ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. He looked half at her and half at the sky. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. He has three days to live. "He understands me, you perceive," said Hogarth. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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