Of a Meeting near Fulham
Old Rowley, I saw, looked somewhat disconcerted, and, eyeing me sharply, he says,
“Come, come, Captain, do you not see that you have excited her so far, that she will seek refuge from you in any fiction.”
That turned me on him, for I was tired of the silly wench, and “Who the Devil are you,” I said, “to interfere atween a gentleman and his mistress? I will take it on me to teach you manners,” and forthwith I drew on him.
He was not at all put about by this, but smiled in his soothing fashion.
“No doubt,” he says, looking at my weapon, “’tis the ardent spirit proper to a lover, Captain, but you will perceive that you have drawn upon an unarmed man.”
“Well,” says I, “an’ I may not slice you with the point, I will e’en trounce you with the flat,” and I stepped to him, iron in hand.
And now for the second time Old Rowley’s face fell, and he withdrew a pace, while Madam cried out in an alarm for me to stay my hand, as I knew not what I was doing. But he,
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