A poor unhappy gentlewoman, a substantial citizen’s wife, was, if the story be true, murdered by one of these creatures in Aldersgate Street, or that way.  He was going along the street, raving mad, to be sure, and singing.  The people only said he was drunk; but he himself said he had the plague upon him, which, it seems, was true; and, meeting this gentlewoman, he would kiss her.  She was terribly frightened, as he was a rude fellow, and she run from him; but, the street being very thin of people, there was nobody near enough to help her.  When she saw he would overtake her, she turned and gave him a thrust so forcibly, he being but weak, as pushed him down backward; but very unhappily, she being so near, he caught hold of her and pulled her down also, and, getting up first, mastered her and kissed her, and, which was worst of all, when he had done, told her he had the plague, and why should not she have it as well as he.  She was frightened enough before; but when she heard him say he had the plague, she screamed out, and fell down into a swoon, or in a fit, which, though she recovered a little, yet killed her in a very few days; and I never heard whether she had the plague or no.

Another infected person came and knocked at the door of a citizen’s house where they knew him very well.  The servant let him in, and, being told the master of the house was above, he ran up, and came into the room to them as the whole family were at supper.  They began to rise up a little surprised, not knowing what the matter was; but he bid them sit still, he only come to take his leave of them.  They asked him, “Why, Mr. ——­, where are you going?”—­“Going?” says he; “I have got the sickness, and shall die to-morrow night.”  It is easy to believe, though not to describe, the consternation they were all in.  The women and the man’s daughters, which[239] were but little girls, were frightened almost to death, and got up, one running out at one door and one at another, some downstairs and some upstairs, and, getting together as well as they could, locked themselves into their chambers, and screamed out at the windows for help, as if they had been frightened out of their wits.  The master, more composed than they, though both frightened and provoked, was going to lay hands on him and throw him downstairs, being in a passion; but then, considering a little the condition of the man and the danger of touching him, horror seized his mind, and he stood still like one astonished.  The poor distempered man, all this while, being as well diseased in his brain as in his body, stood still like one amazed.  At length he turns round.  “Ay!” says he with all the seeming calmness imaginable, “is it so with you all?  Are you all disturbed at me?  Why, then, I’ll e’en go home and die there.”  And so he goes immediately downstairs.  The servant that had let him in goes down after him with a candle, but was afraid to go past him and open the door; so he stood on the stairs to see what he would do.