THE RUMP: OR The mirror OF The late Times, A NEW COMEDY, Written by J. TATHAM, Gent.  
Acted Many Times with Great Applause, At the Private House in Dorset-Court.  
London, Printed by W. Godbid for R. Bloome. 1660.   


Dramatis Personae.  
BErtlam. Woodfleet. Competitors for the Protectorship.  
Stoneware. A Scotch Laird, President of the Committee. of Safety.  
Lockwhit. A Lawyer, of the same Committee.  
Desborough. Huson. Cobbet. Duckinfield. colonels, and of the same Committee.  
Lady Bertlam. Wise to Lord Bertlam.  
Mrs. Cromwell. Olivers Widow.  
Lady Woodfleet.  
3. Ladies.  
Prissilla: Woman to Lady Bertlam.  
Walker. Secretary to Lord Bertlam.  
French Mounsieur.  
4. Prentices.  
4. Soldiers.  
2. Clerks, and 2. Dorekeepers to the Committee.    

PROLOGUE.  
THe Author not distrusting of his Play,  
Leaves customs Road, and walks another way.  
Expect not here Language Three stories high;  
Star-tearing Strains fit not a Comedy.  
Here's no Elaborate Scenes, for he confesses  
He took no pains in't, Truth doth need no Dresses.  
No Amorous Puling passions, here the Lord  
And Lady rather differ then accord.  
What can be in't, you'll say, if none of these?  
It is all one; he's sure the thing will please  
The truly Loyal Party; But what then?  
Why, truly he thinks them the better men.  
But if in's Progress he does chance to hit  
Hab nab on something that may sound like Wit,  
Pray take no notice of't; for if you do,  
You'll spoil the Poet, and the Players too;  
They will grow proud upon't, and in the Street  
In stead of Cringing, Nod to those they meet.  
Yet now I think on't, 'twill not be amiss,  
We'd rather have your Plaudit then your Hiss:  
And promise faithfully we will endeavour,  
If you do favour this, to please you ever.   

Actus Primus. SCAENA Prima.  Enter three or four soldiers severally. 1. Soldier. 
AH, Rogues, the business is done,  2. Soldier. 
In a dish I Warrant you,  1. Soldier. 
And thrown out o'th' Windows:  
The Town's Our own, Boys,  3. Soldier. 
And all the Wealth in't.  1. Soldier. 
And Wenches to boot boys.  2. Soldier. 
Boot me no Boots, 'tis Bootless, till we have 'em,  4. Soldier. 
Those are Commodities, I confess I fain would truck for.  1. Soldier. 
Thou shalt have them by the Belly, Lad.  4. Soldier. 
Rare Recruits after a long March!  1. Soldier. 
Gramercy Bertlam.  2. Soldier. 
Heroic Bertlam.  3. Soldier. 
The Man of Men and Might.  1. Soldier. 
We were opposed, and even at Push a Pike for't; though a wet Morning, 'twould have been dry Service had We gone to't.  2. Soldier. 
Dry blows would ne'er have done't, some must have sweat blood for't; but 'tis prevented.  1. Soldier. 
The Nail of Providence was in't.  2. Soldier. 
Or the parings rather; but no matter which, 'tis done.  1. Soldier. 
Leymor was a Stubborn Lad, yet Bertlam fitted him, and in his kind too, his rhetoric silenced the Mouth of his Pistol; it had sent a bad Report else, and a home one: But Bertlam, brave Bertlam, that carries Charms on the Tip of his Tongue, acted the part both of a soldier and a Courtier, an Enemy, and a Friend, Exposing his Breast to danger, under the Canopy of Security; And all this for Us you knaves. He told 'em a fair Tale, but means to trust them no further than he can fling 'em:  2. Soldier. 
That's some out of Commission,  4. Soldier. 
Or into Prison, or both.  1. Soldier. 
We may Lads in time grow up to something.  2. Soldier. 
Ill Weeds grow apace, Brother, and thou art one of them, and in time mayst reach the Gallows.  1. Soldier. 
Speak for yourself, Brother, I need not your Oratory; well, Bertlam has Wit at Will, Woodfleet's an ass to him.  2. Soldier. 
A mere milksop.  3. Soldier. 
A whey-brained fellow.  ●. Soldier. 
And of Courage as cold as a Cucumber.  4. Soldier. 
A Fool in Folio.  1. Soldier. 
Ambition's Puppet.  2. Soldier. 
A general in the Hangings, and no better.  3. Soldier. 
What think you of Vane?  1. Soldier. 
As of a Vain fellow.  3. Soldier. 
And what of Haslerigge?  1. Soldier. 
A Hangman for Haslerigge, I cry.  2 3 4 soldier. 
One and all, One and all.  1. Soldier. 
'Tis Bertlam for my Money Boys, he is Our General, Our Protector, Our King, Our Emperor, Our Caesar, Our Keasar, Our— Even what he pleaseth himself.  2. Soldier. 
If he pleaseth himself, he shall please me.  1. Soldier. 
He is Our rising Sun, and we'll adore him.  3. Soldier. 
For the Speakers Glory's s●t  1. Soldier. 
At nought Boy; how the Slave looked when his Coach was stopped?  4. Soldier. 
Like a Dog outlawed, the palate of his Breech fell down with fear.  1. Soldier. 
He told Us he was our general.  2. Soldier. 
Of what? Bills, Bonds, and Obligations, or Green-sleeves and Pudding-pies.  1. Soldier. 
And we told him he was an Old doring fool, and bade him get him home, and take a caudle of calf's Eggs to Comfort his Learned Coxcomb, for he looked but faintly on't.  3. Soldier. 
And what said he?  1. Soldier. 
Said he! I prithee what could he say that. We would admit for a reasonable answer? We were better principled than so, Reason and our business were two things, what We did We did, that was Our Will, and the word of Command lodged in Our hilts. Alas poor Worm, Cobbet and Duckingfield showed him Cockpit Law, and o're-ruled his Rolls, he understood not the soldier's Dialect, the searching Language of the Sword puzzled his Intellect, the Keenness whereof would have proved too sharp for his Wit, had he been Obstinate or persisted in the Interpretation; and therefore very mannerly he kissed his hand and wheeled about  2. Soldier. 
To the place from whence he came,  3. Soldier. 
And e'er long to the place of Execution.  1. Soldier. 
No, hang him, he will have his Clergy.  2. Soldier. 
Is he such an Infidel to love them?  1. Soldier. 
Yes, as We do: Barbers, that is, while they are Trimming Us; he'd fain go Ala mode to Heaven.  2. Soldier. 
If his foot slip not, but if it do, his sinery is spoilt, he will be so sootified.  1. Soldier. 
He that deals with Pitch must expect no better, black will to black, quoth the devil to the Collier; but, dost thou think there is a Heaven or Hell?  2. Soldier. 
Why dost thou ask me that question? I am a soldier, and so art thou, let's ne'er trouble Our heads about it, a short life, and a merry life I cry, happy Man be his Dole.  3. Soldier. 
And so say I, while We are here, We are here; when We are gone, We are gone, for better or for worse, for rich or for poor; amongst the good or the bad We shall find room I warrant thee Lad, and Our General can expect no more.  2. Soldier. 
And now you have put Us in mind of Our General, I mean Bertlam▪( not Woodfleet)( that Son of a Custard-maker, always quaking) let us as bravely spend his this days benevolence, as he Nobly intended it.  3. Soldier. 
A good Resolution.  1. Soldier. 
Rather a proposition, Brother; but where, how, and in what?  2. Soldier. 
Not in rotgut Beer, I will assure you, or Muddy Ale, Wine for my money.  1. Soul. 
Wine is the life of Action, 'tis Decreed and I obey.  
Blood requires blood, then from the Purple Grape  
I'll suck my fill, spite of you, Jack a Nape:  
There's Poetry for you, Gentlemen.  2. Soul. 
A Pin for your Poetry, March upon't.  Exeunt. They go out, and come in again at the other end of the Stage, 1. Soldier. 
Bring us Wine there, come who sings?  

A Song for the soldiers.  2. Soul. 
Though the Morning was wet,  
We are merrily met  
In a house more dry than Our skin, Boys;  
we'll drink down the day,  
Ne'er question Our Pay,  
Let them heartily laugh out that win, Boys:  Chor. 
Then drink a full Brimmer to him that intends  
For the good of the soldier to labour his ends.  II. 
Let let him flatter and lie,  
What is't to thee or I,  
And Ape Noll in every Condition;  
If we thrive upon't,  
Let all the world want,  
And the City kneel down and petition:  Chor. 
Then drink a full Brimmer to him that intends,  
For the good of the soldier to labour his ends.   Soldiers. 
Hey Boys, come away.  Exeunt. Enter Bertlam, and Walker his Secretary. Bertlam. 
Trotter.  Secretary. 
My Lord?  Bertlam. 
Has Lockwhite been here yet?  Secretary. 
Not yet, my Lord, Sir—  Bertlam. 
What wouldst thou have?  Secretary. 
Nothing, my Lord, not I.  Bertlam. 
Thou hast not thy name for nothing, I see thy Tongue will keep pace with thy wit, and still be Trotting, I rethee leave off thy Impertinences, I have told thee enough on't.  Secretary. 
Why my Lord, and it shall please you.  Bertlam. 
I tell thee it does not please me, 'tis my fear thou'lt be my shame, I sent thee into France to learn some breeding, and thou rendrest me the poorest and the pitifullest account that ever Porter gave on a slight Errant. Dost thou keep Company?  Secretary. 
Yes, my Lord.  Bertlam. 
What are they, of what sort?  Secretary. 
Of the better, Sir.  Bertlam. 
'Tis strange! thy knowledge being so bad:  
Are they Men of Intelligence?  Secretary. 
I think so, my Lord.  Bertlam. 
You think so! sad, I profess 'tis very sad; were it my Case as it is yours, and it behoves you, as you assume the Title of a Secretary;) I'd draw men's Souls out by Inspeculation, and in the Inquest of their Faculties cull out such matter as would yield advantage to him I had relation to, and without this, thou neither dost deserve the place thou hast, nor art thou sit for Company.  Secretary. 
My Lord, I have done my endeavour.  Bertlam. 
A weak one, let Thurloe be your President.  Secretary. 
When your Lordship is Translated to your Highness, and that you have Command of the public Pu●se, I shall be as ready to waste it, as he or the proudest of 'em, but I am but a fool to Explain myself.  Bertlam. 
That time is drawing near.  He turns about in wrath with his dapper Dagger at his Breech. Secr. 
In the mean time I have not been idle, I have done something.  Bertlam. 
What hast thou done that may deserve Recording.  Secretary. 
Why, I have endeavoured to find how the Common Cry of the Town goes, as to this days business.  Bertlam. 
That's something indeed, and how do the People relish it?  Secretary. 
Relish it! why truly Sir it is thought—  Bertlam. 
Thou wilt return to thy Vomit.  Secretary. 
Why truly Sir it is thought, and if I may speak my thoughts freely, the Rump was but a stinking Rump, and scented so ill in the Nostrils of the People that they feared a sudden Plague attended the Concavity, and with much Joy blessed the Rue and Wormword you brought to their Conservation.  Bertlam. 
Dost thou know what thou sayst?  Secretary. 
I could say more, Sir.  Bertlam. 
To as little purpose— begone, I would be private— yet if Lockwhite come admit him.  Secretary. 
Nay my Lord, I warrant here will be the whole fry presently.  Bertlam. 
Thou a Secretary, and talk so like a Fisherman; what Fry, you fool?  Secretary. 
Woodfleet and the rest, Sir.  Bertlam. 
My mind is not at rest while thou art here. Begun—  Exit Secretary. 
I wonder Lockwhite comes not? he's a Man  
Has run all h●zzards, with as good success,  
Except Old Noll, as any Man I know;  
He was his Creature, and he now is mine,  
And hitherto he has performed his part  
In my Revenge upon that family,  
So home, even to their doors, that my disgrace  Enter Secretary and Lockwhite. 
Lies buried in their Infamy— How now—  Secretary. 
My Lord, he's come.  Bertlam. 
'Tis well— Leave Us.  
My Lord, how goes Causes?  Lockwhite. 
They cannot go amiss, Sir,  
Whilst you are Advocate.  Bertlam. 
The Sword thou meanest,  
That must decide all Controversies.  Lockwhite. 
It will do much Sir, but policy puts the best Edge to't.  Bertlam. 
And that you have, come my Lord be free,  
Where shall We set up Our Rest?  
We have had Tossing times.  Lockwhite. 
Indeed, my Lord, Time hath been tossed in a blanket; but I hope now We shall use time better than so.  Bertlam. 
As how?  Lockwhite. 
You may Trim him, Sir,  
You have him by the foretop.  Bertlam. 
If I thought so, I'd hold him fast.  Lockwhite. 
Now, or never, If you let slip your hold you are undone, aut Caesar aut Nullus.  Bertlam. 
But the Remora to that is Woodfleet.  Lockwhite. 
Alas! you know him, Sir.  Bertlam. 
True, he's but of a softly Nature.  Lockwhite. 
A fine Commendation for a General, that should be rough as war itself, but he has a soft place in his head too, and that's worse, how ever he's a fit Subject for your purpose, and therefore, Sir, use him as Catiline did Lentulus, drill him along with hope that all this tends to his only advancement, fools are soon persuaded; And believe me( my Lord) that was the very Engine made him consent to th' blowing up of his Brother, a Gentleman in some sense better qualified.  Bertlam. 
Ay, but a small nutshell I am confident may with ease contain both their Courages, yet I know Woodfleet will sleer( he dare not grin) after Honour, and is as greedy on't, as a Cat is of a dish of Milk.  Lockwhite. 
'Twill be ill bestowed, Sir, if it light on him.  Bertlam. 
What, a Dish of Milk?  Lockwhite. 
You misinterpret me, Honour I meant Sir,  
If you make him groom of your Close-stool,  
'Twill draw more from your goodness then his Merit,  
And keep his wife in Smocks too, during pleasure,  
That will be( Sir) your highness' pleasure.  Bertlam. 
It is not come to that yet.  Lockwhite. 
Oliver had it, his time is past, and your time's coming on, Princes have power o'er th' persons of both S●xes.  Bertlam. 
Name him no more, I hate his memory.  Lockwhite. 
I confess I do not much care for't, yet I hate nothing brought, or brings me profit. I loved the Father of the heroics, while he had a power to do me good, that failing, my reason did direct me to that Party then prevailing, the fag end of the Parliament. What though I took the Oath of Allegiance as Oliver, your Lordship▪ and others did,( without the which I could not have sat there?) yet it Conducing not to Our Advantage, It was an ill Oath, better broke then kept, and so are all Oaths in the stricter sense, the Laws of Nature and of Nations do dispenle with matters of Divinity in such a case, for no 〈◊〉 willingly would be an Enemy to himself, the 〈◊〉 Beaf●s do by instinct of Nature seek for self-reservation, vation, why not Man who is the Lord of Reason? Oaths, what are they, but Bubbles, that break with their own Emptiness.  Bertlam. 
You say very right, my Lord, I am of your Opinion.  Lockwhite. 
Yet the Pulpiteirs belch forth Fire and Brimstone against it: But my Lord, how could I have served my country, by setting the Dane and Sweed by the Ears, while the Thread for a Protectorian interest was spinning here? how could I have carried on, or rather promoted the Design for Jamaica,( though it went in Revilo's name?) how could I have lopped off those ill branches to the Common wealth, the Cavaliers and Essex his discontented Reformadoes? how could I have showed myself loyal to your Interest, by foolling Fleetwood in the disseating of Dick, by his dissolving the honest Parliament as they call it, and bringing in the Odious Rump? how could I in my Speech at the council of State, have raked up Revilo's ashes, by bespattering him and his family, and told Ireton, how Providence had brought things about, and that the hand of the Lord was in't, when I meant nothing less? how could I( under favour) have advised you to this days enterprise, if I should have startled, or scrupled at Oaths, preferred honesty or Divinity before temporal interest or human reason? I desire( my Lord) in this case you will be my Judge.  Bertlam. 
Nay, my Lord, you are your own Judge in this Case, but in my Opinion you have done yourself but Justice.  Lockwhite. 
And he that will not do Justice to himself, will never do it to another.  Bertlam. 
You advise well.  Lockwhite. 
My Lord, take it from me, He that will live in this world, must be endowed with these three rare Qualities; Dissimulation, Equivocation, and Mental reservation.  Enter Walker. Bertlam. 
How now, the news with you.  Secretary. 
The Lord Woodfleet, Sir.  Bertlam. 
What of him?  Secretary. 
My Lord, he is come, Sir.  Bertlam. 
Prithee— Thy wit and his may walk together, admit him— I knew I should be troubled with him.  Exit Walker. Lockwhite. 
I doubt not but you have prepared yourself for the Encounter.  Enter Woodfleet. Bertlam. 
I am pretty well Antidoted against the poison, He's here— My Lord, your most submissive Servant.  Lockwhite. 
My Lord, I cannot compliment, but I am in heart your Creature, that is, at your disposal.  Woodfleet. 
Seriously, I profess, I cannot reach your meaning, Gentlemen.  Bertlam. 
Our meaning's not amiss, Sir,  
We know Sir, what we say.  Woodfleet. 
Indeed, I profess I believe so Gentlemen, I hope things are now in the Lords handling, and will go on well, and become the doings of Christians.  Lockwhite. 
The Government has been all this while in the horrid hands of Infidels, Jews, Pagans and Turks— I must make him up a medley.  [ Aside to Bertlam.] Woodfleet. 
Yea, abomination hath been in the hands of Iniquity.  Bertlam. 
But, my Lord, those hands are now cut off, and all our Ambition is, that your Lordship would take the Government into the white hands of your goodness.  Woodfleet. 
Who I, Gentlemen— Seriously— I profess— Indeed— And by yea and nay law— You shame me— So you do! I can say no more, alas! Ay!  Lockwhite. 
You— Why, my Lord, if you knew yourself as well as I do, you would say more.  Woodfleet. 
Truly, I think, I have been something in my time,  Bertl. 
Something! You have been more than something.  Lockwhite. 
That's stark nought,( my Lord) but it shall pass.  Aside. Within, where's my Lord Bertlam? where's my Lord Bertlam? Enter Walker. Bertlam. 
What's the meaning of this?  Secretary. 
The Lord Stonware, the Lord Huson, Colonel Cobbet, Colonel Duckinfield, and others, desire your favourable and Courteous Admittance, Sir.  Bertlam. 
By all means, let them Enter: but my Lord be sparing of your Speech, for these are Catching fellows, and will interpret strangely, Our aim is only to advance your Interest.  Woodfleet. 
You know my Lord, I can keep my Tongue within my Teeth, sometimes.  Lockwhite. 
'Tis a high point of Wisdom in you, Sir.  Woodfleet. 
Oddso they are here, I cry Mum—  Enter Stonware, Desborough, Huson, Cobbet, Duckinfield. Lockwhite. 
The less you speak, the better 'twill be, Sir.  Bertlam. 
My Lord Stonware.  Stonware. 
Many Benisons light on you for this days wark my good Lord.  Desborough. 
How do you do my Lord Woodfleet? how do you my Lord Bertlam, how do you my Lord Lockwhite? and how do you all? Ha.  Woodfleet. 
The better for your asking, Sir.  Desborough. 
Say you so, then I'll ask again, and how? and how?  Huson. 
And what? and what?  Cobbet. 
Your Language cannot be Translated, Brother,  Huson. 
Let them take me by the meaning then.  Stonware. 
By th' Members, hawd there my Lord, 'tis sear, and faugh pley, Sirs.  Duckinfield. 
My Lords, I have not been backward in this days business, nor any here I think.  Bertlam. 
'Tis confessed( Sir) what would you infer farther upon't?  Duckinfield. 
And therefore requisite We should know how things will go.  Lockwhite. 
As they may Sir, soft fire makes sweet Malt, you know that Colonel.  Desborough. 
And that I know very well too, and you have said very well, as much as a Man can say, and no more.  Huson. 
And that's enough.  Duckingfield. 
But We are in a Chaos, a Confusion.  Huson. 
A mere Chaos, a Confusion.  Cobbet. 
And the People expect suddenly something from Us.  Lockw. 
Why Gentlemen, Rome was not built in a day.  Stonware. 
Much wisdom geod faith in that, Sirs, there's much wisdom in that ice sure ye.  Bertlam. 
At three a Clock we'll meet at Wallingford-House, and discuss the business further, what say you my Lord?  Woodfleet. 
I profess I say so too, at three a Clock be't Gentlemen, what say you?  Duckingfield. Huson. Cobbet. 
we'll wait upon my Lords— Your Servants.  Exeunt Duckingfield, Huson, Cobbet. Desbor. 
I protest I am glad of this withal my heart, for I have business in Smithfield where my Horse stands, now it comes in my mind, on my Conscience the Roguish Ostler has not given him oats to day, and the knave's Hay is Musty too; well, my Man is such another ass, farewell Gentlemen, I'll see you anon, if I come not soon enough, pray keep me a place in the council, or let my Vote stand for one, no matter how.  Exit. Stonware. 
Au geod rason too my Lord, he's a braw mon this, my Leords ye kenn him we'll enough.  Lockwhite. 
And you too, Sir.  Bertlam. 
Come my Lord Stonware, We presume you are a knowing Man, to what kind of Government stand you affected?  Stonware. 
E'en tol what ye please Sir.  Lockwhite. 
What think you of a Single person? here's my Lord Woodfleet.  Stonware. 
Marry an he's a braw Mon, Sir, bet are ye in geod earnest Sirs.  Bertlam. 
What else, my Lord.  Stonware. 
Bred a God ice for him then.  Lockwhite. 
You see, my Lord, how heaven does raise you friends.  Woodfleet. 
Seriously I profess my Lord you know, 'tis none of my seeking.  Aside. Lockwhite. 
Nor is like to be of your enjoyin— My Lord, a word with you, what if my Lord Bertlam were the Man?  Stonware. 
Reight Sir— Ou'z in on word ya ha spoken awe, Sir, he's a Mon, indeed Mon, give Stonware ha any brains Sir.  Lockwhite. 
You will live I see Sir— My Lord he's your friend now.  Bertlam. 
No matter whose, he's a required Property, and must be used by some body— And why so melancholy, my Lord?  Woodfleed. 
I profess not I, I was thinking 'twas Dinner time.  Bertlam. 
Will your Lordship please to take part of our small Cheer?  Woodfleet. 
No indeed my Lord I thank you, not I, my wife I profess stays for me, adieu Gentlemen all—  Exit Woodfleet. Omnes. 
Your Servants my Lord.  Bertlam. 
Nor you my Lord Stonware?  Stonware. 
Ne in geod faith, Sir, pardon me, I'll invited by a gay Mon Sirs, tol platters of bram Capons Sir, and awe the foles in the Eyre, Sirs, I an marry Sirs, tol ove a my none country men ta, geod faith noow.  Bertlam. 
If you please to stay my Lord, you're welcome.  Stonware. 
God's benison and mine light on you, Sir, geod faith, you're like a bram Mon, 'twould berst a Mons heart to part fro ye, I'll ce'n you're humble Servant my geod-Loord.  Bertlam. 
You'll stay then.  Stonware. 
I marry Sir, widow you're none sell tol death Sir, give ye ta please Sir.  Woodfleet. 
I knew, a small hair would have drawn him to your Table, without this ado.  Bertlam. 
My Lord, lead Lockwhite the way.  Stonware. 
After ye is geod manners Sir—  Speaking to the L. Lockwhite. Lockwhite. 
That's more than you know— My Lord I am your Servant.  Bertlam. 
Well I'll break off the compliment then.  Exeunt.  

ACT the II. SCENE the I.  Enter the Lady Bertlam, and Prissilla her Woman. Lady Bertlam. 
Priss, Priss.  Prissilla. 
Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
Why, how now Priss? where hast thou left thy breeding, in thy other Pocket? Art thou not read in Times and Seasons?  Prissilla. 
I never was such a fool to put trust in almanac-makers yet, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
What a Wench art thou? and why Madam, prithee? there's a word indeed, as Common as the Cries about the Town.  Prissilla. 
Your Ladyship hath used me to't.  Lady Bertlam. 
I'll break that custom, 'tis a rude one; hast thou no wit Wench? canst thou pick out no better title for me.  Prissilla. 
Insooth I cannot reach it yet, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
Reach a fools head of thy own, sure thou art Mad, Wench.  Prissilla. 
The Secretary indeed says I am a Mad Wench, but I thank my Stars I can make a fool of Twenty such as he is, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
Again, can flesh and blood endure this, I must new mould thy Manners, Madam! there's a gammer's title, out upon't.  Prissilla. 
Seriously I know not by what other Names or Titles to distinguish you, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
I profess thou art dull, abominable dull; dost thou not know upon what Score my dear, and second-self is gone to Wallingford-House.  Prissilla. 
How should I Madam, I cannot Divine?  Lady Bertlam. 
Lord help thy head, why, he is gone to be made a made a Man Wench.  Prissilla. 
Was he not so before, if not, your Ladyship hath had but an ill time on't.  Lady Bertlam. 
The Prince of Men, you Baggage; thou art such a dull one.  Prissilla. 
I cannot help it, Madam, while I remain in Ignorance.  Lady Bertlam. 
I see I must open thy Eyes by way of Explanation; Then know that from henceforth I will be called her Highness.  Prissilla. 
Nay, now you tell me what you would be called, I shall Obey your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
It will do well, and 'twill be but your Duty, prithee tell me, how dost think I shall Behave myself in't?  She struts itt Prissilla. 
Highly well, you cannot choose, you begin so soon, if it shall please your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
I think I am better shaped for't then Iea●, or what do you call her Cromwell.  She surveys herself. Priss. 
Abundantly, for at her best She was but a bundle of ●— Madam— Lord, I am so forgetful, Highness I should have said.  Lady Bertlam. 
That's the Word, Con it, and be perfect in't, or I profess you and I shall part—  Priss repeats to herself, Highness, Highness, Highness, Highness. Enter Walker. 
What's the news with you?  
Am I sent for to Wallingford-House?  Secretary. 
No, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
What a beetle-headed fellow's this.  Prissilla. 
Highness, you changeling; you must call her Highness.  Prissilla pulls him by the skirt. Secretary. 
No, and it shall please your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
It pleases me very well,  She struts it, and surveys herself. 
What's your business?  Secretary. 
Gammer Cromwell would speak a word or two with your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
Bid the poor Woman wait without, I'll do her what good I can for her children's sake.  Prissilla. 
Or rather for husband's sake, if it shall please your Highness; good turns ought not to be forgotten.  Lady Bertlam. 
Thou sayst true, One good turn requires another, he was, I confess, a Man every Inch of him.  Prissilla. 
Ay, and though he was out with my Lord many times, he would be in with you, as the saying is, and please your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
Well, I care not if I go to her.  Prissilla. 
Your Highness will decline much your State then.  Lady Bertlam. 
Sayst thou so Priss ●Walker admit her, I'll hear what the poor Creature can say for herself.  Exit Walker. Enter Walker, and Mistress Crommell the Elder. Mrs. Cromwell. 
I thought I should have stayed at the door till Midnight; Marry come up Mrs. Minks. Is there such a do to speak with you? No marvel indeed.  Lady Bertlam. 
Prithee woman, what wouldst have?  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Thy Husband by the Throat, had I him here, and I could find 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.  Lady Bertlam. 
The Woman sure is lately come from Billingsgate: Priss, ask her how goes Oysters there.  Priss. 
She's very quick of hearing, an't please your Highness.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Highness in the devil's Name, it is not come to that sure yet, is it? hah! Thy Husband may be hanged first like a Crafty knave as he is; Did my Husband make him a Lord for this? to ruin our Family? Or as the Word is indeed, Trapan'um? Curse on the time thy Husband was born, he fooled 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 Cromwell's will become far more Odious then ever Needham could make the heroics; woe worth the time.  Lady Bertlam. 
Priss, I pity the Creature, ne'er trust me, alas it Weeps.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Thou liest Baggage; I scorn thy pity, my Spirit is above it— Let me come at her— As old as I am, I can spoil that fine face, my dear, deceased Lord, did so much dote on, let me come at her, Hands off, I'll do't, thou Jezabell.  Priss holds her. Lady Bertlam. 
She begins to rave, send her to Bedlam among her Consorts.  Walker. 
I promise you, you shall have, clean straw Mrs. Cromwell.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Out Rogue, Rascal, Vagabon, a fellow raised from the Horse heels, dost thou upbraid me too? I'll be the death of thee, if thou com'st near me. Oh Dick, Dick, hadst thou had but thy father's Spirit, thy Mother ne'er had come unto this Shame.  She falls back into a Chair. Lady Bertlam. 
Priss, a Cordial presently, Odds so She faints.  Prissilla goes in and enters immediately. Priss. 
I run, an't please your Highness— I have it here.  Lady Bertlam. 
Prithee give it her, I would not for a hundred pound She should die here, we should be put to th' Charge of burying her.  Then Priss offers her the Cordial, She starts up and with her hand casts it on the ground. Prissilla. 
'Tis a precious Cordial-Water of my own making, Madam, I hope there's no offence in that.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
I need it not, proud Woman, I Divine this scorn will be revenged on thee and thine.  Exit. Lady Bertlam. 
Farewell Nought,  
thou'rt better lost then sought.  Prissilla. 
She has a Notable Spirit of her own.  Lady Bertlam. 
'Twill get her nothing, She beats against the Wind.  Prissilla. 
She's Wind fallen, an't please your highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
'Tis an ill Wind they say bloughs no good, let her rave, and rail, my dearest second-self will fare the better for't.  Prissilla. 
The fox fares best when he is cursed.  Walker. 
Priss, Priss, a word or two, Sweet Priss.  As they are going off, the Secretary pulls Priss by the Sleeve. Prissilla. 
Why how now sauce? Plain Priss? Am not I her highness' Maid of Honour?  Walker. 
I know thou art a Maid of Honour, but the meaning of this, dear Priss?  Prissilla. 
The meaning of what, thou Novice?  Walker. 
That Madam is so suddenly turned to Highness, Is my Lord made Protector?  Priss. 
No, you Dunce; well, thou art the simplest Secretary! what must I find 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 aught I see; she is before hand with him, and hath installed herself already, I'm sure my voice 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.  Walker. 
Have I been wanting in that Duty, Priss?  Prissilla. 
Wanting, why thou art always 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.  Walker. 
But I have something to say to thee, oh Ungrateful Priss!  Prissilla. 
Ungrateful? and why Ungrateful, pray?  Walker. 
Hast thou forgot the small token I sent thee.  Prissilla. 
I was a small one indeed if it came from thee.  Walker. 
The Tweezerss out of France  Prissilla. 
Did Travail hither, but were as dull as he that sent them, they would not cut a feather. Is that your precious Present? If thou hast no better, Walk alone for Priss, She's not for thy Company.  Walker. 
Nay, Dear Priss, shall We be Married.  Prissilla. 
What are you so hot, Sir? there's a jest indeed, Marry, before your prenticeship is out.  Walker. 
What dost thou mean Wench? prithee kiss me.  Prissilla. 
I'll see better Clothes on your back first.  Walker. 
Why, are not these good?  Prissilla. 
Enough, had not a fool the Wearing of 'em.  Walker. 
Thou Mayest say any thing Priss, I may have better.  Prissilla. 
When that time comes, and thy Wit is more refined, I may say something to thee.  Walker. 
Oh my Dear Priss, in the mean time, let me but kiss thy hand.  Prissilla. 
That you may, but hear me, be not proud on't, Nor take this as a punctual promise from me, I love myself better than so.  Walker. 
Yet I may live in hope.  Prissilla. 
If it were not for hope, the heart would break, they say: But odds so, I forget my Duty to her Highness.  Walker. 
And so do I, thou hast Transported me.  Prissilla. 
Not to Jamaica yet.  Exeunt. Enter Mrs. Cromwell, and the Lady Woodfleet. Lady Woodfleet. 
Good Lady Mother, be patient.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Good Lady Fool, hold your prating; Was ever Mother so unhappy, or Children so sensles●ly ungracious?  Lady Woodfleet. 
I beseech you think not so, things will make for the best.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Oh fond Girl, what hope canst thou create unto thyself can save Us now from sinking? We must perish, undoubtedly We must; though Bertlam 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 idolised Parliament, he set up, out of a Malice to thy father's Memory, to make it Odious, because he pulled the Babel down, yet now he has usurped that privilege 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.  Enter Woodfleet. Woodfleet. 
Mother I profess I'm glad to see you here, ne'er trust me law, how do you forsooth?  Mrs. Cromwell. 
The worse for thee, I wish I ne'er had known the time occasioned thee to call me Mother.  Woodfleet. 
Why forsooth Mother, if it please your Highness?  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Oh Monstruous, not to be endured! 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 council s●ilted up Our Honours, which thou pull'st down as fast by thy simplicity.  Woodfleet. 
I profess, ne'er trust me, I speak Ingeniously ne'er stir now, I am no such Baby neither, as you take me to be, Mother.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
A mere 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 called Old Joan, old Bess, old Bedlam, old Witch, old hag, 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 nicknames, this Infamy and more thou hast brought on Us.  She Weeps. Lady Woodfleet. 
Good Mother, do not Weep.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Would I were dead; Nothing Torments me more, then that thy Father, who whilst he lived, was called the most Serene, the most Illustrious and most Puissant Prince;( whilst that the fawning Poets panegyrics swelled with Ambitious epithets) is now called th' firebrand of Hell, Monster of Mankind, Regicide, Homicide, murderer of Piety, a Lump of flesh soaked in a Sea of blood, traitor to God and goodness, an Advancer of Fiends and Darkness; such as these and worse, could I but think on 'em, are daily cast into my Ears, by every idle fellow.  Woodfleet. 
I pray take their Names, I profess Mother, I'll Order them, as I am here.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Thou Order 'em, alas! 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 blemished 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'er 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 burdens, and am too Old, and Ugly to cry oranges; If these Trades fail me, than I must turn Bawd, they think me tough enough t'endure that Tempest, and tell me there's a place called Sodom, will receive me and my Retinue; I know it not, but thus I am made a public 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.  Woodfleet. 
I profess Mother I will be even with 'em, I know what I know, and there's an end, as I am here.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
I would there were an end to Our disgraces, which I do prophecy is but beginning. What will become of that fair Monument thy careful father did Erect unto thy memory, before( lest none should do't after) thy death, next to thy Husband Ireton's; 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.  Woodfleet. 
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.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
'Tis very likely, when all is done, shouled be the Man will prove their Scorn and laughingstock.  Woodfl. 
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.  Lady Woodfleet. 
Very well, and do believe't, though you forsooth are so doubtful.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Doubtful, of what? of that I never heard.  Woodfleet. 
No more words, but Mum, I say, I charge you sweetheart.  Enter a Messenger from the Committee of Safety. Messenger. 
My Lord, the council waits your coming.  Woodfleet. 
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.  Messenger. 
I shall, my Lord, most honoured Lady your most humble Servant. Your humble Servant Madam.  Exit. Mrs. Cromwell. 
I have seen this fellows face before, methinks he does retain something o'th' duty he paid me formerly.  Lady Woodfleet. 
Be put patient Mother, I'll warrant, things will go according to your wish.  Woodfleet. 
Ay, if you'll 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. Sweetheart, pray make much of my Mother.  Exit Woodfleet. Lady Woodfleet. 
Will you please to walk in, forsooth.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
My heart was very heavy when I came hither, 'tis somewhat now at ease, by the disburthening of my Oppressing Griefs.  Lady Woodfleet. 
I hope forsooth, you'll have no cause to Create more of them.  Exeunt. Enter Lady Bertlam and Prissilla. Lady Bertlam. 
Hast thou Summoned those inferior things?  Priss. 
What the Ladies of the last Edition?  Lady Bertlam. 
Those whose husbands have been stygmatized by Noll and Dick, with the Title of baronet's.  Priss. 
I gave Order to Trotter to Trot about it, an't shall please your Highness.  Enter Trotter. Trotter. 
The Ladies are coming forth.  Lady Bertlam. 
They were not bound to their good behaviour, but— 'Tis well they Understand their Duties; set Us Our Chair of State, and then admit 'em.  Enter Ladies. Lady Bertlam. 
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.  Priss. 
By what Authority, and from whom do you derive your Titles of Madams, I pray.  Ladies. 
From Our Husbands.  Priss. 
What are they? of what standing?  1. Lady. 
Of no long standing, We confess.  Priss. 
That's a common complaint, and a general grievance.  Lady Bertlam. 
And shall be taken into consideration for a thing we know; Priss, prick that down in your Note book: Who made your husband's Knights?  Ladies. 
Oliver the first  Lady Bertlam. 
Of horrid memory, put that in your Note book, Priss,  Ladies. 
And Richard.  Priss. 
Of Sottish memory, shall I put that down too, '●is remarkable?  Lady Bertlam. 
By all means, put it down in the Margin, as a hand directing to the rest.  Priss. 
Of their foolish Families, 'tis done an't please your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
What Coares of arms do your Husbands beat?  1 Lady. 
Who? Mine, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
Ay, thine, Woman.  Prissilla. 
You a Lady, and show so little manners: Forget her Highness!  Lady Bertlam. 
I pass by their dirty breeding. Woman. We say, what Coat of Arms does thy Husband give?  1 Lady. 
He bears Argent upon a Bend Gules, three cuckold's Heads attired Or.  Prissilla. 
Three Cuckolds Heads! Why one is sufficient in all conscience.  1 Lady. 
'Tis a Paternal Coat belonging to the Family of the wittols.  Prissilla. 
It may be they were Founders of Cuckoldsaven.  Lady Bertlam. 
No more of Cuckolds, Priss, 'tis approbrious, and intrencheth much upon the honour of our Sex: Put that down in your Note-book as a public Grievance, and it concerns Us to look after, and the Committee of Safety to Remedy.  2 La. 
'Tis a material and punctual point to a Woman.  Lady Bertlam. 
And what does thy Husband give, prithee?  2 Lady. 
He bears Three gauntlets Dexter Or.  Priscilla. 
Or again: Your Highness may perceive they have had Golden times on't.  Lady Bertlam. 
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?  3 Lady. 
Ours is but Parte per pale.  Lady Bertlam. 
Parte per pale: What's that?  Priss. 
A Motley Coat of two colours.  Lady Bertlam. 
'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.  1 Lady. 
If none can make a Knight but he that is a Knight, how shall our Husbands receive honour from your Husband, who is no Knight himself?  Lady Bertlam. 
Let me alone to Dub him.  Priss. 
You have done that already, and it please your Highness.  1 Lady. 
If Dubbing our Husbands will carry it, we can do that ourselves.  Lady Bertlam. 
But Ours is of greater honour and Antiquity, and therefore ought to take place. Receive that as a maxim from Us, dispute no further.  Ladies. 
We shall not.  Lady Bertlam. 
Since, being enfranchised through our grace and favour you are become Members of Our commonwealth, Declare your Grievances, and we'll hear 'em, whether public or private.  1 Lady. 
Begin with the private first, Sweet Mrs. Priss.  Prissilla. 
This Lady complains her Husband prays too much, and it take him off his other business.  Lady Bertlam. 
There can be no Charity in that Man is remiss in his Benevolence. Receive that as another maxim— Priss, You mind Us not.  Pris. 
I'm pricking of it down▪ and't please your highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
But, it may be he prays when's Zeal's on fire( as Bells ring) backwards.  1 Lady. 
And then he ●ails against the Whore of Babylon, and then the people think he calls me Whore.  Lady Bertlam. 
That's gross, and shows small breeding; We'll have it rectified, it concerns Us.  2 Lady. 
And my husband says I talk in my sleep, and call on Men to come to bed to me, and discover his infirmities.  Lady Bertlam. 
Oh! have a care of that.  2 Lady. 
Have a care of what? Were he capable of more care of me, I should have less care of my self.  Prissilla. 
I commend the Lady's resolution.  Lady Bertlam. 
And, what sayst thou?  3 Lady. 
Why truly I cannot say much. My husband is a Man of reason, and is willing I should satisfy myself; he know the ●ailings of Women, and imputes it to the frailty of our Sex.  Lady Bertlam. 
He's an honest Man, I warrant him.  Prissilla. 
Such a Husband for my money.  1 Lady. 
As you are a Lover of Women, let the Act of the 24 of June against Fornication be repealed; Me thinks it frights as there were a Furnace in'●.  Lady Bertlam. 
As there were Conveniencies in that Act, which tied up men's tongues from babbling, so there were destructive Inconveniencies in't, familiarity not so frequently used between Man and Woman. When know, Society is the life of republics— Martin the first, and Peter's the second— Indeed, things were rather done in fear then freedom.  1 Lady. 
In a Free State who is not Free?  2 La. 
I beseech you in the next place, that the Cavaliers may not be looked upon as Monsters, for they are Men.  1 Lady. 
And that it may be imputed no Crime to keep 'em company, for they are honest.  3 Lady. 
And men that will stand to their Tackling.  Lady Bertlam. 
Well, we'll have these amended: What have you more to say?  1 Lady. 
Now, Mrs. Priss, to the public, I pray.  Prissilla. 
Whereas several abuses have lately crept in amongst Us.  Lady Bertlam. 
That's a small abuse; Love must creep till it can go.  Priss. 
Her Highness hath the Feeling sense of it, and gropes out the meaning already, you see.  1 Lady. 
We could not go to Hyde-park, nor Spring-garden so much as with our own husbands.  Lady Bertlam. 
Why, what had you to do to go with them? Could you find no better company?  1 Lady. 
Good men were scarce; and then to avoid suspicion.  Priss. 
In my foolish opinion that rather bred it; what walked with your own Husbands? How contrary to Conscience and high breeding is that?  Lady Bertl. 
When things are settled, we'll have an Act that no Lady or Gentelwoman shall be put to that Slavery, but shall have liberty to walk or— talk, with whom they please: Now may a multitude of men's blessings light on you. Priss proceed.  Priss. 
Here's a Lady desires a pa●ten for Painting.  Lady Bertlam. 
'Tis too great for a Subject, we intend it for ourselves, and to that end, have employed several persons as our Agents in foreign parts, to find out the readiest and securest way for making it, that it may not eat into the Cheeks, beget Wrinkles, impair the eyesight, or rot the Teeth.  3 Lady. 
I have found the woeful experience of that.  Lady Bertlam. 
We have Intelligence of a Water that will in two hours' time take the withered skin off the face, and a new one shall supply the place. That no Lady or Gentlewoman, though she have outworn Sixty, shall appear above five and twenty years of Age.  Priss. 
That makes your Highness look so smooth upon't.  Lady Bertlam. 
There's no Invention for sleeking, glazing, or anointing, but we have notice of; and for Powders and Perfumes, we may be scented a street off.  Ladies. 
Oh sweet Woman!  Lady Bertlam. 
Then for Attyring, and to find out the Mazes of Fashions, there's no Lady but must follow Us.  Ladies. 
You are at a great charge, sure.  Lady Bertlam. 
We are so, but 'tis Princely.—  [ She rises] 1 Lady. 
We hope your Highness will remember the foregoing premises.  Lady Bertlam. 
Priss, be it your care to mind Us; We must to Wallingford House and have 'em confirmed.  
And in the mean time, let our music play  
To Celebrate the Glory of this Day.  Exeunt.  

ACT the III. SCENE the I.  Enter one of the Dorekeepers, he trims up the Table, lays the Paper and Standishes in their places; then Enter 2 Clerks to the Committee. 1 Clerk. 
The Lords are coming.  Dorekeeper. 
Are you sure on't?  Clerk. 
They are upon us already.  Dorekeep. 
That they are not, I'll assure you, Gentlemen; However I will attend my charge. Keep back there, keep back there, I say, keep back there, make room for the Lords there. God bless your Honours.  Enter Bertlam, Woodfleet, Lockwhit, and Stoneware. Enter Duckingfield and Cobbet, they pass a compliment to the rest, Cobbet takes Stoneware by the hand, Duckinfield and they walk together whisp●ring, Bertlam Woodfleet and Lockwhit do the like, after a turn or two Bertlam speaks. Bertlam. 
It must be done( my Lord) we have nothing else to take him off.  Lockwhit. 
Scots, we know generally are greedy of gain, and since we have made him President, and sensible of our Secrets, 'tis requisite we do something to stop his Mouth.  Bertlam. 
Lest he— No matter, it must be done, my Lord.  Woodfleet. 
Say you so, I profess, seriously, If I thought good would ensue of it, with all my heart.  Cobbett. 
My Lord believe us, all We can serve you in you may Command.  Duckingfield. 
And you shall find it so when occasion serves, and the Governments new moulded.  Stoneware 
Marry Sirs, a●ise sa mould itt, 'twas near so moulded, sen the Dam bound the head on't.  Cobbet. 
I know there are some Ambitious spirits, would have it settled in a Single person, but we are quite against it.  Stoneware. 
The few devil splitt his pipe will be sort than, for Archibald.  Ducking. 
But my Lord Bertlam is a stirring man, you see,  Stoneware. 
Bertlam, let Bertlam gang tol Bedlam in the Deels nam, what ha I to da with him, I'll year humble Servant Gentlemen.  Enter Desbrough and Huson. Desbr. 
How do you, how do you, and how dow do you my Lords and Gentlemen all, how do you?  Huson. 
And how do you, how do you?  Stoneware. 
Ah my geod Loords, ken ye me, Sirs.  Bertlam. 
We shall make up our number anon: Will you please to assume the Chair, my Lord.  Stoneware. 
Marry, and ice your humble Servant, my geod Lord Bertlam.  Desbr. 
Come come, What Government must we have? what Government must we have?  Huson. 
Ay, I, I; What government? Let's know quickly: Come, you talk of Conservetat, Conservetat, 'tis a hard word, hang't; but there's tors in't, I'm sure of that.  Duckinfield. 
Conservetor, my Lord! Conservator.  Huson. 
Conservators let it be then; When shall we have 'em, when shall we have 'em?  Bertlam. 
My Lord, We'll think on that hereafter.  Huson. 
Hereafter comes not yet then, it seems.  Desbr. 
But while the grass grows the Horse may starve.  Cobbet. 
Howe'er, Gramercy Horse, though't has no tail to't.  Stoneware. 
Geod faith Sirs, and I'll tell you a blithe tale of a Scottish Puddin, will gar ye awe tell laugh, Sirs.  Bertlam. 
That Puddin will have no enter ●o't, good my Lord.  Desbr. 
I love to hear of a puddin, so it be a bag-puddin.  Huson. 
So do I, if it be a good one.  Stoneware. 
Bred a goad, as geod a puddin as e'er was cut up.  Woodfleet. 
I profess my hair stands an end.  Duckinfield 
No more Swea●ing, my Lord, 'tis not seasonable in this place.  Stoneware. 
Hark ye me then, Sirs, mind ye me now or near: There was a poor woman, Sirs, boged o'th' churl the Speaker, Sirs, an heed gee her noought whilk guard her to let a crack, Sirs; I marry quo the Woman quo now I see my Rump has a Speaker too. Haw lick ye my tail now, Sirs?  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha!  Bertlam. 
My Lord, I know you have many of 'em, but pray let's mind our business.  Desbr. 
Business, Why there's the thing; I think every man ought to mind his business: I should go and bespeak a pair of Mittins and shears for my Sheerer, a pair of Cards for my Thrasher, a Scythe for my Mower, hob-nail shoes for my Carter, a screen for my Lady Wife; and I know not what: My head is so full of business, I cannot stay, Gentlemen.  Lockwhit. 
Fie, fie, Gentlemen, will you neglect the business of this Day; We meet to gratify our Friends.  Desbr. 
Nay, then do what you will, so I may rise time enough to see my Horse at night.  Lockwhit. 
Is that it? Clerk, read what we past the other Day; I mean the heads of 'em; what Papers and Petitions remain in your hands, referring to this day's business.  Cobbet. 
Forbid we should be backward in rewarding such have done Service to the commonwealth.  Lockwhit 
There's Money enough, Gentlemen.  Duckinfield. 
If we knew where to find it. However, Clerk, read▪ To Walter Walton Draper 6929 l. 6 s. 5 d. for Blacks for his Highness.  Bertlam. 
For a Halter: Put it down for Oliver Cromwel's Burial. We'll have no record rise up in judgement against Us for such a Villain.  Lockwhit. 
But first let's consider whether that were good Service, or not.  Bertlam. 
However, we'll give him a Paper for't: Let him get his money when he can: Paper is not so Dear, Gentlemen, and the Clerks pains will be rewarded.  Stoneware. 
Geod Consideration my geod Lord; bred Sir, that Cromwell was the veriest Limmer loon that ere come intoll our country, the faugh Deel has ta'en him byth' Lugs by this time for robbing so rich a country; bred Sirs, I.  Woodfleet. 
I profess my Lord Stoneware you are to blame, I promise you, you are; Why do you Swear so?  Stonew. 
Geod faith I gi' you thanks for your chastisement, I'll sit ye Sir, au professta, an se give you ha me.  Cobb. 
That may bring you profit indeed. Clerk, proceed.  Clerk. 
To Walter Frost Treasurer of the Contingencies, 5000 l. To Mr. Edward Backwel 4600 l. To Mr. Hutchinson Treasurer of the N●vy, 200000l.  Stoneware. 
O●nds, there's asum! marry it come from a Canon sure. Clerk. To Mr. Backwell more 326 l. 16 s. 5 d. To Mr. Ice 400 l. To Mr. Loethur Secretary to his—  Lockwhit. 
To Oliver Cromwell say, leave out Highness: You were ordered so before, where e'er you find it.  Clerk. 
Secretary to O. Cromwell, 2999 l. 5 s. 7 d. for Intelligence, and Trapanning the King's liege people.  Stoneware. 
Marry Sirs, an ye give so fast, yeel gi' awe away fro poor Archibald Johnson.  [ Aside.] Lockwhit. 
Oil the Wheel( my Lord) your Engine will go the better: Move for him first.  Bertlam. 
Be it your business, I'll do as much for you.  Lockwhit. 
Content▪ Gentlemen, since we have set this Day apart from other business, purposely to gratify our most concerned Friends, let us consider the Worth of the Lord Stoneware, a person of eminent fidelity and trust.  Stoneware. 
Geod faith, and I ha been a trusty Trojan, Sirs.  Wouldst. 
We know it very well Sir, I profess, my Lord.  Duckinfi. 
And 'tis but reason you should be rewarded.  Desbr. 
I'd scorn to let a Dog go unrewarded.  Huson. 
And so would I, he fawns so prettily.  Cobbet. 
My Lord, you are Witty, I hope we shall have no more on't. Huson. And performs his Graces to a Scottish Pipe so handsomely.  Duckinfield. 
You may content yourself with that( my Lord) he is our Friend.  Stoneware. 
Geod faith Sirs, an sa I am; wha denies it?  Huson. 
Nay, my Lord, we are not Foes; I am for you.  Desbr. 
And so am I, as live.  Stoneware. 
Geod faith we'll said▪ ye ken well enough I'll sure I'll a man can serve ye awe, Sirs: Sin ye are so kind Sirs, Scribe read my Paper to.  Lockwhit. 
You have a Petition then?  Stoneware. 
Geod faith I had been a very fool else.  Bertlam. 
Give us the substance of it.  Clerk. 
That your Honours would be pleased, in consideration of his faithful Service, and the constant charge he is at both at home and abroad, to grant him some certain considerable sum of Money for his present supply.  Duckinfield. 
Order him Two thousand pound.  Bertlam. 
Seriously, let it be Three thousand, Gentlem. You must understand he is much in debt.  Stoneware. 
God; benison lite on your saw, my geod Lord Bertlam.  Huson. 
Three thousand pound! Why, half such a sum will buy all Scotland.  Stoneware. 
Bred Sir, ye leoke bet blindly out then.  Bertlam. 
Gramercy, my Lord.  Cobbet. 
Well Brother, the time was, a mine of it would have bought all the shoes in your Shop, I will not say your Stall for your Honour sake, though now you do abound in Irish Lands.  Stoneware. 
You're my geod friend Sir, geod faith you've eene hit him home. Clerk, gang a tyny bit farther.  Clerk. 
That your honours would be pleased to Confer some Annual Pension upon him.  Bertlam. 
Gentlemen, I think it but reason; he has been faithful, and I hold him a good commonwealth's Man, and the rather because Hazlerigge hath so bespattered him; since you have consented to his present supply, let him not suffer for want of a future one: What think you of 400 l. per ann. 'Tis but small; Say, are you willing to it Gentlen.  Omnes. 
Ay, I, I.  Bertlam. 
Are you pleased, my Lord?  Stoneware. 
Bred, thar'es a question indeed; Onnz Sir, ye ha won my heart.  Bertlam. 
Then Gentlemen, since my Lord Lockwhit's Modesty is such he cannot speak for himself, give me leave to become an humble Suitor in his behalf—  Bertlam. 
That you will be pleased to make him Const●ble of Windsor Castle, Warden of the forests, &c. Lieuten●nt of the Castles and forests, with the Rents, Perqu●sites, and profits thereof. Gentlemen, I need not instance his faithfulness to us and our Designments hitherto: No man here( I presume) but hath been, and is satisfied in himself of his reality; And therefore I am confident you cannot confer a place of so great honour or trust upon a person more deserving: But I submit to your Wisdom.  Omnes. 
'Tis granted.  Stoneware. 
Bred my good Lord, what can ye ask that we shall not grant?  Bertlam 
I have heard some say, that Honour without Maintenance is like a blue Coat without a Badge.  Desbr. 
Or a Pudding without Suet.  Bertlam. 
You have made him Keeper of the great Seal; 'tis honour, I confess, but no salary attends upon't; and bribes you know are not now so frequent as they were in Noll's time: Besides, my Lord is a person of that honour.  Huson. 
Well my Lord, let us be brief and tedious, let us humour one another; I love my Lord Lockwhit well.  Bertlam. 
I move for a salary, Gentlemen; Scobel and other petty Clerks have had 500 l. a year apeice granted to them▪ I hope he merits more.  Huson. 
Let him have a thousand pound a year then, you shall not want my voice, my Lord.  Lockwhit. 
'Tis a liberal one, my Lord.  Woodfleet. 
I profess soberly with all my heart.  Bertlam. 
Does that please your Lordship?  Lockwhit. 
Your faithful Servant, my Lord; but if I may be so bold to know from whence I shall receive it.  Cobbet. 
Out of the customs, the best place, I think.  Stoneware. 
Sure pay my Lord, bred a goad, I'll uphold you now, gang your ways; on Scribe, let us mind mere good Warks, we shall prosper then, awe my saw, Sirs.  Bertlam. 
Clerk, proceed where you left off.  Clerk. 
Honyleybres 3000 l. upon account, Backwell for 9600 l. Worseley Aubrey for 2500 l.  Stoneware. 
Bred holt for tham, where the devil shall they ha awe this siller, Sirs.  Lockwhit. 
Ne'er trouble yourself for that, my Lord.  Bertlam. 
These things must be granted, we know the persons, they are our friends.  Woodfleet. 
I profess, indeed Brotherly love ought to go along with us all; but when all is gone, when shall we have more?  Bertlam. 
Pough, my Lord, the City's big with riches, and near her time I hope to be Delivered.  Huson. 
I'll be the Midwife, or what you will call me, I'll under●ake to do my office as well as Dr. Chamberlyn can do his.  Desbrough. 
Well said Brother, what's the matter there?  The Lady Bertlam strives to enter, the doorkeeper goes to the Lord Bertlam, and whispers him, he riseth, and goes to her. Bertlam. 
I'll wait on you immediately, Gentlemen.  Huson. 
Is the Lord Bertlam gone?  Woodfleet. 
I profess, I know not.  Bertlam. 
Why, how now sweetheart, What make you here?  Lady Bertlam. 
Nay, what make you here then?  Bertlam. 
This is not a place for Women.  Lady Bertlam. 
How so, Sir, pray, while thou art here I have as much right to the place as thou hast, if I am John Bertlam's Lady, and for aught I know my advice may do aswell here as thine, for all you perk it so.  Bertlam. 
Good sweetheart, return to thy Coach.  Lady Bertlam. 
Good sweetheart, tell me, am I her Highness or not her Highness, or what do you intend to make of me?  Bertlam. 
Thou makest thyself seem to be a Mad Woman.  She strives, Bertlam holds her. Lady Bertlam. 
Do I so, Sir, I'll be madder yet; then I'll to the Board, and know what they intend to do with me.  Bertlam. 
Thou wilt not, sure.  Lady Bertlam. 
But I will, and hear what they will say to me; I will be put off no longer.  Bertlam. 
Be not so loud.  Lady Bertlam. 
I'll be Louder Sir, and they shall hear me; If I am not Her Highness, they shall not sit there.  Bertlam. 
Thou shalt be as high as can be, if thou wilt be patient.  Lady Bertlam. 
Patient, I, thou know'st too well I am a patient fool; pray, when will the time come I shall be styled Her Highness? for that I will be.  Bertlam. 
I'll tell thee that anon; prithee sweetheart take thy Coach.  Lady Bertlam. 
Ay, thou thinkst with thy fine Words to Work me to any thing, but if you Deser the time too long, you'll find the Contrary— Call my Man there— D'ye hear me? pray make haste home.  Exit. Bertlam. 
Well.  Huson. 
My Lord, We thought you had been gone.  Bertlam. 
No, my Lord, I have been better bred then so, to leave you in the heat and midst of business.  Lockwhit. 
Nay, I think the heat of our business is over for this Day. Clerk, See, have you any more Papers?  Clerk. 
Not any.  Huson. 
Let us rise then, I think we have sat a pretty time by't.  Desbr. 
And my colon begins to cry out beans and bacon.  Woodfleet. 
I profess my Lord, it is not I think fit to put you in mind, I hope I need not, I profess.  [ they rise.] Bertlam. 
Oh, to move concerning a Single person.  Lockwhit. 
By all means, for his Lordship.  Bertlam. 
Seriously, my Lords, I hold it would have been unseasonable, but at the next Sitting it will fall in course my Lord, and then my Lord—  Lockwhit. 
We are your Creatures.  Woodfleet. 
Say you so, I profess let it be so then.  Desbr. 
Come let us go, I'm mad to be gone; What should we stay here for?  Stoneware. 
Marry, an ye speak right, Sir. Scribe, See awe these Orders be ready for my hound aneust morn; mere especially my none and my geod Loods here, that they may gang to the patent Scribe, here ye me.  Clerks. 
They shall, my Lord.  1 Clerk. 
Come Sirrah, here be thriving Times, some men rise with their Breech upwards.  2 Clerk. 
And 'tis very probable may be lashed for't: How they Divide the kingdom's Treasure.  1 Clerk. 
I commend them, they make use of their time, make Hay whilst the Sun shines. I wonder my Lord Desbrough missed that Proverb at the Table.  2 Clerk. 
Was ever such Language heard at a Council-Table before? They are all made up of Proverbs and Old-sayings, except his tamen semper, Bertlam and Lockwhit.  1 Clerk. 
Oh! those are two precious devils; but for a fawning and colloguing devil, give me the Scotch devil.  2 Clerk. 
No more of this, the doorkeeper has Ears.  1 Clerk. 
I would his Ears were off, they are not worth the Sense of Hearing: But come, let's put up our trinkets; a pox on't, I did not think they would have sat so long.  2 Clerk. 
Thou hast some Baggage or other to go to, I'll be hanged else.  1 Clerk. 
Thou mayst be hanged in time; however we'll go.  Doorkeeper. 
Well, go your ways, you are a precious Couple.  Exeunt. [ A noise within, crying Tom, Will, Harry, Dick; Have you a mind to be Murdered in your beds.] Enter a Corporal and soldiers after him in a confused manner, as from their several Lodgings. 1 soldier. 
What's the matter? Corporal.  Corporal. 
The City's up in Arms.  1 soldier. 
I am glad on't.  2 soldier. 
And so am I, there's plunder enough, I am mad to be at it.  Corporal. 
The Committee sat all this night about it; 'tis said they are up everywhere.  1 soldier. 
I warrant that Dog in a Doublet Has●erigg is the ringleader.  Corporal. 
'Tis likely, the news came but within this hour, and the danger that lu●ks in't hath called the Committee together, to morrow the Prentices intend to petition the Lord mayor for a Free Parliament.  1 soldier. 
Let 'em ', 'tis good fishing in troubled waters.  2 soldier. 
Must the RUMP come in again?  Corporal. 
I know not, good Lads make haste, the Captain stays for us.  1 soldier. 
Pox on't, let's ne'er stand buttoning ourselves, we'll leave our Doublets behind us.  Corporal. 
No, by no means.  1 soldier. 
And is't come to that, then hey for Lombard-street, there's a Shop that I have marked out for mine already.  2 soldier. 
You must not think to have it all yourself, Brother.  1 soldier. 
He that Wins gold, let him Wear gold, I cry.  Corporal. 
Well, we shall have enough, 'tis a rich City, never came better news to the soldiery.  1 soldier. 
we'll Cancel the Prentices Indentures, and bind them to us in surer bonds.  2 soldier. 
And they shall ne'er be made free by my Consent till they have paid for their Learnings.  1 soldier. 
Me thinks I see the Town on fire, and hear the Shrieks and cries of Women and Children already; the Rogues running to quench the fire, and we following the slaughter. Here lies one without an Arm, and he cannot hold up a Hand against us; another without a Leg, and he shan't run for't; another without a Nose, he'll ne'er smell us out; another without a Head, and his plottings spoilt: Here lies a rich Courmogeon burnt to Ashes, who rather than he would survive his Treasure, perisheth with his Chests, and leaves his better Angels to wait on Us, you Knaves.  2 soldier. 
Oh brave Tom.  Corporal. 
I know you have all Mettle enough, but our Captain stays.  1 soldier. 
Not a minute longer— hey for Lombard-street, hey for Lombard-street!  Omnes. 
Hey for Lombard-street, hey for Lombard-street!  Exeunt.  

ACT the IV. SCENE the I.  Enter a company of Prentices with club;. 1 apprentice. 
Come boys come, as long as this Club lasts fear nothing, it shall beat out Huson's t'other Eye, I scorn to take him on the blind side, I'm more a man than so.  2 apprentice. 
Thou a Man, a mere Pigmy!  1 apprentice. 
Children are poor Worms, I would have you to know that I am the city's Champion.  2 apprentice. 
Thou the city's Champion!  1 apprentice. 
Yes, and will spend life and limb for Magna Charta and a Free Parliament.  Omnes. 
So we will all, so we will all.  1 apprentice. 
Why then you are my Boys, and true Sons to the City; Cry up a Free Parliament.  Omnes. 
A Free Parliament, A Free Parliament!  1 apprentice. 
Boys, this was done like Men; but do you hear the News? My Intelligence is good.  2 apprentice. 
What is't Champion, What is't?  1 apprentice. 
There's a Proclamation come from the Committee of no Safety.  Omnes. 
For what? Champion.  1 apprentice. 
To hang us all up if we Depart not to our Homes: How like you that, Gallants; how like you that?  2 apprentice. 
This hanging is such a thing, I do not like it; well, I'll go home.  1 apprentice. 
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.  Omnes. 
Oh brave Champion!  1 apprentice. 
Will you like Cowards forsake your Petition and have no Answer to't? Rather let's die One and All.  Omnes. 
One and All, One and All.  1 apprentice. 
Why this is bravely said, now I'll tell you what you shall do; when the Sheriff begins to read the Proclamation, every man enlarge his voice, and cry No proclamation, No proclamation.  Omnes. 
Agreed, agreed; No proclaamation, No proclamation, No proclamation.  Exeunt. Wavering their Clubs over their heads. Enter Huson and his Mirmydons with their Swords drawn. Huson. 
Was ever such a sort of Rogues seen in a City? Come follow me, I'll so order 'em.  Soldiers. 
Oh brave colonel!  Exeunt. Enter Prentices at the other end of the Stage, crying, Whoop cobbler, Whoop cobbler, and he pursuing them. Huson. 
Shoot, shoot; I charge you kill the Rogues, leave not one of them alive,  [ A Musket is let off within. Ex. Enter Prentices again, crying Whoop cobbler. 1 apprentice. 
Cain has killed his Brother, Coll. Cordwayner he has spun a fine Thread to day.  2 apprentice. 
It may bring him to his End.  1 apprentice. 
St. Hugh's Bones must go to th' wrack, and there let him take his Last, Whoop cobbler.  Omnes. 
Whoop cobbler, Whoop cobbler.  Exeunt. Enter Huson again pursuing the Prentices; they continuing their cry, Whoop cobbler; turnip Tops are thrown at him as from House tops; Boys run in. Huson. 
From whence come these? Search that House, and every House: I vow there's not a Street free from these Rogues.  Exeunt. Enter the Prentices severally. 2 apprentice. 
Where hast thou been, Champion?  1 apprentice. 
Where none but a Champion durst be.  2 apprentice. 
Where's that? Where's that?  1 apprentice. 
Stand here and admire; You are beholding to me, I have past the Pikes to meet you, and sweat for't: I tell you I have been at Guildhall, and what I have done there, let Histories record. I'll not be my own Trumpet.  Omnes. 
What didst thou do there?  1 apprentice. 
Do you see this small Engine? 'Tis a good one, and has been trusty to his Master: I say no more.  Omnes. 
Nay, good Champion; What, what?  1 apprentice. 
How Dull you are! With this( I say) heartily charged and ramed, under my Apron closely hid, Latit anguis in herba,( There's Latin for you Rogues) I got into the Yard.  Omnes. 
What then, What then?  1 apprentice. 
By good fortune I espied a very fine fellow, some Officer no doubt, he did run Dan so.  Omnes. 
But prithee be plain and short.  1 apprentice. 
No it was home, the sting of my Serpent hath either killed him or lamed him downright, I warrant he troubles us no more this Day. Hark, the A Drum is heard within. Rogues are Marching; let them go and be hanged they shall not abide here, I have given them an earnest penny already, and if they come again, I'll double it. Well Boys, when they are past we'll go and Drink the King's health: Say Boys.  Omnes. 
Viva le roy, Viva le roy.  Exeunt. Enter Lord Bertlam and Lord Lockwhit? Bertlam. 
My Lord, you will still endear me.  Lockwhit. 
A Duty so obliged cannot be paid too often, my prayers go with you, my most honoured Lord.  Bertlam. 
If I return, my Lord, Command my Heart; In the mean time, let not your friendship Cool.  Lockwhit. 
My body shall be Ice first.  Enter Secretary and Lord Stoneware. Bertlam. 
My Lord Stoneware, this is a high piece of Kindness indeed.  Stoneware. 
Marry, I'll come toll kiss your none hand, Sir, ●re ye gang anent the limmer loowne.  Enter Walker and the Lady Bertlam. Bertlam. 
Your Servant, my Lord— Walker, Are you ready?  Secretary. 
Yes, my Lord.  Bertlam. 
Direct the Lord Stoneware to the blue Chamber; where I'll attend your Lordship.  Stoneware. 
Your very humble Servant, my Loords.  Exit Secretary and Stoneware. Bertlam. 
I know She's clogged with passion, and 'tis not fit a Scot should understand it.  Lockwhit. 
You have done wisely in that, my Lord.  Lady Bertlam. 
Have I stayed long enough, may you be spoken with yet?  Bertlam. 
Why not, sweetheart?  Lady Bertlam. 
Am I a Wife, or no Wife.  [ She weeps.] Bertlam. 
My only Joy and comfort— Why dost Weep? There's not a Tear but Wounds me. Prithee leave, I'm sure thoust no occasion for't.  La. Bertlam. 
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.  Bertlam. 
Will you believe me? This Gentleman—  Lady Bertlam. 
He's a Lawyer, and may lie.  Bertlam. 
He's my Friend.  Lady Bertlam. 
'Twas a by-Complement, I confess; but I believe he knows more than you do. Pray Sir, say, Shall I be what I will be, as he says?  Lockwhit. 
The power is now in his own hands, and Doubtless my Lord's so wise he will not part with't.  Lady Bertlam. 
Say you so! Then prithee kiss me John, ne'er stir, I shall so love thee.  Bertlam. 
But we forget the Lord Stoneware.  Lockw. 
H'as got a Scottish Fog in's mouth by this time.  Lady Bertlam. 
Hang him, 'tis such a Boorish stammering fellow, I can't endure him.  Bertlam. 
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 towering thoughts of their fruition, and clip those Wings should hover thee to Greatness.  Lady Bertlam. 
I'll not tie my tongue up for no man's pleasure living: I think I am a Free Woman, no bondslave, Sir.  Lockwhit. 
But under favour, Madam, when you Weigh the Advancement—  Lady Bertlam. 
I Weigh it not a rush, nor shall I Fee you for your Counsel, Sir.  Bertlam. 
He's a good Man, sweetheart.  La. Bertlam. 
Let him be near so good, I'll have my will,  Bertlam. 
I prithee do.  Lockwhit. 
I trust I have not angered you, Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
Again Madam! let his goodness be what it will, I'm sure, he hath but ill breeding.  Enter Walker. Walker. 
My Lord Stonware is going, Sir.  Bertlam. 
Odds so, indeed, we have been too uncivil, come sweetheart, my Lord, will you please to walk in.  Exeunt. Enter two or three soldiers. 1 soldier. 
How now Gentlemen? you are upon the merry March, I hear.  2 soldier. 
Ay, a pox on't, We shall have little cause, I fear, to call it a merry one.  1 soldier. 
Well, I thank my Stars, Our Regiment stays here at the well head, you Rogues, where there is plenty of all things.  2 soldier. 
What says Pluck? The worse knave, the better luck.  3 soldier. 
But do you hear me, Sirrah? for all that, your Colonel may be hanged for killing his Brother cobbler.  1 soldier. 
I hear no harm, I'm not to answer for him: But prithee tell me, D'ye think there will be bloody Noses?  2 soldier. 
Those that have a mind to't, let 'em give, or take 'em, hang him that fights a stroke, for my part.  3 soldier. 
Or mine either; Our Company swear they'll all be hanged first.  1 soldier. 
The General is like to be well hoped up with such soldiers.  2 soldier. 
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.  3 soldier. 
If they will fight, we'll make a ring for 'em.  1 soldier. 
They say that General Philagathus is a gallant Stout Man, an Excellent soldier, and a Marvellours honest Man.  2 soldier. 
Then we have the less reason to fight against him.  3 soldier. 
Nor will we fight against him.  1 soldier. 
But Brothers, let me advise you to have a Care what you say, lest you make your Words good, and be hanged in earnest, there are Rogues abroad.  2 soldier. 
Ay, too many, I thank you Brother for your Advice.  3 soldier. 
A lack we talk away our time, let's go, let's go.  1 soldier. 
Nay, sure Brother soldiers, we will not part with dry Lips.  2 soldier. 
What you intend to do, do quickly.  1 soldier. 
Come away then.  Enter Walker and Prissilla. Walker. 
Now Priss, what think you now?  Prissilla. 
Why, truly Secretary I think thou wilt be a brave Fellow when my Lord returns.  Walker. 
You will let me kiss you now, I hope.  Prissilla. 
No indeed Secretary, I will not make you so bold yet; If you return safe and sound, and in good plight, that is, my Lord's 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.  [ calls within Walker, Walker.] Walker. 
These words have comforted my heart, I'm overjoyed, trust me now: Odds so, my Lords upon taking Horse; ah! ah! Dear Priss.  Prissilla. 
Sigh not Man, thou shalt have it; come take Livery and Seisin, and adieu.  Walker. 
Oh, So sweet as the honeycomb!  [ kisses her.] Prissilla. 
Have a care you do not surfeit with't.  Walker. 
I must be gone, Dear Priss, once more.  Calls within Walker. Prissilla. 
Why law you now give you an Inch and you will take an Ell; I shall be troubled with you— Kisses.  Walker. 
No truly Priss—  [ Calls within.] Prissilla. 
Why, you are bold indeed.  Walker. 
Oh Heart! Oh Fates! Why should such lover's part?  Exit Walker. Prissilla. 
Well, go thy ways for a Modest ass, thou mightst have had something else, hadst thou pressed me to't; but the Fool will make a fine Husband; when he comes to taste the fruit, he'll 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 furnished with more Audacity. Lord, how honour Creeps upon me! I shall be ladified there's no Doubt on't. How my Ears will be filled with Madams! And, Will your Ladyship be pleased? What will your honour have to Breakfast? How do you, Madam? I am come to give you a Visit, Madam. Will you go to Hyde-park to day, Madam? How does your good Lord, Madam? Did you Sleep well to night, Madam? Is your Dog recovered 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 methinks it sounds very well. Madam! Why, 'tis a word of State.  Enter Scullion-Boy. Scullion. 
Mrs. Priss, Mrs. Priss, You must come away to her Highness presently.  Prissilla. 
Why, how now, sans?  Scullion. 
Sauce! Why, what are you, pray? Will you come away? I'll tell her.  Priss. 
I'll have you boxed anon, Sirrah, for this.  Exeunt. Enter Prentices severally. 2 apprentice. 
Champion, how now Champion? What news, Champion?  1 apprentice. 
Nay, what news do you say, then?  3 apprentice. 
Bertlam is gone.  1 apprentice. 
The Devil and John a Cumber go with him. Well, I hope General Philagathus will so pay his Jacquet!  2 apprentice. 
He will be forced to turn it.  1 apprentice. 
That he hath done often enough already.  3 apprentice. 
The Rogues were well mounted.  1 apprentice. 
May the Horse founder, and the Foot die in Ditches! My prayers go along 'em.  2. 3. Apprentice. 
Oh brave Champion!  1 apprentice. 
Come Gentlemen, If you have any Chink go along with me; we'll drink Philagathus Health. How they look at one another!  2. 3. Apprentice. 
Faith Champion—  1 apprentice. 
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 since a day to spend till better Times come.  2. 3, Apprentice. 
Thou art happy, Champion.  1 apprentice. 
You shall participate of that happiness! 'Twere pity such proper Fellows as we are should part without Drinking a Health to Noble Philagathus his success.  2. Apprentice. 
Well Champion, we'll make you amends.  1. Apprentice. 
Let the mends make itself; Come away, begone.  Exeunt. Enter Woodfleet, Mrs. Cromwell, and Lady Woodfleet. Woodfleet. 
How say you so forsooth Mother? as I'm here.  Mrs. Cromwell, 
I say thy folly will undo us all.  Woodfleet. 
I profess Mother, as I'm here you always harp upon one string: ne'er stir, As I'm here, and like the Cuckoo, have but one Note, ne'er stir now.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
What dost make of me, a Hooting-stock?  Woodfleet. 
No, I profess not I, I know my Duty, as I'm here.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Thou Wouldst fain seem a soldier, and a Courtier, but thou art neither.  Lady Woodfleet. 
Good Mother be not so bitter, he's an honest Man.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Hang honesty, 'tis mere foolery; thy Father had more Wit then to be thought one of that needy crew; 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.  Woodfleet. 
I profess Mother, you may be mistaken for all this, he is in some sense, but my Servant.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
And he'll become thy Master to thy shame, why didst not go thyself?  Woodfleet. 
Why? I profess, Whether you believe it or not, Mother, I am the greatest Man in the Nation.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Until a greater come; How stupid art thou? Girl, prithee instruct him.  Lady Woodfleet. 
'Twould ill become me, sure to teach my Lord, I near was guilty of that crime yet, he knows his own Business best.  Woodfleet. 
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.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Thou hadst been neither better nor worse than what thou art, the Common Tavern, and Town Table-Talk.  Woodfleet. 
Why? I profess, Mother, you are not so well spoken of, neither, for all you look so.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
That's long of such an idiot as thou art.  Lady Woodfleet. 
Nay Mother, indeed you do not well: He's my Husband, I ought not to suffer this.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Good Lord! It seems he plays better at Tratrip with thee than thy Husband Ireton did: Thou couldst find Tongue enough for him: Or, there's foul liars if this marchpane fellow did not Melt in your Mouth in his life time.  Lady Woodfleet. 
I thank you, Mother.  Woodfleet. 
What's that, what's that she says Sweetheart?  Lady Woodfleet. 
Nothing, my Lord, worthy your notice.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Had not a sool rid thee, thou hadst known thy Duty better. So much for that, farewell.  Exit. Lady Woodfleet. 
Nay, good Mother.  Woodfleet. 
Let her go, Sweetheart; the house will be the quieter, I profess.  Lady Woodfleet. 
She is my mother, my lord.  Woodfl. 
And I'm your husband my lady, as I'm here I think so: I profess I know not any cares for her company.  Lady Woodfleet. 
She does not come to trouble you, Sir.  Woodfleet. 
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.  Lady Woodfleet. 
Why, my Lord?  Woodfleet. 
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?  Lady Woodfleet. 
Indeed, my Lord, you say right.  Woodfleet. 
If a Free Parliament sit once, what will become of Us, I profess we must secure ourselves as well as we can: the Rump( as the Wicked call it) must and shall come in again, I profess.  Lady Woodfleet. 
What will become of your Friend the Lord Bertlam then?  Woodfleet. 
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 reconciled: But sweetheart, I profess I must be gone, I say no more, Bertlam, Stoneware, and Lockwhit are Knaves, downright Knaves, I profess they have fooled me all this while, it will now turn to 'em, I profess, let 'em suffer.  Lady Woodfleet. 
I understood, my Lord, they were your Friends.  Woodfleet. 
But I have found 'em out; say no more, will you go in, Sweet heart? I profess I must be gone.  Lady Woodfleet. 
I obey you, my Lord.  Exeunt. Enter Lady Bertlam, and Priscilla her Waiting Gentlewoman. Lady Bertlam. 
I Wonder Priss, that none of the Modern Poets have been here with their Encomiums since thy Lord Went!  Prissilla. 
It may be Helicon is dried up, or their Brains are turned Addle.  Lady Bertlam. 
Well, I'm resolved to make Him that brings me the first Copy Poet laureate, provided he brings Victory in't: I will Dispose of my Places myself, and be Lord Steward myself, or it shall cost me a fall. Lockwhit for all his art shall never Carry it.  Prissilla. 
How, Her Highness become Lord Steward!  Lady Bertlam. 
No matter for that; Profit and Service will come by't: I'll have the ordering of all Places both above and below Stairs, and so give out to the people.  Prissilla. 
And good reason too, by'r Lady.  Lady Bertlam. 
A Counsellor, a foolish fellow, at every end he calls me Madam.  Prissilla. 
Truly, there was one called me Madam too t'other day. Lord, we Women are so frail! I thought myself to be a Madam in good Earnest.  Lady Bertlam. 
I Priss, thou mightst, and be proud on't; but I, I think am somewhat above that.  Prissilla. 
A Story, so please your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
I will have Eight Gentlemen Ushers, that Puss Bess had four; Two shall bear up my Train.  Prissilla. 
Rather four, and it shall please your Highness; that pettifogger Loethur's Wise had one, and as I'm a Christian, another foolish fellow went bare before her, no Countess could have been better manned— 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.  Lady Bertlam. 
What sayst thou, Priss?  Prissilla. 
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.  Lady Bertlam. 
His love is not Worth the enquiring after, Wench; as for the Rump, I smell 'tis stale already, and must be peppered 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.  Prissilla. 
Ay, and it shall please your Highness, if he return with Victory.  Lady Bertlam. 
Ne'er fear it Wench, I have sent for lily, and Wonder he stays so long, 'tis such a Dreaming fellow.  Enter a Servant and Master Lily. Servant. 
Here's Master Lilly, an't please your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
How now lily, hast thou done what I Commanded thee?  Lilly. 
I have Examined the zodiac, searched the 12 Houses, and by my powerful Art, put the whole regiment of gods and goddesses out of order, Saturn and Jupiter are by the Ears, and Venus will he rampant assisted by Mars the god of battles.  Priss. 
This makes for your Highness, I love Mischief with all my heart.  Lady Bertlam. 
How stands my husband's fortune?  Lilly. 
In the Alnathay of Aries, or as some others have it Salhay, being the head of Aries.  Lady Bertlam. 
Aries, what is that Aries?  Priss. 
A Monster, I Warrant it.  Lilly. 
'Tis a sign, and signifies a Ram.  Lady Bertlam. 
You Rascal, Do you put the Horns upon my Princely Husband.  Prissilla. 
It may be a new piece of Heraldry.  Lilly. 
He's subtle, politic, and crafty.  Lady Bertlam. 
Thou hit'st pretty well there.  Lilly. 
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.  Lady Bertlam. 
Dost thou abuse me, Rascal.  Lilly. 
No such matter.  Prissilla. 
Alas! he means innocently, for these are virtues given to most of the Male-kind.  Lilly. 
He's there denoted to be fortunate in Warfare.  Lady Bertlam. 
Go on, Fellow.  Lilly. 
In Adoldaya, being the Head of Taurus.  Lady Bertlam. 
Taurus', What's that?  Lilly. 
A Bull.  Lady Bertlam. 
Dar'st thou Horn him again.  Lilly. 
'Tis a sign.  Prissilla. 
A very ill sign, the sign of the Bull: But he does not mean, and it shall please your Highness, the Town-Bull of Ely.  Lilly. 
Has your Lord are a Mark or mould upon his Members? If he has, he vanquishes his Enemies.  Lady Bertlam. 
He has that Priss, I'm sure on't.  Prissilla. 
You are best acquainted with his Secrets.  Lilly. 
For Mars being with the Moon in the Sextile Aspect, incourages men of War, and in the Trine promises Success.  Lady Bertlam. 
I'll love that Trine while I live for't.  Priss. 
I wonder where the Fellow got all these hard Words.  Lilly. 
Lose not an Inch of your State, lest you diminish the lustre of that Planet predominates.  [ She struts it.] Lady Bertlam. 
Why Sirrah, you grow sa●cy. Priss, Let the footboy pay the Fellow for his pains.  Lilly. 
I hope she does not mean to pay me with Kicks: Is she angry?  Priss. 
No no, you have only put her in mind of her Majesty, she loves you ne'er the worse for't; You must flatter her.  Lilly. 
I have been bred to't. I take my leave of your Highness.  Lady Bertlam. 
But take thy reward with thee: Thou art sure of what thou sayst?  Lilly. 
As sure as if I had the Planets in my hand; a man can say no more.  La. Bert. 
Well, go thy ways, and if thy judgement ●alter, To second thy gold Chain expect a Halter.  [ Exit Lilly.] Priss. 
What dost thou think now?  Priss. 
How can I think amiss? He's a notable Man: I'll get him into the Larder one time or other, and I'll make him show me all.  Lady Bertlam. 
Show thee all, Wench! Out upon't.  Priss. 
What, the lily and the Rose: I promise you, for aught I see, the lily is the best flower in your garden.  Enter a Servant. Servant. 
Here's a Letter from my Lord to your highness.  Priscilla. 
Hast ne'er a one for me from the Secretary?  Servant. 
Yes, Mrs. Priss.  [ Exit Servant.] Priscilla. 
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. I'll 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.  Lady Bertlam. 
Thy Lord is murdered.  Prissilla. 
Then my honour goes to the Dunghill: A pox of lily and his legion of Devils.  Lady Bertlam. 
Murdered in his ●ame, his honour, the soldiery have forsaken him.  Prissilla. 
If that be all, 〈◊〉 matter Madam.  Lady Bertlam. 
Even call me what thou wilt.  Prissilla. 
I should have called you Highness, I confess, but I hope you are not offended; lily is a mere rogue, I'll never endure a lily hereafter, 'tis a flattering flower, and stinks abominably.  Lady Bertlam. 
He Writes me Word, he'll be in Town this Night, he's sent for by the Rump.  Prissilla. 
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 tailor that has a yard thus long, a Cook whose Nose will not offend your sauce 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 kitchen, Clerk of the rolls? Lord, I'm even out of Breath with reckoning up your Servitors!  Lady Bertlam. 
How now Audaciousness!  Priss. 
Why, seriously I dreamt last night, an't please your highness, 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?  Lady Bertlam. 
Now could I tear my flesh, all my hopes are lost.  Priss. 
No, you say there's one a coming.  Lady Bertlam. 
How? this Woodfleets Wi●e will o'ertop me.  Prissilla. 
Pull her eyes on't, and then let a Dog lead her.  Lady Bertlam. 
Well, I'll do something.  Prissilla. 
I'll see your second so good, and it please your Highness.  Exit. Enter 3 or 4 Prentices. 1 apprentice. 
High boys, the Noble General Philagathus lay at Barnet last night.  3 apprentice. 
Sayst thou so, Champion.  1 apprentice. 
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.  2 apprentice. 
Well said, Champion.  1 apprentice. 
No more of that if you love me, Noble Philagathus must be the city's Champion, I'll resign my Office, and yet be Loyal still.  Omnes. 
Who will not? who will not?  1 apprentice. 
Then you are my boys again; do you not observe how the fanatics are trotting out of town, some of the Rogues begin to mutiny?  2 apprentice. 
Hang 'em up then, I cry.  1 apprentice. 
So say I, by thousands; noble Phylagathus enters with love, and they go out with curses, or like the snuff of a Candle, stinckingly.  3 apprentice. 
I'm sure they have eaten our Masters up.  1 apprentice. 
Even to their Bowels, that Trading is become a mere skeleton.  2 apprentice. 
Now I hope we shall see better days.  1 apprentice. 
Ne'er fear it Lads. Philagatbus is right, and sound to the very Core.  2 apprentice. 
What will become of our Exchange. Merchant.  1 apprentice. 
What? he that turned part of the House of God into a Den of thieves.  3 apprentice. 
The very same, the very same.  1 apprentice. 
Let him hang himself, and when he is cold meat, the devil carbanadoe him for a breakfast: But hark they are marching out, and [ Drums heard within.] Philagathus his honest Soldiers are coming in. Oh let's see 'em! let's see 'em.  Omnes. 
By all means let's see 'em.  Exit. Running.  

ACT the V. SCENE the I.  Enter Mrs. Cromwell and the Lady Bertlam; they meet at several Doors. Mrs. Cromwell. 
Bless my eyesight! what? her highness without her Train: Where is that precious Bird thy Husband, caged? His Wings are clipped from flying: Faith now, this comes of Threachery: Had he been true to my Son Dick, he might have still continued honourable, and thou a Lady; and now I know not what to call thee.  Lady Bertlam. 
Thy rudeness cannot move me, I impute it to thy Want of Breeding.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
My Want of Breeding, Mrs. Mincks.  Lady Bertlam. 
We Cannot expect from the Dunghill odorous savours: Were our affections greater than they are, they merit not half the Contempt and Scorn pursues thy wretched Family, and the Memory of thy abhorred Husband.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
How durst thou name him but with reverence: He that outdid all Histories of Kings or Keasors: was his own Herald, and could give Titles of honour to the meanest Peasants; made Brewers, Dray-men, cobblers, Tinkers, or any Lords: Such was his power no Prince ere did the like: Amongst the rest, that precious piece thy Husband was one of his making.  Lady Bertlam. 
Would we had never known these painted Titles that are so easily washed off: Enter Woodfleet. But yonder comes the cause of all our miseries.  Woodfleet. 
Ne'er go, yonder's my Mother; I profess, as I'm here, I'd rather meet, ne'er stir, a Beggar in my Dish, so I had, as I'm here.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
And, art thou there? Nay, ne'er hide thy face for't, though thou mayst be ashamed of all thy Actions.  Woodfleet. 
Why I, forsooth Mother? I profess, ne'er go, not I Mother, as I'm here.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Call 〈◊〉 not Mother: Thou hast ruined my Children, and thyself too, like a Fool as thou art.  Lady Bertlam. 
And me and my Husband, like a Knave as thou art.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Would ever coxcomb have committed such folly!  Lady Bertlam. 
Or ever changeling done the like! Jack Adam's is a Man to thee.  Woodfleet. 
I profess indeed law, you are strange folks, I profess, ne'er go law: Cannot a man, as I'm here pass the Street, I profess law?  [ Walks about the Stage, they following him] La. Bert. 
Hang thee, thou'rt good for nothing,  Mrs. Cromwell. 
But ●leering and fooling.  Lady Bertlam. 
And how do you, forsooth? I profess.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
And truly, I know what I know, and there's an end,  Lady Bertlam. 
Of an old Song, Few words are best.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Ne'er go, I'm the greatest man in the Nation▪ I profess I, ne'er stir now: Think you what you will, forsooth Mother, as I'm here.  Woodfleet. 
I profess, ne'er stir, as I'm here, there's no enduring it, law now▪ as I'm here; and therefore farewell, as I'm here, for I'll be gone, ne'er stir now.  Exit running. Enter Prentices with Clubs. 2 apprentice. 
Now Champion, what think you of your General Philagathus?  1 apprentice. 
A ro●e on't, I know not what to think on't: Was ever such a Rare committed upon a poor She City before? Lay her legs open to the wide world, for every Rogue to peep in her Breech. I  3 apprentice. 
'Tis Monstrous!  2 apprentice. 
Is this the city's Champion?  1 apprentice. 
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.  2 apprentice. 
We shall be cooped up shortly for Hawks-meat in our Cellars, while they possess our Shops, and Feast upon our Mistresses▪  1 apprentice. 
Well, I'll Warrant the soldiery will be honest for all this, and then we'll sing the Maggots out of the lousy Rump, or else swinge me.  Enter the 4th apprentice. 4 apprentice. 
News Boys, News.  1 apprentice. 
From whence, from Tripulo?  4 apprentice. 
From Guildhall, you Knaves: We shall have a Free Parliament.  Omnes. 
High, high, high.  [ they make a shout.] 4 apprentice. 
The General and the City are agreed, and he has promised it.  1 apprentice. 
Oh noble Philagathus!  2 apprentice. 
Brave Phylagathus!  3 apprentice. 
Honourable Philagathus!  4 apprentice. 
Renowned Philagathus!  1 apprentice. 
Now you Infidels, What think you now? Has your Fears and Jealousies left you, or will you still damn yourselves up with dirty suspicion. You that spoke even now you should be cooped up for Hawks-meat, shall be crammed up for Capons; your Cellars shall become warehouses, your Shops Exchanges, and your Mistress' persons of honour.  Omnes. 
And, what shall we be?  1 apprentice. 
Squires of the Body: honour sufficient enough for men of our rank, Gentlemen.  Omnes. 
Oh brave Champion!  1. Apprentice. 
I tell you, I will have no more of that: Where is lily now?  2 apprentice. 
In one of the Twelve houses.  1 apprentice. 
We'll fire him out of 'em.  3 apprentice. 
How will the Man in the Moon drink claret then?  1 apprentice. 
Claret is best burnt, Sir, by your leave.  3 apprentice. 
Ay, but lily has Eighteen houses.  1 apprentice. 
A baker's dozen: we'll fire the odd end first.  Omnes. 
A Match, a Match; we'll do't.  1 apprentice. 
But now I think on't, we must have no firing of houses, there's a Statute against it: Better once Wise than never.  Omnes. 
Oh brave Sack!  1 apprentice. 
We'll be merry to night, I'm resolved on't, or else never let Prentices presume to be honest again, and therefore follow me: God bless the General!  Exeunt. Enter Walker and Prissilla. Prissilla. 
Now Secretary, where's your Titles now? Not so much as a title of 'em remaining, all sunk in the sandbox.  Walker. 
I'm between Silla and Carybdis, I must confess; and thou hast gravelled me, my dear Priss.  Prissilla. 
Hang your Dog Poetry, it made my Lord thrive so ill as he did: I think thou didst infect him; he used to have a Serene brain, and Courage good enough: Sure the vicar of Fools was his Ghostly Father: Be beat without a blow, there's a mystery indeed!  Walker. 
Truly Priss, my Lord could not help it.  Prissilla. 
Not help it, there's a jest indeed, I'm sure he has helped himself into prison for't, let who will help him out again. What course wilt thou take now, Secretary?  Walker. 
Not horse-coursing Priss, I'd have thee know that.  Prissilla. 
Why, thou'rt pretty well timbered for such an employment. Canst thou make pens?  Walker. 
Yes, and Ink too Priss, I tell you but so.  Prissilla. 
There will be a Trade indeed for thee.  Walker. 
Nay, and the worst come to the worst, I can teach to Dance.  [ he frisks about.] Prissilla. 
I confess thy Sword is always Dancing.  Walker. 
That's the Alamode is learned in France.  Prissilla. 
Come, if thou canst Dance so well, let's have a frisk, if thou dar'st.  Walker. 
Truly Priss, I have not my Pumps in my pocket.  Prissilla. 
'Tis well thy Mother left thee Wit enough for an Excuse.  [ he draws.] Walker. 
That is not all, look here, I can fence too—  Prissilla. 
What dost thou mean to do!—  [ she starts.] Walker. 
Set your right foot forward, keep a Close guard, have an Eye to your enemy's point, extend your Arm thus.  [ she runs and he follows her.] Prissilla. 
Lord, Lord, the man is mad sure.  Walker. 
Traverse your ground sometimes reverse, as thus: Give back then, come on again, play with his point: If he makes a pass, put it by, make a home thrust thus, run him thorough, and he falls I Warrant you.  [ she screams.] Prissilla. 
Put up thy Fools-bawble there: I profess I'll ●all my Lady else.  [ he puts up his sword.] Walker. 
Why, did it fright thee, Priss? seriously, I did but show thee what skill I had at my Weapon.  Priscilla. 
Thou wouldst make a rare fellow to fence before the Bears, if there were any.  Walker. 
Why, Priss? I dare say I can kill any man living that can't defend himself.  Priss. 
Ha, ha, ha! I am of thy mind, that can't Defend himself.  Walker. 
Why Priss, such as fight must take all Advantages.  Priss. 
And I that do not ●ight, will take the advantage to leave thee and thy foolery.  Exit. Walker. 
Nay, dear Priss, ne'er go I'll follow thee.  Exit. Enter Prentices with Faggots upon their shoulders, they pass the Stage whooping and hollowing. Enter again whooping and hollowing with Rumps of Mutton upon Spits. Omnes. 
Roast the Rump, Roast the Rump.  Exit. Enter a Boy upon a coltstaff carried by two, and others follow him whooping and hollowing. 1 apprentice. 
Silence, Silence, I say.  Omnes. 
Silence, Silence there.  1 apprentice. 
Gentlemen all, I tell you plain,  
My Rump does itch, and we shall have rain.  Exeunt whooping and hollowing. A piece of Wood is set forth painted like a pile of Faggots and Fire▪ and Faggots lying by to supply it. Enter Prentices and soldiers. 1 apprentice. 
Come Gentlemen, you are Welcome, Sit down, bring some Drink there, 'tis a night of jubilee, we'll want no Drink while the Rump roasts.  [ a Form is set forth.] Enter one with Drink. 
Here's a Health to your noble General.  Soldiers. 
Thank you, young Man.  Racks are set out one turneth sp●t with Rumps on't. 1 apprentice. 
Baste the Rump●oundly.  2 apprentice. 
It bastes itself, i● his been well●ed, a Dog take it: But pray give us some Drink too, we are almost Dry roasted.  Enter Frenchman. Frenchman. 
Begarr▪ dis b● very light night▪ me can ●ind my way to my loging▪ begarr very well if me not take a Cup to 〈◊〉 by the way: Now garsoone, 〈◊〉 be de matter 〈◊〉 you?  Prentices. 
Some 〈…〉 the Bonfire 〈◊〉.  Frenchman. 
Bonfi●es! begfrr me 〈…〉 be in the bonfires: here garcon, 〈…〉 larshan to de bonsire?  Enter Musicians. Musicians. 
We are Musicians, and will give you a Lesson Mounsieur.  Frenchman. 
A Lesson, that 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 broke a your Fiddells.  Omnes. 
Oh brave Mounsieur!  Frenchman. 
Furboone begarr now give me de merry Song, me give you de Larshan.  Musicians play a short Lesson. Soldiers. 
Have you this Song? We came from Scotland.  Musicians. 
Yes, Sir.  Frenchman. 
Begarr me vill have a dat.  
We came from Scotland with a small force,  
With a hey down down a down a,  
But with hearts far truer than steel;  
We got by my faith,  
The Glory o'th' day,  
Yet no man a hurt did feel:  [ All sing the tune, and throw their hats about their heads.] 
When Bertlam first our Army did face,  
Hey down down a down a,  
He looked as fierce as the devil;  
We feared a Rout,  
But he Wheeled about,  
The Gentleman was so Civil:  [ All sing the tune again.] 
Our General Marched with the country's love,  
With a hey down down a down a,  
All persons to him did address;  
Small money we spent,  
For we found as we went,  
Good friends, and here find no less.  [ Sing all again.] Frenchman. 
Furboone, begar furboone, dun moy de toder Cup burn a de Rump.  1 apprentice. 
That has been often done in your country, Mounsieur.  Frenchman. 
Begar me vilt dance about de Bonfire, come vit me men.  They dance about the Bonfire. Omnes. 
Oh brave Mounsieur!  Enter Priscilla. Prissilla. 
Let my Lady say what she will, I will see the Bonfire.  Frenchman. 
Begarr Metress you be a very fine Shentileveman, begarr me dance one time vitt you, nay begar you no serve a me ●oe.  Prissilla. 
I cannot dance indeed, Sir.  Frenchman. 
Begarr me vill have on touch vitt you, Metress.  1 apprentice. 
What, before all this Company, Mounsieur?  Frenchman. 
Datt me vill begarr.  Prissilla. 
Well, if I must dance, play Fortune my foe.  1 apprentice. 
No, Sellinger's Round, We are beginning the World again.  Frenchman. 
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.  [ they dance.] Prissilla. 
Well, now indeed I must be gone, Sir.  Frenchman. 
Begar me vill see you to your loging, pardon a moy.  Prissilla. 
By no means, I shall be knocked o'th' head then.  Frenchman. 
Me no care for dat, par ma moy adieu Jee vou remercy pour dis●boone Company, adieu petit garcon.  Omnes. 
Adieu Mounsieur.  2 apprentice. 
What are you resolved to do? Every man to his home, or shall we make a Night on't.  Omnes. 
A night on't, a night on't.  1 apprentice. 
Come to the next Bonfire.  Omnes. 
To the next Bonfire, to the next Bonfire.  Exeunt▪ hooping and hallowing. Enter Lockwhit, Stoneware, Huson, and Desborough. Desbr. 
We have played our Cards fair.  Huson. 
I deny it, We have not played our Cards fair.  Stoneware. 
B●ed Sirs, than ye have played then faugh, and that's faugh play geod faith, Sirs.  Lockwhit. 
A Fool had the shuffling of them, the game had gone better else.  Stoneware. 
The faugh deel himself was Trump, Sirs; I think s●rrs we ha had nee geod luck, Sir●, this bout.  Lockwhit. 
We are lost Sirs, utterly lost.  Huson. 
No Sir, we are found Sir, catcht in a Net of our own making.  Desbr. 
Thou wouldst give all the shoes in thy Shop to be on't of't.  Huson▪ 
Is there no remedy my Lord Lockwhit?  Desbr. 
No remedy 〈…〉 ●ill.  Stoneware. 
Bred, 〈◊〉 no 〈…〉, he's my Noble liar Sirs.  Huson. 
Whore Keeper of the 〈…〉 now?  Desbr. 
Where will you find your 1000 l. p. annum now.  Stoneware. 
Bred Sir●▪ 〈◊〉 y●e gyre▪ do ye gyre? he's gatt wrought Sirs, ●eit●●er of any the gifts I had geen me geod faith.  Desbr. 
Heark you Mr. Lawyer, have you e'er a Habulus Corpulus to remove us from the Storm is coming?  Huson. 
With a Sy●●ers, razor, or what a devil do you call it.  Desbr. 
You are politic, will you sell a penny worth of policy, Sir?  Stoneware. 
Bred, he had mere need buy some to save his Cregg, Sirs.  Huson. 
Come let's let's leave the Law in the Lurch, and every man shift for himself? Adieu! Mr. Lawyer.  Desbr. 
Adieu! Mr. Lawyer.  Stoneware. 
Adieu! Mr. Liar.  Exeunt. Lockwhitt. 
How monstrously have I exposed myself 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 cobbler reads a Lecture to me and I'm convinced, I should amend my manners, and become Loyal Dictates long before Divinity discovered! There's no sin like that we know, and that we surfeit in.  Enter Walker. Walker. 
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?  Enter Priscilla with her Basket of Oranges and lemons. Prissilla. 
Fine civil Oranges, fine lemons▪ fine civil Oranges, fine lemons: Me thinks it sounds very well; a pox of her tallness for me, no matter, ne'er repine Wench, thy Trade's both pleasant and profitable, and if any Gentleman take me up, I am still, Fine civil Oranges, fine lemons.  Walker. 
Pens or Ink, Pens, Pens or Ink?  Prissilla. 
'Tis he.— Walker.  Walker. 
Priss, my Dear Priss.  Prissilla. 
Why, how now Secretary, thou seest my words are come to pass, I knew what a Lord thou wouldst be: But Fortunes a Whore.  Walker. 
A whip take her: But shall we meet now: Priss?  Prissilla. 
I think we are met Walker, although unhappily.  Walker. 
I mean upon equal terms.  Stoneware. 
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 country, my Cregg would be stretched two inches longer than 'tis: Will ye● buy a geodly ballad, or a Scott Spur Sirs, will a buy a Line a jackline, a Line a Jack Bertlam's Line?  Walker. 
'Tis the Lord Stoneware.  Prissilla. 
No more Lord than thyself, Walker: Let's have some sport with him, Fine civil Oranges, fine lemons: Will your Lordship buy any lemons and Oranges? Fine civil Oranges, fine lemons.  Walker. 
Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens, will your Lordship buy any Ink or Pens for the Committee of no Safety?  Stoneware. 
Bred a geod what a Whore and a Knave is this.  Enter Desborough. Desbr. 
Turnips, Turnips, Turnips ho, did ever Lord cry Turnips before? But a pox of Lordship, would I had my old Farm over my head again, Turnips, Turnips Turnips ho, Turn-up Mistress, and Turn-up the Maid, and who buys my long turnips ho!  Prissilla. 
He does it rarely well; Fine Oranges, fine civil Oranges, fine lemons.  Walker. 
Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens for the Lord Desborough.  Stoneware. 
Bred 'tis he indeed, these are Witches sure, how does your geod Lady, Sirr?  Desbr. 
What my Lord Stoneware?  Stoneware. 
Ne bred a geod I'm ne mere a Lord than your neene self, my Honoor is in the dust, Sirr.  Enter one eyed Huson. Huson. 
Have you any old Boots or Shoes to mend, I have helped 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?  Prissilla. 
Or a Knave for a whip, or a whip for a Knave? Fine civil Oranges, Fine lemons.  Walker. 
Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens, how do you my Lord?  Huson. 
Dost mock me fellow? Who are these?  Stoneware. 
My geod friend.  Desbr. 
Brother Huson, and how, and how?  Huson. 
And what, and what? and pox o' that, and that; let's embrace however.  Enter Mrs. Cromwell with boys after her. Mrs. Cromwell. 
What kitchen-stuff have you Maids? was ever Princess brought to such a pass? what kitchen-stuff have you Maids?  Boy. 
Gammer Cromwell, our Maid calls you.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
Where you rascal?  Boy. 
In my—  Mrs. Cromwell. 
You Rogue do you abuse me? I'll claw your eyes out.  ●●ings down her Tub and runs after him. Exit. Enter again presently and takes up her Tub. Mrs. Cromwell. 
Oh Dick! Dick! Did ever I think to come to this? What kitchen-stuff have you Maids, Maids have you any kitchen-stuff Maids?  Prissilla. 
Fine civil Oranges, fine lemons? Will your Ladyship buy any Oranges and lemons?  Ms. Cr. 
Dost thou mock me Bag●ge? I'll be at thee presently.  Walker. 
No indeed she does not, 'tis Priss my Lady Bertlam's Woman, and I am Walker her Secretary.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
How? Thou hast walked fair indeed, where is her highness now?  Priss. 
They say she intends to cry fresh Cheese & Cream.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
She has brought her hogs to a fair market.  Huson. 
And so we have all methinks.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
What art thou there too?  Stoneware. 
Bred an ice here ta, and my geod Lord Desborough, bred a geod here's e'en a jolly Company.  Mrs. Cromwell. 
It somewhat palliates my misery, That inafflictions you like Sharets be.  Prissilla. 
Come let's mind our business, words are but wind▪ Fine civil Oranges, fine lemons.  Exit. Walker. 
Ink or Pens, Ink or Pens, will you buy any Ink or Pens?  Exit. Stoneware. 
Will ye buy a geodly Ballad, or a Scott Spurr, will ye buy a jackline a Jack Bertlam's line, or a line for a Jack a Bertlam.  Exit. Desbr. 
Turnips, Turnips, Turnips ho! Turn-up Mistress, and Turn-up Maid, and Turn-up my Cousin and be not afraid of a long, long, Red Turn-up ho.  Exit. Huson. 
Boots or shoes, Boots or shoes to mend?  Exit. Mrs. Cromwell. 
What kitchen-stuff have you Maids? what kitchen-stuff have you Maids?  Exit. Enter Lockwhit. Lockwhit. 
I am a poor Lawyer Gentlemen, and can show you Legerdemain for your money, no Hocus Po●us like me. I have two hands, neither of them disabled from taking ●ees; have you any causes 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 than you'll say, and then 'twill vex a man.  
How e'er I'll try ' ●, for to my grief I find  
Riches ill got, do scatter with the Wind.  
Have you any work for a poor Housell Lawyer, for all 〈◊〉 honest Lawyer, I am your next man, Gentleman.  
Ambition and 〈◊〉 Avarice, adieu!  
How e'er your Gl●●yes yes seem, they are not true.   

EPILOGUE.  
T●s done, and now to Censure; But be just;  
Th' author's name's committed to your trust▪  
You have here in a mirror seen the Crimes  
Of the late P●ageantry Changeling Times.  
Let me Survey your Brows— They are Serene,  
Not clouded, or disturbed with what you've seen:  
None whose grand gild appears touched to the quick▪  
And in Revenge would 'gainst their mirror kick.  
Nor in a Corner can I one descry  
Sneaking, that dare give Bellarmine the Lie.  
So that we do conclude, the author's fear  
Is now removed; there's no fanatic here.  
You are a glorious Presence, clear as Day,  
And innocent as Buds that sprout in May.  
'tis you must guild our Hemisphere, and give  
A life to us who willingly would live.  
Then, If you please to grant ●us our Request,  
Sign us your Servants, and well do, our best.  
THE END.