Mohun, "come gentlemen, come gentlemen, let us make room," when the brothers took their seats at the festive board.

"A little too late for the feast," said D'Urfey, turning round and offering his hand, "but there's plenty of prog in the larder, my nobles, and ho boy! I rule the roast here, Master Killegrew; come lay the cloth on that small table there, and, hic-I'll carve for you, gentlemen; bring the pigeon-pie, and the et ceteras. Upon my honour, hic-I am ashamed of you-you, Sir William, a gentleman of So high and plenteous wit and invention,' as your god-dad says, hic— not to have bidden the two Master Kil-Kil— Killegrews to our feast. Tapster, hip, why what are them rascally trumpeters about? Here's the manager of the king's own company, and King Charles's avant courier come over, by Jove, and no salute. Bid the rebels come up,-have they not filled their paunches yet? O, your trumpeters are such guzzling rogues. Come, my noble Killegrews, let me fill your glasses, my boys, and you Kill-joy, old Nokes, come, put forward the glasses. We shall be alive now that the Kill-Kill-Kill

So," taking his glass, nobles of the house of

-."

ums are come.

to you, my

"here's

Here the old trumpeter made his appearance, when D'Urfey, turning round, exclaimed, "With brazen din b'ast you the city's ears. Am I to find you quarters, and feast you-you varlets, and have none of your services? Blow loud,' you reprobate old sinner, Blow loud,' no, hic, damme that is an invocation to the trumpet, and not to the trumpeter. • Blow loud, send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents.' This is verily, the dullest night, the most spiritless-Come my merry trumpeters, give us a flourish.”

"I have no trumpet, your worship," said the trumpeter. "That Jew is a heathen and a Philistine, and-hic, hic-lives not in the fear of the Lord."

"No trumpet! that's comical.

Hear you

that, Sir William? Why thou art verily an useless piece of non-entity. No trumpet! my old buccinator. What, ho! then you are that preaching old tyke, whom Mother Fox gave such a drubbing. Did you never hear that story, Master Killegrew: how the old she

K 2

quaker met Oliver Cromwell's trumpeter, dismounted, in the lane, and under a hedge! hic, I wont expose you, my old one, by telling what you were doing there, and broke his head with his own trumpet. Ha-ha-ha, 'twas at Marston Moor, by G-d!"

"That story is not the fact, your worship, it is the invention of the drunken, hic-reprobate ca-cava-liers."

"That is mutiny, flat mutiny," said Tom, "and I'll have you tried by a court-martial. Haha-ha, I know you, Mister Hold-me-fast, you are one of the elect. Well, well, I hope the house has taken care of you, and well stored your carnal appetite. But, Master Hold-me-fast, you are not sober, hic-hic-and that is not very saintly. I'm Is this one of your Puritanical maxims? sorry, very sorry, Master Hold-me-fast, to see a man of your years, with no more discretion. But hold, do you hear this, mister president, no trumpet! how the devil, why, what has Mister Mordecai been about? Soho, Mister Jew,-I must enquire into this," and leaving the vicepresident's chair, waved his hand to the old trumpeter, crying, "attention, dismiss," when

he departed, staggering to his quarters, followed by D'Urfey, who instead of proceeding thither, halted at the bar, to have a gossip with mine host, for perceiving a fine portly guest, and a handsome female acquaintance at supper in the bar, with Caleb Johnson and his wife, and the table well covered with smoking eatables and wine, the temptation was irresistible; in he went, totally forgetting the object of his mission. to the quarters of the trumpeters. "What! my friend Ferabosco!* how goes it, my loyal Ludovico? Ah! and madam too! The two handsomest hostesses in all his majesty's dominions! What! come up to see the king make his grand entre! That is as it should be-hicWhy this will be gazetted, will get into one of our Mercurys†. The two loyal-loyal—loy

* Ludovico Ferabosco, son of one of the late king's musicians, and grandson of Ferabosco, the celebrated Italian musician, retained by King Henry VIII. He was the loyal host of the St. Christopher Inn, at Eton, of whom more hereafter.

The News-papers or Gazettes at this period were called Mercurys. They were published by both

alest,-hic-tavern-keepers in the land, and their two comely spouses."

"Why, Master D'Urfey, what, Sir, have you quitted your company, quitted your chair, Sir?" enquired old Caleb, with a smile, perceiving the mad-cap was a little in his cups.

"Why no, you rogue-God bless thee, Master Caleb, not a bit of it. Hic-I heard who you had got for guests, and so said I to the president-no-hem, that's not the fact exactly. So, said I to myself, what if I do'nt steal an opportunity to walk out, and just step in, and ask Madam Ferabosco how she does? Well so, my good lady, and how do you find yourself, madam, in these times? Hic-we shall

parties. The parliamentariares, however, derived incalculable support from a paper entitled Mercurius Politicus, edited by the powerful pen of Marchamont Needham, and which appeared weekly for more than ten years. This writer, by the numerous converts which he made, was styled the Goliath of the cause.

Mercurius Rusticus, or the Country's Complaint, which as a journal of the excesses committed by the republicans, was in much repute among the loyal party.