As he moves is met by Mountacute, who fronts
him-they are at each other, and jofle.

Ha! joftled.

L. Mount. I find the Man is greater than the Room Sure elfe he might have ftrutted clear of me.

Mort. Thou art a froward Peer!

L. Mount. Thou art a vain one!--Nay, frown not,
Mortimer!

Thy Terror's loft on me.

Look big upon those Bastard English Men,

Who tamely yield their Rights and Charters up,
And fwear to pick a Parliament-who fell
Our Freedoms, Perfons and Eftates, nay Rights
Of Kings, to gain a fhort-liv'd fmile

They probably may dread thee.

Mort. Rafh Youth, no more, left you provoke my
Anger,

Till I forget the Palace that protects thee-
But th' Eagle feldem condefcends, I think,
To combat with the Paffion of a Wren!

L. Mount. I tell thee Boafter, that my Veins do hold
A nobler, richer, purer, Blood than thine.

Mort. Thy Words are Air, which no Impreffion
make-

So Boys hurl Stones in Water, and fo loft.

L. Mount. So Men fhun Provocations under
Proverbs.

Mort. Shun thee, poor Wretch! I pity thee!
L. Mount. Ifcorn thy Pity and contemn thy Hate.
Sir Tho. Dela. Nay, Mountacute-

L. Mount. Rot his proud Spirit-oh, that I had
thee forth

On fome wide Plain to hunt thy haughty Soul,
Diftant from all Protection but thy Sword's!
There thou fhou'd'ft find

Mort. A Pratler.

Thy Mother's Folly dwells upon thy Tongue-
Thou cam'ft from School too early

Fye, Boy, fye!

L. Mount. Statesman! Statesman! thou Engincer of Hell!

B 2

I.

L. Mount. Rail on, and fpend thy Gall, malicious Thing, whofe's Nurfe's Milk ftill hangs upon thy Lips, you fhou'd be fcourg'd to Manners.

L. Mount. The King fhall know thee.
Mort. Then he'll know himself.

L. Mount. Arrogance, I fhall meet thee.
Mort.Beware the Thunder, Child, 'tis dangerous.
Mount. If thou art fo, like Lightning, I'll fore-
run thee;

And if thy felf thou dar'ft a Thunder prove,
Follow me, Mortimer, and I'll thank thee Fove.
[Exeunt Mount. Dela. and Holland.
Turr. Had you not Patience as you have the Power
Of an offended Deity, this Language fure had been
his laft.

I watch'd, my Lord, your Eyes,

And ready for the Signal of Difpatch,

Has laid his reaking Heart beneath his Feet.
Nev. You are too merciful-too full of Goodness:
Such Indignities call for Refentments

No lefs than Death,-pardon my plainnefs, Sir;
For here I prophefy, unless you break

This Serpent's Egg before the Monster's hatch'd,
'Twill bring Deftru&tion on your felf and Friends.
Mort. I thank ye, and am happy in your Service.
The Babler I defpife, he fhat be punish'd
The Envy that his canker'd Breaft is big with,
By peeping on it's felf fhall work his Ruin.
So Dogs behold the Luftre of the Moon
And forun yelping backward into Madness.[Exeunt
The Scene changes to a Tavern,

Discovering Oldftile, Felt and Frame, at a Table with Bottle and Glaffes before them.

Felt. Who, fay you, Neighbour Old ftile, has paid for this Peace?

Oldfile. Why, the Scots i' Faith, Mortimer has humbled their Pride-they were forc'd to come down 30 Thoufand good Marks to make up the Loffes they did us laft Year in the North.

Felt. Right and good Reafon they fhould-Why fhould we always pay the Piper and never dance?

Frame

Frame. Let me tell you, this is a lucky Dance for him: I don't know but he has danc'd his Neck out of the Halter by the Bargain. But how long,fay they, is it to laft?

Felt. Ay, how long is it to laft? there's the Quere! I hate your Stop-gaps: They were never good for England. This putting off the evil Day for a while, is but like drinking of ftrong Liquors to keep up the Spirits, which at Long-run are the Deftruction both of the Body and Subftance.

putting off the

Old file. True, Neighbour Felt, evil Day, does but make it fall the heavier at laft: 'Tis a Sort of being Brow-beaten; but however, I hope that's not the prefent Cafe. This Treaty does not feem calculated to ferve a Turn indeed; for you fee our Princess Joan of the Tower is given in Marriage to the Son of King Robert of Scotland, as a Pledge of their lafting Friendship, befides the Money they have launch'd out!

Frame. Then, at that Rate, this Peace has brought a Fortune for her; and we have been both courted for Peace and for Marriage.

Felt. Why, that's juft as it fhou'd be, Mafter, Frame. England, in political Love, fhou'd be like a handfome young Woman, that has abundance of Admirers about her, and is courted for her Merit only.

Old ftile. She's a gallant Lady, and deserves a Brimmer. Come Neighbours

[Fills a Glafs and fings.

If Mortimer this Peace has made
For Sake of England, and of Trade,
May his Enemies be few;

May his Friends be great and true.

Felt. [Sings.]

[Drinks.

He has wrought with Tinker's Tools,

But if mending up the State

May a Gibbet be his Fate,

Nor we no longer be his Fools.

[Drinks

Frame. [drinks.] I can tell you, Neighbours if

thefe Lines fhould come true, I know a good Num

ber

ber of us Stocking-Weavers would spare a Day to lend a helping Hand towards putting one up for him. But I fwear, I'm mightily pleas'd with the latter Part of the Song. Come, let's have it over again in Chorus.

[They all fill their Glaffes and fing. But if mending up the State,

He has wrought with Tinkers Tools,
May a Gibbet be his Fate,

Nor we no longer be his Fools.
Enter Bumper.

Bumper. Reft ye merry, Gentlemen

[All drink.

I'm glad to fee you fo jolly-I vow, I have not feen a Citizen fmile this many a Day.

Old ftile. Blefs you Man, who wou'd not fmile at an honourable Peace? Why, it wou'd make Gravity it felf Smile.

Bumper. Honourable fay you, Sir? Ah Neighbours! did you but know the Bottom!

Felt. Bottom! Why, I was told it had no Bottom at all.

Old file. Come, come Mafter Bumper, this is carrying your Spleen to Mortimer a little too far We all of us have had Reafon to blame his Management of our young King; but what of that? Because he has been black, do you think he must always be fo? You fee he mends apace; let me tell you, he has taken the right Sow by the Ear this bout:-This Piece is a Mafter-piece! No, no, an were hang'd, or never fo great a Rogue before, I can't help fpeaking well of him now.

Felt. Why, ay; right, as you fay; he fo feldom does well, that one ought to praife him when it does come into his Noddle. But how comes Master Bumper to be fo out of Humour at this Peace?Mortimer does not use your House, eh, Neighbour!

Bumper. No, no, he's too great to ufe my Houfe now; but I've known the Time when he was glad to come to't. But 'twill come home, I warrantthere are Things to my Knowledge going forward will make him fqueak;-'tis not the Peace will fave

him.

Old file.

Oldftile. Say you fo? Methinks, I want to know what Flaw they can find in a Peace that was both pray'd for and paid for.

Felt. Ay, prithee, Bumper, Let's know the Bottom, as thou wert faying, if there be any.

Bumper. To fuch as us indeed it seems clear enough at Top; But those who fee deeper Matters, fay it has a confounded muddy Bottom. Why? my good Lord Mountacute told me this Morning, when I went to carry his Lordship a Tafte of fome Wines, that it was only a little fhifting Expedient of Mortimer's; for fays he, King Robert never held it good to be at Peace with England, but for his own Ends.

Frame. But pray what is that fame Expedient? Bumper. Why,you know that he's generally hated; and fo fays my Lord, he has purchas'd this Toy only to please the People.

Felt. Nay, how can that be? the Scots were the Purchafers, you know.

Bumper. But I know we are the prime Purchafers -My Lord fays they had a previous Promise from the Queen and Mortimer of Pho! of ten times

as much in the lieu.

Felt. So between them both, I find the King and the Nation are finely bubbled.

Bumper. Why, you must know, Mortimer's fo very complaifant, he fcorns to ftrike an Enemy that's down, tho' they only laugh at him for't.

Frame. Nay, for that matter, the Scots had scarce left Nottingham, when it was faid among my Journeymen, that they derided our Princefs with the Title of Joan Make-Peace.

Felt. And is all this owing to Mortimer! My Blood begins to boil.

Bumper. Nay, that's not all neither. you fee he has given them up the Ragman Roll too, as tho' I fhou'd give you up what belong'd to me and mine, time out of mind, meerly thro' fear-the French, I warrant, will have a pull at us next.

Oldfile. This is making but a very fcurvy Fi

gure