<!DOCTYPE ETS PUBLIC "-//UMDLPS//DTD EEBOPROOF 2.0//EN">
<ETS>
<TEMPHEAD>
<REVDESCR>
<CHANGE>
<DATE>2008-09-04</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080812.pdcc.</ITEM>
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</REVDESCR>
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<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="A74170">
<STC T="W">B3041</STC>
<STC T="T">669.f.24[12]</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99870336</BIBNO>
<VID>163743</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="dialogue">
<PB REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 17 -->
<HEAD>THE BLACK BOOK OPENED,</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">OR Traytors Arraigned and Condemned by their own CONFESSION, Being a Tragical Di&s;cour&s;e between a Noble Cavalier and a Select number of tho&s;e Pure refined, Diabolical Saints, called (by the mo&s;t Loyal Subjects) KING-KILLERS.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">As it is to be acted at the <HI>Red-Bull</HI> in St. <HI>Johns</HI> &s;treet by a Company of Blind <HI>Bloomsbury</HI> Fidlers, the able&s;t now extant.</HEAD>
<STAGE>Enter <HI>Cavalier</HI> and <HI>Hew&s;on</HI> the Cobler.</STAGE>
<SP>
<P>WEll meet blind Harper, whether away &s;o fa&s;t?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Hew&s;.</SPEAKER>
<P>Sir, to tell you true I &s;carce know my &s;elf.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>Do&s;t thou hear the News?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Hew&s;.</SPEAKER>
<P>What Newes?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>That the Old Kings Son &s;hall Reign and Rule the Do|minions of his Father.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Hew.</SPEAKER>
<P>Heaven forbid! I'de rather all the Apprentices in <HI>Lon|don</HI> &s;hould ri&s;e, had I but my Regiment again.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>Why &s;o? Art thou (who never had&s;t the lea&s;t &s;park or thought of Con&s;cience or hone&s;ty) frighted at the noi&s;e of a King coming: Does that &s;ound terrour in the hearts of King-killers, Is a bloody A&s;pect attending that cur&s;ed hand that &s;ignd thy Sove|raigns Death? Or do&s;t thou repent of that hainous murder com|mitted in cool blood?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Hew&s;.</SPEAKER>
<P>No, I could act a &s;econd Tragedy with as good a Con|&s;cience as ever I was Mr. of, might I but get my Colonels place again, yet there's little hope &s;ince the wheel of time hath turn'd me not only out of my place but into &s;uch a &s;haking Ague through fear of a King, that I fear my &s;oul (by the Devils a&s;&s;i&s;tance) will hardly keep clo&s;e to the upper leather of my body; e&s;pecially when I think upon my Oath when I fir&s;t became a Free Cobler of <HI>Lon|don;</HI> But hang thoughts, I am not alone, who comes there, <HI>Tom Scot?</HI><STAGE>exit.</STAGE></P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Scot.</STAGE>
<P>As &s;ure as Low&s;e in bo&s;ome, who&s;e confidence had you, the face of Maje&s;ty could never beat a retreat in your ears. Come what change will, Ile make one: Have not I been for a Par|liament, an Army a Rump, and cannot I be for a King for&s;ooth? an Act of Indempnity cures all. Nay come what will, there's more &s;ecurity in a <HI>Lambeth</HI> Begger-wench then in any Coblers &s;hop in <HI>London.</HI> Who comes there an Actor in the &s;ame blooy Scene as my &s;elf?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Harri&s;on.</STAGE>
<P>I, and deeper then you ever dur&s;t, for I not only &s;ign'd the Murther, but appointed the time and place for ere|cting the Stage on which the Tragedy was to be acted; And I re|&s;olve to &s;tand out to the le&s;t. Wee'l have no King but him whom our brother <HI>Overton</HI> declar'd for, If we &s;ecure <HI>Hull</HI> all's ours, then what will become of your <HI>Lambeth</HI> Quarters, when he appears &s;uch as you &s;hall be hewers of wood, and drawers of water to our holy Camp, No ba&s;tard &s;hall &s;hake his &mdash; in our Dominions. But is no more of our Gang here?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Moun&s;on.</STAGE>
<P>Yes faith, and as true a trout as the be&s;t, I &s;ed little, but &s;ign'd as much as any, yet I expect the favour of a King if he do come; who knowes but that Indempnity may &s;tand me in as much &s;tead as a 5 <HI>l.</HI> Act. <STAGE>exit</STAGE></P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>What's this comes here Famine the God of hunger, one of <HI>Pharaohs</HI> Lean Kine, or the Gho&s;t of &s;ome Bacon dry'd Boar-Pig enough to fright the Devil, In good &s;ooth tis Corbet the Welch Philo&s;opher; Sure hee's for a King now.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Corbet.</SPEAKER>
<P>Sfoot I for a King, Id'e rather dye in a ditch, then live to &s;ee a King, and be advanced in <HI>Acteon</HI> road a &s;tory above my neighbours, which I mu&s;t needs expect; Had I a hand to &s;ign my Sovereigns death, and &s;hall I de&s;ire a branch of the &s;ame Tree. No, yet I &s;hould count it a good &s;tep in my way to Heaven, could I as <HI>Pilate</HI> wa&s;h my hands clear from the guilt of that bloody and unpa|rallell'd murther.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Cav.</SPEAKER>
<P>Sfoot, who comes there, Old Smell-Smock,</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Martin,</STAGE>
<P>The very &s;ame, I came ju&s;t now from <HI>Baldwins</HI> Gardens where I thought to have found a Nur&s;e fit for my purpo&s;e, but a P&mdash; take the Whore, her milk fell &s;hort, &s;he would not take the piece of my ingenuity though I profferd a fair price, nor I <GAP DESC="illegible" EXTENT="1 letter">ear keep my Council though I gave her a Fee, Were I as clear of this as from fear of any prejudice by a King coming, I &s;hould hardly vnnter upon a &s;ingle woman again;</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>Whoop, whats here a Gold&s;mith?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Bark.</STAGE>
<P>Alas you all know I was a Lord of the new &s;tamp, I mind no King but could ene grieve to think that my impregna|ble &s;trength, where I enjoyed the very quinti&s;&s;ence of plea&s;ure for &s;igning that hainous murder. I was alwaies moderate, the chief and mo&s;t re&s;olute to damn Ring&s;hip was my Brother <HI>Tichbuan.</HI></P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Tich.</STAGE>
<P>Who I; that have been the God of the City pinching the poor, of bread, Butter, and meat but e&s;pecially the Ale-wives, whom I keep in more Awe than ever Wolf kept &s;heep, but rather then a King &s;hall come to take of my Ill-gotten E&s;tate I &s;hall fight vp to the ears in Milk-&s;ops; Nay rai&s;e &s;uch a fortifi|cation of Cow dung to my very throat that &s;hall make &s;uch a plen|tiful increa&s;e on my Chin; that again&s;t the next King comes to the Scaffold I hope to look like a grave Pre&s;ident.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Enter Ludlow.</STAGE>
<P>Heavens what a Bablings here, why is this con|fe&s;&s;ion to a Damnd Cavalier, are ye minded to be rediculous the uinver&s;e; Had not we good witne&s;&s;e again&s;t him men of Noble for|tunes, <HI>viz.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Seely,</HI> Of <HI>London</HI> Cobler, why not a Cobler a witne&s;&s;e a&s;well as a Col. <HI>Lacy</HI> of Nottingham why not a Painter who would draw out the Scarlet Hue of our famous Murder; and Leads the Tylor; <HI>Morgan</HI> the Feltmaker, <HI>Roberts</HI> the Iremonger; <HI>James Crosby</HI> Dublin Barber, <HI>Whittingon</HI> the Shomaker of Nottingham, <HI>Bennet</HI> the Clover and <HI>Evans</HI> the Welch Smith be&s;ides <HI>Price</HI> the Scrivener of <HI>London</HI> and divers more &s;uch like Noble Gentlemen? many of which have been well requited &s;ince.</P>
</SP>
<STAGE>Enter Caval, With a naked &s;word.</STAGE>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>Who&s;e that dare &s;ay no King.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>All.</SPEAKER>
<P><HI>Not I, not I, nor I Sir,</HI></P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval,</SPEAKER>
<P>Villains have you &s;wallowed up the precious blood of a Martyred Father, and &s;ubverted the Laws of his Kingdoms, and now do you aim at a Sons blood too, will your Hell Govern'd hearts delight in nothing but &s;entencing Kings, and Butchering Loyal Subjects? Is no pitty in you?</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>A?.</SPEAKER>
<P>No.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>Oh wonderful, when Devils tells the truth? Nay &s;uch Devils who hope to gain &s;alvation by bloody Butcheries, would you Murther the Son, If you were Judges of the Court as you did the Father.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>All.</SPEAKER>
<P>We would.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Caval.</SPEAKER>
<P>A Pox upon you all, His Royal Per&s;on who hath been by Providence pre&s;erv'd and e&s;caped many dangers (e&s;pecially at Worce&s;ter fight) and an pur&s;uit pre&s;erved (by God him&s;elf to be King) &s;uch Up&s;tart Gentlemen have prey'd too long on the blood of Maje&s;ty; Whom God defend now from &s;uch &s;laves as you, <HI>God &s;ave the King;</HI> Ba&s;e Villains all Ad<GAP DESC="illegible" EXTENT="2 letters">e.</P>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>All.</SPEAKER>
<L><HI>Our grief is great we &s;hall for &s;orrow die,</HI></L>
<L><HI>Since all the Nations for a King do cry.</HI></L>
</SP>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P>LONDON, Printed for <HI>Theodorus Microco&s;mus,</HI> 1660. <DATE><ADD>March .25. 1659</ADD></DATE></P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
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