my lord,
"you need no excuse, 'tis not a man bedfellow, I see;" but then, talking
merrily enough, he catched his words back: "But, hark ye," says he, "now
I think on 't, how shall I be satisfied it is not a man bedfellow?"
"Oh," says I, "I dare say your lordship is satisfied 'tis poor Amy."
"Yes," says he, "'tis Mrs. Amy; but how do I know what Amy is? it may be
Mr. Amy for aught I know; I hope you'll give me leave to be satisfied."
I told him, yes, by all means, I would have his lordship satisfied; but
I supposed he knew who she was.

Well, he fell foul of poor Amy, and indeed I thought once he would have
carried the jest on before my face, as was once done in a like case; but
his lordship was not so hot neither, but he would know whether Amy was
Mr. Amy or Mrs. Amy, and so, I suppose, he did; and then being satisfied
in that doubtful case, he walked to the farther end of the room, and
went into a little closet and sat down.

In the meantime Amy and I got up, and I bid her run and make the bed in
another chamber for my lord, and I gave her sheets to put into it; which
she did immediately, and I put my lord to bed there, and when I had
done, at his desire went to bed to him. I was backward at first to come
to bed to him, and made my excuse because I had been in bed with Amy,
and had not shifted me; but he was past those niceties at that time; and
as long as he was sure it was Mrs. Amy, and not Mr. Amy, he was very
well satisfied, and so the jest passed over. But Amy appeared no more
all that night, or the next day, and when she did, my lord was so merry
with her upon his eclaircissement, as he called it, that Amy did not
know what to do with herself.

Not that Amy was such a nice lady in the main, if she had been fairly
dealt with, as has appeared in the former part of this work; but now she
was surprised, and a little hurried, that she scarce knew where she was;
and besides, she was, as to his lordship, as nice a lady as any in the
world, and for anything he knew of her she appeared as such. The rest
was to us only that knew of it.

I held this wicked scene of life out eight years, reckoning from my
first coming to England; and though my lord found no fault, yet I found,
without much examining, that any one who looked in my face might see I
was above twenty years old; and yet, without flattering myself, I
carried my age, which was above fifty, very well too.

I may venture to say that no woman ever lived a life li