THE general Reception the First Part of our Im­postors Life has met, encourages us to pursue the Subject, hoping that this further Narrative of his Adventures will give the Reader no less Diversion. And that the Reader may be satisfy'd in the Integrity and Truth of our History, we desire him to con­sider that he dyed in the midway between fifty and sixty years, and having for a score of the last of 'em, play'd at no other Game than cheating the World in all the Shapes and Masques he cou'd invent, we are so over furnisht with matter of Fact, that we have not the least need to load him with the least untruth; and therefore we make this real Profession, that excepting a little Garniture, (that common pardonable Liberty) the whole Feast we treat you with, has not one borrow'd Dish. Nay hun­dreds of his diminutive Frauds here in Town, as vulgar sharping Tricks, we purposely omit, as too trivial and [Page 2] unworthy our Cognizance, and too poor for your En­tertainment.

And whereas his most notorious Delusions were his Mar­rying of so many Wives, and the politick Artifices and Lures used by him to decoy those poor Creatures into the Gripe of his Talons, were the grandest of his Rogueries, we have been chiefly inquisitive into that particular walk of our Proteus, as the most intriguing part of his Life, and indeed his Master piece of Projection, and consequent­ly the most divertive for your Reading.

In our first part we gave you at large three or four fa­mous Amours of his, and leaving off at his Inn-keepers Daughter of Bathe, (where we frankly told you that for want of farther Intelligence we over-leap'd some years) we think fit to continue the prosecution of our History from the end of that Adventure, and so fill up the vacancy occasion'd by our then want of Information, with which (from very good Authority and Credit) we have now better supplyed our selves.

His continued good Luck at the Female Quarry suc­ceeding so prosperously, he has hardly snapt and gorged one, before he's for flying at a second.

Leaving therefore his last Wife (as before mentioned) the Inn-keepers Daughter to shift home, not only penny­less, but almost naked too, (as before at large) it being then in the gay time of Summer, he buys him a very stately Gelding, and prances down to Slough near Wind­sor. There taking a Genteel Lodging, and throwing off his old now Hackney fied Disguise of the Countrey Gen­tleman, he assumes the Character of a London Merchant; and though the little distance of twenty Miles laid the Scene very nigh, and consequently (one would think) exposed him to something more hazard than any of his [Page 3] former remoter pretensions, however he is so flusht with success, and thereupon so hardy an Enterprizer that he reckons upon Fortune, now intirely his own, as no less than bound to his Cause, and her Smiles as secure, as himself her now darling Favourite is fearless and undaun­ted.

His Tent therefore pitcht at Slough for the best part of this Summers Campaign, with sufficient of Gold, and what not, in his Pockets, he Contracts (amongst other Countrey Acquaintance) a great intimacy with the Mi­nister there. And at length praising the good Air of that Countrey, and the sweetness he tastes in the Conversati­on thereabouts, he desires the Parson (his now Inti­mate) to inform him of some Purchase of fifty, sixty, or, rather than fail, seventy pound per annum somewhere near there; if a good House upon it so much the better; otherwise it will put him to some few hundreds extraor­dinary Expence. If any such Purchase can be found, he shall be gratefully thankful to him: For resolving to get him some Countrey Seat for a little Summers Retire­ment from his Fatigue at London, he has not met that place in the World that pleases him better. The Parson, kindly replyed, That truely he did not yet know of any such Purchase, but he would make it his Business to in­quire, and inform him accordingly.

It falls out here that he insinuates into the Conversation of a Countrey Gentleman that had a very pretty Daugh­ter, to whom he could give Five Hundred Pound Portion. Through his Acquaintance with the Father he finds Op­portunity and Access to the Daughter, and in a little time professes downright Love. Now besides a great deal of Wit and Sense in the Daughter, here was a very Judicious and Sensible Man to her Father, and likewise a [Page 4] very Ingenious young Gentleman her Brother, all three to be coped with; insomuch that the highest of Pru­dence ought to be used to manage the Amuzement, and fence off all Curiosity and Enquiry, which (considering how near London lay) might dash the whole Plot. For that purpose he no sooner declares his Passion, but at the same time he utterly abjures all pretensions to a Farthing of Portion, (if he may be so happy as to succeed in his Love) that truely his Affairs and Circumstances are far above so poor a Thought. Whatever her Fathers Good­ness did or might have intended for her, he is free to keep for the bettering the Fortune of so hopeful an Heir of the Family as the young Gentleman her Brother: It is enough that the possession of her dear Person is all his Am­bition, and if after all his prosperous Ventures both at Sea and Land, to Crown his Felicity he can but carry this last dear Prize, he has all he wants in this World. Nor is Beauty the only Charm he finds in his dear Mi­stress, her Vertue is her most captivating Perfection. A­las, if he had sought either Face or Fortune, those were to have been found nearer home, and possibly, where he was better known, viz. in his walks upon the Exchange, and thereabouts, whatever personal wants he had, how­ever his other Qualifications would have made him no hard Access to very considerable Fortunes. But as his Natural Jealousie of Town Beauties had all along made him somewhat colder in the choice of a London Wife, he declares that the vanquishing of his Heart was reserved only for some sweet Countrey Innocence, which truely he had never met with till now.

This Declaration carries a very pleasing Face every way. Here, the Daughter for her part has the Heart of a Rich Merchant of such vast Estate, that her inconsi­derable [Page 5] Portion is not worth his Acceptance, and conse­quently if she can like the Man, she has all the Reason in the World to Embrace the Addresses of so qualified a Sue­tor. Here are Father and Son likewise under no occasion of complaint, for one is like to save Five Hundred Pound by the Bargain, and the other to get as much. And therefore 'tis a Match they ought not to oppose. And to put all suspicions out of their Head, what Reasons have they to mis-doubt his being the Man he pretends, for he had then a pretty many years upon his Back, and there­fore unlikely to commit so boyish a folly to take the Luggage of a Wife with never a Groat with her, unless he had wherewithal of his own, to supply that Defect. Be­sides, here was all the Appearances possible both of Ho­nour and Honesty in his Daughters Inamorato, for more and above the daily management of his Discourse, and his prompt Answers and Insight to all Affairs in the World, which discovered a Person certainly of publick Business, his Port and Figure he made amongst them, together with the Grandure of his way of Living, con­firm'd their intire Belief and Confidence. And to conclude all, who cou'd suspect a Counterfeit that would Cheat for nothing.

During his Courtship he presented his Mistress with a very Rich Gold Watch, and as he gain'd ground not only upon her, but went a great stroke with the Father and Son, who were mighty inclineable to the Match; at last he pusht home, and gain'd the Consent of all Parties concerned. The Father and Son were of Opinion that they should all go to London, and the Wedding and Bed­ding work should be all done there at his own House in the City. With all his Heart replyed the Spark, only one Inconvenience attended that Proposition. For it [Page 6] would be impossible for him to Marry in London without dragging a great deal of noise and trouble at his Heels. For unless he would disoblige more than a Hundred Emi­nent Citizens, his particular Friends (which in Honour he could not well do) he must be forced to make a pub­lick Wedding of it, and so draw on a great deal of Cere­mony and Hurry, which truely, (might he be chuser) did not agree with his Inclination. Nevertheless, if they so pleas'd, he was ready to acquiesce to their absolute Commands. But otherwise, for prevention of all that, if he might direct, he would desire to divide his Blessings between the Countrey and City, viz. have the happiness of Marrying her in the Morning at Slough, and then have the Honour of their good Companies with him to Lon­don, and there Bed her at his own House.

This appear'd so highly reasonable, that three places are order'd to be taken in the Windsor Coach to Morrow for London, and the Marriage to be Solemnized Early be­fore the Coach sets out. And accordingly our Lovers, who wake with the Lark, are the next Morning devoutly join'd together. When the Nuptial Rites were perform'd, and a small Collation prepared before setting out, he pub­lickly again declared his Protestations against all pretences to a Portion. However as he had now taken the dearest Creature in the World into his Arms without any such Claim or Pretension, and the longest day of his Life he should maintain her to the highest Dignity and Grandure of a City Merchants Lady, as much as if she had brought him Thousands of her own to do it with, yet as perhaps there might be some Wedding Garments, and other small matters wanting suitable to His Bride, he durst not pre­sume to make her any Present of that kind, lest possibly it might be some little Indignity and Reflection upon Her [Page 7] own Honour in accepting of any such offer; and therefore that part he left to her and her Relations pleasure and dis­cretion. His putting them in Mind of that necessary point, appeared more like a piece of Gallantry than any thing else from him. And thereupon both the Father and Bride take a whisper privately together, and immediately the Clo­sets and Cabinets were rumaged, and near a hundred Gui­neas muster'd up, and stowed in a small Casket to carry with her to London, to rig her in all ample manner ac­cordingly As they merrily Travel along, the Father, Bride and Brother in the Coach, and the Bridegroom en cavalier Riding by, taking a little start before 'em upon Hounslow-Heath, he comes back furiously Galloping to the Coach side, and with much concern bids 'em have a care for he was certain there were Highway-men before in the Road, and he much feared the Coach would be Robb'd. This put the Travellers into some small fright, and all of'em (for the Coach was full) into a very great Care how to preserve the small Treasure they had about them. Nay Gentlemen, replies the Spark, for that small matter I have about me, I fear not all the Thieves in Christendom to take from me, for though I profess my self no Sword-man to Fight for it, yet I thank God, I have a Horse has such a pair of Heels as I defie any Man in England (especially upon this open Plain) to out-ride me. This Hint made the poor Bride immediately Request his securing some small things of hers, and thereupon she gave him her little Casket, and her Gold Watch to carry for her, withal desiring him to speed off the fastest way he could, and tarry for the Coach at the Red Lion in Brent­ford; Her prudent Example encouraged some other Pas­sengers in the Coach to desire him to do them the like Favour; one Lady in the Coach desired him to secure a [Page 8] Diamond and a Gold Ring of hers, which she took from her Finger; another Gentleman clapt a Purse of near twen­ty pieces of Gold into his Silver Tobacco-box, and be­sought him to give it Sanctuary in his Pocket to Brentford. In short, some other small matters were presently entrust­ed to his Protection and Preservation; and so being desi­red to troop off with all speed, and to meet 'em at the ge­neral Rendezvouz aforesaid, our Merchant puts Spurs to his Steed, and the Coach trundles leisurely after him.

At Brentford they arrive safely in some little time after, and making a halt at the Red Lion, inquiry is made if a Gentleman so mounted, and so drest was there. No; an­swer was made, no such Man was there; but upon exa­mining the Horse and the Rider they had described, that very Gentleman, about half an hour ago was seen to Ride almost full speed through the Town towards London.

The Bridegroom so strangely out riding his Stage, put the whole Company into some little Consternation, but the Bride more especially, it being a matter of no mean sur­prize to her to have a Bridegroom so unkind, or so frolick­some at least, to Ramble away from her on her very Wed­ding Day in so odd a manner. A great many several Dis­cants were made upon it by the whole Company; but as all of 'em happen'd to be some small Neighbours to Slough, and had either converst with this Honourable Merchant during his Abode there, or at least had heard of his Fame, it was concluded of all Hands 'twas only intended as a Jest, and so they all moved on towards London, not doubt­ing in the least but to find it so.

When they arrived at London, the young Lady as Guar­rantee for her Bridegroom, though she could not well in­vite 'em with Convenience that Night, besought all their good Companies to Morrow at Dinner with her at her [Page 9] House in Limestreet, there to call their Trustee to an Ac­count, and to laugh out an Afternoon with her upon their Travelling Adventures.

Having thus dismist their Fellow Travellers; a Hack­ney Coach is taken to drive to Lime-street. When they came there, and such a Merchants House was asked for, a Name very like it was found in that Precinct, but both the Gentleman and House they inquired for, were utter­ly Strangers to all the Inhabitants round, and neither that Night nor next whole Day could give 'em any Tale or Tydings of her new Husband. However in all this utter Darkness, as she is left in Ignorance, she has the Comfort to be left in Innocence too, for thanks to her kind Stars there was no Consummation in the Case, as much a Wise as she is, she is a Virgin Bride at least, and as much cheated as they have all been, our young Spouse has the satisfaction of that single happy Escape to counter bal­lance all the rest of her Losses. What Reparation our fair Promiser made to her Fellow Sufferers in the Coach our Story mentions not, but the Father, Son, and Bride re­turning by weeping Cross, they found this Farewel Epi­stle at their Arrival at Slough.

This Adventure so luckily concluded, our Wise-Mer­chant takes a little Recreation in London, and then tired with Ease and Idleness, he thinks it high time to look out for new Game. His Rambles have hitherto mostly lain Westward, and the Success he has gotten there, in­vites him to try his farther Fortune a Field the same Read. Down therefore his Galloper and he set out, and meeting nothing in the way worthy his Atchievement, he fixes at last at the Town of Wells. Here he is a Countrey Gentle­man again his Name Bowyer, Brother to Sir Charles Bow­yer. This Town happily afforded a Boarding School for young Girls, where the Fair Recluses generally are not altogether Nuns Flesh, and where notwithstanding the watchful Oversight of those Guardian Dragons the Go­vernesses and Super-Intendants, Love too often leaps the Pale, and many a bold Jason very luckily moves off with a Golden Fleece.

At this Castle 'tis resolved our next Batteries shall be le­vell'd; only all the hardest work here is the making his Approaches. For that purpose he inquires first, who and what the Fair Inhabitants are, and the like; where he is soon inform'd of several considerable Fortunes amongst 'em; but most of 'em either under Guardianship or Pa­rents, and though allyed to pretty considerable Effects, the Lash is in Hucksters Hands. The carrying the Dam­sel, [Page 11] will not finger the Gold, and our Business being only to snap and away, a lighter Cargo than those unweildy Portions does our Job. And accordingly he discovers one just sizable for his Turn. A Tradesman's Daugh­ter, her small Portion about 180 l. and all in her own Hands, or at least in her own power, her Parents and Friends all Dead, and therefore at her own disposal, and likewise something of the Elderlyest for a School-miss, being indeed about 20 years of Age.

'Tis resolved then to fix here; And, for a handsome Initiation, his first Attacque is onely from his Eyes; he sees her first at Church, where his whole Devotion is so intent upon no other Object, that he gives her occasion to observe him. His Gentile Equipage, and, in a Stran­ger too, might very well draw some Eyes in a Countrey Congregation; and this young Devotees were not so wholly tyed to her Prayer-Book, but hers might rove a little: she no sooner saw him, but she met a very Passio­nate and Long wishing-Look returned her: if her Curio­sity peep'd a second time, she found him in the same po­sture, his Eye never off of her. And this he continued Forenoon and Afternoon, in such a manner, that it was impossible, even for Indifference it self, not to Remark him.

Next morning he makes some means to get the Com­pany and Ear of one of the Sub-Governants of the School, a Matronly kind of a Tutouress. He cannot tell what Malleable Mettal she's made of, and how far she may be tempted to betray a little Trust. However he resolves to try. And if she be to be shaken, at least he'll use the most Perswasive Arguments to Assail her.

Accordingly, having first beg'd the Favour of a full Hearing, he begins to lay open his Case in manner fol­lowing. [Page 12] First, he discovers his Birth and Quality, a Brother of the Honourable Sir Charles Bowyer. Se­condly, Though a younger Brother, yet provided with a Plentiful Patrimony to keep up the Port of a Gentle­man. Then, that yesterday at Church, he had seen the onely Sweetness upon Earth that he cou'd truly Love: That it was some Extraordinary Destiny that had brought him thither, to lose his Heart to so Lovely a Creature: and then telling his Name (which his Love had made him inquire into) the present Suit he had, was, to obtain the Conversation of that Sweet Gentlewo­man, that he might have the favourable opportunity of declaring his Passion to her; which Access, understand­ing the strictness of the Family in which she now lived, and under what Confinement she lay, he had no hopes of accomplishing, but through her Means: and, that if she would vouchsafe to be the kind Instrument in gain­ing him his Request, he should not onely be bound to her the longest day of his Life, but likewise make her a Gratification suitable to so signal an Obligation. The Gravity of our Tutoress seem'd a little Surprized at this Motion; But, before she cou'd make any Reply, he con­tinued his Supplication to her; By telling her, That for Heavens sake she would believe his Intentions to the young Lady were nothing but Honourable, that had his Designs been so wicked, as to aim at, or over­reach any young Fortune in the House, as such he un­derstood there were several there, he should be the greatest of Villains. But, that Love, and onely Love, was his Design, was manifest in his Addresses to this young Gentlewoman, who (as he was inform'd) was but a Tradesman's Daughter, of little or no Fortun [...] [...] of at least very inconsiderable to a Person of his Circum­stances and Birth; and therefore she had all the Reason [Page 13] in the World to believe him a Person of Honour and In­tegrity; and 'twas as such he desired her to serve him in the Request he had made her. She hearing him protest so heartily, and profess so honourably, cou'd not but be a little attentive to so Reasonable a Suit. But being her self a Woman of Principle, and naturally faithful to her Trust, she could not forbear making him this Answer: Sir (says she) you have the least Reason in the World to seek my Assistance in this matter; for if you are that Lover, and that Gentleman you profess your self, your Quality and Pretensions to this young Woman are suffi­cient to make your own way to her, without wanting my help. What need has a Gentleman of your Fortune and Honour to seek to a poor Servant as I am to intro­duce you so meanly, as a private Suitor to this young Maid, when you have it in your own Power to make a more Publick Declaration of your Love; and undoubt­edly, so Qualifi'd as you are, have all Encouragement to hope for Success? If you please therefore, I'll tell the Governess, and when she shall have examined all things requisite to the discharge of that honest Duty as the Tui­tion and Care she has undertaken shall require of her; she will be so far from opposing your Access, that certain­ly you may expect all the fair Reception your own heart can wish. This Answer being not the present point we must gain, our Squire (before prepared for a Reply) seem'd extreamly pleased with her for her Fidelity. That truly she was highly to be commended for so Conscien­cious a Scruple, as to the admitting of a Stranger, as he was, to any thing under her Guardianship. And that truly the Advice she had given him was but very Reason­able; And that if he should make open Love to this young Gentlewoman, he might possibly have hopes of succeed­ing. [Page 14] And really it was the onely Course he would take, but for one onely Obstacle, which was, that though indeed, as a younger Brother, he had above 300 l. per an­num already in good Land of Inheritance, a Competence sufficient to maintain a Family indifferently well; yet as he was next Brother, and indeed as the presumptive Heir to Sir Charles, an unmarryed Man of Thousands a year, and was at present transacting with him about a considera­ble Addition to his Estate, and other very eminent Friend­ships expected from him, he was under an invincible ne­cessity of making an Amour of this kind, one of the great­est Secrets in the World, lest his Marrying so inconsidera­bly might lose him his Brother's Favour, and thereby de­feat so advantageous an Expectation. Not but he Loved the young Creature enough to run a thousand times great­er hazards for obtaining so sweet a Blessing: but, howe­ver, What Folly and Prodigality would it be, to expose so main a part of his Well-being to so dangerous a Ven­ture, when there was so little occasion for it? For he, could he reach so great a Blessing, as to obtain her for his Bride, yet it would be worth his while to make both his Woing and Marriage, for some time, an absolute Secret, for so valuable a Consideration. And he, that resolved to enter into Matrimony, was, in all Duty, bound to take the best measures to make a Married Life comfortable, by making the best provision to support it with Cre­dit and Reputation. And therefore 'twas, that he was forced to supplicate her private Assistance in the Affair, which she could not well blame, under so important a Cir­cumstance; and therefore stealing a brace of Guineas into her Hand, he once more intreated her to gain him some Admittance to the young Ladys conversation, as silently as possibly her Goodness could contrive. I cannot tell, whe­ther [Page 15] the Arguments or the Gold, or both together pre­vailed, but to shorten the Discourse 'twas agreed that E­vening in Hour after Sun set that he should come to the Gard [...]n Back gate, which was accordingly done.

And not to tire the Reader with the Narration of the Wooing, let it suffice that he obtain'd three or four pri­vate Meetings, and a little Courtship well managed pre­vail'd and conquer'd. By the Assistance of this Matronly Confident, the Business is concluded, and the Girl steals out one Morning and Marries him. He had not been long Married, but continuing the old plea of silence and secresy so necessary on his Brothers Account, he gets her to call in her small Portion, for her own use, making it his free Wedding Gift, all to be disposed in buying her Cloaths, and the like. And so makes all speed to London with her. At London he provides her a very Genteel Lodging, still leaving all her Portion in her own Custody. He had not kept her Company two days in Town, but he comes home in great haste and surprize, telling her that his Bro­ther by some Accident or other had heard of his Marriage. But as 'twas impossible he should know what Woman he had Married, he had one favour to beg of her which she must not deny him, which was to pretend her self to be a young Devonshire Lady of such a Great Family, and such a Fortune: By this means he should win his brothers Heart, and hasten that additional settlement, and the o­ther favours he expected from him; and tho' indeed it was a little piece of Fraud, which truely he was never guil­ty of before in all his whole Life, yet considering the Ad­vantage so innocent a Deceit might gain 'em, he conjured her by all their Loves to joyn with him in it, and carry on the Mask till he had gain'd his point. The poor Crea­ture soon perswaded consents to his Req [...]est, promising [Page 16] her acting the best part she could in the Disguise, since it was his Pleasure and Command to have it so.

Having obtain'd her concurrence in it, he tells her these Lodgings were too mean for a Woman of her Birth, and therefore he would presently take her a fine House at Greenwich four Miles out of Town, and have it furnisht suitable to his and her Quality.

At Greenwich a House is instantly provided; and what by the pretensions of this great Match, he strikes in with a confiding Upholster for a Rich Bed, Tapestry Hangings, and very sumptuous Furniture in most ample manner. Nay, he carries it on so far as to gain Credit for several Hogsheads of Wine, which were likewise wafted down to Greenwich. The young Wife all this while seeing him make such splendid Provision for her, never in the least suspected him for less than high Quality, and indeed was utterly ignorant that all this Gallantry was taken up upon Trust, and mostly rais'd upon the noise of her vast Devonshire Portion that was very speedily to pay for all.

After this Countrey House was thus Richly set out, pretending Business one Morning early to London, he re­turns again between Ten and Eleven in great haste, that truely he had occasion for about an Hundred Pound, and having laid out more Cash than his Returns from his E­state in the Countrey could at present supply him, he de­sired her to accommodate him with that Sum out of her Money, which in a Fortnight at farthest should be made her up again. The poor Girl very readily gave him the Keys of her Closet and her Cabinet, desiring him to take what he wanted. Immediately he goes to the Treasury, and having not leisure to stay to tell out the Sum, he took the whole Bag, which in Silver and Gold was about 140 l. [Page 17] which he would tell over at London, and bring back the Remainder, whither he desired her Company along with him in the Boat that staid to carry him back. Yes, with all her heart, if he would please to stay till she drest her self, being then only in her Morning gown. No, by no means, he replied, no matter for dressing her self, she was well enough drest for that little Com­pany she should see to day. And so without farther Ceremony she trips into the Boat with him, and so away to London.

When he came there, and had fix'd her at her Old Lodgings, he desired her to have a little patience till his return from Lombard-strees, where he was going to pay this Money: but before he went, giving her a kind Kiss or two. Lord, my Dear (says he) this plain Wedding-Ring upon thy Finger is too poor for My Wife! I am going to pay this Money to a Goldsmith, and prithee give me thy Ring along with me, and I'll put a Diamond into it.

The Ring upon so good an Account was presently deliver'd him, and a very low Courtzy dropt him for the promis'd Diamond. Away goes Husband, Mo­ney, and Ring, and the Wife staying with her old Land­lady, waits for the return of her kind Spouse; After a great deal of patience pretty well tired, and many a sigh to pass away time, Evening at last draws on, and no Husband appears. To Greenwich she dares not return, 'tis now too late at night, and too dangerous travelling so unseasonably. And so taking a soft Bed, but a hard Night's rest in Town, she gets up early the next morning for Greenwich, where instead of Husband [Page 18] or House, she finds the Furniture, Bedding, nay the very Wine in the Cellar all carried off, and so nei­ther Husband, Money, nor Cloaths, but the loose Undress she had upon her back; she is left to a whole Deluge of Lamentation, and the King's High-way fair open for her to steer back to Wells, or what other Hospitable Coast she could find in the wide World before her.

This Marriage-Trade thriving so well with him, he left it not off till he arrived at the number of 18 Wives; in which several various Cheats and Dis­guises were practised according to Time, Place and Circumstance. At Kedderminster he past for Sir Charles Bowyer's Brother again, and there married an Inn-keeper's Daughter, from whom he hooked out several Pounds, besides spunging upon her Father: where he continued a very considerable time; and wrought him­self into that intire Credit with his Father-in-law, that when some of his Neighbours made bold to ask him, How he could repose so much Confidence in a meer Stranger; and after his Daughter had been so long married to him, to make no Inquiry into him all this while? Inquiry! (he replied very briskly) trouble not your heads about that Business. I am very well satisfied in him, and know well enough what he is. His Wit and Breeding, and a hundred other genteel Qualities, sufficiently assure me: Nay a Gentleman he must be most certainly, for I have observed him, he will never dine without a Bottle of Wine.

In Holbourn he courted a Rich Vintner's Widow (but there he was a little higher advanced into the [Page 19] Honourable Family of the Bowyers, for then he was Sir Charles himself) and so far tickled her out of her small Reason, by the high sound of a Ladiship, that the Wedding-cloaths were making. Nay he took her along with him to a Goldsmiths in Cheapside, to bespeak a very large quantity of Plate, amounting to about 200 l. No sooner did he enter the Goldsmith's Shop, but he kindly shook him by the hand, and gave him so many familiar How-de-yees, as if he had been his long and intimate Acquaintance; where bespeaking so much Plate, and such a Coat of Arms to be engraved upon it, the day was set when it was to be call'd for. Before that day he was to receive 600 l. from his Stew­ard in the Countrey, which he had sent for up to pay for this Plate, and other necessary Nuptial Ha­bilements. But the Day drawing on, a Letter comes up by the Post from his Steward, intimating, That amongst all his Tenants he could at present raise but 150 of the 600 l. he desired, and truly that small Pittance he did not think sit to return up, till he could make it a larger Sum, &c. This Letter was received in his Mistresses presence, and the Knight so enraged at his Steward's neglect, that he sell into a very great passion to be so defeated of his Expectation, especially at so critical a Juncture. The kind Widow seeing him so concerned, desired him not to be troubled at it, for if his present Occasions required, she was very willing to furnish him with it; and in fine, lent him 200 Guinea's to setch home the Plate. But neither was the Plate sent home, nor Knight or Guinea's ever seen after­wards. The Widow somewhat impatient, trips away to the Goldsmith to inquire if he had been there, and being answer'd in the negative, she ask'd him if he were [Page 20] not acquainted with Sir Charles? What Sir Charles? Sir Charles Bowyer that bespoke the Plate. Truly not he; for to his best knowledge, he never saw him be­fore that day. How, replies the Widow, never saw him before, when he knew you so well, talk'd so fa­miliarly with you, discours'd of so many Affairs relating to your self, that I durst have sworn he had known you this seven years, and dealt in at least a thousand pounds with you. Yes, replied the Goldsmith, all this fami­liarity he exprest, which as much surprized me as it does you: But it was none of my business to inquire of a Customer how he came so acquainted with my Con­cerns, or why he treated me so courteously at first sight; He laid me down Earnest in part for my Plate, and if 'tis your pleasure to pay me the remainder, the Plate is forth coming. But when, or where the Gen­tleman can be found forth coming, that you know bet­ter than I: for as I told you, he is a Person I never saw before, nor after.

To prosecute the full Relation of all his Wooings and Marriages, would be dwelling too long upon one kind of Subject, and therefore not so divertising to the Rea­der; for which Reason we have selected only these, and the others recited in the First Part of our History, as most entertaining of all his Amours.

After he had accomplish'd near a Score of Marriages, he neatly counterfeited a Bill for 700 l. drawn upon an Eminent Citizen; and so well managed all Con­duct and Matters relating to it, that he received the Money. But what with his Wives, and this last grand Cheat, he began to think little England would [Page 21] soon be too hot for him. And therefore buying three very gallant Horses, and Equipage and Accoutre­ments suitable, he got him cross the Herringpond, and went a Volunteer to the Duke of Monmouth, then before Mastricht: His business here was more Flourish and Bravado, than any great Feats of War, any Mar­tial Wonders he intended to perform. In Flanders he made a pretty long Campaign, for he stirred not from thence till all his Money was spent; and at length, when his dwindling stock was so small, that his very Horses heads grew a little too big, for a new supply he converted 'em into ready Money; and when that last stake was almost run out, and he had just enough left to Land him safe upon English Ground again, he returned for London; and there setting in again at his old play of Wiving, he Wooes a Parsons Daughter of 500 l. Portion, and by virtue of the great Name of Sir Charles Bowyer, and other winning Arts he used, he Married her, and gain'd so far upon her Father, that he got One Hundred pound in part of the Five, into his clutches. But not satisfied with that modicum, but resolving to gripe the whole remainder too, he takes a House for her at Hampstead, where he lived some time very kindly with her, still plying her Father with all the softest and tenderest management, to hook in the 400 l.

But here, as Fortune will not always smile, a turn of Fate falls somewhat hard upon him; his Ludlow, and some other of his old Wives, had unhappily got him in the Wind, and with a full Cry run him down, and Housed him in Newgate.

[Page 22] Here it was (as before mentioned in our first Part) that six of his Wives appeared against him, and at his Tryal he pleaded Guilty to those Six and Twelve more. For which being Convicted, and the Law not reaching to his Life, the Judges were pleased so far to commise­rate the unhappy poor women he had undone, but especially the Parson's Daughter, that they gave her leave to lay an Action upon him of 5000 l. by virtue of which, being still detained a Prisoner, he removed himself to the Kings-Bench; Here being kept within the Goal, he behaved himself so winningly, that he gain'd some favour with the then Marshal, and had now and then the liberty to peep abroad. Improving and advancing in the farther good graces of the Mar­shal, he obtained at last that extraordinary credit from him, that himself and Three or Four more Prisoners were one day permitted to take a little Ramble to a merry-making, some little way out of Town; which lucky slip of their Necks from the Collar, they took that wise care to make so good use of, that neither our Sir Charles, nor his fellow Travellers, the Master or Mates, ever returned again. This escape made such a clamour, that 100 l. reward was set upon his head, if to be caught in England. But this pursuit soon cooled; for upon the change of Marshal, which soon followed, the Cause dropt, and he had full free­dom to creep from his Covert, and turn Practioner at his old Craft again; his deliverance being in a manner compleat, and his 5000 l. and the rest of his load dis­charged.

After his Heels were at liberty, his Pocket run but low; and he was forced to truckle to little shifts to [Page 23] put him in stock again. His Pranks are scarce to be numbred, nor dare we pretend to trace 'em successive­ly; and therefore we shall not tie our selves up to Time and Order.

For one of his common Feats, he got him a large Seal-Ring, and several other Gold Rings, all variety, as Plain, Mourning, and Enamel'd, value together about 4 l. with these, by consederacy, he would sham an Arrest upon himself by a couple of Marshal's Men, and being hurried into some Alchouse, he would call for the Landlord, pretend himself a Tradesman, and House-keeper as far as Wapping, Stepney, or some such remote place; then opening his Grievance, that he was Arrested for 40 or 50 s. and being too far from home to send for Money, he desired the Landlord to carry his Rings to the next Goldsmith, and see what he valued them at: The Landlord returns with the Rings, and tells him, the Goldsmith would give something above 3 l. for them; upon this, he desires the Landlord to pleasure him with 50 s. upon that pledge, and he would come himself or send (by such a Token) the Money the next day, and redeem them. The Landlord ready to aid a man in his distress, in so reasonable a request, Lends the Money, whilst instead of the Gold Rings, he puts the Legerde­main, and leaves him a set of Brass ones well Gilt, shaped, Enamel'd, &c. to a tittle, in every point resembling the true Rings; and worth about Half-a-Crown.

[Page 24] One day about high noon he came to the Poultrey-Compter Gate, wanting a Serjeant to execute an At­tachment for him: so giving him his Instructions and Fee, he desires him and his Yeoman to follow him to such an Ale-house in Leaden-Hall-Street, where he would wait for 'em. To the Ale-house he goes, and takes a Lower Room which look'd into the Street, where calling for a Tankard of Ale, and soon after spying the Bum and Follower approaching, he whips out of his Codpiece a Pewter Tankard, slaps the Drink into it, and returns the Silver one into his Breeches. As soon as they enter'd, and ask'd him for the Gentle­man, he told them he would cross the way, and see if he had dined yet, and come over, and call 'em imme­diately to do their Office. Out he trips, and there be­ing a Thorough fair over the way, neatly conveighs himself off; till at last, the Serjeant waiting beyond his patience, calls for the Landlord, and desires him to fill the Tankard again. Fill the Tankard (quoth the Host) what Tankard! This is none of mine. My Tankard's a Silver one. How, a Silver Tankard (re­plies our Mancatcher.) This was all the Tankard in the Room since he came there. That wont serve turn: Their Comerogue and Confederate that had left 'em, had a Tankard of him, price 6 l. 10 s. and Tankard, or so much Money must be found before they parted. A great many hard words rose on both sides; but in fine, the Attacher himself was now under Attach­ment, and moved not off, till a Reckoning of 6 l. an Angel, and some odd Pence, was discharged.

[Page 25] At Woolwich he pretended to be a Doctor of Physick, and profess'd an infallible Remedy he had for the Gout. A Gentleman, an Inhabitant there, long afflicted with that Distemper, retained him as his Physician: But his grand Receipt requiring a Fortnights Preparation, he squeezes some Mony out of him for Materials to the Ope­ration, and puts several Earthen Pots, with the pre­tended Ingredients, for Fourteen Days under Ground, against which time the expected Effects were to be pro­duced. But it so unhappily fell out, that before the E­lixir came to perfection, he was arrested by the Name of Bowyer, and thrown into the Marshalsea. The Fourteen Days expired, and the Doctor in durance, the Patient made bold to dig for the Treasure, and examine the Pots; where, to his great Satisfaction, in each Pot he found about half a dozen straggling Maggots, which indeed was their whole Contents: But what Cures they wrought, our History mentions not.

Between five and six Years since, he tries one Touch more at Marrying, but truly not so high a Flier as for­merly, he contents himself to lay Siege to Nan, the Cook-Maid at the Castle-Tavern at Fetter-Lane End; and to attack her in no less formidable a Figure than the old Sir Charles still. So Worshipful a Matrimonial Suitor (you may imagine) tickled her not a little, for the Title of a Ladyship could not but make a strange rumbling in a Kitchin-stuff-pot. The poor Girl was soon inclinable to listen to such potent Love. Our Sir Charles makes quick work on't; and though her kind Master and Mistress daily laugh'd at her for fancying him in earnest with her, Our Lover was so well furnish'd with Rhetorick to set her to Rights again, and so absolutely persuaded her that he meant nothing more than to marry her, that at last she [Page 26] contrived to feign her self sick, whilst her Knight, un­der pretence of a Condoling Visit, was to steal her down Stairs, and march off with her. This Plot taking effect, he kept her out ten or twelve Days; in which time he wheadled her out of all the Mony she could raise in the World, being about the Summ of Twelve Pounds: But when he had drained all he could get from her, at last he began to grow so cold to her, that he denied her one Morning a Pennyworth of Milk; which being no longer able to bear, she returned to her Master with a very sad Heart, much wailing the Barbarity she had received, and the Ruin she suffered. At the Return of poor Nan­cy, the Knight was flown; and though unsuspected be­fore, now her Master and Mistress with good Reason be­lieved him a Cheat; and being concerned for vindicating the Injuries of their Servant, they dogg'd him at last in­to White-Friars; and fetching him out thence by a Con­stable and Warrant, he was committed to Jayl, tried for an Impostor, and stood in the Pillory before their Door.

One very notorious Cheat, was much in use with him, within a 12 Month last past. For instance, he comes one Morning to an eminent Tavern in Holborn near Hat­ton Garden end, his Habit a plain Country-man, with a Oyl-skin Hat, a shabby Perriwig, a large buff Belt round his Waste a pair of Boots without Tops, a Whip in his hand, and a hundred Pound bag under his Arm: Here he bargains for a Hogs head of Sack to be sent into the Country; whilst the Carman is loading his Wine, he pretends very urgent Business he had to do, before the Carrier goes out of Town; insomuch that he cannot well stay, and pay for his Wine; for which reason, he desires the Master to lay up his bag of Mony for him, [Page 27] till he can call in the Afternoon, and reckon with him; but first taking out (for a blind) a handful of Mony, be­tween thirty or forty Shillings for present occasion, he seals up the Bag again, and leaves the rest in the Vint­ner's hands.

And now resolved to play the good husband, and do two Jobs with one trouble, whilst the Car is loading, he goes to a Linnen-Drapers in Newgate-street, where he buys a parcel of Linnen near 30 l. and as the Carman comes by, he packs up the Linnen, and mounts it into the Car. Here pretending his old haste, with another hundred pound Load under his Arm, he plays the former Prank, and gives the Draper the Bag too. Now no Country-man coming to reckon (as promis'd) they both make bold the next day to unseal their Treasure, and see what Security they had in their custody; when to their great surprize, they found a parcel of new Half-pence stowed round the Bag, with a lesser Bag in the belly on't, fill'd with fragments of old Iron. This Prank was hitherto pretty well carried, but Fortune of late Years a meet Jade to him, had a very unhappy After-game to play him: For the Vintner and Draper happening to meet to­gether, to condole Losses and confer Notes, they chan­ced to remember; that one of the Carman's Steeds, was a remarkable pie-ball'd Horse. Hereupon making inquiry amongst the Fraternity of Carmen, by the Marks and Tokens of that Horse, they found out the very Man that drove off the Chattels; who what by Threats and other perswading Arguments, they prevail'd to lead 'em at last to a House in the Mint, where the Wine and the Drape­ry were both lodged. Here they made a shift to reco­ver the whole Prize, excepting about five Pounds worth already embezell'd, being pretty well content to sit down by no greater loss.

[Page 28] In much the like manner, and much such a Habit, he came to a Cutlers in Fleet-street, and leaving such another Bag there, under pretence of showing some Swords to his Master at a Coffee-house hard by, he carried off three silver Swords.

For the same Feat of activity, he came to a Coffee-house adjacent to Pater Noster-Row, where the Master of the House was a Tayler, whose Company and Advice he intreated, desiring him to go along with him to some of the Mercers in the Row, to look upon some rich Silks which he wanted, for a country Gentleman's (his Master) and a young Ladies Wedding cloaths; the Tayler in kind­ness, handed him once or twice to several Shops: But one Morning, leaving his Bag behind him at the Coffee-house, he went alone to a Mercers, a corner Shop in the Row; where he cheapning some rich Stuffs, flowr'd with Silver and Gold, a Haberdasher of small Wares passing by, and happening to set Eye upon our Chapman, made bold to lay hands upon him, and carry him off to the Cock in Amen-corner; his Charge against him was, for leaving him the Bag too for about thirty Pounds in small Wares. But noise and crowd coming about him, fearing that other Complaints might appear against him, and so load him heavier than possibly he might be able to stand under, our Haberdasher wisely resolving to take care of no body but himself, danced him from house to house, till his country Chapman could raise Effects to make him satis­faction; and so having with much ado, hooked in his own Bet, he turn'd him loose agen, for the other open mouths against him, to take as fair a hunt for him, as he had done. After this mortifying Adventure, whether out of a principle of Modesty, a Virtue not often in fa­shion with him, or some other forgetfulness, the Bag left in the Coffee-house was never call'd for from that day to [Page 29] this; and keeping of it about three months sealed, at last they ventured to break it open, in which they found a­bout six Shillings in new Half-pence, and a lesser Bag fill'd with pieces of old Iron, a great deal of which, as me­morials of his Renown, they have kept by 'em for Re­licks.

About the Year 1672. he pretended to a great Estate in Northamptonshire, and carried it on so far, as to borrow four hundred Pounds upon the Mortgage of it, of a Hamp­shire Gentleman. At Hannington likewise in Hampshire he married a Ministers daughter, and enter'd into Bond and Judgment of a Thousand Pound to Jointure her in fifty Pound a year, by which he got Two hundred and fifty Pound, out of her Father, as part of her Por­tion.

In Piccadilly about three Years since, he went to a Horse-Coursers to buy a Horse, and after he had bar­gain'd for, and bought him, he desired to back him to try his Goings, and rode off with him, before the Horse-Courser's face, and sold him in the Country for four Pounds.

To conclude with his Frauds and Impostures, (besides the grandest and boldest of 'em all, That he left the World in,) he was charged with one Cheat after his very Death. Amongst the numerous Visitants that came to see him that Week that he lay above Ground, it happen'd that a Man and his Wife, living at White-Chapel, pressing in amongst the Crowd of Gazers, immediately remembred his Face; and seeing the Clothes there which he wore be­fore he died, he presently owned himself the Taylor that made 'em; and that they were not only unpay'd for still, but likewise he was cozen'd out of 'em by one of the lewdest Shams that ever was put upon Man. Upon which, he repeated the whole Story at length, viz. [Page 30] That about Bartholomewtide last the now Deceased came over Night, and took a pretty handsome Lodging at White-Chapel, pretending himself newly come up by the Stage-Coach, out of the Country, his Name Bowyer; and desiring his Landlord to help him to a Taylor, 'twas his ill Luck to be the Man that was sent for. When he came to him, he found him in a thread-bare black Coat, and very much in want of Repair. He had not talk'd with him long, before he was desired to take measure of him; and whilst that was doing, up came a Foot-man in a gen­tile Livery, and paying him much Respect and Reve­rence, told him that Sir John, his Master, desired his Company at Dinner. At Dinner! (answers our thread-bare Spark,) No, 'Faith; he must excuse me: I am not in a pickle (Pox of my Dog-Rogue) to stir out of Doors. No, Sirrah; these Rags upon my Arse are no Dress for Dining at White-Hall. And so, pray, go tell your Master, that I am forced to keep my Chamber at present, for I have been robb'd since I saw him last Night. The Foot boy presently ask'd him, By whom? By a young Son of a Whore, a Foot-man of mine, the Devil go with him. And so desiring the Boy to carry the whole Relation to his Master, he tells him very formally, That sending his Boy last Night to the Carrier's for his Trunk, in which were two Suits of Clothes, all his Linen and Point, and fifty Pieces of Gold, the Rogue was run away with it: And though this old Suit upon his Back serv'd him well enough to come to Town in, Sir John must pardon him if he durst not stir out till he was a little better rigg'd. The Foot-man making a long Scrape, and departing with his Mes­sage, our Country-Squire gave a hundred hard Names to this Run-away Man of his, threatning a great deal of Vengeance if ever he caught him; for Hanging was too good for him. Whilst this Alarm held, there came ano­ther [Page 31] Visitant to our Esquire, and told him, He hoped he had drawn it up to his Liking. So the Man producing a Paper the Esquire took it, and read it; which was a long Advertisement to be put into the Gazette, describing the Marks of his Man, and five Pounds Reward to him that should apprehend him. So having read it out, and approved of the wording of it, he put his Hand in his Pocket, and gave the Fellow ten Shillings to pay for En­tring of it, giving him a strict Charge to be sure of get­ting it into the next Gazette. After this, he began to treat about his Clothes, which he desired might be nei­ther rich, nor gaudy; for he was past those Vanities. The Taylor accordingly, by next Day at Noon, brings him his Clothes, his Bill between five and six Pounds, which, truly, he must be forced to stay for till next Week; for the Villain and Thief his Man, had put him out of mony; but he had sent down last night by the Post for new Supplies, and by the middle of next Week, should be furnisht, and pay him very thankfully. The poor Taylor, not in the least doubting his money, was very well satisfied, for he was sufficiently convinced, that he was a Gentleman of Fashion, and hoped to find a good Customer of him. But no sooner were the Ac­coutrements upon his Back, and he had now liberty (no disgrace to his Gentility) to walk by Day-light; his first Progress is down to Sir John's at Whitehall, who was belike, so fond of his Company, that he would never let him find the way home again; for from that Hour, nei­ther his White-chapel Landlord nor Taylor, cou'd ever set Eye of him.

And now to give him a little farther Visit at the Ba­ker's (the Hospitable Roof under which he finish'd his last Master-piece) and lend the Reader some few farther Observations than those our First Part has furnish'd; [Page 32] more and above his own Personal performance in that grand Masquerade of the pretended Captain Wickham, Several Accidents both before and after his Death con­tributed much to corroborate and support the Impostor. To instance one remarkable one; his kind Landlord sending for the worthy Dr. F—to take care of him in his Sickness, he ask'd the Doctor if he did not know him, or had never seen him before; which the Doctor (as with good reason) not well recollecting, our Patient was pleas'd to remember him, that he had the honour to Dine with him such a day, in such a year, when the Doctor was Mayor of Gloucester. Now it happening that that very day the true Captain Wickham had really Dined with him at Gloucester: the Doctor who was not much acquainted with the true Captain, and thereby not ready to Distinguish Faces, yet very well remembring such a worthy Gentleman one of his Honourable Guests that day in his Majoralty, was very ready (upon so con­vincing a Circumstance) to swallow the juggle, and to acknowledge him the Person he presented, which very much influenced the Credulity of the Family.

The Monday, the next day after his death, a Noble P—r attended by several Persons of Honour, came to see the Body, and was so satisfied in his being his Country Neighbour, the true Captain Wickham, that he question'd the Family why the Coroner did not sit upon him; upon which being answered, that such a Physician took care of him, and that besides, the honesty of the House in which he dyed, gave no occasion for any such reflecting enquiry into his death; his Lordship was pleased to re­ply, that if he was not Murthered, he must certainly die Mad, it being impossible that in his right sences he should give such extravagant Legacies to meer Strangers; nor would his Lordship be satisfied, 'till he consulted both [Page 33] his Bodily and Ghostly Physician, his Minister, and the Doctor, about his outward and inward Man, &c. Ano­ther very confirming Credential happen'd. viz. A grave Citizen of London, a near Neighbour to our Capital Cathedral, who likewise inspected the Corps, was pleased to say, he had Fifty Guineas in his Fob, and wou'd make them an Hundred, with any Man, that it was Captain Wickam. Nay, Mr. T—the Proctor was so con­fident of his Integrity, that he deposited five Guineas with the Baker's Wife, to a Wager of five more, to buy him a Pair of Gold Fringe Gloves, that he was the true Captain Wickham; and not only so, but made two Wa­gers more with her, of two Guineas each, upon the same Fund. Which Wagers she was so unwilling to lay with him, as being her self so confident of his Truth; that she gave 'em for lost: Nor had been drawn into 'em, but by this Argument of the Nurses, who told her, that if he was the true Wickham, nine Guineas Loss would be no­thing out of their great Legaoies; and if he was other­wise, the winning of so many Guineas would make some Help towards the Charges they had been out upon him.

Besides all this, a great many Oxfordshire Gentlemen that frequented Kn—t's Coffee-house in Essex Build­ings, were so concern'd at his Executors happiness; that rather than the Baker should run away with so much of his Estate, declared they were resolved to make a Parlia­ment business of it. So many affirmatives, so streng­then'd the believing Baker, that he offer'd to give his Maid fifty Pounds for her Hundred; To which, she pert­ly answer'd, No, she was not in so much haste, to com­pound at that Rate, she was as well able to carry for her Mony, as he was for his. And talking of the poor Maid, one thing must not be forgotten; the day before he died, he told her, he had left her a hundred Pounds to buy her [Page 34] a Husband, but have a care she did not Marry a Rogue that should beat her, for if she did, he had that kind­ness for her, he was sure, it would disturb him in his Grave, and make him Walk when he was dead.

But to return to his Death, when the Searchers came to do their necessary Office; upon inspection, they found some little extraordinary Mortification upon some name­less Part about him, that put 'em upon the Smile. Their Respect to the Worshipful deceased, made 'em somewhat modest in the Discovery; which occasion'd the Nurse to inquire into the cause of their Fleering, and ask 'em plainly, If the Captain were under the Covenant of Circum­cision? Yes, truly, they replied, some such kind of Cor­poral Defect they had found about him. This put the Church-warden into some Surprize, who, inclinable to fancy better things of his pious Benefactor defunct, would by no means, believe either Searchers or Nurse, 'till he play'd the Searcher too, and made a Peep for his satisfaction. But, alas, he no sooner cast his Eye that way, but he found our Batchelor Captain, was in no danger of lead­ing Apes. He discover'd him an old Soldier under Cu­pid's Banner; for by a sad Token, he had been a loser in the Wars: But Eighten Wives might do much, and so the Wonder is not so extraordinary.

And now, Reader, having thus handed our great Ma­ster Actor to his last Exit off the Stage, we shall only add a Fragment more to our History, by giving you his first Entrance upon it too. His Original was very obscure, and his first start into the World, was, in no higher a Post than a Journey man Shoemaker, in which Character he liv'd some considerable time at Worcester, understanding so little of what he profest at Banbury, viz. Chirurgery, that he knew the Virtue of no other Plaister than his own Cobler's Wax. From that Imployment, he [Page 35] took a Frolick to Sea; from whence returned, he came to Swackly, with the true Privilege of a Traveller, his Au­thority unquestionable, he talk'd Miracles both of his Voyages and Adventures. For Example, That he had made a Voyage to Constantinople and Barbadoes, (for East and West were all one in his Geography;) and so a­mused the Country-People with his Rhodomontades, that they look'd upon him as a Prodigy of a Man. His great Art he profess'd was Chirurgery, (the little he had of it being indeed gotten on Ship-board;) and what with promis'd Wonders, and great Words, the common Crutch of little Abilities, together with some Favours and Coun­tenance received from Captain Wickham, (a common Charity from so worthy a Gentleman,) which very much heightned his Reception, he set up for a Chirurgeon: In which Station we began with him in our First Part, and there we leave him▪

And here we assure our Reader, that all these several Relations we have here made, are from as good and cre­dible Authority as the best Information could give us. Nay, we have had a very great part of 'em from the Per­sons own Mouths that were the suffering Parties in our Narrative. And that we have wholly endeavoured to follow Truth, the Reader may be pretty sensible, by our staying near a Fortnight for the Publication of it; the En­quiries into matter of Fact being six times more work and trouble, than the Composing of our History either was, or could be.