A Dialogue betwixt an EXCISE-MAN and DEATH.
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UPon a time when Titans Steeds were driven,
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To drench themselves beneath the Western Heaven;
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And sable Morpheus had his Curtains spread,
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And silent Night had laid the World to bed:
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'Mongst other Night-Birds which did seeke for Prey:
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A blunt Excise-man, which abhor'd the Day,
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Was rambling forth to seeke himselfe a Booty,
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'Mongst Merchants Goods which had not paid the Duty:
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But walking all alone Death chanc'd to meet him,
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And in this manner did begin to greet him.
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Death. Stand, who comes here? what means this Knave to peepe
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And sculke abroad, when honest men should sleepe?
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Speake, what's thy name? and quickly tell me this,
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Whither thou goest, and what thy bus'ness is?
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Excise-man. What'ere my bus'ness is, thou foule-mouth'd scould
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I'de have you know, I scorn to be countroul'd
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By any Man that lives; much less by thou
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Who blurtest out thou knowst not what, nor how;
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I goe about my lawful bus'ness: And
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Ile make you smart for bidding of mee stand.
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Death. Imperious Cox-combe! Is your stomack vext?
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Pray slack your rage; and harken what comes next:
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I have a Writt to take you up; Therefore
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To chase your blood I bid you, stand, once more.
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Excis. A Writt to take me up! Excuse mee, Sir,
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You doe mistake, I am an Officer,
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In Publick Service, for my private Wealth,
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My bus'ness is if any seeke by stealth,
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To undermine the States, I doe discover
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Their falshood; therefore, hold your hand: give over.
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Death. Nay, faire and soft! Tis not so quickly done
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As you conceive it is: I am not gone
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A jott the sooner for your hastie Chat,
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Nor braging Language: For I tell you flat
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Tis more then so; though Fortune seeme to thwart us,
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Such easie terms I don't intend shall part us?
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With this impartial Arme, Ile make you feele
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My fingers first, and with this Shaft of Steele,
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Ile peck thy bones? As thou alive, wert hated,
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So dead, to Doggs thou shall be Segregated.
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Excis. I'de laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare,
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To lay thy fingers on me: I'd not spare
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To hack thy Carkass till my Sword was broken:
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I'de make thee eat the words which thou hast spoken:
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All men should warning take by thy transgression,
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How they molested men of my Profession.
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My Service to the Sates, is so well known,
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That should I but Complaine, they'd quickly own
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My publcke grievances; and give mee right
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To cut your eares before tomorrow night.
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Death. Well said indeed: But booteless all; For I
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Am well aquainted with thy Villainie;
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I know thy Office, and thy Trade is such,
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Thy Service little; and thy Gaines are much:
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Thy braggs are many; But tis vaine to Swagger,
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And thinke to fright me with thy guilded Dagger:
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As I abhor thy Person; Place, and Threat,
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So now Ile bring thee to the Judgement Seate.
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Excis. The Judgement Seate! I must confess that word
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Doth cut my heart, like any sharpned Sword:
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What! Come t'account! methinks the dreadful sound
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Of every word, doth make a mortal wound,
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Which sticks not only in my outward skin,
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But penetrates my very soule within.
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Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death,
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Would once attempt to stop Excise-mens breath.
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But since tis so; that now I doe perceive
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You are in earnest: then I must relieve
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Myself another way. Come, wee'l be Friends,
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If I have wronged thee, Ile make th'Amends:
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Let's joyne together; Ile passe my word, this night
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Shall yeeld us Grub, before the morning light;
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Or, otherwise (to mittigate my sorrow)
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Stay here, Ile bring you Gold enough tomorrow.
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Death. Tomorrows Gold I will not have; And thou
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Shalt have no Gold upon tomorrow: Now
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My final Writt shall to'th execution have thee;
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All earthly Treasure cannot help or save thee.
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Excis. Then woe is me! Ah! how was I befool'd!
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I thought that Gold (which answereth althings) could
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Have stood my friend at any time, to Baile mee!
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But griefe growes great, and now my trust doth fail mee:
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Oh! that my conscience were but clear within;
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Which now is racked with my former sin:
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With horror I behold my secret Stealing,
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My Bribes, Oppression, and my graceless Dealing;
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My Office-sins which I had clean forgotten,
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Will Gnaw my soul, when all my bones are rotten:
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I must confess it, very grief doth force mee,
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Dead, or alive, both God and Man doth Curse mee.
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Let All Excise-men hereby warning take,
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To shun their Practice for their Conscience sake.
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