_Bookseller._--New books, new books! A Desperate Plot and Engagement of the Bloody Cavaliers! Mr. Saltmarshe's Alarum to the Nation, after having been three days dead! Mercurius Britannicus-- _Teague._--How's that? They cannot live in Ireland after they are dead three days! _Book._--Mercurius Britannicus, or the Weekly Post, or the Solemn League and Covenant! _Teag._--What is that you say? Is it the Covenant you have? _Book._--Yes; what then, sir? _Teag._--Which is that Covenant? _Book._--Why, this is the Covenant. _Teag._--Well, I must take that Covenant. _Book._--You take my commodities? _Teag._--I must take that Covenant, upon my soul, now. _Book._--Stand off, sir, or I'll set you further! _Teag._--Well, upon my soul, now, I will take the Covenant for my master. _Book._--Your master must pay me for't, then! _Teag._--I must take it first, and my master will pay you afterwards. _Book._--You must pay me now. _Teag._--Oh! that I will [_Knocks him down_]. Now you're paid, you thief of the world. Here's Covenants enough to poison the whole nation. [_Exit._ _Book._--What a devil ails this fellow? [_Crying_]. He did not come to rob me, certainly; for he has not taken above two-pennyworth of lamentable ware away; but I feel the rascal's fingers. I may light upon my wild Irishman again, and, if I do, I will fix him with some catchpole, that shall be worse than his own country bogs. [_Exit._