BRETHREN in INIQUITY: OR A BEARDLESS Pair: Held forth in a DIALOGUE BETWIXT TITCHBURN AND IRETON, PRISONERS in the TOWER OF LONDON.

Printed for Daniel Webb, in the year 1660.

A DIALOGVE BETWEEN Alderman TITCHBƲRN AND Alderman IRETON, Prisoners in the Tower of London.

Titchburn.

LAg I, pray, play fellow, do you begin, here's a new Game called Law, and I alwayes was, and could still wish my self a stranger to it.

Ireton.

Sir, this is no Pageant or Boys play, the Bowling stone of the State is settled, and you are nickt; besides, you have been prime, and a Ring-lea­der, and have had a lucky hand on't these many years, what aile you to hang so a Rump.

Titchburn.

I perceive you are not sensible of the Condition you are in, that you enquire so idlely after my grief; you think you were Cock a horse, or a Beggar mounted with a fools Baubles in the Portman­teau, and that being the utmost end of your ambi­tious Coxcomb, which you have attained to; you think not of the troubles of the Saints (the Justice of the Kingdom) but think to escape with an Ignora­mus.

Ireton.

I am no Lord like your Honour, to be tryed by my Peers, I do not hope nor imagine to be ac­quitted by any wise Jury; and therefore I am the less pensive and melancholly at this disaster, wherein I think I shew my self wifer then your yesterday Lord­ship, for my wisdome is from the Antients that teach men (as Dogs are learned) Patience.

Titchburn.

My good Lord, be not offended at my snarling, I confess Patience upon force, is a remedy for a Phanatique; but we fellow-sufferers ought not to exasperate one another, I know our zeal is quickly kindled, but now there wants oyl in our Lamp (here in the way to Canaan, I could hint to you his late Highness Oliver's Nose) we ought in Charity of Bre­thren, and fellow-labourers, to take care that the snuff may not stink in the Nostrils of the Heathen; by our own blowing out the once bright flame of our Purity and Honesty.

Ireton.

My Lord, fools speak truth (I understand you never took me for any thing else) your Apish Government of the City, your severe Discipline of the Herb-women and Haglers, made me so Pragmati­cal; for as the times went, the Affairs of the State [Page 5]were mannaged just like a Market, nothing but for money, and my Majoralty fell in such a year, so many Alterations and Changes in my short rule, that I knew not where abouts to be; they say I was Lord Maior, but in truth I was Clerk of the Market to Wallingford-House.

Titchburn.

I, Brother Ireton, had that noble Council of Officers endured that shitten storm of Hazleriggs, (for which wicked enterprise he is ready to hang him­self) you and I had been Canting still of the merits of the Good Old Cause, with abundance of Credit and Reputation, and I would have filcht Expressions of Piety from unknown unheard of Authors, and you should have borrowed as many from Mr. Griffith of the Charter-house; I wonder who hath bespewed (or be­shit rather) all our Glory, as he said in the last Sermon before you at Pauls.

Ireton.

You will be a Cynick still, and rode and bite at your friends, as well as your fetters; the first are as willing to be rid of you, as you are of the other (and it is the general vogue, you will be rid of both toge­ther, else Dun is abused.)

Titchburn.

I am sorry I did not put that fellow out of that Employment, he fell once into my handling, for not burning a fellow soundly, according to my Or­der; but he found favour from me by an humble Pe­tition, yet he look'd so disastrously upon me, when he put it into my hand, that I am more then suspicious he will throroughly burn me, Bowels and all.

Ireton.

My Lord, you burnt with your own hands the Kings Declaration from Worcester, and the Hang­man through your hot zeal lost his labour, in common [Page 6]Justice, therefore it is requisite that he should have right done him; and that he should make up his dayes work with some employment about your Lordship.

Titch.

Bro. Ireton, I writ a godly book called A Cluster of Grapes, the Title was Ominous, and serves the turn; for we Canaanites will like good fellows hang together in bunches.

Ireton.

Pardon me, I'le rather stay here till Au­tumn, and taste some of the sowre Grapes that grow upon these walls; by your favour, I am not so far in the mire as your self, and I have got little else besides an ill name, and that partly I had from my Brother the Devils Deputy in Ireland: Sir an ill name, is by the Proverb, but half hanging.

Titchb

Were not you a Colonel of Horse, were not you like to be Lord Major twice, do you think to have these Honours for nothing? besides, did not you cheat the State of the Customes, for the whole space of a moneth? Sir, you are in the same Predicament as Pennington, Harvay, and my self: But suppose you had not wit enough of your own to compass an Estate, yet Sir, you shall answer for the Portion you had with your fist Wife, which was got by roasting of Brooms for the Servants on Sunday nights.

Ireton.

Nay, if you be thereabouts with Tom Prides Bears, and have the faculty of railing (as Oliver had of swearing, when he was angry) its time to take you down, or truss you up: what think you of Mr. Windust: Sir, were not you the great overseer of the Ale-Hou­ses, the Pot informer, the Bawds and Whores Secre­tary, the great Caball of all the lewdness in the Town; for all your starcht grave superciliousness? [Page 7]was not your Privado your familiar Mr. Bunbury, a fine Companion for an Alderman? Have you not a per­fect L [...]st of all the smug young Auxiliaries in the Town, which folks stick not to say is high Treason a­gainst the Female Sex; nay Sir, were not you Presi­dent of the New Artillery Company in Finsbury, and did you not continue so till they were so weary of you, and your solemn impertinencies, that they formally disowned and abhorred you?

Titchb.

Good Sir, what think you (if you shun perchance the Gallows, as you vainly promise your self, for you are a mischeivous fool none of Gods making) of your riotous attempt upon the Liberties of the Fleet-Prison) did not you pimp and peep to into Bawdy-houses in that Lane under pretence of your power of Jurisdiction there? who pays for those Escapes there? in troth Sir, we both lack such a ventu­rous Lord Maior as your self, for this Liberty of the Tower; for then we would both run away together, though I cannot tell whether except to Jamaica; for there's no other Harbour or Sanctuary for us in any part of the world, our Faction and party are so known and detested.

Ireton.

What a Curse and misfortune attends us, we cannot have a word or two, but presently we must to­gether by the ears, and rip up things like Billingsgate, this very trick ruined the Rump and Lambert, and our whole Gang; but yet now you are speaking of getting out hence, I can be friends with you with all my heart, I suppose you know some private house where we may lye secure till we have a fair wind, it is high time to consider of it, e're the King come, for he will be [Page 8]strongly importuned for justice against us.

Tichb.

But how shall we get out hence, now Morley is not Lieutenant of the Tower; and for my own part, I can find no more Connivence or Favour, then if I had never bore Authority here.

Ireton.

My Lord, it is unlucky returning over the mud in the Moat, for then we shall be caught again, what think you of a Disguise.

Titchb.

Very well, but what, they say I am as noto­rious as Miles Corbet the Jew, but tell me what Dis­guise.

Ireton.

I know you are well-beloved of the Herb-women, in your New Market in Pauls Church-yard; and therefore I would advise you to send thither for a bunch of Carrots to make you a Beard, and on my life that will carry it.

Titchb.

I thank you Sir, I can help you to such a­nother Masquing business.

Ireton.

What's that?

Titchb.

Mol Cutpurses Falling Band, Doublet and Petty-coats, in which she lookt like a man, that the guard will never take you for.

Ireton.

Any way so we may be gone hence, do you good my Lord contrive, and I'le do as you bid me; but what shall we do for the brace of Five hundred pounds you and I sent Lambert?

Titchb.

It is come to that pass, that you and I must be losers by the Publick Faith; they cry a riddance of us is fitter then acquittance, come Dun I am ready.

FINIS.

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