A dialogue betwixt an excise-man and Death.

About this Item

Title
A dialogue betwixt an excise-man and Death.
Publication
London :: Printed by I.C.,
1659.
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Subject terms
Tax collection -- England -- Humor -- Early works to 1800.
Taxation -- England -- Humor -- Early works to 1800.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A81430.0001.001
Cite this Item
"A dialogue betwixt an excise-man and Death." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A81430.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 2, 2024.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

A Dialogue betwixt an EXCISE-MAN and DEATH.

[illustration] death, represented by a skeleton holding an arrow, converses with an excise man standing in front of barrels

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