THIS Famous Rover, from the Multitude of his Titles, to begin with his right Name William Morrell, was by Profession a Chyrurgion; and more than twenty Years ago, for many Years together, a Practitioner of good Credit in Banbury; where his Industry honestly got him, by his Practice, a comfortable Subsistence, with which he maintained himself, his Wife and Family very handsomly, till about twenty Years ago he began to be very Lazy, and much addicted to hanker after the Conversation of the Gentry thereabouts: And being a Person very Facetious, and his Company not disacceptable, he screwed himself into the Society of the best Quality round about, and would be a Month or two a Guest at several Great Mens Houses: More particularly he some time since insinuated himself into the Favour of a Worthy Gentleman near Banbury, viz. Hum­phry Wickham of Swakely Esq whose Person and Character he pretended to represent, and in which [Page 2] Imposture he made his last Exit. His Original it was very Obscure, and his first Start into the World, was in no higher a Post than a Journey­man Shoemaker, in which Character he liv'd some considerable time at Worcester, understanding so little of what he profess'd at Banbury, viz. Chyrur­gery, that he knew the Vertue of no other Plaister than his own Cobler's Wax. From that Imploy­ment, he took a Frolick to Sea; from whence re­turned, he came to Swakely, with the true Pri­vilege of a Traveller, his Authority unquestionable, he talk'd Miracles both of his Voyages and Ad­ventures. For Example, That he had made a Voyage to Constantinople and Barbadoes, (for East and West were all one in his Geography;) and so amused the Country-People with his Rhodomon­tadoes, that they look'd upon him as a Prodigy of a Man. His great Art he profess'd was Chy­rurgery, (the little he had of it being indeed got­ten on Ship-board,) and what with promised Won­ders, and great Words, the common Crutch of little Abilities, together with some Favours and Countenance received from Captain Wickham, (a common Charity from so worthy a Gentleman,) which very much heightned his Reception, he made shift to rub through the World.

But to begin our History in order: From his Con­versing with Gentlemen and Herding with Quality, Business began to fall off, his many Rambles from home soon made his Practice flag; when the Glass and the Bottle came into play, the Salvatory and Plaister-box went out: And his Patients could not well stay for the Setting of a Broken Limb, or Tenting a Green Wound, till our Esculapius was to be called, the Lord knows where, and found the [Page 3] Devil knows when. This Trade continuing, the other fell to decay; till at last Poverty began to peep in at his Window, and Duns to hover about his Door. In these little Exigencies and Necessities (for the Gentleman's Tables abroad would not fill the Bellies at home; nor would Hunting or Hawk­ing pay Landlords Rent) his Wants put him upon Shifts and Artifices for his Subsistence; and what with a Natural Wit, and a pretty large Talent of Confidence, the pressing Hand of Fortune threw him upon several Tricks and Frauds to hold his Head above-board. But not to trouble you with any of his lesser Diminitive Exploits, the Infancy and Nonage of his Activity, we do not think fit to treat you with these pe [...]tier Adventures, but e'en set him out in one of his noblest Atchievements, and paint our new Guzman in some of his boldest and fairest Colours.

Accordingly he Equips himself with a Sturdy Young Country-Fellow, a Ralpho to our Hudibras, and takes a Knight-Errantry one day to a Fair at Brayls in Warwick-shire, his Habit between a Gra­zier and a plain Country-Gentleman; where San­tering about with his Man Tom (for so his Squire was titled) at last spying a Knot of good likely Kine (near a Score of them.) Ah Master, says Tom, what a parcel of brave Cattle are these. Ay Tom, replies the Master, I am sorry I saw them no sooner; these would do my business to a T; but as the Devil and ill Luck would have it, I have laid out my whole Stock already, and so I'll e'en set my Heart at Rest. The Country-Fellow, the Owner of the Cattle, seeing a Gentleman of his honest Appea­rance surveying his Beasts, and hearing every word that pass'd between the Man and Master, (for they took care to talk loud enough to be heard) thought [Page 4] he had got a good Chapman, and desired the Gen­tleman to draw nearer and handle the Cattle. Handle, answers Tom, what for? You know, Sir, you have laid out all your Money already, and what should we handle Cattle unless we had Cole to buy 'em: I confess they are for your Turn above any I have zeen in the whole Vair; but that's nothing, the Money Master the Money. The Money, replies the Country-man, Troth that shall make no Difference, nor break Squares between us; if you and I can agree, the Cattle are at your Service: I suppose you are some honest Gentleman hereabouts, and the Money will do my work next Market-day. Pray what may I call your Name? My Name is Walters, replies our Cattle-Merchant. Walters, Master, answers our Country-man, What any Relation to his Worship the Noble Sir William Walters? Ay, Friend, a small Relation, a Brother of his. A Brother of Sir William 's! Off goes the Country-man's Bonnet at the next word, and a long Scrape made; for no Respect was too great for a Brother to a Person of such eminent Quality. My Cattle, Noble Squire, Ay with all my Heart. In short, after much ado, to make the Country-man be cover'd before him, he fell to treat about the Price of the Cattle, in which he bargained so warily, that they had almost parted for a single Shilling in dispute between them. But at last the Bargain and Sale concluded, Tom is commanded to drive home the Cattle, the Money to be paid next Market-day, and the Country-man has the Honour to drink a Pot at parting with his Worshipful Chap­man our Sir William's Brother. This Feat per­formed, he takes a walk round the Fair, and picks up a pretty Country Girl, a Masons Daughter at a small Town about four Miles off, and gives her the common Country-Civility of a Fair, viz. a Glass [Page 5] of White-wine and Sugar. During this Entertain­ment of our Young Damsel, he is most desperately smitten with her Beauty, insomuch that our Ina­morato must wait upon her home to her Father's House, nothing but Death and Despair attending if he cannot have that extraordinary Happiness. The Girl, who by this time had learnt his Name and Quality, was not a little confounded at the pressing Importunities of a Person of his Worth, to a poor Girl of her little Capacity; and notwithstanding her modest Refusals, felt a secret Pride from so kind an offer, and at last accepted of his Service home. No sooner was she got safe handed home, and her Mother and Daddy were privately whispered what Honour they receiv'd from such a Visitant; but the best the House could afford was not good enough for him: After the courser Compliments of [ Lord, Sir, such a Person of Quality under our poor Roof] and the like; the best welcom that could be made him was not wanting: Nay, for what was deficient at home, the whole Neighborhood was ransak'd to lend help toward the Accommodation. Our new Lover, not to baulk a good Cause, openly professes no less than honourable Matrimonial Affection to his dear Conqueror. Estate he wants none, and Portion or Quality are below his Consideration, the Satisfaction of Love is the only thing in the World he resolves to gratifie.

The Father and Mother are much astonish'd at such an Addresser to their Daughter, nor is the Daughter her self a little surpriz'd at it, though of the two her Wonder is the least; for her Sexes natural Frailty was so apt to make her think it the pure Effect of her own sweet Face, that the Power of her Charms, and the Quality of her Captive was not altogether (she fancied) so extraordinary [Page 6] an Adventure. In fine, Our passionate Admirer pushes on his Suit with all the Vigour and Applica­tion imaginable, and truly you may well conceive so weak a Resistance could not well hold out long against so Puissant an Assailer: The Siege is press'd home, and in three short Days the white Flag is hung out, a Parly beat, Articles concluded, and the Fort surrendred. Our Damsel, in short, com­mits Matrimony; and the whole Family is not a little transported at such a Noble Alliance. Thus Wedded and Bedded, Our new Couple are all Ho­ney and Sweetness, and though Sir William Wal­ter's House was not above a dozen Miles from thence, his Adopted Brother all safe and secure, sleeps in the soft Arms of his young Bride with all the Rapture of Pleasure and Delight. After three Revelling Days were spent in Feasting and Joy, the Father-in-Law and himself enter in a close Ca­binet Consult about providing for Family and Set­tlement. He tells the Old Man, that truly his Brother the Knight will undoubtedly take no little Dudgeon at this Match, not that he cares a Far­thing for't. He has married the only Creature of the World he can Love, and he is resolved to Che­rish her accordingly. But however, to manage Af­fairs with Discretion, he thinks it his best Prudence and Policy, to get his Trunks and the Writings of his Estate safe out of his Brother's Hands, before he pub­lishes the Marriage. And for that purpose he has no better Way than for his Father-in Law to help him to a small Cart and a couple of able Horses, and to drive to his Brother's, and take up his Trunks, &c. And considering he had laid out all his ready Money in Cattle at Brayle Fair, he desired the Favour to furnish him with Ten Pounds, that he might not be unprovided with a little of the [Page 7] Ready about him, in case of any Rupture between his Brother and himself, till he could furnish him­self better amongst his Tenants.

The Old Man very readily embraced this rea­sonable Proposition, and though truly the Sum of Ten Pounds was above his Stock, nevertheless, living in Repute amongst his Neighbours, through great Solicitation, some forty and some thirty Shillings, and such like Summs, with much ado he raises the Ten Pounds desired; and more and above he procures two very able Horses and a Cart to bring away the Treasure aforesaid, &c.

By this time his Man Tom having Sold the Cat­tle, is come to wish his Noble Master Joy of his fair Bride, and so the Master and Tom, attended by a Brother of his Bride, an Honest Country Swain, who though so highly honoured with his new Affi­nity, is at present planted in no higher a Post than to be a Mate to his Man Tom to drive the Cart, set forwards, &c.

The Brother-in-Law, Cheek by Jowl, with the Fore-Horse of his small Team, drives on very merrily for about Nine of the Twelve Miles to Sir Willi­am's, entertaining his Worshipful Relation with the very best Tune he could Whistle all the Way they travell'd.

But now within Three Miles of Home, our poli­tick Bridegroom thinks it adviseable, that one of his Carters, the Brother, should make a Halt at an Ale-house where they stopp'd, and the whole Management of the Cart and Horses be intrusted with Tom, for fear the Sight of a Stranger to come to take up Goods at his Brother's might give Occasion of Curiosity and Inquiry, whereas Tom, an old Ser­vant in the Family, with less Suspicion and Inspe­ction might do it.

[Page 8]These strong Reasons (or indeed weaker would have served turn) were satisfactory enough, and so the Gentleman Equipping his Brother Clodpate with a George to stay and Drink till they returned, the Master and Man fairly drive on, for the re­maining three Miles to bring off the Bag and Bag­gage, &c.

The Potent Sum of a whole Half Crown to be laid out in Ale, set in our Country Youth to a hearty Carouse with the kind Hostess of the House, where the Esquires Health was over and over re­membred, not forgetting the Great Man at the Great House about Three Miles off, where, as simple a Country Fellow as he was, he expected one Day to be better acquainted.

But to draw this Adventure towards a Conclusi­on, our waiting Carter long expecting the Return of the Brother, the Palfries and the Cargo, not­withstanding the Strength of powerful Ale, and his Sweet Land-Ladies diverting Company, began at last to be Impatient; sometimes he fancied the Loading was too heavy for the Poor Beasts, and he thought it his best way to walk out and see if he could meet them: But all Inquiry was in vain, Night at last drew on, and the best Part of his Half-Crown melted down; at length, though very Uneasie and Restless, he is perswaded by his kind Hostess to take a hard Nap till Morning. The Cock was not so soon awake as he, for to tell Truth, he ne're slept at all, though indeed he dreamt all Night, for he could not think less, than that some Retainers of the Family had undoubtedly fol­lowed the Cart, and murder'd the Squire to run away with the Treasure; and what his poor Sister would suffer to be a Widow so early, was little less than a Mortal Apprehension. Thereupon very be­times [Page 9] in the Morning, he pads to Sir William's, and very earnestly inquires what was become of the Squire, the Knights Brother. Sir William's Bro­ther, reply'd the Servants, we know none he has; 'tis true, he had one some Years beyond Sea, but whether dead or alive, is more than any Man up­on English Ground ( God wott) can tell. How! No Brother-in-Law Squire! No Sir William's Fa­mily! No Sister like to be a Lady, nor Brother a Gentleman! Nor no Horses nor Cart neither! This staggering Account put him into so doleful a Dumps, that he stood almost Thunder-struck. And truly the twelve Miles home again, was so tedious a Journey, and the lamentable Narrative he must make 'em at home, so killing a Fancy, that it was a great Mercy he did not make a Stay upon some convenient Twig in some Hedge in the Road, rather than live to be the Messenger of such a woful sad Tale— But ill News at last must out. The Bird and the Beasts were all flown; the poor Bride sweetly brought to Bed, a Cart and two Horses to pay for, a Son-in-Law to find when the Devil was blind, the Daughter's sweet Play-thing lost, the Father and Mother dipt Ten whole Pounds in Chalk, and the whole Family under the suffering of a whole Chamber-pot full of Wailings and Tears for their Calamities and Mis­fortunes.

But to return to our Rover: By the Sale of Cart and Team, Ten Pound in Cole the last Lump, and the Price of his Kine the other, his Pockets were pretty well lined; and considering this Spot might soon grow too hot for him, he thinks it wisest to shift the Scene, and thereupon dismissing, for some time, his Man Tom, who had pretty well lick'd his Fingers in so profitable a Ser­vice, [Page 10] our Grasier now transmogrifies into a Spark, and very sprucely rigg'd, takes a Ramble West­ward, where meeting with no Adventure worth recital, in some small Time he gets to Ludlow. There taking up the first Night at an Inn, his Garb (though unattended by Servants) soon made him good Reception; his first Inquiry was to learn out the eminentest People in the Town, of which being readily inform'd by the Drawers; he learnt, amongst other Relations, that there was a Substantial Wealthy Tradesman, had two pretty Marriageable Daughters: Being directed to the House, he addresses to the Father, telling him he was a Barkshire Gentleman, and intending to make some small Abode in Ludlow, he did not think fit to continue in a Publick House, but would gladly gain Admission to some Private Family. The Tradesman (whose Name we will not men­tion) being a Widower, and taken with the man­ner of his Discourse, kindly invited him to his own House, which our Travelling Gallant as kindly embracing, Accommodation was made, and he was lodg'd that very Night at this Private Land­lord's.

His Entrance here gave him the Opportunity of daily conversing with no mean Wit and Charms in the two sweet Daughters of the Family; and our Gallant, very apt to take fire at but a small matter of Beauty, especially with a Portion at the Tail of it, felt no little Wamblings at the extraordinary Ac­complishments of the Elder, somewhat the sweeter Creature. But this new Adventure was not an Enterprise so easie as the last; this Sire of some Fashion, was so far above the Education and Ex­tract of his former Father-in-Law, a Man of Mor­tar and Trowel; and his Daughters of a Reach [Page 11] and understanding so much beyond the other's hum­bler Capacity; that Measures must be quite alter'd here from those that he took before. Accordingly, now his Discourse was always upon Foreign Sub­jects, himself and his own Affairs the least Part of his Talk; and if any inquisitive Question, either by Father or Daughters were made relating to his Family or Concerns, he answer'd with that Mo­desty, and almost Silence to all Demands of that Kind, that he left their Curiosity still in the Dark; and which indeed was so much Heightning to the favourable Imaginations they had conceived of him; that they doubted not in the least, but he was of eminent Quality; and what any boasting Vanity would have made 'em rather suspect, his Modesty on the contrary confirm'd. 'Twas some few Days before they inquir'd his Name, for which he had ready at his Tongues End, the Name of a very great Family in Barkshire; but not descending to Particulars, the Remoteness of the Place did not gain 'em much Intelligence of his Quality from only the bare Name. All this while, at some little distance, he dropt a great many complaisant Words to the elder Sister, which look'd very much like Love, and which he indeed desired should be so interpreted. In this Conversation, now of a Fort-nights Continuance, he had rendred himself so ac­ceptable to the whole Family, that a great many favourable Thoughts on all sides inclined towards him. The Address to the Daughter, at last looked a little more plain and barefac'd, and at that Time a Fair happening at Ludlow, where he had been di­verting himself with seeing of Fashions, he came home in much Concern, and some kind of Passion, much greater than hitherto they had at any Time seen from him. ‘Certainly there is no Place in [Page 12] the World (says he passionately) so retir'd, but some Devil or other will still find out and haunt me.’ The Oddness of this Expression invited the elder Sister to ask him what he meant. ‘Why truly, Madam, ( he replied) I have been hunted from three or four Towns already, for in spight of all my Resolutions of living incognito, some unlucky Person or other comes full in my Mouth, and will betray me in spight of my Soul.’ This Answer did but heighten her Curiosity, and having, as she thought, some little Interest in him as a pro­fest Servant of her's, she was a little the bolder in pressing the Question; and therefore plainly ask'd him why he liv'd incognito, and what Accident had now discovered him: To this at last, with a little more Frankness than he had hitherto used, he re­plied, the Reason of his Ramble from his Family, with his Living three or four Months past un­known to the whole World, was only to prevent the Ruin of a Sister, who, like a foolish Girl, was in much Danger to be undone by a Beggarly Match she was too fond of; and her Portion being in his Hands, he had absented himself from his Home, lest the Softness of her Tears, the Importu­nities of several Advocates in Behalf of this indi­gent Lover, together with the Weakness of his own tender Heart, might at last be prevail'd upon to grant his Consent to what he knew would be his Shame and her Undoing. And as Ill Luck would have it, he had unfortunately tumbled upon a Country-man of his, now at the Fair, who would infallibly run open mouth'd to his Sister and his Family, and tell 'em all where he was. This Discovery gave a good Occasion to the fair Examiner to be not only a Pleader for her own Sex in the Person and Cause of his unknown Sister, but likewise to be a Cham­pion [Page 13] for Love. For now she plainly told him, that a great many Grains of Allowance were to be made, where Hearts were inseparable. If this Lover of his Sisters was a Man of Sense and Qua­lity (as neither of those he could deny him) it was a little barbarous in him to oppose the whole Re­pose and Contentment of so near a Relation as a Sister, for so sordid a Consideration as a little Worldly Interest. Besides, there was a Providence always attended Faith and Truth in Love, and un­doubtedly sooner or later would provide for their well-being, or else enable 'em to bear a meaner Portion of Riches, which others perhaps might, less contentedly, possess. This Argument was almost the daily Discourse, in which she seem'd to gain some little Ground, but not enough to perswade him to the unreasonable Grant of his Sisters Desires.

About five Days after comes a Letter directed to him at Ludlow, with the Post Mark upon it very authentically, which in a very legible Womans Hand contained these Words.

The next Post four or five Letters more came after him; one from his Bayliff, to desire him for God's-sake to come home again; for the Devil a Farthing would his Tenants pay till they saw their Landlord. A second from one of his Tenants, complaining of his bad Crop, and the low Price of Corn; and that unless he would bate him Twenty Pound a Year Rent, he could never hold his Farm; earnestly desiring his Worship to come home, and take care of his poor Tenants, &c. A third con­doling his Misfortune in the loss of his Eldest Son, and desiring to see his Sweet Worship's Face, that he might get him to put his Second Boy's Life into his Copy-hold; and others of the like Import.

[Page 15]These Letters our Spark left in his Closet Win­dow; and one whole day going abroad, by a pre­tended Negligence, he shot the Bolt of his Closet Lock out of the Staple, and so left his Door a-jar, and his Letters expos'd to any body that would please to read 'em. This Stratagem succeeded to his Wish, for the Daughter, whom I may now call his Mistress, knowing him safe abroad, had dropt into his Chamber when the Maid was making the Bed, and finding the Closet Door open, made bold to peep, and spying his Letters there, tips the wink upon the Maid, whom she made of the Council, and read 'em all out. The Contents put her mightily upon the gog; for certainly she concluded he must be a Man of a mighty Estate, so many Tenants, and the Lord knows what; and if a Sister had Two thousand Pounds, what must an Elder Brother possess. After she had conjured the Maid to silence, she could not forbear running to her Father, and telling him all she had discover'd. The Father at first reprimanded her Curiosity, but considering he had found out a Love Intreague be­tween his Daughter and him, he thought it no un­welcom discovery. At last looking very stedfastly upon his Daughters Face, with a sort of a kind Fa­therly Leer, he cry'd, Ah Child, would he were a-bed with thee. How, Father, reply'd the Girl blushing. Nay, no harm (quoth the Father) Chicken, that's all. Thou sayst he makes love to thee, and troth I must own it no small part of my Ambition, to have a Person of his Quality and Fortunes for a Son-in-Law. In short, The Father gave her very seasonable Admonition; for having sounded her Inclinations, and found 'em to his own wish, with a Fatherly Authority he com­manded her, if his Addresses hinted at Marriage, to make him all reasonable Advances that way.

[Page 16]Our Gallant found his Plot had taken; for he had critically observed in what most particular man­ner and station, to a quarter of an Inch, he had laid his Letters; and finding all of 'em displaced more or less from the exact point he had left 'em, he plainly perceived they had all of 'em been read. Besides, in compliance to her Father's Orders, and indeed a little to her own Inclinations, he discover'd her usual Coldness to him a little diminish'd, and her Aspect more favourable, which plainly told him the Bait had taken. Whereupon one Evening, finding her alone in her Garden, with a Confidence more than usual, he plainly spoke home, telling her what an inestimable Blessing he should acquire in possessing so much Sweetness for a Wife.

A long Courtship ensued, the Particulars too te­dious, only the Girl was a little more pliant than ordinary, but much doubting the Integrity of his Protestations; alledging, it was very unlikely he would debase himself to marry a Creature of her mean Fortune; for all she could at present challenge, except what her Father might do for her after his decease, was only 100 l. left her in her Father's hands by an Uncle deceas'd. Our Gallant presently, with much disdain, seem'd to slight all thoughts of her Fortune, for that, he thank'd Heaven, he wanted not; and truly her dear Person was the only con­sideration that had fix'd his Heart intirely her Cap­tive. To bring him to the happy Point, 48 hours are not past, before he comes to reap the fair Fruit. The Marriage-knot is tied, and the Nuptials con­summated, and Joy and Felicity runs high between them.

In this happy State, and uninterrupted Delights, they continued some days, when of a sudden his old Servant Tom, booted and spurr'd, comes to Ludlow, [Page 17] and now in a little higher Station than before, in the Garb and Figure of one of his Bayliffs, he comes Post thus far; first, To tell him the Distraction of his Family, occasion'd by his absence: 2dly, The Lady his Sisters sudden departure, God knows whither, for she went away by night, two days before he set out from home, and has not been heard of since. And that a Letter was come from Bristol, intimating that his Venture in Sherry was safely landed there, and that the King's Customs came to 97 l. but his Correspondent at Bristol being lately dead, the Cu­stom was yet unsatisfied; and truly for his part none of the Tenants would pay him one Groat till they saw their Landlord again, and therefore he could not raise the Money to satisfie it. Our new Bridegroom hearing all this, presently communicates the whole matter to his sweet Bedfellow, desiring her to get her Father to accommodate him with that Sum; not that he ask'd it as any part of her Uncle's Legacy, he scorn'd to be so poor-spirited; no, he requested it as a Boon, and the Monies should speedily be repaid with Thanks: Which if he pleas'd to do for him, his Servant should fall down the Severn, and take care of his Wines, of which his dear Father-in-Law should have one Hogshead to drink to her Hans en Keldar. The Daughter was a speedy and successful Embassadress, for the Mony was presently laid him down in Gold, for the more ease of his Servant's carriage of it. Tom had not been two hours gone, but a Foot-boy in a very fine Livery brings him a Letter from his Sister, signifying her extream Concern for his deserting his Affairs and Family, and that her Griefs and Disquiets had made her take a long Ramble to see him once more. And that she was now at Hereford, not daring to approach any nearer, till she had his gracious Warrant and [Page 18] Permission, which she humbly upon her bended Knees intreated of him, with a great deal more passionate Courtship to him upon that Subject. Upon perusal of this Letter he seem'd to melt into a great deal of good Nature and Compassion for his dear Sister, insomuch that a Tear stood in his Eyes, which his sweet Bride very kindly drank in a Kiss. At length launching out into a great many tender Expressions towards his Sister, which Good­ness his kind Bride much applauded and encourag'd, throwing in many a kind word in her Sisters behalf. At last the Brother concluded he would be so civil to her, that since her extravagant Affection had brought her thus far to visit him, he would return her the Favour of riding himself to Hereford to fetch her, if his kind Father would procure him a Horse. Ay, with all his Heart. Nay, both Fa­ther and Daughter proffer'd to take the same Journy with him, to pay their Respects to the young Lady, and attend upon her as part of her Train to Ludlow. No, by no means, replied our Spark, that was more than the Rules of Honour would allow. For his Dear Bride, as his Wife, was a Person in Quality above her, and whatever Kindnesses she pleased to shew her, when at Ludlow, was in her free Power; but this complaisance was too great a Condescention, and consequently he beg'd her leave, that the Ten­derness he had of her Honour, might absolutely forbid her any such thought. And indeed his Father's was much the same Condescention, which he must likewise no way suffer.

The Father and Daughter both silenc'd with this answer, acquiesced with his Reasons, as being much a more experienc'd Master of Ceremonies than they could pretend to; consenting to let him go alone, only attended by the Sisters Page; in the mean [Page 19] while resolving to apply their officious Respects to this fair, tho yet unknown Relation, another way, viz. in making a suitable Preparation for her hon­ourable Reception. But first a very stately Horse was borrow'd, one that a Colonel of the Guards had lately bid a lumping Sum for, with all Accou­trements answerable. And at mounting, our Cava­lier whispering in his Father's Ear, and telling him he had been long from home, and not knowing whether his remaining Stock might hold out to his present Occasions, he desired—The Father would not hear out the Speech, but running up stairs pre­sently, fetch'd down, and stole into his hand a silk Purse richly lined with Twenty Broad Pieces.

Our Squire thus every way oblig'd, after his due Conges all made, bids them all Farewel till to mor­row, and so prances off. Here let us leave the Father and Daughter as busie for the Credit of the Cause, as may be imagin'd, making all suitable Pro­vision for to morrow's Entertainment; the Kitchin, and Pantry, the Bed-Chamber, and the Court-Cup­board, must all appear in Splendor extraordinary.

And now to return to our Traveller: Heaven knows he had the Misfortune to miss his way, for he never found Hereford nor Sister. His Barb too found another Chapman than the Colonel of the Guards; for both Horse and Accoutrements all embargo'd, and the dismounted Cavalier slipt into a Frize-Coat of his Man Tom's providing, who wait­ed his coming, the Master, Page, and Tom, in a small prepared Vessel, trol'd down the Severn as fast as Tide and good Speed could carry them.

As we thunder'd down the Severn, one of our Strollers being at present useless, our Page (well rewarded for playing his part in the Farse) is dropt at Worcester, from whence we continue our Voyage [Page 20] to Bristol. Arrived there pretty late in a Summers Evening, 'tis not thought convenient to appear in any Dress whatever had been seen before at Ludlow, nor indeed to expose his Face, lest any Inquiry might be made there about him as a Sherry-Mer­chant; and so trunking up all his best Rayment, he gets himself new rigg'd at a Salesman's in a genteel Garb, but something modester than his Ludlow Bravery, and Tom and he next Morning move off to Bath.

It fortunes here, that he Quarters at one of the great Inns, it being the beginning of the Summer, just before Bath time, where was a brisk Daughter of the House, about half way Stage between 20 and 30, and consequently much inclinable Manwards. A Girl that had had the Honour of many a slap cross the Mouth, and chuck under the Chin by Lords and Earls in her time, her Father's honourable Guests at Bath-Season. Our most constant Lover of every new Face, feels the old Itch again; busi­ness he finds will thicken upon him, and therefore flush'd with his late Successes, he resolves to throw out his winning Hand as far as it will run.

But now to know what Portion this Damsel had, for without a Spill of Yellow-boys, naked White and Red has but indifferent Charms with him. This Intelligence was quickly made, without asking the question, for there was a Jest in the Family of one of the Drawers being Suitor there, who belike wanted a tite Sum of 80 l. to set up withal (a small Portion of hers formerly left her by a Grandfather, and now at use.) This Drawer, forsooth, was a Rival, but not an over-formidable one. For truly our Inn-keepers Daughter had so often been tickled with the Addresses of Quality, that ( Foh!) her Fa­ther's Drawer was scarce worthy to hold up her [Page 21] Train; a Gentleman or nothing for her. Nay, if she has not the Happiness to strike in for a Lease for Life at Bed and Board with some honourable Person, rather than die in Ignorance, keep a stale Maiden-head, and so lead Apes, she has long since resolved not to stand out at a lower Game, and e'en admit a Tenant at Will to an Inmate of Fashion and Quality; and was grosly suspected she had tried the Constitution of her Body, under a Load of Honour long before her present Year of twenty five. But true or false, that's a small Blot in her Scutchion.

Our Don John is absolutely captivated, and plies her home with all the Rhetorick that Love can af­ford. Our Man Tom in the mean while but very modestly, is whispering amongst his Mates, the lower Tire of the Family, the Servants, what a Worthy Gentleman his Master is, being a Rich Norfolk Gentleman (a pretty large Stride from Bathe) of 500 a Year. This Narrative passes pretty well amongst the shallower Pates, the Chamberlain, the Tapster, the Hosler, and the rest of the inferior Domesticks; but our hard-faith'd young Mistress of the House, whether bit before, or naturally not over-credulous, does as good as declare, That her Principles are to look before she leaps. Our Norfolk Suitor finds his Ad­dresses very acceptable, but still with a Reserve, Provided he be the Man he appears. He plainly sees, that the Girl, upon good Grounds is very pli­able, but she's a little past the Years of being dan­dled and kist out of her Reason: He or any Man else (any Tooth good Barber) with Honour and Estate may go far with her; but Demonstration is the only Argument that must carry her Cause. As many Years as she has lived (or at least past [Page 22] for) a Maid, she is not so hard set, but she can tar­ry till Substantial Testimony (as far off as Norfolk lies) can make out the Lands and Tenements, be­fore she consents to an Inclosure. Our Spark there­fore put to his last Trumps, finds this last a crag­gier and more difficult Enterprize than any he had ever yet encountred; however, thinking it a very great Scandal to his Wit, to lie down before her, and shamefully for want of Ammunition, be forced to raise the Siege, he sets all his Brains at work for one last Mine to blow her up; or if that take not, he is resolv'd to quit the Field. In a day or two af­ter he begins to be melancholly and indisposed; during this Fit, he is very cold in his Love, and ap­plies him to Religious Books, talks much of very odd Dreams he has had, till at last he takes his Bed. Physicians are sent for, whether they found any real Indications of Sickness or no, or acquies­ced to his own Declaration of the Pains he felt, no Medicinal Application was wanting. His Distem­per increasing, he desires a Man of Law to be sent for, accordingly a Scriv'ner of the Town is called, who draws up his Will, in which he gives away about Three Thousand Pounds in several Legacies, leaving his Nephew his full and sole Executor. The Will is sealed up, and delivered to his Man Tom; and all the Cognizance taken of his Mistress, is only 10 l. to buy her Mourning. Next a Man of God is sent for, and all the necessary Preparati­ons for a Man of another World are made. His Conscience setled, and his Viaticum for his long Journey most devoutly furnisht. But it pleases Fate, or the Sick Man rather, in some few Days after, to give some small Symptoms of Amend­ment, and to shorten the matter, in Eight or Ten Days time he is pretty well recovered, and the [Page 23] next Talk is of fancying his own Native Norfolk Air for perfecting his Health; all this while the young Damsel, who, though not call'd to the Will-making, knew all the Contents of it, and finding from all Hands, the great Uprightness and Devoti­on of her humble Servant, could not fancy that so much Religion and Piety could be an Impostor, and therefore she doubted not in the least, but the Estate in Norfolk was unquestionable; and though indeed her Prudence would still incline her to a full Inquiry and satisfactory Account, yet 'tis now too late, her cooling Admirer talks of speeding to Lon­don; and though he professes he will leave his Heart behind with her, She is afraid that new Fa­ces and better Fortunes will soon shake her hold there, and therefore taking her Pillow upon the Bu­siness, she resolves not to slip so favourable an Op­portunity, but to lay hold of the Forelock, and take a good Offer whilst she may have it: For with all her natural Pride, she considers her self but the Lees of a Tap; and 'tis not every Rich Gudgeon will bite at a Bait so blown, and so stale.

Her departing Lover still pressing for his Jour­ney, the good-natur'd Girl watches the next amo­rous Sally of her Gallant, and takes him at his Word, and without asking Advice, thinks her own Wit sufficient, and in two Days time enters into for better, for worse. The Town-Bells soon rung All Joy; and the bed Hogshead in Daddy's Cellar run Claret. His Honourable Guest and Son-in-Law was the little Idol of all the Virgins of the Town, and the envied Preferment of sweet Mrs. Betty had fill'd all Tongues; and scarce a Prayer offered up for a Husband, but Mrs. Betty's Felicity was made the Pattern of their Devotion.

[Page 24]But now, as the Devil would have it, our dig­nified Bride is for having her Dear Spouse, by all mean, doing her and her Father the Honour of staying out the whole Bathe Season (now coming on) amongst 'em, and nothing can divert her from that Resolution. This is a very unwelcom Pro­posal; for the Multitude of Faces from all Quar­ters of the Kingdom, may not only be very dange­rous to his Circumstances, but likewise his Norfolk Abilities, long before that Time, may be examin'd too narrowly; and therefore not being able to make any harsh Refusal of his fair Bride's Request, lest it should look like Design, and to marry a young Girl, and be ashamed of her Parentage, would appear so unkind, that he has no Artifice to wean her from Bathe, and drill her out of Town, but by pretending a small Relapse of his Indispositi­on, which he acted so well, that he denied himself the very Pleasures of Love, and fell off from Fami­ly-Duties. This Curtain-Failure began to mode­rate her Passion for staying an Bathe, for her tame Bedfellow still preaching up the Virtues of his own Native Norfolk Air, his poor defeated Bride could not but have a Womanly Longing for so necessary a Restorative, and thereupon for so impor­tant a Medicine to her feeble Yoke-mate, she consented to go along with him.

All her fine Cloaths were boxed up, together with several Bed and Table-Linnen, &c. (for she had pretty good Moveables, all the Legacies of de­ceased Aunts and Grannies, and other good Kin) and all sent by her Man Tom to the Carriers, and two Days after Places took in the flying Coach for their speeding to London.

But one main thing was almost forgotten. She had call'd in her Portion, which for a Guinies Gra­tification [Page 25] the Scriv'ner had ready at an Hours Warning, having at that time some other Peoples Money by him undisposed, and hers being out up­on Mortgage, the Owners were very well pleas'd to make an Exchange upon the same Security. This Money was not to be trusted by the Waggon, but to be carried up with her in the Coach-Box, for which her Man Tom begg'd her Acceptance of a lit­tle Gilt-leather'd Trunk that happen'd to be just small enough to go into the Coach-Box. The Day of setting out being on the Morrow, her thoughtful Spouse had nicely consider'd that the Coach would be in London half a Day before the Carrier, which for some Reasons you'll find in the Sequel was not altogether for his Convenience, and therefore he made a shift to put off the Journey till next Coach-Day.

Against that time the Gilt-leather'd Trunk, and the Key to it was deliver'd her (though by the bye he had got two Keys) and the 80 l. some Broad Pieces, a Caudle-Cup, half a dozen of Silver Spoons, and some other Toys were all stowed in it; and the Kind Couple are trundling away for London, with the Man well mounted riding by.

Now, as a Man of his Estate, he had freely given her all her own Portion, a small Privy Purse to buy her Pins with, having Married her only for Beauty, and much disdaining the Addition of so small a Sum to his plentiful Fortune. The first Stage being done (for they had but one Night to lye by the Way) the small Cabinet of Treasure was carefully taken out of the Coach, and lodged in a Closet in the Chamber, and next Morning de­liver'd to Tom to see safely laid in the Coach-Box as before.

[Page 26]The next Night arriving both at London (whi­ther Tom about Brentford was commanded by his Master to speed a little before to prepare for their Reception) a very fair Lodging near St. Jame's was ready to entertain her, but no Tom had been there; and coming to open the Trunk, instead of the Gold and Silver Entrails there was nothing but a Bag of Stones, and a Piece of a Brickbat to sup­ply their Places, enclosed in a few Rags that stuft up the Trunk. This amazing Sight threw the poor Lady into a most violent Distraction, and 'twas ve­ry hard to hold her from falling into a Fit, her Hus­band seeming as much amazed as her self, and join­ing in the Complaint as loud as she. But to abate her Rage, he told her the wicked Rogue should not so escape, he had very sufficient Security from able Friends for his honest and faithful Service, and their Purses should make her Reparation, till when the Loss should be made up out of his own Pocket. Nor would he sleep till he had made her some far­ther Satisfaction, and therefore begg'd her Excuse but for one half Hour till he took Coach, and made that Search and Quest that perhaps would bring her some considerable Light into the Villany. Her Zeal for her Loss never look'd any farther, and accordingly well pleas'd with the kind Motion, she took leave of him for the half Hour aforesaid.

But, alas, a long half Hour, for half the Even­ing, nay the whole Night was gone, and neither Man nor Master to be heard of. So Husband and Portion all departed, she thought fit to secure her Goods and Cloaths at the Carriers, but the same Calamity attended there likewise, for Tom had been there too, and swept all.

To describe the Distress and Anguish of our pre­sent Female-Sufferer, or either of her two foregoing [Page 27] Sisters in Affliction, being a work beyond our power, we shall e'en do as the Painter did of old, that is, draw a Vail before the Face of Sorrow, the Lineaments of true Grief being above the Pen or Pencils Skill.

His continued good Luck at the Female Quarry succeeding so prosperously, he has hardly snapt and gorged one, before he's for flying at a second.

Leaving therefore this last Wife to shift home, not only Penny-less, but almost naked too, it being then in the gay time of Summer, he buys him a very stately Gelding, and prances down to Slough near Windsor. There taking a Genteel Lodging, and throwing off his old now Hackneyfied Disguise of the Country Gentleman, he assumes the Character of a London Merchant; and tho' the little distance of twenty Miles laid the Scene very nigh, and con­sequently (one would think) exposed him to some­thing more hazard than any of his former remoter Pretensions, however he is so flusht with Success, and thereupon so hardy an Enterprizer, that he reckons upon Fortune now intirely his own, as no less than bound to his Cause, and her Smiles as secure, as himself her now darling Favourite is fearless and undaunted.

His Tent therefore pitch'd at Slough for the best part of this Summers Campaign, with sufficient of Gold, and what not, in his Pockets, he contracts (amongst other Country-Acquaintance) a great Intimacy with the Minister there. And at length praising the good Air of that Country, and the Sweetness he tasts in the Conversation thereabouts, he desires the Parson (his now Intimate) to inform him of some Purchase of fifty, sixty, or, rather than fail, seventy Pound per annum somewhere near there; if a good House upon it so much the better; [Page 28] otherwise it will put him to some few Hundreds extraordinary Expence. If any such Purchase can be found, he shall be gratefully thankful to him: For resolving to get him some Country Seat for a little Summers Retirement from his Fatigue at London, he has not met that place in the World that pleases him better. The Parson kindly replied, That truly he did not yet know of any such Pur­chase, but he would make it his Business to inquire, and inform him accordingly.

It falls out here that he insinuates into the Con­versation of a Country-Gentleman that had a very pretty Daughter, to whom he could give Five hun­dred Pound Portion. Through his Acquaintance with the Father, he finds Opportunity and Access to the Daughter, and in a little time professes down­right Love. Now besides a great deal of Wit and Sense in the Daughter, here was a very Judicious and Sensible Man to her Father, and likewise a very Ingenious young Gentleman her Brother, all three to be coped with; insomuch that the highest of Prudence ought to be used to manage the Amuze­ment, and fence off all Curiosity and Enquiry, which (considering how near London lay) might dash the whole Plot. For that purpose he no sooner declares his Passion, but at the same time he utterly abjures all Pretentions to a Farthing of Portion, (if he may be so happy as to succeed in his Love) that truly his Affairs and Circumstances are far above so poor a Thought. Whatever her Father's Goodness did or might have intended for her, he is free to keep for the bettering the Fortune of so hopeful an Heir of the Family as the young Gentleman her Brother: It is enough that the Possession of her dear Person is all his Ambition, and if after all his prosperous Ventures both at Sea and Land, to [Page 29] Crown his Felicity he can but carry this last dear Prize, he has all he wants in this World. Nor is Beauty the only Charm he finds in his dear Mistress, her Vertue is her most captivating Perfection. Alas, if he had sought either Face or Fortune, those were to have been found nearer home, and possibly where he was better known, viz. in his walks upon the Exchange, and thereabouts whatever personal Wants he had, however his other Qualifications would have made him no hard Access to very con­siderable Fortunes. But as his Natural Jealousie of Town-Beauties had all along made him somewhat colder in the choice of a London Wife, he declares that the vanquishing of his Heart was reserved only for some sweet Country Innocence, which truly he had never met with till now.

This Declaration carries a very pleasing Face every way: Here the Daughter for her part has the Heart of a Rich Merchant of such vast Estate, that her inconsiderable Portion is not worth his Accep­tance, and consequently if she can like the Man, she has all the reason in the World to embrace the Addresses of so qualified a Suitor. Here are Father and Son likewise under no occasion of Complaint, for one is like to save Five hundred Pound by the Bargain, and the other to get as much: And there­fore 'tis a Match they ought not to oppose. And to put all Suspicions out of their Head, what Reasons have they to mis-doubt his being the Man he pre­tends, for he had then a pretty many Years upon his Back, and therefore unlikely to commit so boyish a Folly, to take the Luggage of a Wife with never a Groat with her, unless he had wherewithal of his own to supply that Defect. Besides, here was all the Appearances possible both of Honour and Honesty in his Daughters Inamorato, for more [Page 30] and above the daily Management of his Discourse, and his prompt Answers and Insight to all Affairs in the World, which discovered a Person certainly of publick Business, his Port and Figure he made amongst them, together with the Grandure of his way of Living, confirm'd their intire Belief and Confidence. And to conclude all, who could suspect a Counterfeit that would Cheat for nothing.

During his Courtship he presented his Mistress with a very Rich Gold Watch, and as he gain'd ground not only upon her, but went a great stroke with the Father and Son, who were mighty in­clinable to the Match; at last he push'd home, and gain'd the Consent of all Parties concern'd. The Father and Son were of Opinion that they should all go to London, and the Wedding and Bedding work should be all done there at his own House in the City. With all his Heart, replied the Spark, only one Inconvenience attended that Proposition: For it would be impossible for him to Marry in London, without dragging a great deal of Noise and Trouble at his Heels: For unless he would disoblige more than a Hundred eminent Citizens, his particular Friends (which in Honour he could not well do) he must be forced to make a publick Wedding of it, and so draw on a great deal of Cere­mony and Hurry, which truly (might he be chuser) did not agree with his Inclination. Nevertheless, if they so pleas'd, he was ready to acquiesce to their absolute Commands. But otherwise, for prevention of all that, if he might direct, he would desire to divide his Blessings between the Country and City, viz. have the Happiness of Marrying her in the Morning at Slough, and then have the Honour of their good Companies with him to London, and there Bed her at his own House.

[Page 31]This appear'd so highly reasonable, that three places are order'd to be taken in the Windsor Coach to morrow for London, and the Marriage to be solemniz'd early before the Coach sets out. And accordingly our Lovers, who wake with the Lark, are the next Morning devoutly joyn'd together. When the Nuptial Rites were perform'd, and a small Collation prepared before setting out, he publickly again declared his Protestations against all Pretences to a Portion. However, as he had now taken the dearest Creature in the World into his Arms without any such Claim or Pretention, and the longest day of his Life he should maintain her to the highest Dignity and Grandure of a City Merchants Lady, as much as if she had brought him Thousands of her own to do it with; yet as per­haps there might be some Wedding-Garments, and other small matters wanting suitable to his Bride, he durst not presume to make her any Present of that kind, lest possible it might be some little In­dignity and Reflection upon her own Honour in accepting of any such offer; and therefore that part he left to her and her Relations Pleasure and Discretion. He putting them in mind of that necessary Point, appeared more like a piece of Gallantry than any thing else from him. And there­upon both the Father and Bride take a whisper pri­vately together, and immediately the Closets and Cabinets were rumag'd, and near a hundred Guinea's muster'd up, and stow'd in a small Casket to carry with her to London, to rig her in all ample manner accordingly. As they merrily travel along, the Father, Bride and Brother in the Coach, and the Bridegroom en Cavalier riding by, taking a little start before 'em upon Hounslow-Heath, he comes back furiously galloping to the Coach-side, and with [Page 32] much Concern bids 'em have a care, for he was certain there were Highway-men before in the Road, and he much fear'd the Coach would be robb'd. This put the Travellers into some small fright, and all of 'em (for the Coach was full) into a very great care how to preserve the small Trea­sure they had about them. Nay Gentlemen, replies the Spark, for that small matter I have about me, I fear not all the Thieves in Christendom to take from me, for though I profess my self no Sword-man to Fight for it, yet, I thank God, I have a Horse has such a pair of Hee [...]s, as I defie any Man in England (especially upon this open Plain) to out-ride me. This Hint made the poor Bride immediately request his securing some small things of hers, and thereupon she gave him her little Casket, and her Gold Watch to carry for her, withal desiring him to speed off the safest way he could, and tarry for the Coach at the Red Lion in Brentford: Her prudent Example encou­raged some other Passengers in the Coach to desire him to do them the like Favour; one Lady in the Coach desired him to secure a Diamond and a Gold Ring of hers, which she took from her Finger; another Gentleman clapt a Purse of near twenty pieces of Gold into his Silver Tobacco-box, and be­sought him to give it Sanctuary in his Pocket to Brentford. In short, some other small matters were presently intrusted to his Protection and Preserva­tion; and so being desired to troop off with all speed, and to meet them at the general Rendezvous aforesaid, our Merchant puts Spurs to his Steed, and the Coach trundles leisurely after him.

At Brentford they arrive safely in some little time after, and making a halt at the Red Lion, inquiry is made, if a Gentleman so mounted and so dress'd was there. No, answer was made, no such Man [Page 33] was there; but upon examining, the Horse and the Rider they had described, that very Gentleman, about half an hour ago, was seen to ride almost full speed through the Town towards London.

The Bridegroom so strangely out-riding his Stage, put the whole Company into some little Consternation, but the Bride more especially, it being a matter of no mean Surprize to her, to have a Bridegroom so unkind, or so Frolicksom at least, to Ramble away from her on her very Wedding-day in so odd a manner. A great many several Descants were made upon it by the whole Com­pany; but as all of them happen'd to be some small Neighbours to Slough, and had either convers'd with this Honourable Merchant during his abode there, or at least had heard of his Fame, it was concluded of all Hands, 'twas only intended as a Jest, and so they all moved on towards London, not doubting in the least but to find it so.

When they arrived at London, the young Lady, as Guarrantee for her Bridegroom, though she could not well invite them with convenience that Night, besought all their good Companies to morrow at Dinner with her at her House in Lime-street, there to call their Trustee to an account, and to laugh out an Afternoon with her upon their Travelling Adventures.

Having thus dismiss'd their Fellow-Travellers, a Hackney-Coach is taken to drive to Lime-street: When they came there, and such a Merchants House was asked for, a Name very like it was found in that Precinct, but both the Gentleman and House they inquired for, were utterly Strangers to all the Inhabitants round, and neither that Night nor next whole day could give them any Tale or Tidings of her new Husband. However in all this [Page 34] utter Darkness, as she is left in Ignorance, she has the Comfort to be left in Innocence too, for thanks to her kind Stars there was no Consummation in the case, as much a Wife as she is, she is a Virgin-Bride at least; and as much cheated as they have all been, our young Spouse has the Satisfaction of that single happy Escape to counter-ballance all the rest of her Losses. What Reparation our fair Pro­miser made to her Fellow-Sufferers in the Coach, our Story mentions not, but the Father, Son, and Bride, returning by weeping Cross, they found this Farewel Epistle at their arrival at Slough.

[Page 35]This Adventure so luckily concluded, our Wife-Merchant takes a little Recreation in London, and then tired with Ease and Idleness, he thinks it high time to look out for new Game. His Ram­bles have hitherto mostly lain Westward, and his Success he has gotten there, invites him to try his farther Fortune a Field the same Road. Down therefore his Galloper and he set out, and meeting nothing in the Way worthy his Atchievement, he fixes at last at the Town of Wells. Here he is a Country Gentleman again, his Name Bowyer, Bro­ther to Sir Charles Bowyer. This Town happily af­forded a Boarding-School for young Girls, where the Fair Recluses generally are not altogether Nuns Flesh, and where notwithstanding the watch­ful Oversight of those Guardian Dragons the Go­vernesses and Super-Intendants, Love too often leaps the Pale, and many a bold Jason very luckily moves off with a Golden Fleece.

At this Castle 'tis resolved our next Batteries shall be levell'd; only all the hardest Work here is, the making his Approaches. For that purpose he inquires first, who and what the Fair Inhabitants are, and the like; where he is soon inform'd of se­veral considerable Fortunes amongst 'em; but most of 'em either under Guardianship or Parents, and though allyed to pretty considerable Effects, the Lash is in Hucksters Hands. The carrying the Damsel, will not finger the Gold, and our Business being only to snap and away, a lighter Cargo than those unweildy Portions does our Jobb. And accor­dingly he discovers one just sizable for his Turn. A Tradesman's Daughter, her small Portion about 150 l. and all in her own Hands, or at least in her own Power, her Parents and Friends all dead, and therefore at her own Disposal, and likewise some­thing [Page 36] of the Elderliest for a School-miss, being in­deed about 20 Years of Age.

'Tis resolved then to fix here; and, for a hand­some Initiation, his first Attak is only from his Eyes; he sees her first at Church, where his whole Devotion is so intent upon no other Object, that he gives her Occasion to observe him. His Gentile Equipage, and, in a Stranger too, might very well draw some Eyes in a Country Congregation; and this young Devotees were not so wholly tyed to her Prayer-Book, but hers might rove a little: She no sooner saw him, but she met a very Passio­nate and Long-wishing-Look returned her: If her Curiosity peep'd a second time, she found him in the same Posture, his Eye never off of her. And this he continued Forenoon and Afternoon, in such a manner, that it was impossible, even for Indiffe­rence it self, not to Remark him.

Next Morning he makes some means to get the Company and Ear of one of the Sub-Governants of the School, a Matronly kind of a Tutoress. He cannot tell what Malleable Mettal she's made of, and how far she may be tempted to betray a little Trust. However he resolves to try. And if she be to be shaken, at least he'll use the most Perswasive Arguments to assail her.

Accordingly, having first beg'd the Favour of a full Hearing, he begins to lay open his Case in manner following. First, he discovers his Birth and Quality, a Brother to the Honourable Sir Charles Bowyer: Secondly, Though a younger Bro­ther, yet provided with a Plentiful Patrimony to keep up the Port of a Gentleman. Then, that yesterday at Church, he had seen the only Sweetness upon Earth that he could truly Love: That it was some Extraordinary Destiny that had brought him [Page 37] thither, to lose his Heart to so Lovely a Creature: And then telling his Name (which his Love had made him inquire into) the present Suit he had, was, to obtain the Conversation of that Sweet Gentlewoman, that he might have the favourable Opportunity of declaring his Passion to her; which Access, understanding the Strictness of the Family in which she now lived, and under what Confine­ment she lay, he had no Hopes of accomplishing, but through her Means: And, that if she would vouchsafe to be the kind Instrument in gaining him his Request, he should not only be bound to her the longest Day of his Life, but likewise make her a Gratification suitable to so signal an Obligation. The Gravity of our Tutoress seem'd a little Surpri­zed at this Motion; but, before she could make any Reply, he continued his Supplication to her; by telling her, That for Heavens sake she would believe his Intentions to the young Lady were nothing but Honourable, that had his Designs been so wicked, as to aim at, or over-reach any young Fortune in the House, as such he understood there were several there, he should be the greatest of Villains. But that Love, and only Love, was his Design, was manifest in his Addresses to this young Gentlewoman, who (as he was inform'd) was but a Tradesman's Daughter, of little or no Fortune, or at least very inconsiderable to a Person of his Circumstances and Birth; and therefore she had all the Reason in the World to believe him a Person of Honour and Integrity; and 'twas as such he desired her to serve him in the Request he had made her. She hearing him protest so heartily, and profess so honourably, could not but be a little attentive to so reasonable a Suit. But being her self a Woman of Principle, and naturally faithful [Page 38] to her Trust, she could not forbear making him this Answer: Sir (says she) you have the least Reason in the World to seek my Assistance in this matter; for if you are that Lover, and that Gentleman you profess your self, your Quality and Pretensions to this young Woman are sufficient to make your own Way to her, without wanting my Help. What need has a Gentle­man of your Fortune and Honour to seek to a poor Ser­vant, as I am, to introduce you so meanly, as a private Suitor to this young Maid, when you have it in your own Power to make a more Publick Declaration of your Love; and undoubtedly, so Qualifi'd as you are, have all Encouragement to hope for Success? If you please, therefore, I'll tell the Governess, and when she shall have examined all things requisite to the Discharge of that honest Duty, as the Tuition and Care she has under­taken shall require of her; she will be so far from op­posing your Access, that certainly you may expect all the fair Reception your Heart can wish. This An­swer being not the present Point we must gain, our Squire (before prepared for a Reply) seem'd ex­treamly pleased with her for her Fidelity. That truly she was highly to be commended for so Con­scientious a Scruple, as to the admitting of a Stran­ger, as he was, to any thing under her Guardian­ship. And that truly the Advice she had given him, was but very Reasonable; and that if he should make open Love to this young Gentlewo­man, he might possibly have Hopes of succeeding. And really it was the only Course he would take, but for one only Obstacle, which was, that though indeed, as a younger Brother, he had above 300 l. per annum already in good Land of Inheritance, a Competence sufficient to maintain a Family indif­ferently well; yet as he was next Brother, and in­deed as the presumptive Heir to Sir Charles, an un­married [Page 39] Man of Thousands a year, and was at pre­sent transacting with him about a considerable Ad­dition to his Estate, and other very eminent Friendships expected from him, he was under an invincible Necessity of making an Amour of this kind, one of the greatest Secrets in the World, lest his marrying so inconsiderably might lose him his Brother's Favour, and thereby defeat so advan­tageous an Expectation. Not but he loved the young Creature enough to run a thousand times greater Hazards for obtaining so sweet a Blessing: But however, What Folly and Prodigality would it be, to expose so main a Part of his Well-being to so dangerous a Venture, when there was so lit­tle Occasion for it? For he, could he reach so great a Blessing, as to obtain her for his Bride, yet it would be worth his while to make both his Wo­ing and Marriage, for some time, an absolute Se­cret, for so valuable a Consideration. And he that re­solved to enter into Matrimony, was, in all Duty, bound to take the best Measures to make a Married Life comfortable, by making the best Provision to support it with Credit and Reputation. And therefore 'twas, that he was forced to supplicate her private Assistance in the Affair which she could not well blame, under so important a Circumstance; and therefore stealing a Brace of Guinea's into her Hand, he once more intreated her to gain him some Admittance to the young Ladies Coversation, as silently as possibly her Goodness could contrive. I cannot tell, whether the Arguments, or the Gold, or both together, prevail'd, but to shorten the Dis­course, 'twas agreed that Evening, an Hour after Sun-set, that he should come to the Garden Back-Gate, which was accordingly done.

[Page 40]And not to tire the Reader with the Narration of the Wooing, let it suffice that he obtain'd three or four private Meetings, and a little Courtship well manag'd prevail'd and conquer'd. By the Assistance of this Matronly Confident, the Business is concluded, and the Girl steals out one Morning and Marries him. He had not been long Married, but continuing the old Plea of Silence and Secresie so necessary on his Brother's account, he gets her to call in her small Portion, for her own use, making it his free Wedding-Gift, all to be disposed in buy­ing her Cloaths, and the like; and so makes all speed to London with her. At London he provides her a very genteel Lodging, still leaving all her Portion in her own Custody. He had not kept her Company two days in Town, but he comes home in great haste and surprize, telling her that his Bro­ther, by some Accident or other, had heard of his Marriage. But as 'twas impossible he should know what Woman he had Married, he had one favour to beg of her which she must not deny him, which was, to pretend her self to be a young Devonshire Lady of such a great Family, and such a Fortune: By this means he should win his Brother's Heart, and hasten that additional Settlement, and the other Favours he expected from him; and though indeed it was a little piece of Fraud, which truly he was never guilty of before in all his whole Life; yet considering the Advantage so Innocent a Deceit might gain them, he conjured her by all their Loves to joyn with him in it, and carry on the Mask till he had gain'd his Point. The poor Creature, soon perswaded, consents to his Request, promising her acting the best part she could in the Disguise, since it was his Pleasure and Command to have it so.

[Page 41]Having obtain'd her Concurrence in it, he tells her these Lodgings were too mean for a Woman of her Birth, and therefore he would presently take her a fine House at Greenwich four Miles out of Town, and have it furnish'd suitable to his and her Quality.

At Greenwich a House is instantly provided; and what by the Pretentions of this great Match, he strikes in with a confiding Upholster for a Rich Bed, Tapestry Hangings, and very sumptuous Furniture in most ample manner. Nay, he carries it on so far as to gain Credit for several Hogsheads of Wine, which were likewise wafted down to Greenwich. The young Wife all this while seeing him make such splendid Provision for her, never in the least suspected him for less than high Quality, and indeed was utterly Ignorant that all this Gallantry was taken up upon Trust, and mostly raised upon the noise of her vast Devonshire Portion that was very speedily to pay for all.

After this Country-House was thus Richly set out, pretending Business one Morning early to Lon­don, he returns again between Ten and Eleven in great haste, that truly he had occasion for about an Hundred Pound, and having laid out more Cash than his Returns from his Estate in the Country could at present supply him, he desir'd her to ac­commodate him with that Sum out of her Money, which in a Fortnight at farthest should be made her up again. The poor Girl very readily gave him the Keys of her Closet and her Cabinet, desiring him to take what he wanted. Immediately he goes to the Treasury, and having not leisure to stay to tell out the Sum, he took the whole Bag, which in Silver and Gold was about 140 l. which he would tell over at London, and bring back the Remainder, [Page 42] whither he desir'd her Company along wich him in tbe Boat that staid to carry him back. Yes, with all her heart, if he would please to stay till she dress'd her self, being then only in her Morning-Gown. No, by no means, he replied, no matter for dressing her self, she was well enough dress'd for that little Com­pany she should see to day. And so without farther Ceremony she trips into the Boat with him, and so away to London.

When he came there, and had fix'd her at her old Lodgings, he desir'd her to have a little Patience till his return from Lombard-street, where he was going to pay this Money: But before he went, giving her a kind Kiss or two: Lord, my Dear (says he) this plain Wedding-Ring upon thy Finger is too poor for my Wife! I am going to pay this Money to a Gold-smith, and prithee give me thy Ring along with me, and I'll put a Diamond into it.

The Ring, upon so good an Account, was pre­sently deliver'd him, and a very low Courtzy dropt him for the promis'd Diamond. Away goes Hus­band, Money, and Ring, and the Wife staying with her old Landlady, waits for the return of her kind Spouse: After a great deal of Patience pretty well tired, and many a Sigh to pass away time, Evening at last draws on, and no Husband appears. To Greenwich she dares not return, 'tis now too late at Night, and too dangerous travelling so unseason­ably. And so taking a soft Bed, but a hard Nights rest in Town, she gets up early the next Morning for Greenwich, where instead of Husband or House, she finds the Furniture, Bedding, nay the very Wine in the Cellar all carried off; and so neither Hus­band, Money, nor Cloaths, but the loose Undress she had upon her Back; she is left to a whole Deluge of Lamentation, and the King's High-way [Page 43] fair open for her to steer back to Wells, or what other Hospitable Coast she could find in the wide World before her.

This Marriage-Trade thriving so well with him▪ he left it not off till he arrived at the number of eighteen Wives; in which several various Cheats and Disguises were practised according to Time, Place and Circumstance. At Kedderminster he pass'd for Sir Charles Bowyer's Brother again, and there married an Inn-keeper's Daughter, from whom he hook'd out several Pounds, besides spunging upon her Father; where he continued a very consider­able time, and wrought himself into that intire Credit with his Father-in-Law, that when some of his Neighbours made bold to ask him, How he could repose so much Confidence in a meer Stran­ger; and after his Daughter had been so long married to him, to make no Inquiry into him all this while? Inquiry! (he replied very briskly) Trouble not your Heads about that Business; I am very well satisfied in him, and know well enough what he is. His Wit and Breeding, and a hundred other genteel Qua­lities, sufficiently assure me: Nay a Gentleman he must be most certainly, for I have observed him, he will never Dine without a Bottle of Wine.

In Holbourn he courted a Rich Vintner's Widow (but there he was a little higher advanced into the Honourable Family of the Bowyers, for then he was Sir Charles himself) and so far tickled her out of her small Reason, by the high sound of a Ladiship, that the Wedding-cloaths were making. Nay he took her along with him to a Gold-smiths in Cheap-side, to bespeak a very large quantity of Plate, amounting to about 200 l. No sooner did he enter the Gold-smith's Shop, but he kindly shook him by the Hand, and gave him so many familiar How-do-yees, as if he [Page 44] had been his long and intimate Acquaintance; where bespeaking so much Plate, and such a Coat of Arms to be engraved upon it, the day was set when it was to be call'd for. Before that day he was to receive 600 l. from his Steward in the Coun­try, which he had sent for up to pay for this Plate, and other necessary Nuptial-Habiliments. But the day drawing on, a Letter comes up by the Post from his Steward, intimating, That amongst all his Tenants, he could at present raise but 150 of the 600 l. he desired, and truly that small Pittance he did not think fit to return up, till he could make it a larger Sum, &c. This Letter was receiv'd in his Mistresses presence, and the Knight so enraged at his Steward's Neglect, that he fell into a very great Passion to be so defeated of his Expectation, espe­cially at so critical a Juncture. The kind Widow seeing him so concern'd, desir'd him not to be trou­bled at it, for if his present Occasions requir'd, she was very willing to furnish him with it; and in fine, lent him 200 Guinea's to fetch home the Plate. But neither was the Plate sent home, nor Knight or Guinea's ever seen afterwards. The Widow some­what impatient, trips away to the Gold-smith, to inquire if he had been there, and being answer'd in the Negative, she ask'd him if he were not ac­quainted with Sir Charles? What Sir Charles? Sir Charles Bowyer that bespoke the Plate. Truly not he; for to his best knowledge, he never saw him before that day. How, replies the Widow, never saw him before, when he knew you so well, talk'd so familiarly with you, discoursed of so many Affairs re­lating to your self, that I durst have sworn he had known you this seven Years, and dealt in at least a thousand Pounds with you. Yes, replied the Gold-smith, all this familiarity he express'd, which as much [Page 45] surpriz'd me as it does you: But it was none of my busi­ness to inquire of a Customer how he came so acquainted with my Concerns, or why he treated me so courteously at first sight: He laid me down Earnest in part for my Plate, and if 'tis your pleasure to pay me the remain­der, the Plate is forth-coming. But when or where the Gentleman can be found forth-coming, that you know better than I; for as I told you, he is a Person I never saw before nor after.

To prosecute the full Relation of all his Wooings and Marriages, would be dwelling too long upon one kind of Subject, and therefore not so divertising to the Reader; for which Reason we have selected only these, as most entertaining of all his Amours.

After he had accomplish'd near a Score of Mar­riages, he neatly counterfeited a Bill for 700 l. drawn upon an eminent Citizen; and so well manag'd all Conduct and Matters relating to it, that he receiv'd the Mony. But what with his Wives, and this last grand Cheat, he began to think little England would soon be too hot for him. And therefore buying three very gallant Horses, and Equipage and Accoutre­ments suitable, he got him cross the Herring-pond, and went a Volunteer to the Duke of Monmouth, then before Mastricht: His business here was more Flourish and Bravado, than any great Feats of War, any Martial Wonders he intended to perform. In Flanders he made a pretty long Campaign, for he stirred not from thence till all his Mony was spent; and at length, when his dwindling Stock was so small, that his very Horses Heads grew a little too big, for a new Supply he converted them into ready Mony; and when that last Stake was almost run out, and he had just enough left to land him safe upon English Ground again, he returned for London, and there setting in again at his old Play of Wiving, [Page 46] he Wooes a Parson's Daughter of 500 l. Portion, and by virtue of the great Name of Sir Charles Bowyer, and other winning Arts he used, he Married her, and gain'd so far upon her Father, that he got One Hundred Pound in part of the Five into his Clutches. But not satisfied with that Modicum, but resolving to gripe the whole remainder too, he takes a House for her at Hampstead, where he lived some time very kindly with her, still plying her Father with all the softest and tenderest Management, to hook in the 400 l.

But here, as Fortune will not always Smile, a Turn of her Wheel gives him a little stop to the Current of his Felicities: His Ludlow Wife had made no little Out-cry with her Wrongs, and amongst other Search and Inquiries comes up to London, being the last place she has to make her Quest after this Impostor and Monster, for those are the gentlest Names her Sufferings and Resent­ments can give him. She has a great Opinion that Newgate or Newgate-Roll, or some other such Chro­nicles of his Renown, will give her some light into his Life and Fortune; and perhaps the Justice of Heaven afford her a fight of him at least, if not a power to execute Heavens and her Just Vengeance on so egregious a Reprobate.

Her Inn being at Holbourn-bridge, she lights into the Company of a good Motherly Woman just come from Oxford-shire; the Sorrow in so young a Face, and the swoln Eyes which were not yet dried, the Fountain being indeed Inexhaustible, the Curiosity of the elder Traveller made bold to ask her the cause of so doleful a Look, &c. The young one (who now had no Reserves) plainly told her whole Sufferings: To which the Matron replied, Alas young Woman, what are your Griefs to mine? I have [Page 47] been many Years the Wife of the most Infamous Mis­creant that the Earth ever bore; deserted and aban­don'd by the wickedest of Men, after long Years of Honest and Loyal Fidelity to his Bed, and exposed to Perish (which you, thanks to able Friends, need not fear) &c. with a great deal more bitter Invectives against him. Till at last upon further conferring of Notes, and describing of Characters and Persons, they came to jump together, and found themselves both abused by the very same Monster, the eldest being indeed his old Banbury Wife. What Amaze­ment this Accident produced may easily be con­jectured, it will be enough to tell you, that the Anguish of both their Souls, and the Bitterness of Gall on each side, made them Swear an inviolable Friendship, determining to search (if possible) the whole World, to hunt down this Devil. Accordingly they take a Lodging a little higher in Holbourn, where making no secret of both their hard cases, they open their whole Souls to their new Landlady, to engage her assistance in the Quarrel. The Land­lady, transported at both their Narrations, fell upon her Knees, and bless'd God he had sent them to her House, for this Lucifer they had described, was certainly the very Man that next Week was to Marry her Daughter. This Surprize put them all into new Confusion, and the Daughter being called to the Council, it was evident that this very Fellow had made Love to the Daughter of the House, the day of Marriage concluded, the Ring and Wed­ding-Cloaths preparing, &c. This last Deliverance made the poor old Woman, and the Daughter no less, melt into Tears at this happy Discovery.

Well, 'tis agreed between them all, that they shall not stir till he comes thither, which will be in twenty four Hours at most; and all their united [Page 48] Vengeance, Constables, Warrants, and what not, shall be prepar'd for his Reception.

This Resolution was heartily fix'd amongst them, only the Banbury Wife would that Evening take a walk to a Cousins, a Citizen, where she had some important Affairs, but nothing should stay her abroad above an Hour; she had not walk'd half a Furlong, but Destiny, or some other ruling Power, threw her full in the Mouth of her Husband; her Passion at sight of him rose so high, that at first it could not find vent for words; which he perceiving, desir'd her to walk into a Tavern which was just before them, and there recover her Confusion. You may conceive she was very ready to accept the In­vitation, her Stomach being so full, that 'twas the only thing she wanted to have her full swing at him. The Discourse of her part you may well guess at; but his Answer was so tender, and his Confession so open, that at last she grew patient enough to hear him out. He plainly told her all he had done, or at least the greatest part: That it was only the Effects of his Wants and Necessities; that now he had raised enough to re-establish him in the World; that the Hony-Moon of Love had been almost over between them; and that if he had made any Lapse in Disloyalty to her Marriage-Right, it was not Infidelity but Interest that had enforced him to all. And so shewing her handfuls of Gold and Silver, he humbly intreated a Reconciliation betwixt them. Which good Words and Address at last so perfectly obtain'd, that he perswaded her to send for all her Houshold-Goods, and to live with him somewhere in the Liberties of Westminster, where disguising his Name, and amending his Faults, he doubted not, through his Practice, to recover a plentiful Being, and maintain her like a Woman.

[Page 49]The poor Creature, absolutely mollified, promises Fidelity to him; and never returning to her new Lodging, takes him along with her, defeating the whole Vengeance that Was hatching against him; and not stirring from him till all her Goods were come up from Banbury, and a new House furnish'd with them. She had not liv'd there three days, till finding a Gossiping Errand for her to keep her from home a whole day, at her return at Night to Bed, she finds neither Husband nor Goods, Bed to lye, or Stool to sit upon; the whole House being utterly dismantled, and nothing but Nakedness and empty Walls to receive her.

This last Cruelty of her Barbarian, made her almost run stark Mad, and returning to her Hol­bourn Lodging, to own her Frailty in believing an Infidel, and the Just Judgment that had befaln her upon it, she found the poor Ludlow Mourner de­parted; and all her Relief left, was to return to Banbury to live upon the Alms of the Parish.

This Libertine Life of our Renegade, did not long continue, till found at last by the Ludlow Wife he was thrown into Worcester Jail; from thence by Habeas Corpus (at the Charge of a Parson in South­wark, whose Daughter he had likewise married) removed to Newgate; and upon an Indictment of six Wives appearing against him, being then Tried by the Name of Morrell alias Bowyer (a Name of a worthy Person of Quality, for personating of whom he had stood in the Pillory) he pleaded Guilty to those six and twelve more, and thereby received only the Punishment of a Squeeze in the Fist. Nevertheless, the Judges were pleased so far to commiserate the unhappy poor Women he had un­done, but especially the Parson's Daughter, that they gave her leave to lay an Action upon him of [Page 50] 5000 l. by virtue of which, being still detain'd a Prisoner, he remov'd himself to the Kings-Bench: Here being kept within the Goal, he behav'd him­self so winningly, that he gain'd some Favour with the then Marshal, and had now and then the liberty to peep abroad. Improving and advancing in the farther good Graces of the Marshal, he obtain'd at last that extraordinary Credit from him, that him­self and three or four more Prisoners, were one day permitted to take a little Ramble to a Merry­making, some little way out of Town; which lucky slip of their Necks from the Collar, they took that wise care to make so good use of, that neither our Sir Charles, nor his Fellow-Travellers, the Master or Mates, ever return'd again. This escape made such a Clamour, that 100 l. Reward was set upon his Head, if to be caught in England. But this Pursuit soon cooled, for upon the change of Marshal, which soon follow'd, the Cause dropt, and he had full freedom to creep from his Covert, and turn Practitioner at his old Craft again; his Deliverance being in a manner compleat, and his 5000 l. and the rest of his Load discharged.

After his Heels were at liberty, his Pocket run but low; and he was forc'd to truckle to little Shifts, to put him in Stock again. His Pranks are scarce to be numbred, nor dare we pretend to trace them successively; and therefore we shall not tye our selves up to Time and Order.

For one of his common Feats, he got him a large Seal-Ring▪ and several other Gold Rings, all variety, as Plain, Mourning, and Enamel'd, value together about 4 l. with these, by Confederacy, he would sham an Arrest upon himself by a couple of Mar­shal's Men, and being hurried into some Ale-house, he would call for the Landlord, pretend himself a [Page 51] Tradesman and House-keeper as far as Wapping, Stepney, or some such remote place; then opening his Grievance, that he was Arrested for 40 or 50 s. and being too far from home to send for Mony, he desir'd the Landlord to carry his Rings to the next Gold-smith, and see what he valued them at: The Landlord returns with the Rings, and tells him, the Gold-smith would give him something above 3 l. for them: Upon this, he desires the Landlord to pleasure him with 50 s. upon that Pledge, and he would come himself, or send (by such a Token) the Mony the next day, and redeem them. The Landlord, ready to aid a Man in his Distress, in so reasonable a request, lends the Mony, whilst in­stead of the Gold Rings, he puts the Legerdemain, and leaves him a set of Brass ones well Gilt, shap'd, enamel'd, &c. to a tittle, in every point resembling the true Rings; and worth about Half-a-Crown.

One Day about high Noon he came to the Poul­try-Compter Gate, wanting a Serjeant to execute an Attachment for him: So giving him his Instru­ctions and Fee, he desires him and his Yeoman to follow him to such an Ale-house in Leaden-Hall-Street, where he would wait for them. To the Ale-house he goes, and takes a Lower Room which look'd into the Street, where calling for a Tankard of Ale, and soon after spying the Bum and his Follower approaching, he whips out of his Codpiece a Pewter Tankard, slaps the Drink into it, and returns the Silver one into his Breeches. As soon as they enter'd, and ask'd him for the Gen­tleman, he told them he would cross the Way, and see if he had dined yet, and come over, and call them immediately to do their Office. Out he trips, and there being a Thorough-fair over the Way, neatly conveighs himself off; till at last, the [Page 52] Serjeant waiting beyond his Patience, calls for the Landlord, and desires him to fill the Tankard again. Fill the Tankard (quoth the Host) what Tankard! This is non of mine. My Tankard is a Sil­ver one. How, a Silver Tankard (replies our Man-catcher.) This was all the Tankard in the Room since he came there. That wont serve turn: Their Comerogue and Confederate that had left them, had a Tankard of him, price 6 l. 10 s. and Tankard, or so much Money must be found before they parted. A great many hard Words rose on both sides; but in fine, the Attacher himself was now under Attachment, and moved not off, till a Reckoning of 6 l. an Angel, and some odd Pence, was discharged.

At Woolwich he pretended to be a Doctor of Physick, and profess'd an infallible Remedy he had for the Gout. A Gentleman, an Inhabitant there, long afflicted with that Distemper, retained him as his Physician: but his grand Receipt requiring a Fortnights Preparation, he squeezes some Money out of him for Materials to the Operation, and puts several Earthen Pots, with the pretended Ingredi­ents, for Fourteen Days under Ground, against which time the expected Effects were to be pro­duced. But it so unhappily fell out, that before the Elixir came to perfection, he was arrested by the Name of Bowyer, and thrown into the Mar­shalsea. The fourteen Days expired, and the Doctor in Durance, the Patient made bold to dig for the Treasure, and examine the Pots; where, to his great Satisfaction, in each Pot he found about half a dozen straggling Maggots, which indeed was their whole Contents: But what Cures they wrought our History mentions not.

[Page 53]Between five and six Years since, he tries one Touch more at Marrying, but truly not so high a Flier as formerly, he contents himself to lay Siege to Nan, the Cook-Maid at the Castle-Tavern at Fetter-lane end; and to attack her in no less for­midable a Figure than the old Sir Charles still. So Worshipful a Matrimonial Suitor (you may imagin) tickled her not a little, for the Title of a Ladiship could not but make a strange rumbling in a Kitchin-stuff-pot. The poor Girl was soon inclinable to listen to such potent Love. Our Sir Charles makes quick work on't; and though her kind Master and Mistress daily laugh'd at her for fancying him in earnest with her. Our Lover was so well furnish'd with Rhetorick to set her to rights again, and so absolutely perswaded her, that he meant nothing more than to marry her, that at last she contrived to feign her self Sick, whilst her Knight, under pre­tence of a Condoling Visit, was to steal her down Stairs, and march off with her. This Plot taking effect, he kept her our ten or twelve days; in which time he wheedled her out of all the Mony she could raise in the World, being about the Sum of Twelve Pounds: But when he had drained all he could get from her, at last he began to grow so cold to her, that he denied her one Morning a Pennyworth of Milk; which being no longer able to bear, she returned to her Master with a very sad Heart, much wailing the Barbarity she had receiv'd, and the Ruin she suffer'd. At the return of poor Nancy, the Knight was flown; and though un­suspected before, now her Master and Mistress with good Reason believ'd him a Cheat; and being con­cern'd for vindicating the Injuries of their Servant, they dogg'd him at last into White-Friers; and fetching him out thence by a Constable and Warrant, [Page 54] he was committed to Goal, tried for an Impostor, and stood in the Pillory before their Door.

One very notorious Cheat was much in use with him within a Twelve-month before his Death: For instance, He comes one Morning to an eminent Tavern in Holbourn near Hatton-Garden-end, his Habit a plain Country-man, with an Oyl-skin Hat, a shabby Perriwig, a large Buff Belt round his Waste, a pair of Boots without Tops, a Whip in his Hand, and a Hundred-Pound-Bag under his Arm: Here he bargains for a Hogshead of Sack to be sent into the Country; whilst the Carr-man is loading his Wine, he pretends very urgent Business he had to do before the Carrier goes out of Town, insomuch that he cannot well stay and pay for his Wine; for which reason he desires the Master to lay up his Bag of Mony for him, till he can call in the Afternoon and reckon with him; but first taking out (for a blind) a handful of Mony, between thirty or forty Shillings for present occasion, he seals up the Bag again, and leaves the rest in the Vint­ner's hands.

And now resolved to play the Good-husband, and do two Jobbs with one trouble, whilst the Carr is loading, he goes to a Linnen-Drapers in Newgate-street, where he buys a parcel of Linnen near 30 l. and as the Carr-man comes bye, he packs up the Linnen, and mounts it into the Carr. Here pretending his old haste, with another hundred Pound Load under his Arm, he plays the former Prank, and gives the Draper the Bag too. Now no Country-man coming to reckon (as promised) they both make bold the next day to unseal their Treasure, and see what Security they had in their Custody; when to their great Surprize, they found a parcel of new Half-pence stow'd round the Bag, [Page 55] with a lesser Bag in the belly on't, fill'd with Frag­ments of old Iron. This Prank was hitherto pretty well carried, but Fortune of late Years a meer Jade to him, had a very unhappy After-game to play him: For the Vintner and Draper happening to meet together, to condole Losses and confer Notes, they chanced to remember, that one of the Carr-man's Steeds was a remarkable pie-ball'd Horse. Hereupon making inquiry amongst the Fraternity of Carr-men, by the Marks and Tokens of that Horse, they found out the very Man that drove off the Chattels; who what by Threats and other perswading Arguments, they prevail'd to lead them at last to a House in the Mint, where the Wine and the Drapery were both lodg'd. Here they made a shift to recover the whole Prize, ex­cepting about five Pounds worth already embezell'd, being pretty well content to sit down by no greater loss.

In much the like manner, and much such a Habit, he came to a Cutlers in Fleet-street, and leaving such another Bag there, under pretence of shewing some Swords to his Master at a Coffee-house hard by, he carried off three silver Swords.

For the same Feat of Activity, he came to a Coffee-house adjacent to Pater-Noster-Row, where the Master of the House was a Tailor, whose Company and Advice he intreated, desiring him to go along with him to some of the Mercers in the Row, to look upon some rich Silks which he wanted, for a Countty-Gentleman's (his Master) and a young Ladies Wedding-cloaths; the Tailor, in kindness, handed him once or twice to several Shops: But one Morning, leaving his Bag behind him at the Coffee-house, he went alone to a Mercers, a corner Shop in the Row; where he cheapning some rich [Page 56] Stuffs, flower'd with Silver and Gold, a Haber­dasher of Small Wares passing by, and happening to set Eye upon our Chapman, made bold to lay hands upon him, and carry him off to the Cock in Amen-corner; his Charge against him was, for leaving him the Bag too for about thirty Pounds in small Wares. But noise and crowd coming about him, fearing that other Complaints might appear against him, and so load him heavier than possibly he might be able to stand under, our Haberdasher wisely resolving to take care of no body but himself, danc'd him from House to House, till his Country-Chapman could raise Effects to make him Satis­faction; and so having, with much ado, hook'd in his own Bet, he turn'd him loose again, for the other open mouths against him, to take as fair a Hunt for him as he had done. After this mortify­ing Adventure, whether out of a Principle of Mo­desty, a Virtue not often in fashion with him, or some other Forgetfulness, the Bag left in the Coffee-house was never call'd for from that day to this; and keeping of it about three Months seal'd, at last they ventur'd to break it open, in which they found about six Shillings in new Half-pence, and a lesser Bag fill'd with pieces of old Iron, a great deal of which, as Memorials of his Renown, they have kept by them for Relicks.

About the Year 1672. he pretended to a great Estate in Northamptonshire, and carried it on so far, as to borrow four hundred Pounds upon the Mort­gage of it, of a Hampshire Gentleman. At Hanning­ton likewise in Hampshire he married a Ministers Daughter, and enter'd into Bond and Judgment of a Thousand Pound to Jointure her in fifty Pound a Year, by which he got Two hundred and fifty Pound out of her Father, as part of her Portion.

[Page 57]In Piccadilly, about five Years since, he went to a Horse-Coursers to buy a Horse, and after he had bargain'd for, and bought him, he desir'd to back him to try his Goings, and rode off with him be­fore the Horse-Courser's Face, and sold him in the Country for four Pounds.

But now to hand our great Master Actor off the Stage, we must bring him to his Exit: Some few days before Christmas he came to one Mr. Cullin's a Baker in the Strand to seek him a Lodging, his Habit but indifferent, and his Stock not above Two Shillings, pretending himself to be a Person of Worth and Honour, viz. Humphrey Wickham of Swakely in the County of Oxon Esq a Person whose Name and Reputation was well known to Mrs. Cul­lin, being born not far from him, which contributed much to the swallowing of the Imposture. His Pretence for leaving his Family in the Country, and living here Incognito, was occasion'd (he said) to avoid the Payment of 500 l. which he stood en­gag'd for, and for which the Principal had left him in the lurch; and which he had made a rash Vow he would not pay.

Mr. Cullin's Family thus imposed upon, supplied all his Wants, and paid him the due Respects to the Quality he personated, till falling Sick, on the 28th of December he made a Will as follows.

This stupendious Confidence of a dying Man is very amazing, nay he drove on the Masquerade at that strange rate, that he may be truly said to have [Page 63] ended as he began, having received the Blessed Sacrament, pretended the Settlement of his Con­science, and making Peace with Heaven with that seeming Sincerity, as if he had resolved to preva­ricate with God with the same Assurance he had all along done with Mankind. The Credulity of these deluded Persons, his Landlord and the rest, is not much to be wonder'd at, when the last Gasps of Death could carry so fair an Hypocrisie, and their Transports for his extravagant Legacies be­queathed them, are rather to be pitied than ridi­cul'd. And if they have been faulty in any little Over-fondness of their imaginary good Fortune, the Jests and Gibes they have received, have been their sufficient Punishment; besides Mr. Cullin's being run out of above 30 l.

After his Death care was taken to provide him a Coffin of about 10 l. value, and the Embalmers were paid for some of their Office of preserving him Sweet, till Preparations for a solemn and sumptuous Funeral could be made, suitable to the remains of the honourable Deceased. And this Letter was sent as follows.

Memorandum, That there are two Mortgages in the hands of Austin, the one for 1400 l. and the other for 400 l. in the name of Oliver Charles, in the hands of Mr. Ambrose Holbech.

In answer to this Letter came a Gentleman from Oxford to tell Mr. Cullin, that the Christian-name of this Mr. Wickham of Gazington was mistaken, which gave the first Alarm of an Imposture, other­wise Hearse and Mourning had been provided to have carried him down to Swackley for his Inter­ment there.

[Page 65]Mr. Cullin being not over-apt to believe himself cheated, but more to satisfie the rest of the World, sent down a Messenger to Swackley, with fifteen Shillings in his Pocket, mounted upon a poor Hackney, but ordered to return upon the Bright Bay Gelding bequeathed him in his Will; being not convinc'd of the Delusion till his Messenger's return, notwithstanding several Persons of Reputa­tion had declar'd him a Counterfeit; and Major Richardson and Mr. Compton had both inspected the Corps, and averred him to be the very Man for­merly judged for six Wives as before mentioned, and more than once their Prisoner in Newgate.

The Messenger returning Tuesday the 12th of Jan. 1691. he brought a Compliment to the Exe­cutors from Captain Wickham (who had treated the Messenger very civilly) to this effect; That he gave them his hearty Thanks for their intended Kindness to him; and if they would please to come to Swackley for a Month or more, they should be very welcom, and have the use of all the Geldings, viz. the Black, the Bright-Bay, the Dapple-Gray, though he could not well part with them for good and all.

Upon this full Satisfaction received, about three the next Morning, with no more than a Watch­man and a Lanthorn, in a Coffin of four Shillings price, he was laid in the Earth in a Nook of St. Cle­ment's Church-yard.

The Nurse and Assistants that attended him in his Sickness now call to mind, that they once or twice observed him to laugh to himself very plea­santly, which they suppose proceeded from the pleasure he took in cheating the World he was then just upon leaving.

[Page 66]To conclude with his Frauds and Impostures, (besides the grandest and boldest of them all that he left the World in) he was charged with one Cheat after his very Death. Amongst the numer­ous Visitants that came to see him that Week that he lay above Ground, it happen'd that a Man and his Wife, living at White-Chappel, pressing in amongst the Crowd of Gazers, immediately re­membred his Face; and seeing the Clothes there which he wore before he died, he presently owned himself the Tailor that made them; and that they were not only unpaid for still, but likewise he was cozen'd out of them by one of the lewdest Shams that ever was put upon Man. Upon which he re­peated the whole Story at length, viz. That about Bartholomew-tide before, the now Deceased came over Night, and took a pretty handsom Lodging at White-Chappel, pretending himself newly come up by the Stage-Coach out of the Country, his Name Bowyer; and desiring his Landlord to help him to a Tailor, 'twas his ill Luck to be the Man that was sent for. When he came to him, he found him in a thread-bare black Coat, and very much in want of Repair. He had not talk'd with him long, before he was desir'd to take measure of him; and whilst that was doing, up came a Foot-man in a gentile Livery, and paying him much Respect and Reverence, told him, That Sir John, his Ma­ster, desir'd his Company at Dinner. At Dinner! (answers our thread-bare Spark) No, 'Faith; he must excuse me: I am not in a pickle (Pox of my Dog-Rogue) to stir out of doors. No, Sirrah; these Rags upon my Arse are no Dress for Dining at White­hall. And so, pray, go tell your Master, that I am forced to keep my Chamber at present, for I have been robb'd since I saw him last Night. The Foot-boy [Page 67] presently ask'd him, By whom? By a young Son of a Whore, a Foot-man of mine, the Devil go with him. And so desiring the Boy to carry the whole Rela­tion to his Master, he tells him very formally. That sending his Boy last Night to the Carrier's for his Trunk, in which were two Suits of Clothes, all his Linnen and Point, and fifty Pieces of Gold, the Rogue was run away with it: And though this old Suit upon his Back serv'd him well enough to come to Town in, Sir John must pardon him if he durst not stir out till he was a little better rigg'd. The Foot-man making a long Scrape, and departing with his Message, our Country-Squire gave a hundred hard Names to this Run-a-way Man of his, threatning a great deal of Vengeance if ever he caught him; for Hanging was too good for him. Whilst this Alarm held, there came another Visitant to our Esquire, and told him, He hoped he had drawn it up to his Liking: So the Man producing a Paper, the Esquire took it and read it; which was a long Advertise­ment to be put into the Gazette, describing the Marks of his Man, and five Pounds Reward to him that should apprehend him. So having read it out, and approved of the wording of it, he put his Hand in his Pocket, and gave the Fellow ten Shillings to pay for entring of it, giving him a strict Charge to be sure of getting it into the next Gazette. After this, he began to treat about his Clothes, which he desir'd might be neither Rich nor Gaudy, for he was past those Vanities. The Tailor ac­cordingly, by next day at Noon, brings him his Clothes, his Bill between five and six Pounds, which truly he must be forc'd to stay for till next Week; for the Villain and Thief his Man had put him out of Mony; but he had sent down last night by the Post for new Supplies, and by the middle [Page 68] of next Week should be furnish'd, and pay him very thankfully. The poor Tailor, not in the least doubting his Mony, was very well satisfied for he was sufficiently convinc'd that he was a Gentleman of Fashion, and hoped to find a good Customer of him. But no sooner were the Accou­trements upon his Back, and he had now liberty (no disgrace to his Gentility) to walk by Day-light; his first Progress is down to Sir John's at Whitehall, who was belike so fond of his Company, that he would never let him find the way home again; for from that Hour, neither his White-chappel Land­lord, nor Tailor, could ever set Eye of him.

But to give him a little farther Visit at the Bakers (the Hospitable Roof under which he finish'd his last Master-piece) and lend the Reader some few farther Observations upon what pass'd there, more and above his own Personal Performance in that grand Masquerade of the pretended Captain Wick­ham, several Accidents both before and after his Death contributed much to corroborate and sup­port the Impostor. To instance one remarkable one; his kind Landlord sending for the worthy Dr. F— to take care of him in his Sickness, he ask'd the Doctor if he did not know him, or had never seen him before; which the Doctor (as with good reason) not well recollecting, our Patient was pleased to remember him, that he had the Honour to Dine with him such a Day, in such a Year, when the Doctor was Mayor of Gloucester. Now it happening that that very day the true Captain Wickham had really Dined with him at Gloucester: The Doctor who was not much acquainted with the true Captain, and thereby not ready to distin­guish Faces, yet very well remembring such a wor­thy Gentleman one of his Honourable Guests that [Page 69] day in his Majoralty, was very ready (upon so convincing a Circumstance) to swallow the Juggle, and to acknowledge him the Person he presented, which very much influenced the Credulity of the Family.

The Monday, the next day after his death, a Noble Peer, attended by several Persons of Honour, came to see the Body, and was so satisfied in his being his Country Neighbour, the true Captain Wickham, that he question'd the Family why the Coroner did not sit upon him; upon which being answer'd, that such a Physician took care of him, and that besides, the Honesty of the House in which he died, gave no occasion for any such reflecting enquiry into his Death: His Lordship was pleased to reply, That if he was not Murthered, he must certainly die Mad, it being impossible that in his right Senses he should give such extravagant Legacies to meer Strangers: Nor would his Lord­ship be satisfied, till he consulted both his Bodily and Ghostly Physician, his Minister and the Doctor, about his outward and inward Man, &c.

Another very confirming Credential happen'd, viz. A grave Citizen of London, a near Neighbour to our Capital Cathedral, who likewise inspected the Corps, was pleased to say, he had fifty Guinea's in his Fob, and would make them an Hundred with any Man, that it was Captain Wickham. Nay, Mr. T— the Proctor was so confident of his In­tegrity, that he deposited five Guinea's with the Baker's Wife, to a Wager of five more, to buy him a Pair of Gold Fringe Gloves, that he was the true Captain Wickham; and not only so, but made two Wagers more with her, of two Guinea's each, upon the same Fund. Which Wagers she was so unwilling to lay with him, as being her self so [Page 70] confident of his Truth, that she gave them for lost; nor had been drawn into them, but by this Argu­ment of the Nurses, who told her, That if he was the true Wickham, nine Guinea's Loss would be nothing out of their great Legacies; and if he was otherwise, the winning of so many Guinea's would make some Help towards the Charges they had been out upon him.

Besides all this, a great many Oxfordshire Gen­tlemen, that frequented Kn—t's Coffee-house in Essex-Buildings, were so concern'd at his Executor's Happiness, that rather than the Baker should run away with so much of his Estate, declar'd they were resolv'd to make a Parliament Business of it. So many Affirmatives so strengthned the believing Baker, that he offer'd to give his Maid fifty Pounds for her Hundred: To which she pertly answer'd, No, she was not in so much haste to Compound at that Rate, she was as well able to tarry for her Mony, as he was for his. And talking of the poor Maid, one thing must not be forgotten; the day before he died, he told her he had left her a hun­dred Pounds to buy her a Husband, but have a care she did not Marry a Rogue that should beat her, for if she did, he had that kindness for her, he was sure it would disturb him in his Grave, and make him Walk when he was Dead.

But to return to his Death: When the Searchers came to do their necessary Office, upon Inspection, they found some little extraordinary Mortification upon some nameless Part about him, that put them upon the Smile. Their Respect to the Worshipful Deceased, made them somewhat Modest in the Dis­covery; which occasion'd the Nurse to inquire into the cause of their Fleering, and ask'd them plainly, If the Captain were under the Covenant of Circumci­sion? [Page 71] Yes truly, they replied, some such kind of Cor­poral Defect they had found about him. This put the Church-warden into some Surprize, who, in­clinable to fancy better things of this Pious Bene­factor defunct, would by no means believe either Searchers or Nurse, 'till he play'd the Searcher too, and made a Peep for his satisfaction. But, alas, he no sooner cast his Eye that way, but he found our Batchellor Captain was in no danger of leading Apes: He discover'd him an old Soldier under Cupid's Banner; for by a sad Token he had been a loser in the Wars: But Eighteen Wives might do much, and so the Wonder is not so extraordinary.

By a Letter dated January the 21st 1691. from a credible Hand, we receiv'd a short Relation of the Man Tom, the Famous Sancho Pancho to our deceased Don Quixot, so often mention'd, and for­merly so great a Sharer in his Master's Adventures.

This Squire to our late Knight-Errant, through his long Service now grown Master of his Art, and consequently Setting up for himself, was then taken at Putnam, near Godalming in Surrey, for running away with an Heiress of 150 l. per annum. This wealthy Heiress he had married in very good Sea­son, our Bridegroom truly being not over-rich, (the common Fate of great Wits) for he had hardly Mony enough to pay for his Marriage. However, accepted for Richer, or Poorer, he had Bedded her seven or eight Nights, and was so long pursued and hunted from place to place, before her Relations could catch him, being taken at last in Bed with her. The farther Particulars we are not yet inform'd.