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Let me see here is the Watch, I took it up to keep for him but his sending has inspir'd me with a sudden Stratagem, that will do better than Force, to secure the poor trembling Leticia who, I am sure, is dying with her Fears. Enter to them Sir Feeble Fainwou'd. Sir Feeb. What's here? what's here? the prating Women still. Ods bobs, what, not in Bed yet? for shame of Love, Leticia. Let.
I am still afraid of Thieves; mercy upon me, to lose five hundred Guineas at one clap, Dick. Hah bless me! what's yonder? Blow the great Horn, Dick Thieves Murder, Murder! Sir Feeb. Why, what a Pox, are you mad? 'Tis I, 'tis I, man. Sir Cau. I, who am I? Speak declare pronounce. Sir Feeb. Your Friend, old Feeble Fainwou'd. Sir Cau. How, Sir Feeble!
L. Ful. Sir Feeble Fainwou'd! rise, are you both mad? Sir Cau. No, no, Madam, we have seen the Devil. Sir Feeb. Ay, and he was as tall as the Monument. Sir Cau. With Eyes like a Beacon and a Mouth, Heaven bless us, like London Bridge at a full Tide. Sir Feeb. Ay, and roar'd as loud. L. Ful. Idle Fancies, what makes you from your Bed? and you, Sir, from your Bride? Enter Dick with Sack. Sir Feeb.
No, Sir, you are mistaken in your Man. Gay. It may be so. Bel. I am, d'ye see, Charles, this very individual, numerical young Mr. what ye call 'um Fainwou'd, just come from St. Omers into England to my Uncle the Alderman. I am, Charles, this very Man. Gay. I know you are, and will swear't upon occasion. Bel. This lucky Thought has almost calm'd my mind.
During his absence Sir Feeble Fainwou'd, a doting old alderman and his rival, having procured his pardon from the King to prevent it being granted if applied for a second time, and keeping this stratagem secret, next forges a letter as if from the Hague which describes in detail Bellmour's execution for killing a toper during a tavern brawl.
Our Store's quite wasted, and our Credit's small, Not a Fool left to bless our selves withal. We show you one to day intirely new, And of all Jests, none relish like the true. Let that the value of our Play inhance, Then it may prove indeed the Lucky Chance. Sir Feeble Fainwou'd, an old Alderman to be married Mr. Leigh. to Leticia, Sir Cautious Fulbank, an old Banker married to Julia, Mr. Nokes.
Omer's, whom I have sent to wait on you in England; he is a very good Accountant, and fit for Business, and much pleased he shall see that Uncle to whom he's so obliged, and which is so gratefully acknowledged by Dear Brother, your affectionate Brother, Francis Fainwou'd. Hum hark ye, Charles, do you know who I am now? Gay. Why, I hope a very honest Friend of mine, Harry Bellmour. Bel.
You banter me but in plain English, tell me, What made you here thus early, Entring yon House with such Authority? Gay. Why, your Mistress Leticia, your contracted Wife, is this Morning to be married to old Sir Feeble Fainwou'd, induc'd to't I suppose by the great Jointure he makes her, and the improbability of your ever gaining your Pardon for your high Duel Do I speak English now, Sir? Bel.
Why, an old Knight, and Alderman here o'th' City, Sir Feeble Fainwou'd, a jolly old Fellow, whose Activity is all got into his Tongue, a very excellent Teazer; but neither Youth nor Beauty can grind his Dudgeon to an Edge. Bel. Fie, what Stuff's here! Gay. Very excellent Stuff, if you have but the Grace to improve it. Bel.
But see, they're coming forth, now stand your ground. Bel. Gay. Hold, remember you're proscribed, And die if you are taken. Bel. I've done, and I will live, but he shall ne'er enjoy her. Who's yonder, Ralph, my trusty Confident? Enter Ralph. Now though I perish I must speak to him. Friend, what Wedding's this? Ral. One that was never made in Heaven, Sir; 'Tis Alderman Fainwou'd, and Mrs.
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