she gave me the keys of that trunk wherein her money was, and in retaliation, I vowed to marry her in four days. In the mean time I studied how I might be gone, but could not contrive a way, she not induring me to be out of her sight. In fine, I feigned some indisposition of body, and that I would ride two or three miles for the benefit of the fresh air, and return: with much willingness she consented. Just as I was about to take horse (having furnished my self with as much mony as I could well carry without discovery) she wept bitterly (as having I think a prophetick Spirit.) I ask’d her the cause of her discontent: all bathed in tears, she answered me with a deep sigh, I shall never see you more: Hard-hearted man: can you thus leave a woman that loves you thus dearly, nay, that dotes on you? I made many protestations to the contrary; which were not believed. Seeing that I could not prevail on her belief, I bad her farewell, setting spurs to my horse, and was out of sight in an instant. I could not but condemn my self extreamly for this inhumane action: but considering that there is no slavery greater then that of the smock, I soothed my self up in mine own unworthiness; passing by a little Ale-house, I called in, and over a pot of Ale I composed these ensuing lines, which I sent to her by a messenger I procured in the house, directed thus: _Deliver these to the fair hands of _Mrs. Pulcheria Tickleman_, at her dwelling-house, near _Redding_._ The Contents were these, or to this purpose. Madam, _A Poetess you are, and Prophet too, Thus to divine I’m gone from you Eternally. ’Tis true: D’ye think that I can eat, Though ne’re so choice, always one sort of meat? No faith; I’d rather wear a Porters frock, Then to be shrowded in one womans smock. You say you are with child; Pish, don’t complain, ’Tis but the product of your fruitful brain: Y’are only big with fancy, which may prove A witty Brat, like _Pallas_ sprung from _Jove_. And have you then conceiv’d? How can I chuse But write _Encomiums_ on my fertile Muse? Mind not the Father, nor his Brat, for it Will like the Father live (no doubt) by wit: Let _Pegasus_ be Godfather, the crew Of the nine Muses, Gossips; so adieu._ I desired no answer, therefore stayed not till the return of the messenger, but rid that night to _Maidenhead_. CHAP. LV.