Priss, Priss.

Madam.

Why, how now Priss? where hast thou left thy breeding, in thy other Pocket? Art thou not read in Times and Seasons?

I never was such a fool to put trust in Almanack-makers yet, Madam.

Your Ladyship hath us'd me to't.

I'le break that Custome, 'tis a rude one; hast thou no wit Wench? canst thou pick out no better title for me.

Insooth I cannot reach it yet, Madam.

Reach a fools head of thy own, sure thou art Mad, Wench.

The Secretary indeed sayes I am a Mad Wench, but I thank my Stars I can make a fool of Twenty such as he is, Madam.

Agen, can flesh and blood endure this, I must new Mold thy Manners, Madam! there's a Gammers title, out upon't.

Seriously I know not by what other Names or Titles to distinguish you, Madam.

I profess thou art dull, abhominable dull; dost thou not know upon what Score my dear, and secondself is gon to Wallingford-House.

How should I Madam, I cannot Divine?

Lord help thy head, why, he is gon to be made a made a Man Wench.

Was he not so before, if not, your Ladyship hath had but an ill time on't.

The Prince of Men, you Baggage; thou art such a dull one.

I cannot help it, Madam, while I remain in Ignorance.

I see I must open thy Eyes by way of Explanation; Then know that from henceforth I will be call'd her Highness.

Nay, now you tell me what you would be call'd, I shall Obey your Highness.

It will do well, and 'twill be but your Duty, prethee tell me, how dost think I shall Behave my self in't?

I think I am better shap'd for't then Iea • , or what do you call her Cromwell.

Abundantly, for at her best She was but a bundle of • —Madam—Lord, I am so forgetful, Highness I should have said.

That's the Word, Con it, and be perfect in't, or I profess you and I shall part—

No, Madam.

What a beetle-headed fellow's this.

Highness, you Changling; you must call her Highness.

No, and it shall please your Highness.

Gammer Cromwell would speak a word or two with your Highness.

Bid the poor Woman waite without, I'le do her what good I can for her Childrens sake.

Or rather for Husbands sake, if it shall please your Highness; good turns ought not to be forgotten.

Thou say'st true, One good turn requires another, he was, I confess, a Man every Inch of him.

I, and though he was out with my Lord many times, he would be in with you, as the saying is, and please your Highness.

Well, I care not if I go to her.

Your Highness will decline much your State then.

Say'st thou so Priss • Walker admit her, I'le hear what the poor Creature can say for her self.

I thought I should have staid at the door 'till Midnight; Marry come up Mrs. Minks. Is there such a doe to speak with you? No marvail indeed.

Prethee woman, what would'st have?

Thy Husband by the Throat, had I him here, and I could finde in my heart in the mean time, to claw thy Eyes out, and make thee wear black patches for something, thou proud Imperious Slut thou.

The Woman sure is lately come from Billingsgate: Priss, ask her how goes Oysters there.

She's very quick of hearing, and't please your Highness.

Highness in the Divels Name, it is not come to that sure yet, is it? hah! Thy Husband may be hang'd first like a Crafty knave as he is; Did my Husband make him a Lord for this? to Ruine our Family? Or as the Word is indeed, Trapan'um? Curss on the time thy Husband was born, he fool'd my Son in Law to betray the Innocent Babe my poor Child Richard, that Our Fames are now brought to the Slaughter houses, and the very Names of the Cromwells will become far more Odiou • then ever Needham could make the Heroicks; Wo worth the time.

Priss, I pitty the Creature, ne're trust me, alass it Weeps.

Thou ly'st Baggage; I scorn thy pitty, my Spirit is above it—Let me come at her—As old as I am, I can spoile that fine face, my dear, deceased Lord, did so much dote on, let me come at her, Hands off, I'le do't, thou Iezabell.

She begins to rave, send her to Bedlam among her Consorts.

I promise you, you shall have, clean straw Mrs. Cromwell.

Priss, a Cordial presently, Odds so She faints.

I run, and't please your Highness— I have it here.

Prethee give it her, I would not for a hundred pound She should die here, we should be put to th' Charge of burying her.

'Tis a pretious Cordial-Water of my own making, Madam, I hope there's no offence in that.

I need it not, proud Woman, I Divine this Scorne will be Reveng'd on thee and thine.

She has a Notable Spirit of her own.

'Twill get her nothing, She beats against the Wind.

She's Wind fall'n, and't please your Higness.

'Tis an ill Wind they say bloughs no body good, let her rave, and raile, my dearest second-self will fare the better for't.

The fox fares best when he is curst.

Priss, Priss, a word or two, Sweet Priss.

Why how now Sawce? Plain Priss? Am not I her Highness Maid of Honour?

I know thou art a Maid of Honour, but the meaning of this, dear Priss?

The meaning of what, thou Novice?

No, you Dunce; well, thou art the simpl'st Secretary! what must I finde thee brains and Understanding, know then and grow wise upon't, She will be Protectoress whether he be Protector or not: If he has any Honour it must come from her, for ought I see; she is before hand with him, and hath Install'd her self already, I'm sure my Voyce was Herald to't, thou piteous thing, question the Pride and pleasure of a Woman? I will have thee Scribe to know, the time will come I shall have Honour too, and be Courted by the better sort.

Have I been wanting in that Duty, Priss?

Wanting, why thou art alwayes wanting, never provided, still behind hand, never before hand to a Woman; this I profess, and to thy shame be it spoken: And therefore walk upon't, I have no more to say to thee.

But I have something to say to thee, oh Ungrateful Priss!

Ungrateful? and why Ungrateful, pray?

Hast thou forgot the small token I sent thee.

I was a small one indeed if it came from thee.

The tweezers out of France

Did Travail hither, but were as dull as he that sent them, they would not cut a feather. Is that your pretious Present? If thou hast no better, Walk alone for Priss, She's not for thy Company.

Nay, Dear Priss, shall We be Married.

What are you so hot, Sir? there's a jest indeed, Marry, before your Prentiship is out.

What dost thou mean Wench? prethee kiss me.

I'le see better Clothes on your back first.

Why, are not these good?

Enough, had not a fool the Wearing of 'um.

Thou may'st say any thing Priss, I may have better.

When that time comes, and thy Wit is more refin'd, I may say something to thee.

Oh my Dear Priss, in the mean time, let me but kiss thy hand.

That you may, but hear me, be not proud on't, Nor take this as a punctual promise from me, I love my self better then so.

Yet I may live in hope.

If it were not for hope, the heart would break, they say: But odds so, I forget my Duty to her Highness.

And so do I, thou hast Transported me.

Not to Iamaica yet.

Good Lady Mother, be patient.

Good Lady Fool, hold your prating; Was ever Mother so unhappy, or Children so sensles • ly ungratious?

I beseech you think not so, things will make for the best.

Oh fond Girl, what hope canst thou create unto thy self can save Us now from sinking? We must perish, undoubtedly We must; though Ber • lam carry a smooth Tongue to thy Husband, it speaks not the Language of his heart, for that is rugged. It will deceive him as it did thy Brother, and the late Idolized Parliament, he set up, out of a Malice to thy fathers Memory, to make it Odious, because he pull'd the Babell down, yet now he has Usurp'd that Priviledge himself▪ let his pretence be what it will, it bears no other Weight but that of his Ambition, to which thy Husband is a Property.

Mother I profess I'm glad to see you here, ne're trust me law, how do you forsooth?

Why forsooth Mother, if it please your Highness?

Oh Monstruous, not to be endur'd! I have been tame too long, the fool hath found a way t' upbraid my Misery, She had a husband dear Ireton, my best of Sons, had Wit, and by his Councel s • ilted up Our Honours, which thou pull'st down as fast by thy simplicity.

I profess, ne're trust me, I speak Ingeniously ne're stur now, I am no such Baby neither, as you take me to be, Mother.

A meer Stalking horse to Bertlam's Pride; his Wife, that Minion, doth assume that title, I once, and my Son Richard's wife Enjoyed; She will be called her Highness with a horse pox, while I am call'd Old Ioan, old Bess, old Bedlam, old Witch, old Hagg, the Commonwealth's Night Mare; 'tis well, if any have the modesty to call me Gammer, or old Mrs. Cromwell, and leave out many other horrid Nick-Names, this Infamy and more thou hast brought on Us.

Good Mother, do not Weep.

Would I were dead; Nothing Torments me more, then that thy Father, who whilst he liv'd, was call'd the most Serene, the most Illustrious and most Puissant Prince; (whilst that the fawning Poets Panegyricks swell'd with Ambitious Epithetes) is now call'd th' fire-brand of Hell, Monster of Mankind, Regicide, Homicide, Murtherer of Piety, a Lump of flesh sok'd in a Sea of blood, Traytor to God and goodness, an Advancer of Fiends and Darkness; such as these and worse, could I but think on 'um, are daily cast into my Ears, by every idle fellow.

I pray take their Names, I profess Mother, I'le Order them, as I am here.

Thou Order 'um, alass! they value not so poor a thing as thou art, had Dick continued, he had kept Our Fame up fair it the World, none durst have blemisht it. They tell me that the time is coming, I must make a Stall my Court, and learn to thrive by footing Stockings, and if that won't do it, must be (what I ne'r was) a Woman of Carriage, either for Tubs of Ale, as Suiting best with my Original Condition, or else for Oysters; I was made for Burthens, and am too Old, and Ugly to cry Oringes; If these Trades fail me, then I must turn Bawd, they think me tough enough t'endure that Tempest, and tell me there's a place call'd Sodom, will receive me and my Retinue; I know it not, but thus I am made a Publick scorn by all Men; And in that, thee nor thine, nor any other that claim relation to Us are exempted; And all this by the foolery.

I profess Mother I will be even with 'um, I know what I know, and there's an end, as I am here.

I would there were an end to Our disgraces, which I do prophesie is but beginning. What will become of that fair Monument thy careful father did Erect unto thy memory, before (least none should do't after) thy death, next to thy Husband Iretons; nay, even of his, thy Fathers too, and all that living bore a love to him and Us? The raging Malice of proud Bertlam is so irrisistible, 'twill destroy all.

I profess Mother, my Lord Bertlam is a very honest Gentleman, and he loves me well, I profess now to you; well, I know what I know, few words are best, I am, and must be the Man when all is done, as I am here.

'Tis very likely, when all is done, shoul't be the Man will prove their Scorn and laughing-stock.

I profess now Mother, in sober sadness, I scorn the words, so I do—You know what I told you, Sweet heart, as I am here.

Very well, and do believe't, though you forsooth are so doubtful.

Doubtful, of what? of that I never heard.

My Lord, the Councel waites your coming.

Why law ye now, as I am here, you thought I warrant, I should not be sent for neither; I profess forsooth Mother you are very hard of belief—Tell the Lords I'm coming.

I shall, my Lord, most honoured Lady your most humble Servant. Your humble Servant Madam.

I have seen this fellows face before, methinks he does retain something oth' duty he paid me formerly.

Be put patient Mother, I'le warrant, things will go according to your wish.

I, if you'l have some patience, if not, I profess Mother I cannot tell how to help it, for I must to Coach, that's the truth on't. Sweet-heart, pray make much of my Mother.

Will you please to walk in, forsooth.

My heart was very heavy when I came hither, 'tis somewhat now at ease, by the disburthening of my Oppressing Griefs.

I hope forsooth, you'l have no cause to Create more of them.

Hast thou Summoned those inferiour things?

What the Ladies of the last Edition?

Those whose husbands have been Stygmatiz'd by Noll and Dick, with the Title of Baronets.

The Ladies are coming forth.

They were not bound to their good behaviour, but—'Tis well they Understand their Duties; set Us Our Chair of State, and then admit 'um.

Gentlewomen, for Ladies We cannot call you, your Obedience to our Commands is well rese • ed, if you persever in't you will Oblige Our favour: Priss proceed.

By what Authority, and from whom do you derive your Titles of Madams, I pray.

From Our Husbands.

What are they? of what standing?

Of no long standing, We confess.

That's a common complaint, and a general grievance.

And shall be taken into consideration for a thing we know; Priss, prick that down in your Note book: Who made your Husbands Knights?

Oliver the first

Of horried memory, put that in your Note book, Priss,

And Richard.

Of Sottish memory, shall I put that down too, ' • is remarkable?

By all means, put it down in the Margin, as a hand directing to the rest.

Of their foolish Families, 'tis done an't please your Highness.

What Coares of Armes do your Husbands beat?

I, thine, Woman.

You a Lady, and shew so little manners: Forget her Highness!

I pass by their dirty breeding. Woman. We say, what Coat of Arms does thy Husband give?

He bears Argent upon a Bend Gules, three Cuekolds Heads Attyr'd Or.

Three Cuckolds Heads! Why one is sufficient in all conscience.

'Tis a Paternal Coat belonging to the Family of the Wittals.

It may be they were Founders of Cuckoldsaven.

No more of Cuckolds, Priss, 'tis approbrious, and intrencheth much upon the Honor of our Sex: Put that down in your Note-book as a publick Grievance, and it concerns Us to look after, and the Committee of Safety to Remedy.

'Tis a material and punctual point to a Woman.

And what does thy Husband give, prithee?

He bears Three Gantlets Dexter Or.

Or again: Your Highness may perceive they have had Golden times on't.

Dexter Or: Well, we know he has been an Ambo-dexter all his life time, and he shall now give another Coat; A Body without a Head in a Field Sable—And what's thine, prithee?

Ours is but Parte per pale.

Parte per pale: What's that?

A Motley Coat of two colours.

'Tis a wonder with what Impudence those Fellows Noll and Dick could Knightifie your Husbands! For 'tis a Rule in Heraldry, that none can make a Knight but he that is a Knight himself: 'Tis Zanca Panca's Case in Donquixott.

Let me alone to Dub him.

You have done that already, and 't please your Highness.

If Dubbing our Husbands will carry it, we can do that our selves.

But Ours is of greater Honor and Antiquity, and therefore ought to take place. Receive that as a Maxime from Us, dispute no further.

We shall not.

Since, being Infranchis'd through our grace and favour you are become Members of Our Common-wealth, Declare your Grievances, and we'l hear 'em, whether publick or private.

Begin with the private first, Sweet Mrs. Priss.

This Lady complains her Husband prays too much, and it take him off his other business.

There can be no Charity in that Man is remiss in his Benevolence. Receive that as another Maxime—Priss, You mind Us not.

I'm pricking of it down▪ and't please your highness.

But, it may be he prays when's Zeal's on fire (as Bells ring) backwards.

And then he • ails against the Whore of Babylon, and then the people think he calls me Who • e.

That's gross, and shews small breeding; We'l have it rectifi'd, it concerns Us.

And my husband says I talk in my sleep, and call on Men to come to bed to me, and discover his infirmities.

Oh! have a care of that.

Have a care of what? Were he capable of more care of me, I should have less care of my sel • .

I commend the Ladies resolution.

And, what sayst thou?

He's an honest Man, I warrant him.

Such a Husband for my money.

As you are a Lover of Women, let the Act of the 24 of Iune against Fornication be repeal'd; Me thinks it frights as there were a Furnace in' • .

As there were Conveniencies in that Act, which ty'd up Mens tongues from babling, so there were destructive Inconveniencies in't, familiarity not so frequently used between Man and Woman. When know, Society is the life of Republicks—Martin the first, and Peters the second—Indeed, things were rather done in fear then freedome.

In a Free State who is not Free?

I beseech you in the next place, that the Cavaliers may not be lookt upon as Monsters, for they are Men.

And that it may be imputed no Crime to keep 'em company, for they are honest.

And men that will stand to their Tackling.

Well, we'l have these amended: What have you more to say?

Now, Mrs. Priss, to the Publick, I pray.

Whereas several abuses have lately crept in amongst Us.

That's a small abuse; Love must creep till it can go.

Her Highness hath the Feeling sense of it, and gropes out the meaning already, you see.

We could not go to Hide-park, nor Spring-garden so much as with our own husbands.

Why, what had you to do to go with them? Could you find no better company?

Good men were scarce; and then to avoyd suspition.

When things are settl'd, wee'l have an Act that no Lady or Gentelwoman shal be put to that Slavery, but shall have liberty to walk or—talk, with whom they please: Now may a multitude of mens blessings light on you. Priss proceed.

Here's a Lady desires a pa • ten for Painting.

'Tis too great for a Subject, we intend it for our selves, and to that end, have employed several persons as our Agents in forraign parts, to find out the readiest and securest way for making it, that it may not eat into the Cheeks, beget Wrinkles, impare the Eyesight, or rot the Teeth.

I have found the woful experience of that.

We have Intelligence of a Water that will in two hours time take the wither'd skin off the face, and a new one shall supply the place. That no Lady or Gentlewoman, though she have out-worn Sixty, shall appear above five and twenty years of Age.

That makes your Highness look so smooth upon't.

There's no Invention for sleeking, glazing, or annointing, but we have notice of; and for Powders and Perfumes, we may be sented a street off.

Oh sweet Woman!

Then for Attyring, and to find out the Mazes of Fashions, there's no Lady but must follow Us.

You are at a great charge, sure.

We are so, but 'tis Princely.—

We hope your Highness will remember the foregoing premisses.

Priss, be it your care to mind Us; We must to Wallingford House and have um confirm'd.

Come boyes come, as long as this Club lasts fear nothing, it shall beat out Husons tother Eye, I scorn to take him on the blind side, I'm more a man than so.

Thou a Man, a meer Pigmy!

Children are poor Worms, I would have you to know that I am the Cities Champion.

Thou the Cities Champion!

Yes, and will spend life and limbe for Magna Charta and a Free Parliament.

So we will all, so we will all.

Why then you are my Boys, and true Sons to the City; Cry up a Free Parliament.

A Free Parliament, A Free Parliament!

Boys, this was done like Men; but do you hear the News? My Intelligence is good.

There's a Proclamation come from the Committee of no Safety.

For what? Champion.

To hang us all up if we Depart not to our Homes: How like you that, Gallants; how like you that?

This hanging is such a thing, I do not like it; well, Ile go home.

Why now you show what a Man you are; I was a Pigmy as you said but erewhile; but now I say and will maintain it, Thou hast not so much spirit or spleen in thee as a Wasp.

Oh brave Champion!

Will you like Cowards forsake your Petition and have no Answer to't? Rather let's dye One and All.

One and All, One and All.

Why this is bravely said, now Ile tell you what you shall do; when the Sheriff begins to read the Proclamation, every man inlarge his Voyce, and cry No proclamation, No proclamation.

Agreed, agreed; No proclaamation, No proclamation, No proclamation.

Was ever such a sort of Rogues seen in a City? Come follow me, Ile so order um.

Oh brave Collonel!

Shoot, shoot; I charge you kill the Rogues, leave not one of them alive,

Cain has kill'd his Brother, Coll. Cordwayner he has spun a fine Thread to day.

It may bring him to his End.

St. Hugh's Bones must go to th' wrack, and there let him take his Last, Whoop Cobler.

Whoop Cobler, Whoop Cobler.

From whence come these? Search that House, and every House: I vow there's not a Street free from these Rogues.

Where hast thou been, Champion?

Where none but a Champion durst be.

Where's that? Where's that?

Stand here and admire; You are beholding to me, I have past the Pikes to meet you, and swet for't: I tell you I have been at Guildhall, and what I have done there, let Histories record. Ile not be my own Trumpet.

What didst thou do there?

Do you see this small Engine? 'Tis a good one, and has been trusty to his Master: I say no more.

Nay, good Champion; What, what?

How Dull you are! With this (I say) heartily charg'd and ram'd, under my Apron closely hid, Latit anguis in herba, (There's Latin for you Rogues) I got into the Yard.

What then, What then?

By good fortune I espy'd a very fine fellow, some Officer no doubt, he did Ran Dan so.

No it was home, the sting of my Serpent hath either kill'd him or lam'd him downright, I warrant he troubles us no more this Day. Heark, the A Drum is heard within. Rogues are Marching; let them go and be hang'd they shal not abide here, I have given them an earnest penny already, and if they come again, Ile double it. Well Boys, when they are past Weel go and Drink the Kings health: Say Boys.

Viva le roy, Viva le roy.

My Lord, you will still endear me.

A Duty so oblig'd cannot be paid too often, my prayers go with you, my most honoured Lord.

If I return, my Lord, Command my Heart; In the mean time, let not your friendship Cool.

My body shall be Ice first.

My Lord Stoneware, this is a high peice of Kindness indeed.

Marry, Ise come toll kiss your none hand, Sir, • re yee gang anenst the limmer loowne.

Your Servant, my Lord—Walker, Are you ready?

Yes, my Lord.

Direct the Lord Stoneware to the Blew Chamber; where Ile attend your Lordship.

Your very humble Servant, my Loords.

I know She's clogg'd with passion, and 'tis not fit a Scot should understand it.

Have I stay'd long enough, may you be spoken with yet?

Why not, Sweet-heart?

Am I a Wife, or no Wife.

My only Joy and comfort—Why dost Weep? There's not a Tear but Wounds me. Prithee leave, I'm sure th'ast no occasion for't.

Did Noll do so by his Wife Bess, that Puss? He had some care of her, and made her what her heart could wish; but I have nought but empty promises.

Will you believe me? This Gentleman—

He's a Lawyer, and may lie.

He's my Friend.

'Twas a by-Complement, I confess; but I believe he knows more then you do. Pray Sir, say, Shall I be what I will be, as he says?

The power is now in his owne hands, and Doubtless my Lord's so wise he will not pa • t with't.

Say you so! Then prithee kiss me Iohn, ne're stir, I shall so love thee.

But we forget the Lord Stoneware.

H'as got a Scottish Fog in's mouth by this time.

Hang him, 'tis such a Boorish stammering fellow, I cann't endure him.

But he's a property, if I return Victorious, I must make use of; Therefore, prithee Sweet, be modederately sparing in thy language; let it not soar so high, lest it prevent my Towring thoughts of their fruition, and clip those Wings should hover thee to Greatness.

Ile not tye my tongue up for no mans pleasure living: I think I am a Free Woman, no Bondslave, Sir.

But under favour, Madam, when you Weigh the Advancement—

I Weigh it not a rush, nor shall I Fee you for your Counsel, Sir.

Let him be neer so good, Ile have my will,

I prethee do.

I trust I have not angred you, Madam.

Again Madam! let his goodness be what it will, I'm sure, he hath but ill breeding.

My Lord Stonware is going, Sir.

Odds so, indeed, we have been too uncivil, come Sweet-heart, my Lord, will you please to walk in.

How now Gentlemen? you are upon the merry March, I hear.

I, a pox on't, We shall have little cause, I fear, to call it a merry one.

Well, I thank my Stars, Our Regiment stays here at the well head, you Rogues, where there is plenty of all things.

What says Pluck? The Worser knave, the better luck.

But do you hear me, Sirrah? for all that, your Colonel may be hang'd for killing his Brother Cobler.

I hear no harm, I'm not to answer for him: But prethee tell me, D'ye think there will be bloody Noses?

Those that have a mind to't, let 'em give, or take 'em, hang him that fights a stroke, for my par • .

Or mine either; Our Company swear they'l all be hang'd first.

The General is like to be well hop'd up with such Souldiers.

Why, what would you have us to do? If the General cannot agree them, let 'em fight it out themselves and the Devil part 'em I cry.

They say that General Philagathus is a gallant Stout Man, an Excellent Souldier, and a Marvellours honest Man.

Then we have the less reason to fight against him.

Nor will we fight against him.

But Brothers, let me advise you to have a Care what you say, lest you make your Words good, and be hang'd in earnest, there are Rogues abroad.

I, too many, I thank you Brother for your Advice.

A lack we talk away our time, let's go, let's go.

Nay, sure Brother Souldiers, we will not part with dry Lips.

What you intend to do, do quickly.

Come away then.

Now Priss, what think you now?

Why, truly Secretary I think thou wilt be a brave Fellow when my Lord returns.

You will let me kiss you now, I hope.

No indeed Secretary, I will not make you so bold yet; If you return safe and sound, and in good plight, that is, my Lords brows circled with laurel, and people smell you out to be a Secretary of State, 'tis very probable you may have admittance to my Lip, and something else in a lawful way.

These words have comforted my heart, I'm overjoy'd, trust me now: Odds so, my Lords upon taking Horse; ah! ah! Dear Priss.

Sigh not Man, thou shalt have it; come take Livery and Seisin, and adue.

Oh, So sweet as the Hony-combe!

I must begon, Dear Priss, once more.

Why law you now give you an Inch and you will take an Ell; I shall be troubled with you—Kisses.

No truly Priss—

Why, you are bold indeed.

Oh Heart! Oh Fates! Why should such Lovers part?

Well, go thy wayes for a Modest Asse, thou mightst have had something else, hadst thou press'd me to't; but the Fool will make a fine Husband; when he comes to taste the fruit, he'l so love the Tree! 'Tis a sweet thing for a Woman of Knowledge to meet with a Man of Ignorance, and better to keep him in't. My Secretary I see never read Arratine, if he had he would have been furnish'd with more Audacity. Lord, how Honor Creeps upon me! I shall be Ladifi'd there's no Doubt on't. How my Ears will be sill'd with Madams! And, Will your Ladyship be pleas'd? What will your Honor have to Breakfast? How do you, Madam? I am come to give you a Visit, Madam. Will you go to Hide-Park to day, Madam? How does your good Lord, Madam? Did you Sleep well to night, Madam? Is your Dog recover'd of his Fit, Madam? Your faithful Servant, Madam. Have you any Service to Command me, Madam? This her Highness despises. I am as proud as She; and me thinks it sounds very well. Madam! Why, 'tis a word of State.

Mrs. Priss, Mrs. Priss, You must come away to her Highness presently.

Why, how now, Sance?

Sauce! Why, what are you, pray? Will you come away? Ile tell her.

Ile have you boxt anon, Sirrah, for this.

Champion, how now Champion? What news, Champion?

Nay, what news do you say, then?

Bertlam is gone.

The Devil and Iohn a Cumber go with him. Well, I hope General Philagathus will so pay his Jacquet!

He will be forc'd to turn it.

That he hath done often enough already.

The Rogues were well mounted.

May the Horse founder, and the Foot die in Ditches! My prayers go along 'em.

Oh brave Champion!

Come Gentlemen, If you have any Chink go along with me; Weel drink Philagathus Health. How they look at one another!

Faith Champion—

Speak no more, your Countenance betray your meanings, I perceive your Masters are not so tender-hearted as mine; He's honest, lives in hope, allows me the merry Sice a day to spend till better Times come.

Thou art happy, Champion.

You shall participate of that happiness! 'Twere pity such proper Fellows as we are should part without Drinking a Health to Noble Philagathus his Successe.

Well Champion, weel make you amends.

Let the mends make it self; Come away, begon.

How say you so forsooth Mother? as I'm here.

I say thy folly will undo us all.

What dost make of me, a Hooting-stock?

No, I profess not I, I know my Duty, as I'm here.

Thou Wouldst fain seem a Souldier, and a Courtier, but thou art neither.

Good Mother be not so bitter, he's an honest Man.

Hang honesty, 'tis meer foolery; thy Father had more Wit then to be thought one of that needy Crue; could ever Man have given the power out of his own hand, as he hath done, and to his Enemy, a fellow as fierce as Aqua fortis, and will eat into the very marrow of our families.

I profess Mother, you may be mistaken for all this, he is in some sense, but my Servant.

And he'l become thy Master to thy shame, why didst not go thy self?

Why? I profess, Whether you believe it or not, Mother, I am the greatest Man in the Nation.

Until a greater come; How stupid art thou? Girle, prithee instruct him.

'Twould ill become me, sure to teach my Lord, I neer was guilty of that crime yet, he knows his own Business best.

I profess, Mother, you are such a strange Woman, I know not what to say to you; had not General Philagathus (like a fool) made this disturbance, I know, what I had been this time.

Thou hadst been neither better nor worse then what thou art, the Common Tavern, and Town Table-Talk.

Why? I profess, Mother, you are not so well spoken of, neither, for all you look so.

Nay Mother, indeed you do not well: He's my Husband, I ought not to suffer this.

Good Lord! It seems he plays better at Tratrip with thee then thy Husband Ireton did: Thou couldst find Tongue enough for him: Or, there's foul lyars if this March-pane fellow did not Melt in your Mouth in his life time.

I thank you, Mother.

What's that, what's that she says Sweetheart?

Nothing, my Lord, worthy your notice.

Had not a sool rid thee, thou hadst known thy Duty better. So much for that, farewel.

Nay, good Mother.

Let her go, Sweetheart; the house wil be the quieter, I profess.

She is my mother, my lord.

And I'm your husband my lady, as I'm here I think so: I profess I know not any body cares for her company.

She does not come to trouble you, Sir.

Yes, She does, I profess, and very much: I was just thinking of State-Affairs, and She has put all out of my head: The Committee have no reason to thank her, to my knowledge.

Why, my Lord?

Why, the Citizens are mad for a Free Parliament, the Counties are all up; and is it not time to look about us, I profess?

Indeed, my Lord, you say right.

If a Free Parliament sit once, what will become of Us, I profess we must secure our selves as well as we can: the Rump (as the Wicked call it) must and shall come in agen, I profess.

What will become of your Friend the Lord Bertlam then?

I profess, I care not; your Mother takes me for a fool, but let me alone to deal my Cards, the Speaker and I are reconcil'd: But Sweet-heart, I profess I must be gon, I say no more, Bertlam, Stoneware, and Lockwhit are Knaves, down-right Knaves, I profess they have fool'd me all this while, it will now turn to 'em, I profess, let 'em suffer.

But I have found 'em out; say no more, will you go in, Sweet heart? I profess I must be gon.

I obey you, my Lord.

I Wonder Priss, that none of the Modern Poets have been here with their Encomiums since thy Lord Went!

It may be Helicon is Dry'd up, or their Brains are turn'd Addle.

Well, I'm resolved to make Him that brings me the first Copy Poet Laureat, provided he brings Victory in't: I will Dispose of my Places my self, and be Lord Steward my self, or it shall cost me a fall. Lockwhit for all his art shall never Carry it.

How, Her Highness become Lord Steward!

No matter for that; Profit and Service will come by't: Ile have the ordering of all Places both above and below Stairs, and so give out to the people.

And good reason too, bir Lady.

A Counsellor, a foolish fellow, at every end he calls me Madam.

Truly, there was one call'd me Madam too tother day. Lord, we Women are so frail! I thought my self to be a Madam in good Earnest.

I Priss, thou mightst, and be proud on't; but I, I think am somewhat above that.

A Story, so please your Highness.

I will have Eight Gentlemen Ushers, that Puss B • ss had Foure; Two shall bear up my Trai • .

Rather Foure, and it shall please your Highness; that Petty-fogger Loethur's Wise had one, and as I'm a Christian, another foolish fellow went bare before her, no Countess could have been better Man'd— Well, it will come to my turn shortly, but that the Wicked Rump is sat; there lies my fear, Oh Woodfleet! Woodfleet! thou art stark nought.

What sayst thou, Priss?

I was thinking, and it please your Highness, what a Canary-bird Woodfleet was, to settle the Rump, the abominable Rump, and pretended so much love to my Lord and Master.

His love is not Worth the enquiring after, Wench; as for the Rump, I smell 'tis stale already, and must be pepper'd when thy Lord returns; dost think Wench it shall have a sitting place then, no I warrant thee, he that jerkt it when he came out of the West, will do the like, when he comes out of the North.

I, and it shall please your Highness, if he return with Victory.

Ne're fear it Wench, I have sent for Lilly, and Wonder he stays so long, 'tis such a Dreaming fellow.

Here's Master Lilly, an't please your Highness.

How now Lilly, hast thou don what I Commanded thee?

I have Examined the Zodiack, Searcht the 12 Houses, and by my powerful Art, put the whole regiment of gods and goddesses out of order, Saturn and Iupiter are by the Ears, and Venus will he rampant assisted by Mars the god of Battailes.

This makes for your Highness, I love Mischief with all my heart.

How stands my Husbands fortune?

In the Alnathay of Aries, or as some others have it Salhay, being the head of Aries.

Aries, what is that Aries?

A Monster, I Warrant it.

You Rascal, Do you put the Horns upon my Princely Husband.

It may be a new peice of Heraldry.

He's subtle, politick, and crafty.

Thou hitst pretty well there.

Then in the Allothanie, or (as some have it) Alhurto, being the Tail of Aries, I find him eloquent, prodigal in necessity proud, inconstant, and deceitful.

Dost thou abuse me, Rascal.

No such matter.

Alass! he means innocently, for these are virtues given to most of the Male-kind.

He's there denoted to be fortunate in Warfare.

Go on, Fellow.

In Adoldaya, being the Head of Taurus.

Taurus, What's that?

A Bull.

Darst thou Horn him again.

'Tis a Signe.

A very ill Signe, the Signe of the Bull: But he does not mean, and it shall please your Highness, the Town-Bull of Ely.

Has your Lord are a Mark or Mold upon his Members? If he has, he vanquishes his Enemies.

He has that Priss, I'm sure on't.

You are best acquainted with his Secrets.

For Mars being with the Moon in the Sextile Aspect, incourages men of War, and in the Trine promises Success.

Ile love that Trine while I live for't.

I wonder where the Fellow got all these hard Words.

Lose not an Inch of your State, lest you diminish the lustre of that Planet predominates.

Why Sirrah, you grow sa • cy. Priss, Let the Foot-boy pay the Fellow for his pains.

No no, you have only put her in mind of her Majesty, she loves you ne're the worse for't; You must flatter her.

I have been bred to't. I take my leave of your Highness.

But take thy reward with thee: Thou art sure of what thou sayst?

As sure as if I had the Planets in my hand; a man can say no more.

Well, go thy ways, and if thy judgment • alter, To second thy gold Chain expect a Halter.

What dost thou think now?

How can I think amiss? He's a notable Man: Ile get him into the Larder one time or other, and Ile make him show me all.

Show thee all, Wench! Out upon't.

What, the Lilly and the Rose: I promise you, for ought I see, the Lilly is the best flower in your garden.

Here's a Letter from my Lord to your Highnesse.

Hast ne're a one for me from the Secretary?

Yes, Mrs. Priss.

So, this Fellow is Saucy, I must take him down a button-hole lower. Good news, no doubt on't; and then we shall have such Bonefiring. Ile read my Switter-com Swatter-com's Letter anon. But, her Highness begins to look pale upon't; I do not like this changing Countenance.

Thy Lord is Murder'd.

Then my honor goes to the Dunghill: A pox of Lilly and his legion of Devils.

If that be all, 〈◊〉 matter Madam.

Even call me what thou wilt.

I should have call'd you Highness, I confess, but I hope you are not offended; Lilly is a meer rogue, Ile never endure a Lilly hereafter, 'tis a flattering flower, and stinks abominably.

He Writes me Word, hee'l be in Town this Night, he's sent for by the Rump.

Oh nasty Rump! But an't shall please your Highness, shall I seek out for eight proper Striplings to to man your Highness and four Spring-cits to trick up your Train, a French Taylor that has a yard thus long, a Cook whose Nose will not offend your Sawce by dropping in't, a Gentleman Sewer that can dance before your Dishes, an able Carver to cut up your Custards, a Taster that hath a sweet Breath and no rotten Teeth, a Baker whose hands is not mangy; who shall be Lord Chamberlain, Groom of the Stool, your Maids of honour, your Starcher, your Tyrer, Yeoman of your Cellar, Yeoman of your Pan • rey, Yeoman of your Pastrey, Clerk of your Kitchin, Clerk of the Roles? Lord, I'm even out of Breath with reckoning up your Servitors!

How now Audaciousness!

Why, seriously I dreamt last night, an't please your Highnesse, that we have been but Princes in disguise all this while, and that our Vizors are now falling off; and who would think that Dreams should come to light so?

Now could I tear my flesh, all my hopes are lost.

No, you say there's one a coming.

How? this Woodfleets Wi • e will ore-top me.

Pull her eyes ont, and then let a Dog lead her.

Ile see your second so good, and 't please your Highness.

Hy Boyes, the Noble General Philagathus lay at Barnet last night.

Say'st thou so, Champion.

And the pityful, dityful Lambert, one of Donquixott's Lords, is in the Tower. H'as been a Whipste • all his Life time, and now is become a staid Gentleman.

Well said, Champion.

No more of that if you love me, Noble Philagathus must be the Cities Champion, Ile resign my Office, and yet be Loyal still.

Who will not? who will not?

Then you are my Boyes again; do you not observe how the Phanaticks are trotting out of town, some of the Rogues begin to mutiny?

Hang 'em up then, I cry.

So say I, by thousands; noble Phylagathus enters with love, and they go out with curses, or like the Snuffe of a Candle, stinckingly.

I'm sure they have eaten our Masters up.

Even to their Bowels, that Trading is become a meer Skelliton.

Now I hope we shall see better days.

Ne'r fear it Lads. Philagatbus is right, and sound to the very Core.

What will become of our Exchange. Merchant.

What? he that turn'd part of the House of God into a Den of Theeves.

The very same, the very same.

Let him hang himself, and when he is cold meat, the Divel carbanadoe him for a Break-fast: But heark they are marching out, and [Drums heard within.] Philagathus his honest Soldiers are coming in. Oh let's see um! let's see um.

By all means let's see um.

Bless my Eye-sight! what? her Highnesse without her Train: Where is that pretious Bird thy Husband, Cag'd? His Wings are Clipt from flying: Faith now, this comes of Threachery: Had he been true to my Son Dick, he might have still continued honorable, and thou a Lady; and now I know not what to call thee.

Thy rudeness cannot move me, I impute it to thy Want of Breeding.

My Want of Breeding, Mrs. Mincks.

We Cannot expect from the Dunghill odorous savours: Were our affections greater than they are, they merit not half the Contempt and Scorn persues thy wretched Family, and the Memory of thy abhorred Husband.

How durst thou name him but with reverence: He that out-did all Histories of Kings or Keasors: was his own Herald, and could give Titles of Honor to the meanest Peasants; made Brewers, Dray-men, Coblers, Tinkers, or any body Lords: Such was his power no Prince ere did the like: Amongst the rest, that precious piece thy Husband was one of his making.

Would we had never known these painted Titles that are so easily washt off: Enter Woodfleet. But yonder comes the cause of all our miseries.

And, art thou there? Nay, ne're hide thy face for't, though thou mayst be asham'd of all thy Actions.

Why I, forsooth Mother? I profess, ne're go, not I Mother, as I'm here.

C • ll 〈◊〉 not Mother: Thou hast ruin'd my Children, and thy self too, like a Fool as thou art.

And me and my Husband, like a Knave as thou art.

Would ever Coxcombe have committed such folly!

Or ever Changling done the like! Iack Adams is a Man to thee.

I pro • ess indeed law, you are strange folks, I profess, ne're go law: Cannot a man, as I'm here pass the Street, I p • ofess law?

Hang thee, thou'rt good for nothing,

But • leering and fooling.

And how do you, forsooth? I profess.

And truly, I know what I know, and there's an end,

Of an old Song, Few words are best.

Ne're go, I'm the greatest man in the Nation▪ I profess I, ne're stir now: Think you what you will, forsooth Mother, as I'm here.

I profess, ne're stir, as I'm here, there's no enduring it, law now▪ as I'm here; and therefore farewel, as I'm here, for Ile be gone, ne're stir now.

Now Champion, what think you of your General Philagathus?

A ro • e on't, I know not what to think on't: Was ever such a Ra • e committed upon a poor She City before? Lay her legs open to the wide world, for every Rogue to peep in her Breech. I

Is this the Cities Champion?

Well, On my Conscience he's honest for all this: The plaguy Rump has done this Mischief: Well, Club stand stiff to thy Master, some body shall suffer for't: I say no more.

We shall be Coop'd up shortly for Hawks-meat in our Cellars, while they possess our Shops, and Feast upon our Mistresses▪

Well, Ile Warrant the Souldiery will be honest for all this, and then we'l Sindge the Maggots out of the louzy Rump, or else Swindge me.

News Boys, News.

From whence, from Tripulo?

From Guildhall, you Knaves: We shall have a Free Parliament.

Hy, hy, hy.

The General and the City are agreed, and he has promis'd it.

Oh noble Philagathus!

Brave Phylagathus!

Honorable Philagathus!

Renowned Philagathus!

Now you Infidels, What think you now? Has your Fears and Jealousies left you, or will you still damn your selves up with dirty Suspition. You that spoke even now you should be Coop'd up for Hawks-meat, shall be Cramm'd up for • apons; your Cellars shall become Ware-houses, your Shops Exchanges, and your Mistresses persons of honor.

And, what shall we be?

Squires of the Body: Honor sufficient enough for men of our rank, Gentlemen.

Oh brave Champion!

I tell you, I will have no more of that: Where is Lilly now?

We'l fire him out of 'em.

How will the Man in the Moon drink Clarret then?

Clarret is best burnt, Sir, by your leave.

I, but Lilly has Eighteen houses.

A Bakers dozen: we'l fire the odd end first.

A Match, a Match; we'l do't.

But now I think on't, we must have no fireing of houses, there's a Statute against it: Better once Wise than never.

Oh brave Sack!

We'l be merry to night, I'm resolv'd on't, or else never let Prentices presume to be honest agen, and therefore follow me: God bless the General!

Now Secretary, where's your Titles now? Not so much as a title of 'em remaining, all sunk in the Sand-box.

I'm between Silla and Carybdis, I must confess; and thou hast gravell'd me, my dear Priss.

Hang your Dog Poetry, it made my Lord thrive so ill as he did: I think thou didst infect him; he us'd to have a Serene brain, and Courage good enough: Sure the Viccar of Fools was his Ghostly Father: Be beat without a blow, there's a mystery indeed!

Truly Priss, my Lord could not help it.

Not help it, there's a jest indeed, I'm sure he has helpt himself into prison for't, let who will help him out again. What course wilt thou take now, Secretary?

Not horse-coursing Priss, Ide have thee know that.

Why, thou'rt pretty well Timber'd for such an Imployment. Canst thou make pens?

Yes, and Ink too Priss, I tell you but so.

Nay, and the worst come to the worst, I can teach to Dance.

I confess thy Sword is alwayes Dancing.

That's the Alamode is learnt in France.

Come, if thou canst Dance so well, let's have a frisk, if thou dar'st.

Truly Priss, I have not my Pumps in my pocket.

'Tis well thy Mother left thee Wit enough for an Excuse.

That is not all, look here, I can fence too—

What dost thou mean to do!—

Set your right foot forward, keep a Close guard, have an Eye to your Enemies point, extend your Arm thus.

Lord, Lord, the man is mad sure.

Traverse your ground sometimes reverse, as thus: Give back then, come on agen, play with his point: I • he makes a pass, put it by, make a home thrust thus, run him thorough, and he falls I Warrant you.

Put up thy Fools-bawble there: I profess Ile • all my Lady else.

Why, did it fright thee, Priss? seriously, I did but show thee what skill I had at my Weapon.

Thou wouldst make a rare fellow to fence before the Bears, if there were any.

Why, Priss? I dare say I can kill any man living that can't defend himself.

Ha, ha, ha! I am of thy mind, that can't Defend himself.

Why Priss, such as fight must take all Advantages.

And I that do not • ight, will take the advantage to leave thee and thy foolery.

Nay, dear Priss, ne're go Ile follow thee.

Roast the Rump, Roast the Rump.

Silence, Silence, I say.

Silence, Silence there.

Come Gentlemen, you are Welcome, Sit down, bring some Drink there, 'tis a night of Jubile, we'l want no Drink while the Rump roasts.

Here's a Health to your noble General.

Thank you, young Man.

Baste the Rump • oundly.

It bastes it self, i • his been well • ed, a D • g take it: But pray give us some Drink too, we are almost Dry roasted.

Begarr▪ dis b • very lite night▪ me can • ind my way to my loging▪ begarr very well if me not take a Cup to 〈◊〉 by the way: Now ga • soone, 〈◊〉 be de matter 〈◊〉 you?

Some 〈…〉 the Bonfi • e 〈◊〉 .

Bonfi • es! begfrr me 〈…〉 be in the bonfires: here garsoone, 〈…〉 larshan to de bonsire?

We are Musicians, and will give you a Lesson Mounsieur.

A Lesson, dat be very good, begarr me love itt vitt all mine heart, alle alle vic moy to de bonfire, begarr furboone Company de Souldate [they go to the bonfire.] dece Angletar, me love dem vitt all mine heart, play a lesson, or begar me vil brake a your Fiddells.

Oh brave Mounsieur!

Furboone begarr now give me de merry Song, me give you de Larshan.

Have you this Song? We came from Scotland.

Yes, Sir.

Furboone, begar furboone, done moy de toder Cup burn a de Rump.

Begar me vilt dance about de Bonfire, come vit me men.

Oh brave Mounsieur!

Let my Lady say what she will, I will see the Bonfire.

Begarr Metress you be a very fine Shentileveman, begarr me dance one time vitt you, nay begar you noe serve a me • oe.

I cannot dance indeed, Sir.

Begarr me vill have on touch vitt you, Metress.

What, before all this Company, Mounsieur?

Datt me vill begarr.

Well, if I must dance, play Fortune my foe.

No, Sellingers Round, We are beginning the World again.

Me vill have none of dat, me vill have a de Corrant of de foot sa saw, come Metress lend a [sings a tune.] me your hand, courage courage Metress.

Well, now indeed I must begon, Sir.

Begar me vill see you to your loging, pardon a moy.

By no means, I shall be knockt oth' head then.

Mee no care for dat, par ma moy adue Iee vou remercy pour dis • boone Company, adue petit garsoone.

Adue Mounsieur.

What are you resolved to do? Every man to his home, or shall we make a Night on't.

A night on't, a night on't.

Come to the next Bonfire.

To the next Bonfire, to the next Bonfire.

We have played our Cards fair.

B • ed Sirs, then yee have plaid then faw, and thats faw play geod feath, Sirs.

A Fool had the shuffling of them, the game had gone better else.

The faw deel himself was Trump, Sirs; I think s • rrs wee ha had nee geod luck, Sir • , this bout.

We are lost Sirs, utterly lost.

No Sir, we are found Sir, catcht in a Net of our own making.

Thou wouldst give all the Shooes in thy Shop to be ont of't.

Is there no remedy my Lord Lockwhit?

No remedy 〈…〉 • ill.

Bred, 〈◊〉 no 〈…〉 , hees my Noble Lyer Sirs.

Who • e Kee ••• of the 〈…〉 now?

Where will you find your 1000. l. p. annum now.

Bred Sir • ▪ 〈◊〉 y • e gire▪ do yee gire? hees gatt rought Sirs, • eit •• er of any the gifts I had geen me geod feath.

He •• k you Mr. Lawyer, have you e • re a Habulus Corpulus to remove us from the Storm is coming?

With a Sy •• ers, Razer, or what a Divel do you call it.

You are politick, will you sell a penny worth of Pollicy, Sir?

Bred, he had meere need buy some to save his Cregg, Sirs.

Come lets let's leave the Law in the Lurch, and every man shift for himself? Adue! Mr. Lawyer.

Adue! Mr. Lawyer.

Adue! Mr. Lyer.

How monstrously have I expos'd my self to th' dirty Censure of the basest Creatures, things never mentioned but with scorn, and now I am become the Thesis unto theirs? The very Cobler reads a Lecture to me and I'm convinc'd, I should amend my manners, and become Loyal Dictates long before Divinity discovered! There's no sin like that we know, and that we surfet in.

Do you want any Pens or Ink, Pens or Ink? Will you Fence, or will you Dance? What Pens and Ink do you want, Gentlemen?

Fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons▪ fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons: Me thinks it sounds very well; a pox of her Tallnesse for me, no matter, ne're repine Wench, thy Trade's both pleasant and profitable, and if any Gentleman take me up, I am still, Fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons.

Pens or Ink, Pens, Pens or Ink?

'Tis he.—Walker.

Priss, my Dear Priss.

Why, how now Secretary, thou seest my words are come to pass, I knew what a Lord thou wouldst be: But Fortunes a Whore.

A whip take her: But shall we meet now: Priss?

I think we are met Walker, although unhappily.

I mean upon equal terms.

Will you buy a geodly Ballad, or a Scott Spur Sirs, will we buy a geodly ballad, or a Scott Spur Sirs, any thing to live in this World? Bred, if I should gang intoll my none Countrey, my Cregg would be stretcht two inches longer then 'tis: Will ye • buy a geodly ballad, or a Scott Spur Sirs, will a buy a Line a Iack-line, a Line a Iack Bertlams Line?

'Tis the Lord Stoneware.

No more Lord then thy self, Walker: Let's have some sport with him, Fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons: Will your Lordship buy any Lemmons and Oranges? Fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons.

Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens, will your Lordship buy any Ink or Pens for the Committee of no Safety?

Bred a geod what a Whore and a Knave is this.

Turnips, Turnips, Turnips hoe, did ever Lord cry Turnips before? But a pox of Lordship, would I had my old Farm over my head again, Turnips, Turnips Turnips hoe, Turn-up Mistress, and Turn-up the Maid, and who buyes my long Turnups ho!

He does it rarely well; Fine Oranges, fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons.

Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens for the Lord Desborough.

Bred 'tis he indeed, these are Witches sure, how does your geod Lady, Sirr?

What my Lord Stoneware?

Ne bred a geod Ime ne meere a Loord then yer neene self, my Honoor is in the dust, Sirr.

Have you any old Boots or Shoes to mend, I have helpt to under lay the Government this 20. years, and have been upon the mending hand, but I fear now I shall be brought to my Last, & therefore ought to mind my end; will you buy Shoes for Brooms, or Brooms for Shoes?

Or a Knave for a whip, or a whip for a Knave? Fine civil Oranges, Fine Lemmons.

Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens, how do you my Lord?

Dost mock me fellow? Who are these?

My geod friend.

Brother Huson, and how, and how?

And what, and what? and pox o' that, and that; lets imbrace however.

What Kitchin-stuffe have you Maids? was ever Princess brought to such a pass? what Kitchin-stuffe have you Maids?

Gammer Cromwell, our Maid calls you.

Where you Rascall?

In my—

You Rogue do you abuse me? Ile claw your eyes out.

Oh Dick! Dick! Did ever I think to come to this? What Kitchin-stuffe have you Maids, Maids have you any Kitchin-stuffe Maids?

Fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons? Will your Ladyship buy any Oranges and Lemmons?

Dost thou mock me Bag • ge? Ile be at thee presently.

No indeed shee does not, 'tis Priss my Lady Bertlams Woman, and I am Walker her Secretary.

How? Thou hast walkt fair indeed, where is her Highnesse now?

They say she intends to cry fresh Cheese & Cream.

She has brought her hogs to a fair market.

And so we have all me thinks.

What art thou there too?

Bred an Ise here ta, and my geod Loord Desborough, bred a geod heeres eene a Iolly Company.

It somewhat palliates my miserie, That inafflictions yo • like Sharets be.

Come let's mind our business, words are but wind▪ Fine civil Oranges, fine Lemmons.

Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens, will you buy any Ink or Pens?

Will yee buy a geodly Ballad, or a Scott Spurr, will yee buy a Iack-line a Iack Bertlams line, or a line for a Iack a Bertlam.

Turnips, Turnips, Turnips hoe! Turn-up Mistress, and Turn-up Maid, and Turn-up my Cousin and be not afraid of a long, long, Red Turn-up ho.

Boots or Shooes, Boots or Shooes to mend?

What Kitchin-stuffe have you Maids? what Kitchin-stuffe have you Maids?

I am a poor Lawyer Gentlemen, and can shew you Legerdemain for your mony, no Hocus Po • us like me. I have two hands, neither of them disabled from taking • ees; have you any canses to split? for that's my Doom, my Bag is a Receptacle for them; I am for that •• use brings me most profit, be it good or be it bad; but indeed have been better experienced in the bad, and now would • ain follow the good Cause and turn honest; but a man shall hardly grow rich then you'l say, and then 'twill vex a man.

Have you any work for a poor Housell Lawyer, for all 〈◊〉 honest Lawyer, I am your next man, Gentleman.