Or in your daughters, and reduce you to
Your natural forms and habits ; not in revenge

of me, but to fright
Others by your example: 'tis decreed
You shall serve one another, for I will
Allow no waiter to you. Out of doors
With these useless drones !


The catastrophe is the reformation of The City Madam,' and the disgrace of the tyrannical Luke, when his brother re-appears, and demands his own. The towering audacity of the hypocritical spendthrift raised to sudden riches is at its height before his final fall :

Lord Lacy. You are well met,
And to my wish,--and wonderous brave! your habit
Speaks you a merchant royal.

Luke. What I wear
I take not upon trust.

L. Lacy. Your betters may
And blush not for 't.

Luke. If you have nought else with me
But to argue that, I will make bold to leave you.

L. Lacy. You are very peremptory; pray you stay :--
I once held you
An upright, honest man.

Luke. I am honester now
By a hundred thousand pound, I thank my stars for 't,
Upon the Exchange; and if your late opinion
Be alter'd, who can help it? Good, my lord,
To the point; I have other business than to talk
Of honesty, and opinions.

L. Lacy. Yet you may
Do well, if you please, to shew the one, and merit
The other from good men, in a case that now

Is offer'd to you.

Luke. What is it? I am troubled.

L. Lacy. Here are two gentlemen, the fathers of
Your brother's prentices.

Luke. Mine, my lord, I take it.
L. Lacy. Goldwire, and Tradewell.

Luke. They are welcome, if
They come prepared to satisfy the damage
I have sustain'd by their sons.

Goldwire. We are, so you please
To use a conscience.

Tradewell. Which we hope you will do, For your own worship's sake.

Luke. Conscience, my friends, And wealth, are not always neighbours. Should I part With what the law gives me, I should suffer mainly In my reputation; for it would convince me Of indiscretion : nor will you, I hope, move me To do myself such prejudice,

L. Lacy. No moderation ?

Luke. They cannot look for ’t, and preserve in me A thriving citizen's credit. Your bonds lie For your sons' truth, and they shall answer all They have run out: the masters never prosper'd Since gentlemen's sons grew prentices : when we look To have our business done at home, they are Abroad in the tennis-court, or in Partridge-alley, In Lambeth Marsh, or a cheating ordinary, Where I found your sons. I have your bonds, look to 't. A thousand pounds a-piece, and that will hardly Repair my losses.

L. Lacy. Thou dar'st not shew thyself Such a devil !

Luke. Good words.

L. Lacy. Such a cut-throat ! I have heard of
The usage of your brother's wife and daughters ;
You shall find you are not lawless, and that your monies
Cannot justify your villanies.

Luke. I endure this.
And, good my lord, now you talk in time of monies,


Pay in what you owe me. And give me leave to wonder
Your wisdom should have leisure to consider,
The business of these gentlemen, or my carriage
To my sister, or my nieces, being yourself
So much in my danger.

L. Lacy. In thy danger ?

Luke. Mine
I find in my counting-house a manor pawn'd,
Pawn'd, my good lord; Lacy manor, and that manor
From which you have the title of a lord,
An it please your good lordship! You are a nobleman;
Pray you pay my

monies : the interest
Will eat faster in 't, than aquafortis in iron.
Now though you bear me hard, I love your lordship.
I grant your person to be privileged
From all arrests; yet there lives a foolish creature
Call’d an under-sheriff, who, being well-paid, will serve
An extent on lords or lown's land. Pay it in:
I would be loth your name should sink, or that
Your hopeful son, when he returns from travel,
Should find you, my lord, without land. You are angry
For my good counsel : look you to your bonds; had I known
Of your coming, believe 't, I would have had serjeants ready.
Lord, how you fret! but that a tavern 's near,
You should taste a cup of muscadine in my house,
To wash down sorrow; but there it will do better :
I know


'll drink a health to me.


(War is a pompous thing, and to read of a glorious victory is an exciting occupation. But war cannot be understood unless we become familiar with some of the details of wickedness and suffering which follow in its train. There is no lack of such melancholy narratives. We give one published in Harte's Life of Gustavus Adolphus; being the relation of a clergyman who witnessed the storm of Magdeburg in the Thirty Years' War, when Tilly, the general of the Imperial troops, ravaged that devoted city, and gave it up to all the excesses of his mercenary soldiers. The poor minister of the Gospel of Peace escaped :—but we may imagine what became of the wretched people, who had no worldly goods wherewith to propitiate their brutal assailants.]

Going out of church immediately after sermon, some people of St. James's parish passed by, and told me the enemy had entered the town. With difficulty could I persuade myself that this was anything more than a false alarm; but the news unfortunately proved too true. I then lost my presence of mind, and as my wife and maid-servant were with me, we ran directly to my colleague, M. Malsio's house, and left our own house open.

At M. Malsio's we found many people, who had fled to him in great perplexity. We comforted and exhorted each other, as far as the terror of our minds would give us leave. I was summoned thence to discharge the last duties to a colonel, who lay dangerously wounded. I resolved to go, and sent my maid to fetch my gown: but before my departure from my wife and neighbours, I told them that the affair appeared to me to be concluded, and that we should meet no more in this world. My wife reproached me in a flood of tears, crying, "Can you prevail on yourself to leave me to perish all alone ? You must answer for it before God!" I represented to her the obligations of my function, and the importance of the moments I was called upon to give my assistance in.

As I crossed the great street a multitude of matrons and young women flocked about me, and besought me, in all the agonies of distress, to advise them what to do. I told them, my best advice was to recommend themselves to God's protecting grace,


for death, At length I entered the colonel's lodging, and found him stretched on the floor, and very weak. I gave him such consolation as the disorder of my mind would permit me: he heard me with great attention, and ordered a small present of gold to be given me, which I left on the table. In this interval, the enemy poured in by crowds at the Hamburg gate, and fired on the multitude as upon beasts of prey. Suddenly my wife and maid-servant entered the room, and persuaded me to remove immediately, alleging we should meet with no quarter, if the enemy found us in an apartment filled with arms.

We ran down into the court-yard of the house, and placed ourselves in the gateway. Our enemies soon burst the gate open,

with an eagerness that cannot be described. The first address they made to me was,

" Priest, deliver thy money.” I gave them about four and twenty shillings in a little box, which they accepted with good will : but when they opened the box, and found only silver, they raised their tone, and demanded gold. I represented to them that I was at some distance from my house, and could not at present possibly give them more. They were reasonable enough to be contented with my answer, and left us, after having plundered the house, without offering us any insult. There was a well-looking youth among the crowd, to whom my wife addressed herself, and besought him in God's name to protect us: "My dear child," said he, “it is a thing impossible; we must pursue our enemies ;” and so they retired.

In that moment another party of soldiers rushed in, who demanded also our money. We contented them with seven shillings and a couple of silver spoons, which the maid fortunately had concealed in her pocket. They were scarce gone before a soldier entered alone with the most furious countenance I ever saw; each cheek was puffed out with a musket-ball, and he carried two muskets on his shoulder. The moment he perceived me, he cried with a voice of thunder, “ Priest, give me thy money, or thou art dead.” As I had nothing to give him, I made my apology in the most affecting manner: he levelled a piece to shoot me, but my wife luckily turned it with her hand, and the ball passed over my head. At length, finding we had no money, he asked for plate: my wife gave him some silver trinkets, and he went his way.

A little after came four or five soldiers, who only said, “Wicked priest, what doest thou here?” Having said thus much they departed.

We were now inclined to shelter ourselves in the uppermost lodgings of the house, hoping there to be less exposed and better concealed. We entered a chamber that had several beds in it, and passed some time there in the most insupportable agonies. Nothing was heard in the streets but the cries of the expiring people; nor were the houses much more quiet; every thing was burst open or cut to pieces. We were soon discovered in our retirement: a number of soldiers poured in, and one who carried a hatchet made an attempt to cleave my

skull, but a companion hindered him and said, “Comrade, what are you doing, don't you perceive that he is a clergyman ?”

When these were gone a single soldier came in, to whom my wife gave a crape handkerchief off her neck; upon which he retired without offering us any injury. His successor was not so reasonable: for en

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