Surely we all have one?

I am not planning to die any time soon (current man-flu notwithstanding), but just in case, this is my favourite epitaph:

Mrs Aphra Behn
died April 16 1689
Here lies proof that wit can never be defence enough against mortality.

I knew literally nothing about Aphra Behn before I read her epitaph today (I have been at Westminster Abbey, and believe me, this is not the last you will hear about my visit).  I liked it enough to want to find out more.

A cursory search  is telling me that she was a writer who also worked as a spy, making her exactly what the 8 year old me wanted to be when I grew up.  There's also a good chance that she invented a dead German husband (Mr Behn) just so she could say she was a widow. This one wasn't an ambition I harboured as a child, particularly, but I do like her style.

The spying didn't really work out for her; allegedly she was working for Charles II who didn't even get around to paying her expenses, let alone anything for her services, so she ended up in debtors prison.  A mystery benefactor (how exciting!) saved the day by paying off her debts and she went on to become one of the first women to make her living as a writer.

Her most famous work was a short story about an African slave called Oroonoko (no connection to the Womble, sadly - I've checked) and she mainly wrote amatory fiction, which means love stories basically, but not just any love stories: Wikipedia says amatory fiction "typically depicts an innocent, trusting woman who is deceived by a self-serving, lustful man."  Helpfully, the article continues: "For the women of amatory fiction, love typically ends in misery".

Aphra also wrote poems and plays: she was arrested (but got off with a warning) because one of them, Like Father, Like Son, contained an "abusive prologue".  The play was a bit of a flop and was never published, which is a great shame, as an abusive prologue is something I'd very much like to read.