a sign to the soldiers with his hand, he said to me, "Gentlemen of Magdeburg, you yourselves are the occasion of this destruction: you might have acted otherwise." The soldier who had used me ill, took this opportunity to steal away. Upon entering my house, we found it filled with a multitude of plunderers, whom the officer, who was a colonel, ordered away. He then said he would take up his lodging with us, and having posted two soldiers for a guard to us, left us with a promise to return forthwith. We gave, with great cheerfulness, a good breakfast o our sentinels, who complimented us on the lucky fortune of falling into their colonel's hands; at the same time representing to us that their fellow-soldiers made a considerable booty while they continued inactive merely as a safe-guard to us, and

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