The good man, methought, spoke wonders; and being thoroughly convinced of the danger of trusting to appearances, I took up a resolution, never to conclude upon anything, though never so plausible, without due examination and inquiry. With that, the funeral vanished, leaving us behind; and for a farewell, this sentence: “I am gone before, you are to follow; and in the meantime, to accompany others to their graves, as you have done me; and as I, when time was, have attended many others, with as little care and devotion as yourselves.”
We were taken off from this meditation by a noise we heard in a house behind us, where we had no sooner set foot over the threshold, but we were entertained with a concert of six voices, that were set and tuned to the sighs and groans of a woman newly become a widow. The passion was acted to the life; but the dead little the better for’t. They would be ever and anon clapping and wringing of their hands; groaning and sighing, as if their hearts would break. The hangings, pictures, and furniture were all taken down and removed; the rooms hung with black, and in one of them lay the poor disconsolate upon a couch with her condoling friends about her. It was as dark as pitch, and so much the better, for the parts they had to play; for there was no discovering of the horrid faces and strains they made, to fetch up their artificial tears and lamentations. “Madam,” says one, “tears are but thrown away; and really the grief to see your ladyship in this condition has made me as lost a woman to all thought of comfort as yourself.” “I beseech you, madam, cheer up,” cries another, with almost as many sighs as words, “your husband’s e’en happy that he is out of this miserable world. He was a good man, and now he finds the sweet on’t.” “Patience, patience, dear madam,” cries a third, “’tis the will of Heaven, and there’s no contending.” “Dost talk of patience,” says she, “and no contending? Wretched creature that I am! to outlive that dear man! Oh that dear husband of mine! Oh that I should ever live to see this day!” And then she fell to blubbering, sobbing, and raving a thousand times worse than before. “Alas, alas, who will trouble himself with a poor widow! I have never a friend left to look after me; what shall become of me!”