’The fair sat pouting at the courtier’s play,
     And not a mask went unimproved away: 
     The modest fan was lifted up no more,
     And virgins smiled at what they blushed before,’

were not too coy to be pleased with the fops’ attentions, and replied in like strain.  The players were unheeded; the audience laughed at the improvised and natural wit, when carefully prepared dialogues failed to fix their attention.  The actors were disgusted, and, in spite of Master Fielding’s herculean strength, kicked him off the stage, with a warning not to come again.

The role of a beau is expensive to keep up; and our justice of the peace could not, like Nash, double his income by gaming.  He soon got deeply into debt, as every celebrated dresser has done.  The old story, not new even in those days, was enacted and the brilliant Adonis had to keep watch and ward against tailors and bailiffs.  On one occasion they had nearly caught him; but his legs being lengthy, he gave them fair sport as far as St. James’s Palace, where the officers on guard rushed out to save their pet, and drove off the myrmidons of the law at the point of the sword.

But debts do not pay themselves, nor die, and Orlando with all his strength and prowess could not long keep off the constable.  Evil days gloomed at no very great distance before him, and the fear of a sponging-house and debtors’ prison compelled him to turn his handsome person to account.  Had he not broken a hundred hearts already? had he not charmed a thousand pairs of beaming eyes? was there not one owner of one pair who was also possessed of a pretty fortune?  Who should have the honour of being the wife of such an Adonis? who, indeed, but she who could pay highest for it; and who could pay with a handsome income but a well-dowered widow?  A widow it must be—­a widow it should be.  Noble indeed was the sentiment which inspired this great man to sacrifice himself on the altar of Hymen for the good of his creditors.  Ye young men in the Guards, who do this kind of thing every day—­that is, every day that you can meet with a widow with the proper qualifications—­take warning by the lamentable history of Mr. Robert Fielding, and never trust to ‘third parties.’

[Illustration:  BEAU FIELDING AND THE SHAM WIDOW.]

A widow was found, fat, fair, and forty—­and oh!—­charm greater far than all the rest—­with a fortune of sixty thousand pounds; this was a Mrs. Deleau, who lived at Whaddon in Surrey, and at Copthall-court in London.  Nothing could be more charming; and the only obstacle was the absence of all acquaintance between the parties—­for, of course, it was impossible for any widow, whatever her attractions, to be insensible to those of Robert Fielding.  Under these circumstances, the Beau looked about for an agent, and found one in the person of a Mrs. Villars, hairdresser to the widow.  He offered this person a handsome douceur in case of success, and she was