Page:Moll Flanders (1906 edition).djvu/104

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72

THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS

I waived the discourse, and began to talk of my business; but I found he could not have done with it, so I let him alone, and he went on to tell me all the circumstances of his case, too long to relate here; particularly, that having been out of England some time before he came to the post he was in, she had had two children in the meantime by an officer in the army; and that when he came to England, and, upon her submission, took her again, and maintained her very well, yet she ran away from him with a linen-draper's apprentice, robbed him of what she could come at, and continued to live from him still; 'so that, madam', says he, 'she is a whore not by necessity, which is the common bait, but by inclination, and for the sake of the vice.'

Well, I pitied him, and wished him well rid of her, and still would have talked of my business, but it would not do. At last he looked steadily at me. 'Look you, madam', says he, 'you came to ask advice of me, and I will serve you as faithfully as if you were my own sister; but I must turn the tables, since you oblige me to do it, and are so friendly to me, and I think I must ask advice of you. Tell me, what must a poor abused fellow do with a whore? What can I do to do myself justice upon her?'

'Alas! sir', says I, 'tis a case too nice for me to advise in, but it seems to me she has run away from you, so you are rid of her fairly; what can you desire more?' 'Ay, she is gone indeed', said he, 'but I am not clear of her for all that.' 'That's true', says I; 'she may indeed run you into debt, but the law has furnished you with methods to prevent that also; you may cry her down, as they call it.'

'No, no', says he, 'that is not the case; I have taken care of all that; 'tis not that part that I speak of, but I would be rid of her that I might marry again.'

'Well, sir", says I, 'then you must divorce her; if you can prove what you say, you may certainly get that done, and then you are free.'

'That's very tedious and expensive', says he.

'Why', says I, 'if you can get any woman you like to take your word, I suppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with you that she takes herself.'

'Ay', says he, 'but it would be hard to bring an honest woman to do that; and for the other sort', says he, 'I have had enough of her to meddle with any more whores.'

It occurred to me presently, 'I would have taken your word with all my heart, if you had but asked me the question'; but that was to myself.

To him I replied, 'Why, you shut the door against any honest woman accepting you, for you condemn all that should venture upon you, and conclude that a woman that takes you now can't be honest.'

'Why', says he, 'I wish you would satisfy me that an honest woman would take me; I'd venture it'; and then turns short upon me, 'Will you take me, madam?'

'That's not a fair question', says I, 'after what you have said; however, lest you should think I wait only a recantation of it, I shall answer you plainly, No, not I; my business is of another kind with you; and I did not expect you would have turned my serious application to you, in my distracted case, into a comedy.'

'Why, madam', says he, 'my case is as distracted as yours can be, and I stand in as much need of advice as you do, for I think if I have not relief somewhere I shall be mad myself, and I know not what course to take, I protest to you.'