THE Walking Statue: OR, THE DEVIL IN THE Wine-Cellar.

WELL,—of all the croſs-grain'd old Fellows breathing, my Ma⯑ſter's Miſtreſſes Father is one of the moſt hard to be dealt withal; and therefore 'tis for a Man of my Parts to ſuc⯑ceed in an Aſſair that has baffled the Wit [2] of all my Fellow-Servants. I perſwad⯑ed him, before he try'd his own Skill, to make proof of mine, and I'll warrant I'll get the Letter to the Lady's Hands, if once I come near enough to touch 'em. I have a ſtrange Inclination to Woman-Hunting ever ſince I clamber'd over the Houſe-top, and got to Bed to Moll at the next Door, through the Garret-Window. Stay, this is the Houſe; let me ſee, I think I am Woman enough in the low⯑er Parts, and I am ſure my upper won't fail me. I have Braſs enough in my Face, and Depth enough in my Conſci⯑ence to be really what I look to be—an Exchange Girl, Ifakins, I'll knock, come on't what will; I am ſure I am ſafe enough in this Dreſs, for tho' 'tis no new thing to find a Knave in Petticoats, 'tis an immodeſt and an unlawful thing to look for him there.

Who's at the Door?

'Tis I.

'Tis I, who's I? What's your Buſineſs?

I would ſpeak with Madam Leo⯑nora, Sir Timothy Tough's Daughter.

In what Language would you ſpeak with her?

In what Language? Why in good old Engliſh.

Good old Engllſh! I'd have you to know you muſt ſpeak good plain Engliſh, if you talk with my Daughter.

Is your Worſhip Sir Timothy Tough his own ſelf then?

I am the Man.

I beg your Worſhip's pardon, I come from Mrs. Stitch in the New-Exchange, ſo pleaſe you, Sir, and have brought home a new Head for the young Lady.

Wait, Maiden, you ſhall have Admittance.

Rare Fortune, I faith! Well, I muſt needs ſay in my own Commendation, 'tis not every Body's Talent to manage a thing diſcreetly. What will this Maſter of mine owe me for ſo great a Service as I ſhall certainly do him? When a Man has good luck among Women, they ſay he was born under Caper-corn, I think they call it; and I ſhall go near to prove that Caper-corn my Maſter's beſt Planet. Adſme, I hear 'em opening the Door, now for it.

Bleſs my Heart, what Figures are here?

Houſwife! I ſuſpect you for a wicked Hypocritical deſigning Perſon, that has a felonious intention to corrupt the Obedience of my Daughter, and, leſt [4] you ſhould have more Rogues in Ambuſh, I iſſue arm'd, to defend the Honour of my Family. What are you? I ſay what are you?

Oh, dear Sir! what do you mean? I never did you any harm in my Life, Sir—Oh! oh! loving Sir, have Mercy upon me dear Sir, for the ſake of my ſpotleſs Vir⯑ginity.

What are you? Speak or you die.

Slife Sir, don't ſhoot me, I'm Robin.

Adſo, a bad miſtake! I am dim⯑ſighted truly; but where is the Whore, the Bawd? I know what ſort of a Shop ſhe keeps, by hanging out the Sign of a Band-box. What do you do behind, Houſewife? your Buſineſs is with the Foreparts. Harry, Robin, preſent with me thus, and when I ſpeak the Word, give Fire.

Oh dear Gentlemen, ſpare me, ſpare me, good Gentlemen, don't ſhoot me, and I'll tell you all.

In the firſt place, as you hope to preſerve that abominable Life of yours, anſwer me the Truth, and nothing but the Truth, whence come you?

From the Exchange, an't pleaſe you.

What buſineſs had you?

The Exchange, Sir.

And what are you? Jilt, ſpeak preſently, what are you?

The New-Exchange in the Strand Sir.

What are you the New-Exchange? 'Slife, ſpeak ſenſe or you die, I don't think the Tone of your Voice treble enough for a Whore, and therefore you muſt be a Rogue, Sirrah.

The New-Exchange indeed, Sir.

Sirrah, tell me truly what Sex you are of, Sirrah?

The Exchange, upon my Word, Sir.

Is the Exchange your Sex, Rogue? Are you a Man, or a Whore, Sirrah?

About the middle of the Inner Walk Sir.

Adslife, Robin, make ready.

Oh! oh! ſpare my Life, and take my band-box, Sir.

Give it me, you Whore.

I'm no Whore, upon my Honour, Sir, I am but 'Squire Sprightly's Rogue Toby, make the worſt of me. Wou'd I were buried 6 Foot deep in my Maſter's Dunghil.

Let's ſee, what's here, a Letter? Oh, Rogue! here, Harry, Robin, rifle the Ribons, and ſee if there's never another Snake in the Fools Graſs. What's here,

To the lovely Hands of the engaging Leonora—Fool, Aſs, ad⯑zooks this Fellow makes love like an Oxford Scholar. I'll open the Seal.

Timor adds—Wing as.

After many vain En⯑deavours to get a Letter to your Hands, the truſty Toby undertook—Oh Rogue, did you ſo—I'll—Ha! where is he?

An't pleaſe your Worſhip, I believe he got off while we were rummaging the band-box.

I'll rummage you, you careleſs Raſcals; I'll teach you to plunder before you have ſecur'd the Enemy, you Dogs you.

Nay, Faith, Toby, I pitty thee with all my Heart; but thou may'ſt make a mo⯑ral uſe of this unlucky Accident, and learn to believe thy ſelf no wiſer than other People. Go, lay aſide the Woman, and and take up the Statue; all things are now ready for the laſt Trial, and it ſhall be put in Execution this very Evening.

Truly, Sir, if your Worſhip pleaſ⯑es, I had rather be the Carver's Man, than the Statue; for if the old Knight ſhou'd find out a Trick, my Diſguiſe wou'd be ſo heavy that I cou'd not run away, and he might chance to ſhoot me thro' the Head with his Blunderbuſs.

Piſh! Fool! you know he's ſo purblind he can ſcarce ſee.

Ay, but if he can't ſee, he can feel tho'; and, Sir, if he ſhould happen to tickle my Sides, I ſhou'd burſt out a laughing, and diſcover all.

It's impoſſible he ſhou'd ſu⯑ſpect thee. I ſaw the Statue at the Stone-Cutter's, who told me, the old Gentleman expects it to be brought home every day, My painted Canvas is exactly copied from the Original, and the Pedeſtal 'tis to be plac'd on in the Hall is ſo high, that he won't be able to reach your Sides; or if he did, the Daub is ſo hard and ſo thick, 'twou'd deceive a nicer Touch than his I'll warrant thee. But are the Fellows at hand, who are to be concern'd in the management.

They are all drinking at the next Ale-houſe, and the Gentleman who is to act the Statue inſtead of me, Sir, is a Man every Inch of him. He married a Wo⯑man who had beat ſix Husbands to death with the But-ends of their own Muskets, and in three Nights time made the wild Beaſt ſo very tame, Sir, that ſhe fawns upon him like a Spaniel Bitch when ſhe's afraid of a Kicking.

Thou haſt choſe an odd ſort of a Simile, Toby; but hark! ſome body knocks; Go, ſee who it is.

An't pleaſe your Worſhip, this is the Gentleman we were diſcourſing about.

May I know your Name, Sir?

I am vulgarly known by the Name of Corporal Cuttum; I have been a Soldier from my Cradle, and a Cuckold from my Marriage-Bed, Sir: I have run thro' all the Mazes of Fortune, but cou'd ne'r lay hold of the Gypſie: I believe I'm too honeſt to be proſperous in this Age! and if I live much longer, I ſhall be too old to be knaviſh. I wou'd gladly make ſome uſe of my time, Sir; for I have late⯑ly learn'd to remember, that I come of a Race ſo much the Reverſe of my way of living hitherto, that egad—if I continue honeſt much longer, I ſhall be the only Fool of my Family!

Pray, Mr. Cuttum, what Coun⯑try are you of?

Why, Sir, to tell you the plain Truth, there is no Country will own us, and we own no Country; we ſhould be French by our Air, and Spaniards by our ſteps, Sir; but a parcel of ſcoundrel Rogues about Town will needs have the Cuttums to be an Iriſh Family, ſor no other Reaſon egad, than the reach of their aſſurance.

Have you no Friends in Town to apply to?

Yes, Sir, there's a Relation of mine generally known about Town; he's a kind of a Wit, and has writ Plays; but he has an odd Humour, that makes him incapa⯑ble of ſerving a Kinſman.

What Humour is that, pray?

Why, Sir, he has been ſo fond of fathering Strangers Children, that he ſcarce knows how to look upon the Son of a poor Relation.

Well, Mr. Cuttum, you are a merry Fellow; you know the task and the reward deſign'd you, I ſuppoſe.

My worthy Friend, Mr. Toby here, has inform'd me at large; and I am ready to prove with how much Zeal I would un⯑dertake an action of greater difficulty up⯑on a leſs temptation.

I aſſure you you have heard the utmoſt of your danger; come the worſt to the worſt 'tis but a beating, and that I preſume you could bear with Reſolution.

Am I a Cuttum, and do you ask that Queſtion? 'ſlife, Sir! bear a beat⯑ing?—Why, there's not a Branch of our Family, but has Patience enough that way ſor an informing Conſtable, Bailiff's follower, Female Tatler, or Marſhal of France, egad.

That's well; I think all things are now in a readineſs, we'll go in, and about it preſently. But heark'e, Toby, is your diſguiſe come home yet?

Four hours ago, Sir—But now you talk of a Diſguiſe, am I to be a Jew, or a Gentile?

Oh! a Jew by all means. Come along Mr. Corporal; while you are getting [10] ready I'll inſtruct you what to ſay to the Lady, for the ill Succeſs of my laſt Let⯑ter forbids me all Thoughts of ſending a⯑nother.

Well! o'my Conſcience, my Ma⯑ſter is the firſt that ever went about to ſend a Meſſage by a Stone Porter!—

'Sbud, don't tell me of my Pro⯑miſe; ask any Stateſman in Chriſtendom, if Promiſes are Chains on a wiſe Man's Will. 'Tis true, I told the young Fool Sprightly he ſhould have you, but that was when no Body of a better Eſtate was of his Mind, Girl.

The ties of Duty, Sir, firſt led me to encourage Mr. Sprightly's Addreſſes, in obedience to your Commands; and now the ties of Honour forbid me to wrong a Man who ſo ſincerely loves me.

I gave him my word, that if he could outwit me, he ſhould keep what he got, with my good Will, and a good Fortune; but alas, poor young Fool, his Birdlime is no better than Chaff, and an old Fowl is too wiſe to be taken by it. I have defeated five or ſix of his Projects al⯑ready; and if he comes within the reach of my Blunderbuſs, have at him, by Sir Jeremy.

Oh, Sir, you are the moſt barba⯑rous of Fathers! and have contrived this ſureſt way to make me miſerable.

Goodnow, Goodnow, pretty Turtle-Dove; how naturally it mourns the loſs of its Mate: Come, come, 'tis juſt your Sex ſhould ſhare a little in the Sorrow you beſtow, Houſewiſe. A Woman's Tears are like Showers in April, a neceſſary In⯑gredient to make up her natural Compo⯑ſition of Change and Inconſtancy.

Sir, here's a Man without has brought home a great Stone Thing, that looks like the Great Turk, Sir.

How! the Statue! bring him in, bring him in, Sirrah.

Sir, you are likely to talk of what I don't underſtand, and if you pleaſe I'll retire to my Chamber.

No, no, pray ſtay, Daughter; I'll warrant you, if Sprightly was coming inſtead of the Statue, you would not be in ſuch haſte to be gone; but you Women never care much for a Man of Marble

I am all Obedience, Sir.

Save you, Sir!—have a care, have a care, gently, gently, I ſay,—Sir, Mr. Chiſſel has ſent home your Statue, Sir, and where would you pleaſe it ſhould be ſet? Have a care, I ſay, gently, gently.

Stay, let me put on my Spe⯑ctacles, and I'll tell you preſently—Humph, who are you, Sir?

I am by Profeſſion a Statuary, by Country a Portugueſe, but brought up in England; by Quality a Foreman, alias a Journeyman, and by Religion a Jew, Sir.

A Jew! adzooks, what have you to do in a Chriſtian Country, Sirrah?

Ha, ha, you are pleas'd to be mer⯑ry, Sir! But where muſt the Statue be pla⯑ced, an't pleaſe you?

Plac'd?

Egad I don't like this Fellow, he ſays he's a Jew, but he looks like a Philiſtin.

Set him down there, gently, gent⯑ly, be careful how you place him, pray, Gen⯑tlemen—So, now he ſtands right; go—ſtay without till I come to you.

Let me ſee how this Statue looks.—Ads my Life, a pretty piece of Workman⯑ſhip truly: But pray, Friend, why did not Mr. Chiſſel come himſelf? Am I ſo bad a Cuſtomer that he muſt ſend Servants to do my Buſineſs? Nay, and Heathen Servants too!

Your Worſhip, I perceive, is a fa⯑cetious old Gentleman. But my Maſter, an't pleaſe you, is ſick a preſent.

Old Gentleman! Sirrah! Is that your Hebrew Breeding! Get out of my Houſe, you Rogue! that Levitical Face of thine ſtirs up my Indignation.

I beg your pardon heartily, if I have ſaid any thing that offends you, Sir; but pray don't be in a Paſſion for nothing; is not the Work done as you expected it?

Expected it, Sirrah! I did not expect to have the Figure to be ſent home by a Rogue of a Jew, Sirrah! Let me look all round the piece, egad, 'tis 10 to 1 but the ſuperſtitious Dog has circumcis'd my Statue.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Villain, Raſcal, what, am I to be laughed at to my Face?

Ha, ha, ha, you muſt excuſe me, Sir, ha, ha, ha, I vow you are the pleaſant'ſt Gen⯑tleman of your age that ever I met with.

Again at my age, Sirrah; here, Robin, Jonathan, quickly, bring me my Blun⯑derbuſs. Sirrah, get out of my Houſe, or I'll break off a Limb of the Statue, and knock out your Brains with it.

'Slife! all's out: I'll make off while I can.

Rogues! Murder! help! Dogs! Murder! Murder!

Heav'ns, Sir! what's the Matter?

Matter! you Baggage? Don't you ſee what's the Matter? That long bearded Rogue of a Jew has affronted me to my Face, and beat out my Teeth behind my Back. Rogues! Robin, Harry, Jonathan, what, muſt I be murder'd, and no body come in to my aſſiſtance.

I am glad he's gone, for my Heart ak'd plaguily when he came to pull my Leg off. 'Tis a lucky Miſtake that he thinks To⯑by ſtruck him; but I'll take this Opportuni⯑ty to ſpeak to the Lady. Madam—Madam—

Oh! Heav'ns, what's here! Ghoſts! Spirits! Devils! ah! help! help! help!

Nay, now we are all undone, and e⯑gad! if you die a Maid, 'tis no more than you deſerve for your damu'd unſeaſonable ſqueaking.

Ah me! I ſee too late this is a Trick of Sprightly's.

Oh! Sir! I was half frighted, but beg your [15] pardon for alarming you; being in a me⯑lancholy Humour, I had forgot the Statue ſtood upon the Table, and looking that way on the ſudden took it for a naked Man.

Oh! did you ſo, good Daugh⯑ter! I ſee very well what you would be at; this Exceſs of your Folly betrays the Lewd⯑neſs of your Thoughts. Let's ſee, that Raſ⯑cal Jew beat off my Spectacles—oh! here they lie—Well, I vow this is a very cu⯑rious piece of Sculpture, no real Fleſh and Blood could appear more lively. If that Knave Chiſſel had not ſent it by a Jew, I could have been extreamly pleas'd with it.

But ſtay, I forgot to look whether I have not-hurt the Leg tho'—adſo! what's here? I am ſure this Limb does not ſtand as it did juſt now. Daughter, Daughter. Leon. Sir.

Look here, is it the right Po⯑ſture or no?

Right, Sir? Yes, pray what ails it?

Ails it? 'Slife I am bewitch'd—I am ſure the Devil's either in me, or my Spectacles; why 'twas but this moment the Leg ſtood here, and now—

Death, Sir, ſtand out of my way, or you're as dead as a door-nail.

'Slife, I'll be gone while I may; if I ſtay a quarter of an hour longer, I ſhall be poun⯑ded in a Mortar.

Hey day! is my Houſe become an enchanted Caſtle? What a plague, I ſhall be hooted at as I walk along the ſtreets if this Jeſt paſſes on me. Here follow me, ye Raſcals, I'll ſtatue the Dog, I'll warrant him.

What a wretched Condition has my Folly brought me to? if I ſlip this Op⯑portunity of eſcaping while the Houſe is in ſo great a Confuſion, I ſhall be miſerable for ever. I'll get out the back-way, and truſt for⯑tune for the Event of my Undertaking.

Here have I crawl'd about this quarter of an hour, and can find no means to reach the Door, without being diſcover'd by ſome of the old Fellow's Maidenhead-watchers; and, if I ſtay here much longer, the danger will be equal. A Pox take Pet⯑ticoats for Toby, if this be the Effect of fol⯑lowing them. What ſhall I do?—let me think a little—adsbobs I have it, I have an old black Mask in my Pocket with Horns upon it, I'll tie it on, and creep down into yonder Well, it looks like a dry one; or if I am drown'd, 'tis a better Death than to be drubb'd to Deſtruction—I'll lie quietly all Night, and in the Morn⯑ing bolt thro' the Door in my Vizor and black Waſtcoat; it may ſo happen, that [17] the Rogues will take me for the Devil that they ſay walks in this Neighbour⯑hood, and give me free Paſſage—But firſt, down Cloak, that if the Well be deeper than ordinary, I may be ſure to fall ſoftly; I'll tie on the Mask when I'm ſafe at the bottom. So now for it, Neck or nothing, as the Proverb ſays.

Who would have thought that the four Rogues who brought in that Dog of a Statue, ſhould have waited ſo cun⯑ningly to carry him off again upon occa⯑ſion? Adzooks but we maul'd them in their Retreat. Go, ye Rogues, get ye in⯑to the Cellar, and drink your ſelves drunk, as a Reward for your Valour.

Well, after all, this Sprightly is a brave bold Fellow, and deſerves the Baggage heartily; for I never could imagine till now, that a⯑ny Woman in the World was worth a Man's venturing a knock on the Pate for. My Daughter is afraid of a Reprof, and is crept ſilently into her Cloſet. I'll not di⯑ſturb her till Morning, but go write an Account of this Nights Works to her good old Grandmother in the Country.

Here, honeſt Thomas, here's to thee.

Prithee, what Subject ſhall we be on to Night, Politics are grown muſty, Learning is below Men of a genteel Edu⯑cation, and Scandal you know is taking upon us the Converſation of our Betters.

Why faith, ſince we have leave to be merry, honeſt Thomas had beſt give us a Song.

A Match, Boys—I'll ſing you a Song of my own making.

Of thy making! What, a Foot⯑man turn Poet?

A Footman turn Poet! ay, Sir; why not? Since the Peots have met with Footmen's Encouragement, Footmen have taken up the Poets Profeſſion.

But how can a Fellow without Learning, Brother Thomas, be Maſter of that ſeeling, touching way that the Poets talk of?

Pugh, Fool, the Art of Poetry is the Gift of Nature, and 'twould be no new thing to tell the World, that there's many a Footman can touch, and move, and feel, and ſtir up the Paſſions with the beſt Poet in Chriſtendom. But liſten to the Song, Boys.

Rarely ſung, 'ſfaith Thomas.

Adzookers, he has pleas'd me ſo well, that I'll e'en make bold with a Bottle of the fine Wine my Maſter has ſet a cool⯑ing in the old Well there, and treat ye like Gentlemen.

Why, that's kindly done now.

Let's ſee, I think I have got the right ſort, no, 'tis not;—this is the Rot⯑gut Rheniſh—

Ah! the Devil, the Devil.

'Slife, there's the Devil in good earneſt!

Rogues, Thieves, I'll be among you ſuddenly.

Oons, Roger, fly, the Devil's a⯑mongſt us.

Help, help! the Devil, the Devil, the Devil!

Here, Harry, Thomas Jonathan, Rogues, Raſcals, where are you? What's [20] the Matter below? Hey day! what's here to do?—

Help, help! the Devil!

The Pope, the Pope! the Devil!

Oh, Sir! the Devil has taken poſ⯑ſeſſion of your Worſhip's Cellar.

The Devil, ye Rogues! and are ye ſuch pitiful, cowardly, unchriſtian ſoul'd Fellows, as to be afraid of the Devil. Ads⯑bob, wou'd he had been impudent enough to have come into my preſence, I'd have Devil'd him with a—'Slife, Rogues ſtand out of my way—Help, help, help!

Well, I have better luck now I'm a Devil, than I had when I was a Woman; and ſome arch Wags would from thence take occaſion to ſwear that the Devil is the leaſt of the two Evils. But I have no time to be witty at preſent. I ſee the Street Door open, and will lay hold on the Op⯑portunity.

Is he gone?

I think the Coaſt is clear at preſent.

I'll ordain a Yearly Thankſ⯑giving to be kept on this Day through⯑out [21] my Family, for the wonderful Deli⯑verance.

Stand cloſe here, for Heav'ns ſake ſtand cloſe, for I'm afraid he's a coming again.

Deliver me, ye Pow'rs, for yon⯑der's the Devil return'd with his whole Family.

Ha, ha, ha, poon Sir Timothy, 'tis a Devil of my Breeding.

'Tis I, my own ſelf, in very deed, Sir.

Why then in very deed, Sir, I wiſh the real Devil would run away with the pretended one.

Adſme, Sir, if you wiſh your Wiſh⯑es upon me, I'll ſnatch off my Friend the Statue's Leg here, and knock your Brains out.

to Cut. Why, were you the Dog that was turn'd into Stone, Sir?

The very ſame, at your Service, Sir.

O, Sir, Love has been Author of ſtranger Metamorphoſes, than any in Ovid.

And pray, Mr. Sprightly, what pretty Part are you to act in your turn here?

A double one, Sir, in Conjuncti⯑on with this Lady.

Our firſt Requeſt, Sir, is for your pardon; and our next, that you will pleaſe to ratifie our Articles of Agreement, accor⯑ding to the Promiſe you were pleas'd to make us.

Confuſion! Furies! Devils! Witchcraft! Rogues! Tricks! Damnation! Conjuration! and Deſtraction!

Come, lovely Leonora, let us fol⯑low him, and mollifie his Paſſion by Sub⯑miſſion and Entreaty; and may our Ex⯑ample teach the World this certain Maxim: