_Citt._ No, no, Pox on him; he's an Impudent Curr; nothing less than a Pillory will ever put Him out of Countenance. This Toad was in _Newgate_, I know not how long; and yet he'l take no warning. Bum. _You must consider,_ Citt, _that he writes for_ Money; O my Soul, they say, the Bishops have given him five hundred Guynnyes. _But pre'thee_ Citt; _hast not thou seen_ the Answer to the Appeal, Expounded. _Citt._ Yes, but I ha' not read it. Bum. _Why then take it from me,_ Citt, _'tis one of the shrewdest_ _Pieces that ever came in Print._ L'Estrange, _you must know, wrote an_ Answer _to the_ Appeal. _Citt._ We've a sweet Government the while, that any man should dare to fall foul upon _That Appeal_. Bum. _Well, but so it is; and_ Another _has written Notes upon_ Him: _You cann't imagine_ Citt, _how he windes him about's Finger; And calls him_ Fidler, Impudent, Clod-pate; _and proves him to be a_ Jesuite, _and a_ Papist, _as plain as the Nose of a mans Face: he shews ye how he accuses the_ Kings Evidence; _and that he is in_ Both Plots, _in I know not how many places._ _Citt_ drawing up Articles. _Citt._ I have known the man a great while; and let me tell ye in Private, I am to draw up _Articles_ against him. But I have been so busy about my _Lord Chief Justices Articles_, and _Other Articles_ against _a Great Woman_, that lay upon my hand, that I could not get leisure; and yet I should have met with him long e're This too, for all That, but that the _Committee_ Sits so cursedly Late: And then they have cut me out such a deal of work about the _Succession_. Well I heard a great Lord say, that _That History of his deserv'd to be burnt by the hand of the Common Hang-man_. Bum. _Bravely sayd,_ Citt, _I Faith: who knows but we two may come to be_ Pillars _of the_ Nation? Thou _shalt stand up for the_ City, _and I for the_ Country. _Enter_ Trueman _out of a Closet._ Enter _Trueman_. _Citt._ Trepan'd, by the Lord, in our own way. _Trueman._ Nay hold, my Masters; we'l have no flinching. Sit down, ye had best, without putting me to the Trouble of a Constable. _Citt._ Why we have said nothing, sir, that we care who hears; but because you seem to be a Civill Gentleman, my Service to you, Sir. Bum. _Ay, Sir; and if you'l be pleased to sit down and Chirp over a Pot of Ale as we do, y're wellcome._ _Citt's_ Faculty and Employment.