_Fleet._ Amen.
_Due._ I'd rather see it there than in your Hand-- [Aside.
_Fleet._ For we are, as it were, a Body without a Head; or, to speak more learnedly, an Animal inanimate.
_Hew._ My Lord, let us use, as little as we can, the Language of the Beast, hard Words; none of your Eloquence, it savoureth of Monarchy.
_Lam._ My Lord, you must give Men of Quality leave to speak in a Language more gentile and courtly than the ordinary sort of Mankind.
_Hew._ My Lord, I am sorry to hear there are any of Quality among this honourable Dissembly.
[Stands up.
_Cob._ Assembly, my Lord--
_Hew._ Well, you know my meaning; or if there be any such, I'm sorry they should own themselves of Quality.
_Due._ How! own themselves Gentlemen! Death, Sir, d'ye think we were all born Coblers?
_Hew._ Or if you were not, the more the pity, for little _England_, I say.
[In a heat.
_Fleet._ Verily, my Lords, Brethren should not fall out, it is a Scandal to the good Cause, and maketh the wicked rejoice.
_War._ Wons, and theys garr the loosey Proverb on't te, _when loons gang together by th' luggs, gued men get their ene._
_All._ He, he, he.
_Due._ He calls you Knaves by Craft, my Lords.
_War._ Bread a gued, take't among ye, Gentlemen, I's ment weel.
_Fleet._ I profess, my Lord _Wariston_, you make my Hair stand an end to hear how you swear.
_War._ Wons, my Loord, I's swear as little as your Lordship, only I's swear out, and ye swallow aud.
_Due._ There's a Bone for you to pick, my Lord.
_All._ He, he, he.
_Lam._ We give my Lord _Wariston_ leave to jest.
_Des._ But what's this to the Government all this while? A dad I shall sit so late, I shall have no time to visit my Horses, therefore proceed to the Point.
_Hew._ Ay, to the Point, my Lords; the Gentleman that spoke last spoke well.
_Cob._ Well said, Brother, I see you will in time speak properly.
_Duc._ But to the Government, my Lords! [Beats the Table.
_Lam._ Put 'em off of this Discourse, my Lord. [Aside to _War._
_Des._ My Lord _Wariston_, move it, you are Speaker.
_War._ The Diel a me, Sirs, and noo ya talk of a Speaker, I's tell ye a blithe Tale.
_Fleet._ Ingeniously, my Lord, you are to blame to swear so.
_Lam._ Your Story, my Lord.
_War._ By my Sol, mon, and there war a poor Woman the other Day, begg'd o'th' Carle the Speaker, but he'd give her nought unless she'd let a Feart; wons at last a Feart she lat. Ay marry, quoth the Woman, noo my Rump has a Speaker te.
_All._ He, he, he.
_Due._ But to our Bus'ness--
_Des._ Bus'ness; ay, there's the thing, I've a World on't. I shou'd go and bespeak a Pair of Mittins and Shears for my Hedger and Shearer, a pair of Cards for my Thrasher, a Scythe for my Mower, and a Screen-Fan for my Lady-Wife, and many other things; my Head's full of Bus'ness.
I cannot stay--
_Whit._ Fy, my Lord, will you neglect the bus'ness of the Day? We meet to oblige the Nation, and gratify our Friends.
_Des._ Nay, I'll do any thing, so I may rise time enough to see my Horses at Night.
_Lav._ Damn 'em, what stuff's here for a Council-Table?
_Free._ Where are our _English_ Spirits, that can be govern'd by such Dogs as these?--
_Lam._ Clerk, read the Heads of what past at our last sitting.
_War._ In the first place, I must mind your Lordships tol consider those that have been gued Members in the Commonwealth.
_Fleet._ We shall not be backward to gratify any that have serv'd the Commonwealth.
_Whit._ There's Money enough; we have taxt the Nation high.
_Due._ Yes, if we knew where to find it: however, read.
_Clerk reads._] To _Walter Walton_, Draper, six thousand nine hundred twenty nine Pounds six Shillings and five Pence, for Blacks for his Highness's Funeral.
_Lam._ For the Devil's; put it down for _Oliver Cromwel's_ Funeral: We'll have no Record rise up in Judgment for such a Villain.
_Lav._ How live Asses kick the dead Lion! [Aside.
_Due._ Hark ye, my Lords, we sit here to reward Services done to the Commonwealth; let us consider whether this be a Service to the Commonwealth or not?
_Lam._ However, we will give him Paper for't.
_Hews._ Ay, let him get his Money when he can.
_Lam._ Paper's not so dear, and the Clerk's Pains will be rewarded.