valued sight; but that I know a fortune will render me
more agreeable to the charming Julia, I should quit all my
Interest here, to throw my self at her Feet, to make her
sensible how I am intirely her Adorer. 

          
                                                          Charles Gayman.

—­Faith, Charles, you lie—­you are as welcome to me now, Now when I doubt thy Fortune is declining, As if the Universe were thine.

Pert.  That, Madam, is a noble Gratitude.  For if his Fortune be declining, ’tis sacrificed to his Passion for your Ladyship.  —­’Tis all laid out on Love.

L. Ful.  I prize my Honour more than Life,
Yet I had rather have given him all he wish’d of me,
Than be guilty of his Undoing.

Pert.  And I think the Sin were less.

L. Ful.  I must confess, such Jewels, Rings and Presents as he made me, must needs decay his Fortune.

Bred.  Ay, Madam, his very Coach at last was turned into a Jewel for your Ladyship.  Then, Madam, what Expences his Despair have run him on —­As Drinking and Gaming, to divert the Thought of your marrying my old Master.

L. Ful.  And put in Wenching too.—­

Bred.  No, assure your self, Madam—­

L. Ful.  Of that I would be better satisfied—­and you too must assist
me, as e’er you hope I should be kind to you in gaining you Diana.
          
                                              [To Bredwel.

Bred.  Madam, I’ll die to serve you.

Pert.  Nor will I be behind in my Duty.

L. Ful.  Oh, how fatal are forc’d Marriages! 
How many Ruins one such Match pulls on! 
Had I but kept my Sacred Vows to Gayman,
How happy had I been—­how prosperous he! 
Whilst now I languish in a loath’d embrace,
Pine out my Life with Age—­Consumptions, Coughs. 
—­But dost thou fear that Gayman is declining?

Bred.  You are my Lady, and the best of Mistresses—­ Therefore I would not grieve you, for I know You love this best—­but most unhappy Man.

L. Ful.  You shall not grieve me—­prithee on.

Bred.  My Master sent me yesterday to Mr. Crap, his Scrivener, to send to one Mr. Wasteall, to tell him his first Mortgage was out, which is two hundred pounds a Year—­and who has since ingaged five or six hundred more to my Master; but if this first be not redeem’d, he’ll take the Forfeit on’t, as he says a wise Man ought.

L. Ful.  That is to say, a Knave, according to his Notion of a wise
Man.

Bred.  Mr. Crap, being busy with a borrowing Lord, sent me to Mr. Wasteall, whose Lodging is in a nasty Place called Alsatia, at a Black-Smith’s.

L. Ful.  But what’s all this to Gayman?