A short REPRESENTATION Performed before The Lord General MONCK.  
AT GOLDSMITHS-HALL, Tuesday, April 11th.  
By three persons, An Englishman, a Welshman, and a Scotchman.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Morgan, and are to be sold at the Royal Exchange in Cornhill, 1660.   

A short Representation.  OFFICER. 
HOW now Friended whither are you crowding so fast? Pray get ye back again and wipe your shoes? Who invited you I wonder? If y'are a hungry, stay till the Scraps come forth, which will be about four or five hours hence.  Englishman. 
Pray good man Jack kold my staff, be good, in your Office. Sirrah, We come to see the General; we have as much business with him as the best of 'em all that has invited him hither.  Officer. 
he'll hear no petitions to day.  Englishman. 
Petition, we come not to Petition, Friend, he has done our business without a Petition already.  Officer. 
He had much to do I warrant, when he did your business.  Englishman. 
Friend you need not be so Angry; we come not to defraud you of the least bit, that you intent to carry home to your Wife, for her provision till the next quarter Feast; For give me leave to tell thee, we have been as good House keepers as some of your Masters, and kept better men than thou to wipe our shoes, & now I hope we shall do so ●gain.  Officer. 
You are sufferers then in the times. Her's one I warrant whose Cat has died with eating a poisoned Rat. Her's another who's two Ducks and one Drake used to sleep at his bed's head, and he has now lost all by the Maledictions of the old witch his Neighbour. Her's another had but one torn Shirt, which was stolen by a Gipsy as it hung upon a Hedge a drying, one Saturday in the Afternoon. And as for your part Goodman Prate a pace what have you lost I wonder? your Dog's Leather Hedging Gloves I warrant, or some such precious piece of Treasure.  Englishman. 
The fellow would fain be witty before the Masters of the Company. Alas! it would stand thee in little stead had we a mind to Retort; but that is not our business. We are come to make our General Merry; for making us merry. Sirrah, we have been at charges for a Pawet, and the Fiddlers, and therefore I tell thee we will see our General, and sing him a song and give him thanks for his care of us all.  Welshman. 
Sirrah if her will not let her see her Sheneral, and sing her a fine song, which her ha' paid her share for the making, her will preak her pusee po●ie's pate.  Officer. 
I care not for your songs, you come not here unless I know better who you are.  Englishman. 
Friend I am a Cheshire man, who had lost my tenure of a good Farm for siding with my Landlord Sir George Booth; but I now have got it again, thanks to our General.  Welshman. 
And her pe Gentleman of Wallis, and her lost her create fortune for her create loof to her create Landlord Sir Thomas Middleton; but her have cot it a cain. her thank her could Sheneral.  Scot 
In troth noow they had gotten e'en awe; & awe for becose Ise ha' sarved my good Loard and Maisser the KING. But whare be those muckle traitors noow? intruth friend wee's come for nething else but to garr the General take notice of our loove, tell him for his muckle pains and care of us and of awe the Kingdom.  Officer. 
Well, stay there, and if the General will be troubled with your impertiaencies, i'll give ye notice.  Englishman. 
Now thou speak'st like an honest fellow; dost hear? if thou canst but get us in, we'll give thee six pence a piece.  
After a little pause the Officer returns.  Officer. 
Well, if your Song be good, you may come in; but be advised of that; for if it bened you'll be sound sound laughed at; and for your Poet, tell him from me, if he come off basely, the Company will not give him a brass token; and so you I lose your Credit and he his labour.  Englishman. To the Tune of, The Grecian Army. 
No more good people, talk no more  
Of what the Champion did of yore;  
I care not a pin what stories forge  
Of Bevis or of Great St. George,  
Who Dragon did slaughter  
To get the King's fair daughter  
For his wife;  
Which was truly  
And most duly  
The bravest thing he did in his life.  Scotchman. To the Highlanders New Rant. 
Nor I'se ne care at awe  
For Kiuntry man St. Aundrew,  
Although he beware as good a sword  
As ever muckle man drew;  
For though he did redum  
The Ladies fair and breeght  
Yet had the swains been still  
But for good Willy's Leeght.  
Away then,  
Stay not,  
What gare's us be silent?  
we'll feast our Monk, though now it be high Lent.  Welshman. To the Tune of, Fortune, etc. 
Nor for our old St. Taffie to I care,  
Who slew a mighty shyant without laughter;  
Yet for th'excessive pains he took that tay,  
Fullfast He sleeped seven whole years after.  Englishman. To the Tune of, What you please. 
But our St. George hath set us free  
From a base Rumps bold slavery  
Poor England now shall bleed no more;  Welshman. 
And Wallis sal pe as her was before.  Scotchman. 
The War in Scotland first did swagger,  
But there first ends, Jemmy put up thy dagger.  To the Tune of, The Grecian Army 
You base Excisemen and Commitee's as before.  
That swaggered over Towns and City's,  
(While the sad Ploughman ploughed in grief,  
And yet poor Swains had no relief,)  
Must now go down  
And stoop to th'abused Clown;  
For like the Sun  
In his glory,  
In his story,  
Monk is resolved not to be out done.  Scot To the Tune of, The Highlanders New Rant as before. 
A Out out away fanatics,  
Who ken not what yield have;  
Your Plots be awe discovered  
The Nation to enslave;  
Our Cities now ne mere shall pay  
The hire of their Fetters;  
Ne mere shall Major Generals  
Now rant it o'er their betters;  
For Monk's come,  
That Monck  
Whom all men prise,  
To heal up all our past Maladies.  Welshman To the tune of, Fortune. 
And now her toasted Cheeze, her eat and Sing,  
And freely drink a health unto her King:  
Ap Thomas ap Middleton give me thy hand  
For now our Sister Chester's Walls shall stand.  

Chorus.  To the Tune, Q. Dido. 
Brave Hero, then in thy brave rage  
Proceed, which hath raised up our Age,  
To say you were from Heaven let down  
To give the wronged Heir his Crown,  
For well the ways of truth you take  
The balance even now to make.   

All our long differences ●end  
Already to a settled end  
For which we now must all agree  
To give the stile of just to thee.  
Bequeathing unto, to after Story  
The care of thy unblemished Glory.   
FINIS.