After this, we saw a great troop of women, upon the highway to hell, with their bags and their fellows, at their heels, ever and anon hunching and justling one another. On the other side, a number of good people, that were almost at the end of their journey, came over into the wrong road; for the right-hand way growing easier and wider toward the end, and that on the left hand, on the contrary, narrower, they thought they had been out of their way, and so came in to us; as many of ours went over to them, upon the same mistake. Among the rest, I saw a great lady, without either coach, sedan, or any living creature with her, foot it all the way to hell: which was to me so great a wonder, considering how she had lived in the world, that I presently looked about for a public notary to make an entry of it. The woman was in a most miserable pickle; and I did not know what design she might drive on, under that disguise; but finding never a notary, or register at hand, though I missed my particular aim, yet I was well enough pleased with it, for I took it then for granted that I was in my ready way to heaven. But when I came afterward to reflect upon the crosses, afflictions, and mortifications, that lie in the way to paradise; and to consider that there was nothing of that upon this road; but on the contrary, laughing, singing, frollicking, and all manner of jollity: this I must confess gave me a qualm, and made me a little doubtful whither I was going.
But I was quickly delivered of that doubt by a gang of married men, that we overtook with their wives in their hands, in evidence of their mortifications: “My wife’s my witness,” cries one, “that every day since I married her has been a fasting day to me; to pamper her with cock-broth, and jellies. And my wife knows how I have humbled my body by nakedness; for I have hardly allowed myself a rag to my backside; or a shoe to my foot, to maintain her in her coach, pages, gowns, petticoats, and jewels.” So that upon the matter, I perceive an unlucky hit with a wife gives a man as much right to the catalogue of martyrs, as if he had ended his days at the stake.
The misery these poor wretches endured made me think myself in the right again; till I heard a cry behind me, “Make way there; make way for the ’pothecaries.” Bless me, thought I, if they be here, we are certainly going to the devil. And so it proved, for we were just then come to a little door, that was made like a mousetrap, where ’twas easy to get in, but there was no getting out again.