When I returned to my self he was showing his Teeth in a Smile.
This Death has taken away your Spirits, says he, but it cannot be helped: we all must die although (for he could never resist a Quixotic- ism)
I admit I will never do anything with as little Desire in my Life. I gave him a Glance and at that he slunk away or, as the Rakes term it, he brush'd off, having had the worst of the Lay: just as a Rod is the best argument for the back of a Rogue, so Contempt is the best Usage that ought to be shown to a Fool. Your Servant, Sir he calls out as he turns into the Passage. Yes, he loves me as an Ivy does the Oak, and will never leave me till he has hugg'd me to my Ruine.
When I could no longer hear his Step I hasten'd to the little Desk upon which Walter fair-writes, but there was nothing so much there as a Peece of Paper to reveal to me where he had been, and where he was now. His Repository was lock'd against it, but I had watched Walter and knew that he hid his Key beneath a Board where no Nail was: it was removed by me with the utmost Ease and Quietness but, upon opening the Box, I saw only a pile of Bills and Measurements.
But then a little Paper dropped down to the Ground, and when I bent to pick it up I saw plainly that Walter had written upon it, O Misery, Them Shall Dye. I puzzled over this for a Moment, but there was so much Noise and Whispering around the Office that I could not remain by myself and, in fear of Censure, I walked into the Passage to join the Throng. Mr Lee, Mr Strong, and Mr Vanbrugghe were there engaged in Talk and as I walked toward them they call'd out, Where is Walter?
What has become of him? Is he withinne? and such like Questions.
I doubt not but that he is being Examined, 7 replied, and that he will return to us presently. Vanbrugghe did not look upon me as I spoke but waited for me to finish with an indifferent Air, and then began to discourse about Mr Hayes his suddaine Death, who he supposed his Murtherer to be, and other Trifles. My Thoughts were travelling down a different Road: Is it not just, said I after a while, that he be Buried where he Fell? And to this the Pack concurred, as a proper Course for one so devoted to the Work of the Office. Then I walk'd out into the Yard to puzzle once more the meaning of Walter's words, for they strangely afflicted me. And how could it be that Walter had made so sudden a Discovery of the Corse? I wheel'd and wheel'd about, not knowing whether to go or to stay, and the Wind would not let me think but blew upon my Face bringing the Scents of the River; so at last I enter'd my Closet and shut the Door, at which Time I had a sudden Vision of Walter running in Fear down Lombard Street.
I wrote his Words upon a Paper -O
Misery, Them Shall Dye -but
I could still find no clew to unravel their Sense. Then after a while it came to me to anagrammatize its Letters and thus I spell'd out in Horrour: Dyer Has Smote Me III, with the initials YH for the name of Yorick Hayes. And I stared astonished at my Labours: for how could it be that the Villain had foretold his own Fate, when he was making merry in his Cups only minutes before his Extinction? And yet if these were Walter's own words, how might it be that he could communicate with the Dead Man unless it be by some Instillation of his Spirit? And when had he composed this troublesome Stuff? All these blinde Feares whirled about me: Walter, Walter, I said out loud, do I not talk madly? And at this there was a Knock upon the Door and I bounded up like a Dog afraid of Whipping. But it was only the coxcomb Vanbrugghe once more making his Bow: Mr Hayes, says he, was a great Frequenter of Plays and, once we have put him in a Shift and given him over to the Clerk of the Parish, we thought to take ourselves to the Play-House in his Memory. Do you agree, Mr Dyer?
I was about to speak out, but the Callus of this man's Vanity has made him invulnerable and he takes everything you say in good Part.
It is agreed, I replied.
But to go on with my Theme: a Coroner's Jury had been summoned and met to make an Inquiry how the Party (as they called him) came by his Death, and such Witnesses as could be got besides Walter were examined; but their Testimonies appeared very obscure in the apprehension of most People. Some under examination confirmed that they had seen a lofty man in a dark Coat waiting about Midnight at the end of Pope's Head Alley, while others declared that they had observed a drunken Man by the New Church, and yet others beleeved that they had heard violent Singing in the Dusk of the Evening. All these had but a confus'd sense of Time, and it became clear that there was nothing Certain. So it is that the World makes its own Demons, which then the People see.
Mean-while the villain Hayes was clean'd and shav'd and put into his Shift: he was left to lie in his Coffin for just one Day, with a square peece of Flannel over his Face and Neck to obscure the Signs of his Death, before he was taken thro' Cheapside and Poultry to be buried by the east wall of St Mary Woolnoth. Sir Chris, had conceeved a great Dislike of Funerals and, sighing, he looked upon the Walls new built rather than down into the Grave. Mr Vannbrugghe glanced around at the Company with a melancholy Air but, as we threw sprigs of Rosemary upon the Coffin, he repeated in a jovial Tone the words of the Service: From dust to dust, says he, From dust to dust. Then he leaned over to whisper at me behind his Hand: I do not see you at your Devotions, Mr Dyer.
I have faith in the true Religion, 7 replied unthinking.
Well, well, says he smiling, Mr Hayes is now our Scholar in these Matters.
Then we returned down Cheapside in the same Order as we came, Walter still being absent and, it was thought, suffering from melan chollic Sicknesse after being surpriz'd by the Discovery of the horrid Corse. Yet all of us (save Sir Chris.) made Merry, taking Heart from that Catch, and I yet alive!: at five o'clock of the same Day, we made our way thro' New Inn, crossed Russell Court and steered to the Playhouse.
Mr Vannbrugghe, after his Devotions at the Barbers, was all improved by Powder, Washballs and Perfume so that he was as fragrant as a Bermoodoes Breez or any sweet-bag: here is a self- conceited Puppy who was born a Boy and will die before he is a Man.
Coming too soon for the Play we took a Turn in the Lobby, which is nothing but a Rendez-vous of all Extravagances, or rather the Shambles where young and old are expos'd to Sale. For among the Saunterers with their Hands in their Pockets come the Ladies from the Stews: all of them patched and painted, where beneath they are Old and Yellow and fit only to turn Stomachs. And then on a sudden Glance I observed the Harlot who had encounter'd me on that fa tall Night: at once I turned away from her and busied myself in the reading of Advertisements fix'd to the Pillars.
Well, well, says she walking up close to me and talking to some black Devil in a Mask, do you see how the Captain stared at us and gnashed his Teeth as if he could eat us for looking at Him? Captain, says she again coming beside me, you turn your Back upon me as you have done before. And she laugh'd as I shuddered and burned. Here now, she goes on taking my sweating Hands in her own, these are mighty Hands which could work much Mischief. Before I could speak, the Porter moved among the Company saying, The Play begins when it is exactly six by your Watches, will you please to go in, will you please to go in? Another Day then, Captain, says she, or let it be another Night?
And she took herself off with a Smile.
After a Pause to find my Breath I walked into the Pit where the others were already sat upon the Benches: they were not the best Seats neither, since the Gentlemen in front of us had so powdered their Perriwigs that they endangered my Eyes as soon as they turned round to stare at the Company. At first I beleeved they stared at me for the most part, since I was sadly discomfited after my Discourse with the Harlot, but my Perturbation soon passed when I saw that there was no Meaning to their Looks, either to Themselves or each other. So it was with an easier Mien that I settled my self down to watch this Assembly with its Amorous Smirks, its A la Mode Grins, its Antick Bows -the World being but a Masquerade, yet one in which the Characters do not know their Parts and must come to the Play-House in order to studdy them. Let there be no Stop to Bawdy so that those in the Pit can see themselves; fill the Stage with Villainy, with Swearing and Blaspheming and Open Lewdness. The grossest Touches will be most true.