_Did my_ Julia _know how I languish in this cruel Separation, she would afford me her pity, and write oftner. If only the Expectation of two thousand a year kept me from you, ah!_ Julia, _how easily would I abandon that Trifle for your more 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_? _Bred_. Madam, this _Wasteall_ was Mr. _Gayman_. L. _Ful_. _Gayman_! Saw’st thou _Gayman_? _Bred_. Madam, Mr. _Gayman_, yesterday. L. _Ful_. When came he to Town? _Bred_. Madam, he has not been out of it.