God help me! I have been a vixen and a
griffin these many days -- Sattin has had power to temp me in the
shape of van Ditton, the young 'squire's wally de shamble; but by
God's grease he did not purvail -- I thoft as how, there was no arm
in going to a play at Newcastle, with my hair dressed in the
Parish fashion; and as for the trifle of paint, he said as how my
complexion wanted touch, and so I let him put it on with a little
Spanish owl; but a mischievous mob of colliers, and such
promiscous ribble rabble, that could bare no smut but their own,
attacked us in the street, and called me hoar and painted
Issabel, and splashed my close, and spoiled me a complete set of
blond lace triple ruffles, not a pin the worse for the ware -- They
cost me seven good sillings, to lady Griskin's woman at London.
When I axed Mr Clinker what they meant by calling me Issabel, he
put the byebill into my hand, and I read of van Issabel a painted
harlot, that vas thrown out of a vindore, and the dogs came and
licked her blood. But I am no harlot; and, with God's blessing, no
dog shall have my poor blood to lick: marry, Heaven forbid, amen!
As for Ditton, after all his courting, and his compliment, he
stole away an Irishman's bride, and took a French leave of me and
his master; but I vally not his going a farting; but I have had
hanger on his account -- Mistriss scoulded like mad; thof I have
the comfit that all the family took my part, and even Mr Clinker
pleaded for me on his bended knee; thof, God he knows, he had
raisins enuff to complain; but he's a good sole, abounding with
Christian meekness, and one day will meet with his reward.
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