Let us now see how Sir. _Tun-belly_ hangs together. This Gentleman the _Poet_ makes a _Justice_ of _Peace_, and a _Deputy Lieutenant_, and seats him fifty Miles from _London_: But by his Character you would take him for one of _Hercules_'s Monsters, or some Gyant in _Guy_ of _Warwick_. His Behaviour is altogether _Romance_, and has nothing agreeable to Time, or Country. When _Fashion_, and _Lory_, went down, they find the Bridge drawn up, the Gates barr'd, and the Blunderbuss cock'd at the first civil Question. And when Sir _Tun-belly_ had notice of this formidable Appearance, he Sallies out with the _Posse_ of the Family, and marches against a Couple of Strangers with a _Life Gaurd_ of Halberds, Sythes, and Pitchforks. And to make sure work, Young _Hoyden_ is lock'd up at the first approach of the Enemy. Here you have prudence and wariness to the excess of Fable, and Frensy. And yet this mighty man of suspition, trusts _Coupler_ with the Disposal of his only Daughter, and his Estate into the Bargain. And what was this _Coupler_? Why, a sharper by _Character_, and little better by Profession. Farther. Lord _Foplington_ and the Knight, are but a days Journey asunder, and yet by their treating by Proxy, and Commission, one would Fancy a dozen Degrees of _Latitude_ betwixt them. And as for Young _Fashion_, excepting _Couplers_ Letter, he has all imaginable Marks of Imposture upon him. He comes before his Time, and without the Retinue expected, and has nothing of the Air of Lord _Foplington's_ Conversation. When Sir _Tun-belly_ ask'd him, _pray where are your Coaches and Servants my Lord_? He makes a trifling excuse. _Sir, that I might give you and your Fair Daughter a proof how impatient I am to be nearer akin to you, I left my Equipage to follow me, and came away Post, with only one Servant._[410] To be in such a Hurry of Inclination for a Person he never saw, is somewhat strange! Besides, 'tis very unlikely Lord _Foplington_ should hazard his Complexion on Horseback, out ride his Figure, and appear a Bridegroom in _Deshabille_. You may as soon perswade a Peacock out of his Train, as a _Beau_ out of his Equipage; especially upon such an Occasion. Lord _Foplington_ would scarsely speak to his Brother just come a _Shore_, till the Grand Committee of _Taylors, Seamtresses, &c._ was dispatch'd.[411] Pomp, and Curiosity were this Lords Inclination; why then should he mortifie without necessity, make his first Approaches thus out of Form and present himself to his Mistress at such Disadvantage? And as this is the Character of Lord _Foplington_, so 'tis reasonable to suppose Sir _Tunbelly_ acquainted with it. An enquiry into the Humour and management of a Son in Law, is very natural and Customary. So that we can't without Violence to Sense, suppose Sir _Tunbelly_ a Stranger to Lord _Foplington_'s Singularities. These Reasons were enough in all Conscience to make Sir _Tunbelly_ suspect a Juggle, and that _Fashion_ was no better then a Counterfeit.