Nonjurors that won't swear to the Government, and _Irish_ Evidences that
will swear to any thing.

_Enter_ Major Bramble.

Heav'n guard the Court!--What cursed Plot's now hatching, that brings the
grumbling _Major_ to the _Park_?

_Bram._ The Government, Sir _Harry_, will ne'er suspect my policy at
plotting, when I have no more sense than to trust a Wit with it; but the
Company I keep, may with wondrous ease form a Plot past your finding out.

Sir _Har._ What, cowardly Bullies, tatter'd Gam'sters, and Fellows that
have been twice transported, poor, unhappy scoundrels that disturb the
Nation to please you rich Male-Contents, and are hang'd for their reward.

_Bram._ Those Gentlemen, Sir _Harry_, you're pleas'd to term scoundrels, I
honour; he that takes sanctuary in the _Fleet_, has an immediate place in
my Heart; the Heroes of the _Mint_ are a formidable Body, magnanimously
sowse ev'ry Fellow in a Ditch that dares to infringe their Liberties; he
that's committed to _Newgate_ is in a fair way to Immortality;--He that
stands in the Pillory is exalted to a very high Station; the Observator is
my very good Friend; and he that writes the Review a Person of a most
incomparable Assurance.

_Col._ But where's the Satisfaction of admiring what's Rascally?

_Bram._ You're mistaken, Sir, Virtue's oppress'd; these are the only Men
of worth i'the Nation, and since the World's compos'd chiefly of Knaves
and Hypocrites, it behoves ev'ry honest Fellow to over-reach the World;