Clerk. —Cromwel—six thousand Pound in [Jacobus’s].
War. ’Sbread, sike a Sum wou’d make me honour the Face of aud Jemmy.
Clerk. To [Mr. Ice] six thousand Pound; to Mr. [Loether], late Secretary to his High—
Whit. To Oliver Cromwel say, can you not obey Orders?
Clerk. —Secretary to Oliver Cromwel—two thousand nine hundred ninety nine Pounds for Intelligence and Information, and piously betraying the King’s Liege People.
War. Haud, haud, Sirs, Mary en ya gift [se fast] ya’ll gif aud away from poor Archibald Johnson.
Whit. Speak for your self, my Lord; or rather, my Lord, do you speak for him. [To Lam.
Lam. Do you move it for him, and I’ll do as much for you anon. [Aside to Whit.
Whit. My Lord, since we are upon Gratifications,—let us consider the known Merit of the Lord Wariston, a Person of industrious Mischiefs to the malignant Party, and great Integrity to us, and the Commonwealth.
War. Gued faith, an I’s ha been a trusty Trojon, Sir, what say you, may very gued and gracious Loords?—