THE Second Part OF THE Notorious Impostor, Completing the History of the Life, Cheats, etc. of William Morrell, ALIAS BOWYER, Sometime of Banbury, Chirurgeon.  
Who lately personated Humphrey Wickham of Swackly, in the County of Oxon, Esquire, at a Baker's House in the Strand, where he Died the third of Jan. 1691/2.  
Together With some further passages Relating to his Sickness and Death not before mentioned.  
LONDON, Printed for Abel Roper at the mitre near Temple-Bar, 1692.   

To the Churchwarden and Overseer, Executors of the late Renowned Captain, etc.  
GReat Names, and High Titles are always attended by a Train of Suitors and Addressors; and therefore, worthy Sirs, when this Epistle Dedicatory comes to Your Hands, pray do Yourselves and Us that Right, to accept it as no other than a piece of Homage to the Executors of the late Honourable Captain. Great Names did I say? Yes, Gentlemen Executors, Yours as Great as it is, is indeed but a Name. And considering what it has cost you, give me leave to rebuke the hard World you live in, for envying You even that poor Feather in Your Cap, when You have almost paid as dear for the Honour, as the Court Fees for a Baronet. Nay, to have a cautioning Epistle too from Swackly, with no less Denunciation against You, than to command You to take Your High and Mighty Last Will and Testament from off the Prerogative Roll, or to answer the Refusal in Westminster Hall. Raze Your Records! Do they say! an Executorship no more than an Olivers Knighthood. 'Tis a little of the severest, my Masters. Expunge Your Title, and blot out Your Scutcheon, when 'tis all You have to show for Your Money! However, since You have met such unkind Treatment from the rest of Mankind, we are resolved to make You some little Reparation, viz. by prefixing your Names to the History of our Deceased Hero, as a Monument to Your Memories, which the rest of the malicious World denies You.  
Nay Gentlemen, considering the severity of Your hard Fortune, pray excuse our Zeal in giving You a little Advice how to retrieve Your Losses. Since you are like to be such Sufferers by Your Executorships, e'en recover all again by Your Overseer and Church-Wardenship. Bring in Your next Parish Bill, charged with such an overgrown Foundling laid at your Doors, and Attach the Money in Your own Hands for Nursing it.  
Your Humble, etc.   

THE Second Part OF THE Notorious Impostor, etc.  
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 satisfied in the Integrity and Truth of our History, we desire him to consider that he died in the midway between fifty and sixty years, and having for a score of the last of 'em, played at no other Game than cheating the World in all the Shapes and Masques he could invent, we are so over furnished 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 borrowed Dish. Nay hundreds of his diminutive Frauds here in Town, as vulgar sharping Tricks, we purposely omit, as too trivial and unworthy our Cognizance, and too poor for your Entertainment.  
And whereas his most notorious Delusions were his Marrying of so many Wives, and the politic 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 Innkeepers Daughter of bath, (where we frankly told you that for want of farther Intelligence we over-leaped some years) we think fit to continue the prosecution of our History from the end of that Adventure, and so fill up the vacancy occasioned by our then want of Information, with which (from very good Authority and Credit) we have now better supplied ourselves.  
His continued good Luck at the Female Quarry succeeding so prosperously, he has hardly snapped and gorged one, before he's for flying at a second.  
Leaving therefore his last Wife (as before mentioned) the Innkeepers 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 Country 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 former remoter pretensions, however he is so flushed with success, and thereupon so hardy an Enterpriser that he reckons upon Fortune, now entirely 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 pitched at Slough for the best part of this Summer's Campaign, with sufficient of Gold, and what not, in his Pockets, he Contracts (amongst other Country Acquaintance) a great intimacy with the Minister there. And at length praising the good Air of that Country, 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 Expense. If any such Purchase can be found, he shall be gratefully thankful to him: For resolving to get him some Country Seat for a little Summer's Retirement from his Fatigue at London, he has not met that place in the World that pleases him better. The Parson, kindly replied, That truly 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 Country 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 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 truly his Affairs and Circumstances are far above so poor a Thought. Whatever her Father's 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 Virtue 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 Jealousy 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 Country Innocence, which truly 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 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 misdoubt 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 public Business, his Port and Figure he made amongst them, together with the Grandeur of his way of Living, confirmed their entire Belief and Confidence. And to conclude all, who could suspect a Counterfeit that would Cheat for nothing.  
During his Courtship he presented his Mistress with a very Rich Gold Watch, and as he gained 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 pushed home, and gained 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 replied the Spark, only one Inconvenience attended that Proposition. For it 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 public Wedding of it, and so draw on a great deal of Ceremony and Hurry, which truly, (might he be chooser) did not agree with his Inclination. Nevertheless, if they so pleased, 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 Country 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 appeared so highly reasonable, that three places are ordered to be taken in the Windsor Coach to Morrow for London, and the Marriage to be Solemnised Early before the Coach sets out. And accordingly our Lovers, who wake with the Lark, are the next Morning devoutly joined together. When the Nuptial Rites were performed, and a small Collation prepared before setting out, he publicly 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 Pretention, and the longest day of his Life he should maintain her to the highest Dignity and Grandeur of a City Merchant's 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 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 mustered 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 Highwaymen before in the Road, and he much feared the Coach would be Robbed. 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 Thiefs in Christendom to take from me, for though I profess myself no Swordman to Fight for it, yet I thank God, I have a Horse has such a pair of Heels as I defy any Man in England (especially upon this open Plain) to outride 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 Diamond and a Gold Ring of hers, which she took from her Finger; another Gentleman clapped 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 dressed 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 surprise 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 happened to be some small Neighbours to Slough, and had either conversed 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 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 dismissed their Fellow Travellers; a Hackney Coach is taken to drive to Lime-street. When they came there, and such a Merchant's 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 Tidings 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 balance 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 Farewell Epistle at their Arrival at Slough.  
My Sweet Bride,  
AY too sweet, God wot, to be so lost. Had we but consummated, my Chicken, had I but got the Virgin Toy, signed and sealed, my Sweeting, it had been a Prize worth all the other Treasure. But my hard Fate had otherwise decreed: And I must e'en sit down by my losing Bargain. But my Dear, notwithstanding my abrupt parting, prithee do not conceive hard Thoughts, nor fancy me a Masquerader; for though my House is removed from Lime-street, upon my honest word I am a true Merchant, and have hooked in my Venture. Pray Comfort your Condoling Fellow Travellers, and assure 'em their Movables I took into my protection are all very safe, and that I shall take all possible care in performing my Trust in keeping 'em so. And now Child, if thy Defeat of a Bed fellow should set thee a Gog for a new Husband, for thy Consolation let me tell thee that I am fairly drawn off to make room for a happier Successor; & at thy next Prayers for a Man in thy Tables to fill up the Blot I leave open; thank Heaven thou hast scaped so well, for thou hast received the first Mercy I ever showed thy Sex before; and so Dear Widowed Turtle, farewel  
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 Achievement, he fixes at last at the Town of Wells. Here he is a Country 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 Superintendants, 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 levelled; 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 informed of several considerable Fortunes amongst 'em; but most of 'em either under Guardianship or Parents, and though allied to pretty considerable Effects, the Lash is in Hucksters Hands. The carrying the Damsel, will not finger the Gold, and our Business being only to snap and away, a lighter Cargo than those unwieldy 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 Attack is only 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 Country Congregation; and this young devoties were not so wholly tied 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 peeped 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 itself, 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 Metal 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 Persuasive Arguments to Assail her.  
Accordingly, having first begged the Favour of a full Hearing, he begins to lay open his Case in manner following. 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 only Sweetness upon Earth that he could 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 only 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 seemed a little Surprised at this Motion; But, before she could make any Reply, he continued his Supplication to her; By telling her, That for Heaven's 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 only Love, was his Design, was manifest in his Addresses to this young Gentlewoman, who (as he was informed) 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 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, could not but be a little attentive to so Reasonable a Suit. But being herself 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 yourself, 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 Public Declaration of your Love; and undoubtedly, so Qualified 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) seemed extremely pleased with her for her Fidelity. That truly she was highly to be commended for so Conscientious 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. And really it was the only Course he would take, but for one only 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 unmarried 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 Wellbeing 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 Wooing 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 entreated her to gain him some Admittance to the young Lady's conversation, as silently as possibly her Goodness could contrive. I cannot tell, whether 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 tyre the Reader with the Narration of the Wooing, let it suffice that he obtained three or four private Meetings, and a little Courtship well managed prevailed and conquered. 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 secrecy so necessary on his Brother's 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 clothes, 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 surprise, 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 herself to be a young Devonshire Lady of such a Great Family, and such a Fortune: By this means he should win his brother's 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 truly 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 join with him in it, and carry on the Mask till he had gained his point. The poor Creature soon persuaded consents to his Request, promising her acting the best part she could in the Disguise, since it was his Pleasure and Command to have it so.  
Having obtained 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 furnished 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 raised upon the noise of her vast Devonshire Portion that was very speedily to pay for all.  
After this Country House was thus Richly set out, pretending Business one Morning early to London, he returns again between Ten and Eleven in great haste, that truly he had occasion for about an Hundred Pound, and having laid out more Cash than his Returns from his Estate in the Country 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. which he would tell over at London, and bring back the Remainder, whither he desired her Company along with him in the Boat that stayed to carry him back. Yes, with all her heart, if he would please to stay till she dressed herself, being then only in her Morning gown. No, by no means, he replied, no matter for dressing herself, she was well enough dressed 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 fixed 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 delivered him, and a very low Courtzy dropped him for the promised 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 or House, she finds the Furniture, Bedding, nay the very Wine in the Cellar all carried off, and so neither Husband, Money, nor clothes, but the loose Undress she had upon her back; she is left to a whole Deluge of Lamentation, and the King's Highway 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 passed 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 entire 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 mere 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 Honourable Family of the Bowyers, for than he was Sir Charles himself) and so far tickled her out of her small Reason, by the high sound of a Ladyship, that the Wedding-clotheses 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 called for. Before that day he was to receive 600 l. from his Steward in the Country, 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, etc. This Letter was received in his Mistress' 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 answered in the negative, she asked him if he were 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, talked so familiarly with you, discoursed of so many Affairs relating to yourself, 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 expressed, which as much surprised 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 Woo 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 accomplished 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 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 Woos a Parson's 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 gained 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.  
Here it was (as before mentioned in our first Part) that six of his Wives appeared against him, and at his Trial 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 gained 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 dropped, and he had full freedom to creep from his Covert, and turn Practioner at his old Craft again; his deliverance being in a manner complete, 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 put him in stock again. His Pranks are scarce to be numbered, nor dare we pretend to trace 'em successively; and therefore we shall not tie ourselves 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 Enamelled, value together about 4 l. with these, by confederacy, he would shame 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 Housekeeper 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, Enamelled, etc. to a tittle, in every point resembling the true Rings; and worth about Half-a-Crown.  
One day about high noon he came to the Poultrey-Compter Gate, wanting a Sergeant 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 Alehouse in Leaden-Hall-Street, where he would wait for 'em. To the Alehouse he goes, and takes a Lower Room which looked 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 entered, and asked 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 Through fair over the way, neatly conveys himself off; till at last, the Sergeant 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 want 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.  
At Woolwich he pretended to be a Doctor of Physic, and professed 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 Fortnight's Preparation, he squeezes some Money 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 Cookmaid 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 laughed at her for fancying him in earnest with her, Our Lover was so well furnished with Rhetoric to set her to Rights again, and so absolutely persuaded her that he meant nothing more than to marry her, that at last she contrived to feign herself 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 Money she could raise in the World, being about the Sum 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 dogged him at last into Whitefriars; and fetching him out thence by a Constable and Warrant, he was committed to Jail, 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 passed. For instance, he comes one Morning to an eminent Tavern in Holborn near Hatton Garden end, his Habit a plain Countryman, with a Oyl-skin Hat, a shabby Periwig, 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 Hog's 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 Money for him, till he can call in the Afternoon, and reckon with him; but first taking out (for a blind) a handful of Money, 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 Linendrapers' in Newgate-street, where he buys a parcel of Linen near 30 l. and as the Carman comes by, he packs up the Linen, 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 Countryman coming to reckon (as promised) they both make bold the next day to unseal their Treasure, and see what Security they had in their custody; when to their great surprise, they found a parcel of new Halfpences stowed round the Bag, with a lesser Bag in the belly on't, filled 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 Aftergame 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-balled 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 persuading Arguments, they prevailed 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 embezzled, being pretty well content to sit down by no greater loss.  
In much the like manner, and much such a Habit, he came to a Cutlers in Fleetstreet, 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 Tailor, whose Company and Advice he entreated, 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 Lady's Wedding clothes; the Tailor 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 cheapening some rich Stuffs, flowered 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 turned him lose again, 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 called for from that day to 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 Halfpences, and a lesser Bag filled with pieces of old Iron, a great deal of which, as memorials of his Renown, they have kept by 'em for Relics.  
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 Minister's daughter, and entered into Bond and Judgement 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 bargained for, and bought him, he desired to back him to try his Goings, and road 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 happened that a Man and his Wife, living at White-Chapel, pressing in amongst the Crowd of Gazers, immediately remembered his Face; and seeing the Clothes there which he wore before he died, he presently owned himself the Tailor that made 'em; and that they were not only unpaid for still, but likewise he was cozened out of 'em by one of the lewdest sham's that ever was put upon Man. Upon which, he repeated the whole Story at length, viz. 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 Tailor, 'twas his ill Luck to be the Man that was sent for. When he came to him, he found him in a threadbare black Coat, and very much in want of Repair. He had not talked with him long, before he was desired to take measure of him; and whilst that was doing, up came a Footman 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 threadbare Spark,) No, I'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 robbed since I saw him last Night. The Foot boy presently asked him, By whom? By a young Son of a Whore, a Footman 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 served 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 rigged. The Footman making a long Scrape, and departing with his Message, our Country-Squire gave a hundred hard Names to this Runaway Man of his, threatening a great deal of Vengeance if ever he caught him; for Hanging was too good for him. Whilst this Alarm held, there came another 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 Entering 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 Tailor 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 money; but he had sent down last night by the Post for new Supplies, and by the middle of next Week, should be furnished, and pay him very thankfully. The poor Tailor, 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 Daylight; 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 Tailor, could ever set Eye of him.  
And now to give him a little farther Visit at the Baker's (the Hospitable Roof under which he finished his last Masterpiece) and lend the Reader some few farther Observations than those our First Part has furnished; 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 asked 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 pleased 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 remembering 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 questioned 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 died, gave no occasion for any such reflecting enquiry into his death; his Lordship was pleased to reply, that if he was not Murdered, he must certainly die Mad, it being impossible that in his right senses he should give such extravagant Legacies to mere Strangers; nor would his Lordship be satisfied, till he consulted both his Bodily and Ghostly Physician, his Minister, and the Doctor, about his outward and inward Man, etc. Another very confirming Credential happened. viz. A grave Citizen of London, a near Neighbour to our Capital Cathedral, who likewise inspected the Corpse, was pleased to say, he had Fifty Guineas in his Fob, and would 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 herself 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 Legaoys; 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'tis Coffee-house in Essex Buildings, were so concerned 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 strengthened the believing Baker, that he offered to give his Maid fifty Pounds for her Hundred; To which, she pertly answered, No, she was not in so much haste, to compound at that Rate, she was as well able to carry for her Money, 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 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 occasioned 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 Churchwarden into some Surprise, who, inclinable to fancy better things of his pious Benefactor defunct, would by no means, believe either Searchers or Nurse, till he played the Searcher too, and made a Peep for his satisfaction. But, alas, he no sooner cast his Eye that way, but he found our Bachelor Captain, was in no danger of leading Apes. He discovered 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 lived some considerable time at Worcester, understanding so little of what he professed at Banbury, viz. Chirurgery, that he knew the Virtue of no other Plaster than his own Cobler's Wax. From that Employment, he took a Frolic to Sea; from whence returned, he came to Swackly, with the true Privilege of a Traveller, his Authority unquestionable, he talked 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 Countrypeople with his Rhodomontades, that they looked upon him as a Prodigy of a Man. His great Art he professed was Chirurgery, (the little he had of it being indeed gotten on Shipboard;) and what with promised 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 heightened 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 Inquiries into matter of Fact being six times more work and trouble, than the Composing of our History either was, or could be.   

ADVERTISEMENT.  
BY a Letter dated Junuary the 21st Instant, from a credible Hand, we have received a short Relation of the Man Tom, the famous Sancho Pancho to our deceased Don Quixot, so often mentioned in our First Part, and formerly so great a Sharer in his Master's Adventures.  
This Squire to our late Knight Errand, through his long Service now grown Master of his Art, and consequently Setting up for himself, was then taken at Putnam, near Godalming, in Surrey, for Running away with an Heiress of 150 l. per Annum. This wealthy Heiress he had married in very good Season, our Bridegroom truly being not over-rich, (the common Fate of great Wits,) for he had hardly Money enough to pay for his Marriage. However, accepted for Richer, or Poorer, he had Bedded her seven or eight Nights, and was so long pursued and hunted from place to place, before her Relations could catch him, being taken at last in Bed with her. The farther Particulars we are not yet informed.  
FINIS