Volume I Part 132 (1/2)

_1 Pren._ _Ralph_, baste the Rump well, or ne'er hope to see a King agen.

_3 Pren._ The Rump will baste it self, it has been well cram'd.

Enter _Freeman_, L. _Des._ _Loveless_, and L. _Lam._ _Gill._ _Tom_, Pages, &c.

_Cap._ Hah, n.o.ble Champion, faith, Sir, you must honour us so far as to drink the King's Health, and the n.o.ble General's, before you go.

Enter _Wariston_, drest like a Pedlar, with a Box about his Neck full of Ballads and Things.

_War._ Will ya buy a guedly Ballat or a _Scotch_ Spur, Sirs? a guedly Ballat, or a _Scotch_ Spur.-- 'Sbread, I's scapt hitherte weele enough, I's say'd my Crag fro stretching twa Inches longer than 'twas borne: will ya buy a Jack-line to roast the Rump, a new Jack Lambert Line?-- or a blithe Ditty of the n.o.ble _Scotch_ General?-- come buy my Ditties.

_Cap._ How, a Ditty o'th' General? let's see't, Sirrah.

_War._ 'Sbread, Sirs, and here's the guedly Ballat of the General's coming out of _Scotland_.

_Cap._ Here, who sings it? we'll all bear the bob.

[_Wariston_ sings the Ballad, all bearing the Bob.

Enter _Ananias_ crying Almanacks.

_Ana._ New Almanacks, new Almanacks.

_Cap._ Hah, who have we here? _Ananias_, Holder-forth of _Clement's_ Parish?

_All._ Ha, a Traytor, a Traytor.

_Lov._ If I am not mistaken, this blithe Ballad-singer too was Chair-man to the Committee of Safety.

_Cap._ Is your Lords.h.i.+p turned Pedlar at last?

_War._ What mon I do noo? Lerd, ne mere Lerd than yar sel, Sir; wons I show 'em a fair pair of Heels.

[Goes to run away, they get him on a Colt-staff, with _Ananias_ on another, Fidlers playing _Fortune my Foe_, round the Fire.

_Cap._ Play _Fortune my Foe_, Sirrah.

Enter _Hewson_, drest like a Country Fellow.

_Cor._ Who are you, Sirrah? you have the mark o' th' Beast.

_Hews._ Who aye, Sir? Aye am a Doncer, that come a merry-making among ya--

_Cap._ Come, Sirrah, your Feats of Activity quickly then.

[He dances; which ended, they get him on a Colt-staff, and cry a _Cobler_, a _Cobler_.

_All._ A Cobler, a Cobler.

_Cap._ To Prison with the Traytors, and then we have made a good Night's work on't.

_Then let's all home, and to the Powers Divine Pray for the King, and all the Sacred Line._ [Exeunt.