Father's Health: For no
sooner could Sir _Henry_ walk about the Room, than she was forc'd to
keep her Bed; being afflicted with the same Distemper from which her
Father was yet but hardly freed: Her Fever was high, but the _Delirium_
was not so great: In which, yet, she should often discover her Passion
for _Lewis Constance_, her wounded Lover; lamenting the great Danger his
Life had been in, as if she had not receiv'd daily Letters of his
Amendment. Then again, she would complain of her Brother's Absence, but
more frequently of her Lover's; which her Father hearing, sent to invite
him to come to her, with his Sister, as soon as young _Constance_ was
able to undertake the Journey; which he did the very next Day; and he
and _Diana_ gave the languishing Lady a Visit in her Chamber, just in
the happy Time of an Interval, which, 'tis suppos'd, was the sole Cause
of her Recovery; for the Sight of her Lover and Friend was better than
the richest Cordial in her Distemper. In a very short Time she left her
Bed, when Sir _Henry_, to give her perfect Health, himself join'd the
two Lovers Hands; and not many Weeks after, when her Beauty and Strength
return'd in their wonted Vigour, he gave her 10000_l._ and his Blessing,
which was a double Portion, on their Wedding-Day, which he celebrated
with all the Cost and Mirth that his Estate and Sorrow would permit:
Sorrow for the Loss of his Son, I mean, which still hung upon him, and
still hover'd and croak'd over and about him, as Ravens, and other Birds
of Prey, about Camps and dying People. His Melancholy, in few Months,
increas'd to that Degree, that all Company and Conversation was odious
to him, but that of Bats, Owls, Night-Ravens, _&c._ Nay, even his
Daughter, his dear and only Child, as he imagin'd, was industriously
avoided by him. In short, it got so intire a Mastery of him, that he
would not nor did receive any Sustenance for many Days together; and at
last it confin'd him to his Bed; where he lay wilfully speechless for
two Days and Nights; his Son-in-Law, or his own Daughter, still
attending a-Nights by Turns; when on the third Night, his _Lucretia_
sitting close by him in Tears, he fetch'd a deep Sigh, which ended in a
pitious Groan, and call'd faintly, _Lucretia! Lucretia!_ The Lady being
then almost as melancholy as her Father, did not hear him 'till the
third Call; when falling on her Knees, and embracing his Hand, which he
held out to her, she return'd with Tears then g