Volume I Part 118 (2/2)

_Free._ d.a.m.n 'em, how they lavish out the Nation!

_War._ Scribe, pretha read my Paper.

_Hews._ Have you a Pert.i.tion there?

_Cob._ A Pet.i.tion, my Lord.

_Hews._ Pshaw, you Scholards are so troublesome.

_Lam._ Read the Substance of it. [To the Clerk.

_Clerk._ That your Honours wou'd be pleas'd, in consideration of his Service, to grant to your Pet.i.tioner, a considerable Sum of Money for his present Supply.

_Fleet._ Verily, order him two thousand Pound--

_War._ Two thousand poond? Bread a gued, and I's gif my Voice for _Fleetwood_.

[Aside.

_Lam._ Two thousand; nay, my Lords, let it be three.

_War._ Wons, I lee'd, I lee'd; I's keep my Voice for _Lambert_-- Guds Benizon light on yar Sol, my gued Lord _Lambert._

_Hews._ Three thousand Pound! why such a Sum wou'd buy half _Scotland_.

_War._ Wons, my Lord, ya look but blindly on't then: time was, a Mite on't had bought aud shoos in yar Stall, Brother, tho noo ya so abound in _Irish_ and Bishops Lands.

_Duc._ You have nick'd him there, my Lord.

_All._ He, he, he.

_War._ Scribe-- gang a tiny bit farther.

_Clerk._ --And that your Honours would be pleas'd to confer an Annual Pension on him--

_Lam._ Reason, I think; what say you, my Lords, of five hundred Pound a Year?

_All._ Agreed, agreed.

_War._ The Diel swallow me, my Lord, ya won my Heart.

_Due._ 'Tis very well-- but out of what shall this be rais'd?

_Lam._ We'll look what Malignants' Estates are forfeit, undispos'd of-- let me see-- who has young _Freeman's_ Estate?

_Des._ My Lord, that fell to me.

_Lam._ What all the fifteen hundred Pound a Year?

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