The Works of Capt. Alex. Radcliffe :: :: University of Virginia Library

There was lately a Gang of English Highway-men, all of 'em having Wives or Whores in London. Now the only means to detect 'em, was by bribing their Women. In order to which the Keeper of Newgate went to 'em all, promising them very fairly, and with all, using Arguments how serviceable they wou'd be to their Country, in Discovering them; which they might easily do, when they came home to Bed. The Women were easily perswaded, And one Night, order'd the Keeper to be there at such a time, who seized them all; but Linus was præadmonished by his Wife Hypermnestra, so he escaped away in her Cloaths; She bore the brunt in his Apparrel, and was Taken (supposed to be a man) and Committed to Newgate, and put into Irons. The rest of the Thieves were Hang'd, her Tryal was respited, being not known who she was. Hypermnestra sends him this Letter.

To thee poor Hypermnestra now complains,
Such is the Torture of my Iron Chains:
Shall it be call'd in Law, a Crime so heinous,
For being just to my own Husband Linus?

Let 'em torment me on, I do not care,
I'll not tell who Iam, nor where you are;
If they shou'd Hang me up instead of you,
To the last Gasp I swear I will be true:
I long to be reveng'd on tyose curs'd Wives,
That did betray their Friends and Husbands Lives.
Such Men were not in England to be found,
They'd bid the Devil stand, on any ground,
And all the prizes that they got, they spent
Upon those Whores; yet they were not content,
Think on that Night we did together Sup,
When all the Company were Cock-a-hoop;
That fatal Night you all came from the Pad,
Your Booty very large, your hearts were glad:
Though in my sad Condition, 'tis not proper,
Yet, I can well remember all the Supper:
A stately Loin of Veal began the Feast,
I help'd you half the Kidney at the least;

Four Turkey Poulets came next you wish'd they'd been
Four Turkey Merchants upon Mile-End-Green:
Roasted young Ducks, and Chickens fricazeed;
There was more meat than we cou'd eat indeed:
Wine in abundance—I drank none but Sack;
But all you men did ply it with Pontack:
To th' top you fill'd a Glass, and drank to th' best—
The Health as you began it, seem'd a Jest;
I took't in Earnest to my self, and knew
That I shou'd prove the best of Wives to you.
By Two a Clock you Men were almost Drunk,
Then each to bed went to his Spouse or Punk;
If they were all as kind as you to me,
Never was such a Night of Lechery:
At last you sleep securely without warning
Of the strange Alterations in the Morning:
I knew betimes the Keepers wou'd be there,
And all the Night I sweat, 'tween Sport and Fear;

At last I rose, and 'bout the Room I walk'd,
And thus at Randum to my self I talk'd;
Have I not sworn a Thousand Oaths at lest,
That I'd betray my Husband with the rest?
What must I do? 'Tis true, I am his Wife,
What! must I damn my Soul to save his Life?
Hang all the Oaths in Christendom, said I;
He is my Husband, and he must not die.
With that I drew your Breeches on in hast,
The Codpiece was so big, I was amaz'd;
I walk'd into your Coat, hanging on Peg.
I lost my head within your Perewig:
Having put on your Armour Cap-a-pee,
For by the weight, such was your Cloaths to me;
You reach'd your Arm across—had I been there,
You would have had the other bout, I fear;
I pull'd the Sheet and Blanket from the Bed,
I plainly then perceiv'd, 'twas as I said:

Rise Linus, Rise, said I, be very quick;
This is no time for any wanton Trick;
You're all betray'd—The Constable's at Door,
You must not stay a minute of an hour.
I shuffled on my Cloaths upon your back,
They did not fit—I heard my Manteau crack:
No sooner were you gone, but in they bounc'd;
They seiz'd on me, and swore I shou'd be trounc'd:
And here they have me fast with Bolt and Lock;
They know not yet that I have on a Smock.
Now you are safe, and I am here, dear Linus
Let's seriously discourse th' Affair between us:
If all the truh to them I should discover,
What can they say? 'twas acted like a like Lover;
I may be sent to Bridewel, there they'l bang me;
But all the Law in England cannot hang me.
While I lye here—I am in little ease,
But when all's told, what shall I do for Fees?

If you don't use some means to get me freed,
Within few days you'l hear that I am Dead;
And then 'tis like they'l bury me; if so
Upon my Grave this Epitaph bestow:
Here lies a Wife, who rather than she'ld fail
To save her Husband's Life, dy'd in a Jayl:
My Irons load me so, I'm fit to cry,
I would write more, but cannot; so God b'ye.