_Ral_. Yes, and took on most heavily--the Doctors gave her over--and there was the Devil to do to get her to consent to this Marriage--but her Fortune was small, and the hope of a Ladyship, and a Gold Chain at the Spittal Sermon, did the Business--and so your Servant, Sir. [_Ex_. Ralph. _Bel_. So, here’s a hopeful Account of my sweet self now. _Enter Post-man with Letters_. _Post_. Pray, Sir, which is Sir _Feeble Fainwou’d’._? _Bel_. What wou’d you with him, Friend? _Post_. I have a Letter here from the _Hague_ for him. _Bel_. From the _Hague_! Now have I a curiosity to see it--I am his Servant--give it me--[_Gives it him, and Exit_.--Perhaps here may be the second part of my Tragedy, I’m full of Mischief, _Charles_--and have a mind to see this Fellow’s Secrets. For from this hour I’ll be his evil Genius, haunt him at Bed and Board; he shall not sleep nor eat; disturb him at his Prayers, in his Embraces; and teaze him into Madness. Help me, Invention, Malice, Love, and Wit: [_Opening the Letter_. Ye Gods, and little Fiends, instruct my Mischief. [_Reads_. Dear Brother, _According to your desire I have sent for my Son from _St. 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_. 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. And if I don’t fit you, my dear Uncle, May I never lie with my Aunt. _Gay_. Ah, Rogue--but prithee what care have you taken about your Pardon? ‘twere good you should secure that. _Bel_. There’s the Devil, _Charles_,--had I but that--but I have had a very good Friend at work, a thousand Guyneys, that seldom fails; but yet in vain, I being the first Transgressor since the Act against Duelling. But I impatient to see this dear delight of my Soul, and hearing from none of you this six weeks, came from _Brussels_ in this disguise--for the _Hague_ I have not seen, though hang’d there--but come--let’s away, and compleat me a right _St. Omer’s_ Spark, that I may present my self as soon as they come from Church. [_Exeunt_. SCENE II. _Sir_ Cautious Fulbank’s _House_. _Enter Lady_ Fulbank, Pert _and_ Bredwel. Bredwel _gives her a Letter_. _Lady_ Fulbank _reads_.