Part 7

During my abode, continued Sable, with Mr. Stanza in this repository of vice and folly, the bard had contracted an acquaintance with a certain quack, who from the length of time he had been here, and the visible decay of his drapery, was become worthy observation, as ancient coins become valuable by rust and antiquity. The bills of mortality too had long mourned his absence, the number of deaths being sensibly diminished during the doctor’s seclusion from the world. This gentleman, continued Sable, had tried many schemes to regain his liberty, but hitherto without effect: at length he fell upon an expedient, that indeed promised no better success than any of the former; but the doctor being of a disposition not easily discouraged by difficulty, he resolved to put the trial of it into execution; accordingly, he drew up an advertisement, _addressed to unmarried_ ladies, which he put in one of the daily newspapers, setting forth, that a single gentleman of a good family, was confined in the Fleet for an inconsiderable sum, and that if any lady who had a fortune sufficient to enable her to live genteelly, with the addition of the advertiser’s practice in his profession, was willing to accept of a husband, who would make it his study to evince his gratitude, he was willing to _change his state_, and might be spoke with by any lady at the lodge of the Fleet-Prison.—This scheme was looked upon (should it prove successful) by some people, as exchanging a temporary confinement for a perpetual slavery;—but the doctor was one of those, who were certain that locks and bolts were more difficult to burst asunder than the bonds of matrimony, and indeed, in the doctor’s opinion, there was no tie, either divine or human, that was half so binding as that which was made of iron: he likewise knew that his profession would enable him at any time, to get rid of a disagreeable wife, as well as a troublesome patient. The doctor, as I hinted before, continued Sable, had received much damage in his wardrobe, and now constantly made his appearance in a long morning gown, which served instead of coat and waistcoat, and some people scrupled not to say, for breeches too; but that I had some reason to believe was not true; for, in order to aid the son of Æsculapius in his matrimonial scheme, Mr. Stanza, at the doctor’s request, consigned me over to him, in lieu of the morning gown, that the doctor might be able to receive any ladies who might apply to him, in conference of the advertisement, and I luckily fitted the doctor extremely well.—The second day after advertising, the doctor was called down to the lodge, and immediately obeying the summons: he was introduced to two young ladies, who I soon recollected to be the same who sat in the box with me at the play-house, when the sharper so ingeniously carried off the old gentleman’s rocqueleau; these ladies diverted themselves for some time at the expence of the doctor, and then left him, not a little chagrined at the first disappointment; however, he was in the dusk of the evening again summoned to the lodge, where he found an old lady waiting for him, whom he politely addressed: The compact shoulders and promising legs of the doctor, continued Sable, drew a more than ordinary attention from this ancient lady, and influenced her so much in his favour, that in a very short time the match was concluded, and every thing was settled for the doctor’s departure the succeeding morning, for which purpose the lady gave him a bank note; and left him overjoyed with his good fortune. The doctor immediately went to Mr. Stanza, acquainted him with his success, and begged the bard would let him keep me, and set his own price upon me.—This matter was soon settled, and I remained with the doctor, who generously made a present of the gown to Mr. Stanza. In the morning, continued Sable, the lady came to her appointment; and the doctor after having taken leave of his fellow prisoners, handed the lady into a hackney coach, and immediately drove to the temple of Hymen, and from thence they went a few miles out of town to celebrate the nuptials, and in the evening came to the lady’s house in Southwark, where the marriage, was consummated. The facility with which this marriage was conducted, continued Sable, did not, however, outstrip the eager wishes of the parties to have it concluded; the lady was perhaps stimulated by charity, and could not sleep, till she had released a man of the doctor’s figure from misery; and the doctor, I suppose, was no less uneasy, till he had once more an opportunity of circulating his medicines, to the great emolument of his good friends the _Undertakers_; whose trade had languished very much during his long confinement. The next morning, continued Sable, the doctor determined to shew himself amongst his brethren of the faculty, and accordingly conducted me to St. Thomas’s Hospital: here he was congratulated by his acquaintance upon recovering his liberty, which the doctor received with an extraordinary good countenance. During our stay in the womens ward at the hospital, continued Sable, I recollected, amongst the unhappy creatures, the features of the daughter of Mr. Sirloin, who was so well recovered from a _Salivation_, as to convince me by her behaviour, that she was an abandoned prostitute: I was struck with surprize and pity, continued Sable, to see what a wretched condition she was reduced to, and my censure was involuntarily fixed upon the ill conduct of her parents, but chiefly, upon her mother’s ill-placed pride and silly expectations, _that something might happen_: a vain hope, says Sable, frequently indulged by weak people, and indeed what has happened to this young woman, is too often the consequence of encouraging pride and folly in those who have nothing to support it. The doctor, continued Sable having perambulated through all the hospitals the morning would admit, returned home to his spouse, and in the afternoon, made his appearance, at all the coffee houses within the circle of his knowledge. The next morning, continued Sable, the taylor brought home a new suit of cloaths, upon which I was deposited in the wardrobe. And now, my son, says Sable, to his youthful companion, I think, I have performed.—Here Sable, was unluckily prevented from concluding his adventures by the entrance of a person, who took away White, the companion and auditor of the sage narrator; but ’tis _presumed_, he had only a few words more to have entirely ended; and as truth has presided over our pen, throughout the relation of these uncommon adventures, we are not at liberty to set down words that were really never uttered; therefore we chose to leave Sable’s last sentence broken, rather than put down any thing we have not authority for, as some historians do. And now, gentle reader, we take our leave of thee, hoping thou hast received as much pleasure in the perusal of this delectable history, as the relation of it from the sage’s mouth afforded us.

=Footnote.= [A] Vide titles to several _wooden_ pieces, inserted in Lloyd’s papers.

FINIS.

Transcriber’s Notes.

1. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.

2. The original book was printed using the ‘long s’. This edition uses the modern ‘short s’.