Utrum Horum, Mavis, Accipe.  
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN T— D— And C. G— P— As they met in the Privy-Garden.  O. 
WELL met Brother Evidence, I am glad at last that we are both in the same Predicament.  P. 
Zounds, who made me a Brother to such a profligate Wretch as thou art?  O. 
Sir, I hope 'tis not so great an Affront for a Dr. of the Noble University of Salamanca, to call a disbanded Captain, Brother; and especially when we are so upon more Titles than one.  P. 
Pox on thy Brazen-Face. I can show a real Commission I had from my Quondam Master for my Captainship; whereas you cannot show the least scrap of your Diploma for your Dr's. Degree, having never been within two hundred miles of that famed University.  O. 
How do you know but I had it by the Post?  P. 
Oh, oh! Good Doctor, the first Dr. of the Post, but not the first Knight of it, I am sure.  O. 
Sir, Do you call me Dr. of the Post? Remember that I was styled Saviour of the Nation, and believed by Parliaments.  P. 
A Saviour of the Nation you may be still; but you must be Crucified first, you perjured Dog; tho' three Parliaments believed you; the all-healing Parliaments that have been since this happy Revolution, refused to take off your Attainder of Perjury, which, be sure they would have done, had they judged you Innocent, so that now you are like a Serpent whose Poison lies in his Teeth, which after they are pulled out, every body may play with Security.  O. 
Sir, If my Breath stinks, I am sure you have foul a Mouth, and when you tell me of Crucifying, think of hanging yourself, good Brother Evidence,  P. 
O how my Valour rouses if it were not to destroy the breed of Evidences, you should quickly feel the Effects of my Resentments.  O. 
Your Resentments? You never durst draw your Sword in Anger, if your Enemy's Sword were drawn first. I have heard you have suffered yourself rather than fight, to be twanged by the Nose.  P. 
That's one of Charnock's and my Man Key's Stories; but I think I have been even with them since.  O. 
That you have with a witness, and I believe was the first Master that ever drew in his Man to commit Treason, and after hanged him for his Pains.  P. 
No more reflections, good Dr. of the Post, my Traitors confessed their Crimes at the Gallows, and with their dying Breathes, confirmed my Evidence; but yours denied it to the last Breath.  O. 
Good Captain B. B. Do you know the reason of it? When my Traitors suffered, the Pope was not in a Confederacy against France, and so gave them Dispensations to die with a lie in their Mouths; but being now in the Confederacy, he utterly denied all Dispensations, and so they were forced to confess; whereas mine having it in their Pockets, died hard as they Phrase it.  P. 
Pox take your silly Reasons. I am sure you could assign better; have you forgot what you said in your Book called the Pope's Warehouse, that one might have a Dispensation for most Crimes, especially Treason against a Protestant Prince for half a Crown, and a Cheap penny worth too; and you know the old Gentleman still loves Money, and would not shut up his Warehouse upon any account whatsoever; and do you think that neither they nor any of their party could procure half a ●●own?  O. 
what I said in my Warehouse was only a Cast of my Office, and served a turn then; for who does not reflect, that if Dispensations were so easy to be got, that to make Laws against the Papists, or so reputed, were but to hedge in the Cuckoo, and that no Man would pay double Taxes, or want an Employment for want of an Oath, when he may be dispensed with any Perjury for half a Crown?  P. 
What you are coming over to my Church.  O. 
Where the Devil's that?  P. 
Where a Pox is yours, Zounds, Sword draw yourself, and revenge my Quarrel.  O. 
Sir, have a care of Swearing; you know the severity of the late Act.  P. 
Good wooden Dr. of the Post, keep your advice to yourself, I have not sworn above twice, and it I lose time by it, I do not much value it, I have four Pounds per Week. I am sure you need not, for you have got well by Swearing. Some say three or four hundred a Year.  O. 
What's that to 40000 Pounds, that was promised me by a good many true Protestants, as I might then have kept my Coach and Six, and have had a great deal of Masculine divertisements. But now while I think on't, meet me at the— Tavern at Charing-Cross, there's a delicate Drawer, as beautiful as Ganymedes, and will end all Quarrels, you know what I mean, 'tis no small pleasure to have good Wine filled by a beautiful Hand.  P. 
I understand trap. I do not mean trap ad Crucem: This innuendo is enough; I'll be sure, and I hearty forgive you for what is past, and I could almost measure Chins with you even now for your good News.  O. 
We are not unlike in our Chins; which denotes more Cowardice than Valour and Bravery in either of us.  P. 
I am impatient to hear your Nonsense, in Repeating such infamous Actions, that are enough to make a Neager Blush: Do you hear how your old friend groans for you?  

Oh! name it once again; will Titus come?  
My dearest, hopeful, that long wished for One,  
For whom my Triple Arms extended were,  
(To hug with close Embraces) many a year.  
Haste! haste! my choicest Darling, whom I love,  
And thy long-promised kindness let me prove.  
That Right thou plead'st for, which indeed's thy due,  
Though others I've denied, I'll grant it You.  
The World shall find I willingly will bear,  
And dance thy Carcase 'twixt the Earth and Air.  
In Hemp'n string I'll lull thee fast a sleep,  
And prevent all the Dangers of the Deep.  
Oh, how I love thee! 'cause I've heard thou'dst been  
So well acquainted with all kinds of Sin,  
And, with a false and strange Religious Guise,  
Destroyed the Innocent, abused the Wise.  
What crafty Lessons didst thou teach to men!  
How to Rebel, and told the time best when;  
Urged to Exclude a Right and Lawful Heir,  
Unthrone a King, and swore away a Peer.  
Thy Zeal through two-inch-Boards was plainly seen,  
When Satan prompt thee to swear 'gainst the Queen:  
Besides those many guiltless Souls that died  
A Sacrifice to thy Luciferian Pride.  

Yet, yet, beloved Titus, my dear Son,  
(Reputed Saviour, for thy Mercies shown,)  
And well mayst claim my Palace as thine own.   
Thou'lt find me kinder far than Courtiers; I  
Will never turn thee out until thou die:  
And, since Whitehall has left thee, I'll provide  
That Lodging for Thee, where old Noll was tied.   
Adieu, dear Brother.  
FINIS.   

LONDON: Printed in the Year 1699.