LITMIR.BIZ

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      In the midst of this quarrel the master of the waggon alighted, who, understanding the cause of the disturbance, and fearing the captain and his lady would take umbrage and leave his carriage, was at great pains to have everything made up, which he at last accomplished, and we sat down to supper altogether. At bedtime we were shown to our apartments; the old usurer, Strap, and I, to one room; the captain, his wife, and Miss Jenny, to another. About midnight, my companion's bowels being disordered, he got up, in order to go backward, but in his return, mistaking one door for another, entered Weazel's chamber, and without any hesitation went to bed to his wife, who was fast asleep, the captain being at another end of the room groping for some empty vessel, in lieu of his own chamberpot, which was leaky: as he did not perceive Strap coming in, he went towards his own bed, after having found a convenience; but no sooner did he feel a rough head, covered with a cotton nightcap, than it came into his mind that he had mistaken Miss Jenny's bed instead of his own, and that the head he felt was that of some gallant, with whom she had made an assignation. Full of his conjecture, and scandalised at the prostitution of his apartment, he snatched up the vessel he had just before filled, and emptied it at once on the astonished barber and his own wife, who waking at that instant, broke forth into lamentable cries, which not only alarmed the husband beyond measure, but frighted poor Strap almost out of his senses; for he verily believed himself bewitched, especially when the incensed captain seized him by the throat, with a volley of oaths, asking him how he durst have the presumption to attempt the chastity of his wife. Poor Strap was so amazed and confounded, that he could say nothing but—“I take God to witness she's a virgin for me.”

      Mrs. Weazel, enraged to find herself in such a pickle through the precipitation of her husband, arose in her shift, and with the heel of her shoe which she found by the bedside, belaboured the captain's bald pate till he roared “Murder.” “I'll teach you to empty your stinkpots on me,” cried she, “you pitiful hop-o'-my-thumb coxcomb. What, I warrant you're jealous, you man of lath. Was it for this I condescended to take you to my bed, you poor, withered, sapless twig?”

      The noise occasioned by this adventure had brought the master of the waggon and me to the door, where we overheard all that passed with great satisfaction. In the meantime we were alarmed with the cry of “Rape! Murder! Rape!” which Jenny pronounced with great vociferation. “Oh! You vile abominable old villain,” said she, “would you rob me of my virtue? But I'll be revenged of you, you old goat! I will! Help! for heaven's sake! help! I shall be ravished! ruined! help!” Some servants of the inn, hearing this cry, came running upstairs with lights, and such weapons as chance afforded; when we beheld a very diverting scene. In one corner stood the poor captain shivering in his shirt, which was all torn to rags: with a woeful visage, scratched all over by his wife, who had by this time wrapped the counterpane about her, and sat sobbing on the side of her bed. At the other end lay the old usurer, sprawling on Miss Jenny's bed, with his flannel jacket over his shirt, and his tawny meagre limbs exposed to the air; while she held him fast by the two ears, and loaded him with execrations. When he asked what was the matter, she affected to weep, told us she was afraid that wicked rogue had ruined her in her sleep, and bade us take notice of what we saw, for she intended to make use of our evidence against him. The poor wretch looked like one more dead than alive, and begged to be released; a favour which he had no sooner obtained than he protested she was no woman, but a devil incarnate—that she had first seduced his flesh to rebel, and then betrayed him. “Yes, cockatrice,” continued he, “you know you laid this snare fur me—but you shan't succeed—for I will hang myself before you shall get a farthing of me.” So saying, he crawled to his own bed, groaning all the way. We then advanced to the Captain, who told us, “Gentlemen, here has been a d—d mistake; but I'll be revenged on him who was the cause of it. That Scotchman who carries the knapsack shall not breathe this vital air another day, if my name be Weazel. My dear, I ask you ten thousand pardons; you are sensible, I could mean no harm to you.” “I know not what you meant,” replied she, sighing, “but I know I have got enough to send me to my grave.” At length they were reconciled. The wife was complimented with a share of Miss Jenny's bed (her own being overflowed), and the master of the waggon invited Weazel to sleep the remaining part of the night with him. I retired to mine, where I found Strap mortally afraid, he having stolen away in the dark while the captain and his lady were at loggerheads.