name; for though he was the foundation of my ruin, I cannot take so
severe a revenge upon him.

With this thing called a husband I lived eight years in good fashion,
and for some part of the time kept a coach, that is to say, a kind of
mock coach; for all the week the horses were kept at work in the
dray-carts; but on Sunday I had the privilege to go abroad in my
chariot, either to church or otherways, as my husband and I could agree
about it, which, by the way, was not very often; but of that hereafter.

Before I proceed in the history of the married part of my life, you must
allow me to give as impartial an account of my husband as I have done of
myself. He was a jolly, handsome fellow, as any woman need wish for a
companion; tall and well made; rather a little too large, but not so as
to be ungenteel; he danced well, which I think was the first thing that
brought us together. He had an old father who managed the business
carefully, so that he had little of that part lay on him, but now and
then to appear and show himself; and he took the advantage of it, for he
troubled himself very little about it, but went abroad, kept company,
hunted much, and loved it exceedingly.

After I have told you that he was a handsome man and a good sportsman, I
have indeed said all; and unhappy was I, like other young people of our
sex, I chose him for being a handsome, jolly fellow, as I have said; for
he was otherwise a weak, empty-headed, untaught creature, as any woman
could ever desire to be coupled with. And here I must take the liberty,
whatever I have to reproach myself with in my after conduct, to turn to
my fellow-creatures, the young ladies of this country, and speak to them
by way of precaution. If you have any regard to your future happiness,
any view of living comfortably with a husband, any hope of preserving
your fortunes, or restoring them after any disaster, never, ladies,
marry a fool; any husband rather than a fool. With some other husbands
you may be unhappy, but with a fool you will be miserable; with another
husband you may, I say, be unhappy, but with a fool you must; nay, if he
would, he cannot make you easy; everything he does is so awkward,
everything he says is so empty, a woman of any sense cannot but be
surfeited and sick of him twenty times a day. What is more shocking than
for a woman to bring a handsome, comely fellow of a husband into
company, and then be obliged to blush for him every time she hears