Which we hope will be very attentively perused by young people of both
Partridge had no sooner left Mr Jones than Mr Nightingale, with whom
he had now contracted a great intimacy, came to him, and, after a
short salutation, said, "So, Tom, I hear you had company very late
last night. Upon my soul you are a happy fellow, who have not been in
town above a fortnight, and can keep chairs waiting at your door till
two in the morning." He then ran on with much commonplace raillery of
the same kind, till Jones at last interrupted him, saying, "I suppose
you have received all this information from Mrs Miller, who hath been
up here a little while ago to give me warning. The good woman is
afraid, it seems, of the reputation of her daughters." "Oh! she is
wonderfully nice," says Nightingale, "upon that account; if you
remember, she would not let Nancy go with us to the masquerade." "Nay,
upon my honour, I think she's in the right of it," says Jones:
"however, I have taken her at her word, and have sent Partridge to
look for another lodging." "If you will," says Nightingale, "we may, I
believe, be again together; for, to tell you a secret, which I desire
you won't mention in the family, I intend to quit the house to-day."
"What, hath Mrs Miller given you warning too, my friend?" cries Jones.
"No," answered the other; "but the rooms are not convenient enough.
Besides, I am grown weary of this part of the town. I want to be
nearer the places of diversion; so I am going to Pall-mall." "And do
you intend to make a secret of your going away?" said Jones. "I
promise you," answered Nightingale, "I don't intend to bilk my
lodgings; but I have a private reason for not taking a formal leave."
"Not so private," answered Jones; "I promise you, I have seen it ever
since the second day of my coming to the house. Here will be some wet
eyes on your departure. Poor Nancy, I pity her, faith! Indeed, Jack,
you have played the fool with that girl. You have given her a longing,
which I am afraid nothing will ever cure her of." Nightingale
answered, "What the devil would you have me do? would you have me
marry her to cure her?" "No," answered Jones, "I would not have had
you make love to her, as you have often done in my presence. I have
been astonished at the blindness of her mother in never seeing it."
"Pugh, see it!" cries Nightingale. "What, the devil should she see?"
"Why, see," said Jones, "that you have made her daughter distractedly
in love with you. The poor girl cannot conceal it a moment; her eyes
are never off from you, and she always colours every time you come
into the room. Indeed, I pity her heartily; for she seems to be one of
the best-natured and honestest of human creatures." "And so," answered
Nightingale, "according to your doctrine, one must not amuse oneself
by any common gallantries with women, for fear they should fall in
love with us." "Indeed, Jack," said Jones, "you wilfully misunderstand
me; I do not fancy women are so apt to fall in love; but you have gone
far beyond common gallantries." "What, do you suppose," says
Nightingale, "that we have been a-bed together?" "No, upon my honour,"
answered Jones, very seriously, "I do not suppose so ill of you; nay,
I will go farther, I do not imagine you have laid a regular
premeditated scheme for the destruction of the quiet of a poor little
creature, or have even foreseen the consequence: for I am sure thou
art a very good-natured fellow; and such a one can never be guilty of
a cruelty of that kind; but at the same time you have pleased your own
vanity, without considering that this poor girl was made a sacrifice
to it; and while you have had no design but of amusing an idle hour,
you have actually given her reason to flatter herself that you had the
most serious designs in her favour. Prithee, Jack, answer me honestly;
to what have tended all those elegant and luscious descriptions of
happiness arising from violent and mutual fondness? all those warm
professions of tenderness, and generous disinterested love? Did you
imagine she would not apply them? or, speak ingenuously, did not you
intend she should?" "Upon my soul, Tom," cries Nightingale, "I did not
think this was in thee. Thou wilt make an admirable parson. So I
suppose you would not go to bed to Nancy now, if she would let you?"
"No," cries Jones, "may I be d--n'd if I would." "Tom, Tom," answered
Nightingale, "last night; remember last night----