_Free._ We knew, my Lord, the Influence your Ladies have over you, and Women are more tender and compassionate naturally than Men; and, Sir, 'tis hard for Gentlemen to starve.
_L. Lam._ Have you not able Limbs? can ye not work?
_Lov._ Persons of our Education work!
_Lam._ Starve or beg then.
_L. Lam._ Education! why, I'll warrant there was that young Creature they call the Duke of _Glocester_, was as well educated as any Lad in the Parish; and yet you see he should have been bound Prentice to a Handy-Crafts Trade, but that our Lords could not spare Money to bind him out, and so they sent him to beg beyond Sea.
_Lov._ Death, I shall do Mischief: not all the Joy she gave me but now, can atone for this Blasphemy against the Royal Youth.
[Aside.
_Free._ Patience-- Well, my Lord, we find you are obdurate, and we'll withdraw.
_Lam._ Do so: And if you dare presume to trouble us any more, I'll have you whip'd, d'ye hear.
_L. Des._ Madam, I'll take my leave of your Ladyship.
[Ex. _Lov._ _Free._ and L. _Des._
_L. Lam._ My Lord, 'twas I that ought to threaten 'em-- but you're so forward still-- what makes you from the Committee?
_Lam._ I left some Papers behind.
_L. Lam._ And they'll make use of your Absence to set up _Fleetwood_ King.
_Lam._ I'll warrant ye, my Dear.
_L. Lam._ You'll warrant! you are a Fool, and a Coxcomb; I see I must go my self, there will be no Bus'ness done till I thunder 'em together: They want Old _Oliver_ amongst 'em, his Arbitrary Nod cou'd make ye all tremble; when he wanted Power or Money, he need but cock in Parliament, and lay his Hand upon his Sword, and cry, I must have Money, and had it, or kick'd ye all out of Doors: And you are all mealy mouth'd, you cannot cock for a Kingdom.
_Lam._ I'll warrant ye, Dear, I can do as good a thing for a Kingdom.
_L. Lam._ You can do nothing as you shou'd do't: You want Old _Oliver's_ Brains, Old _Oliver's_ Courage, and Old _Oliver's_ Counsel: Ah, what a politick Fellow was little Sir _Anthony_! What a Head-piece was there!
What a plaguy Fellow Old _Thurlo_, and the rest! But get ye back, and return me Protector at least, or never hope for Peace again.
_Lam._ My Soul, trouble not thy self, go in-- _With mine no Power can equal be, And I will be a King to humour thee._ [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. _A Council-Chamber, great Table, Chairs, and Papers._
Enter two Clerks, who lay Papers in Order, and Doorkeeper.
_Door._ Come, haste, haste, the Lords are coming-- keep back there, room for the Lords, room for the honourable Lords: Heav'n bless your Worships Honours.
Enter _Lambert_, _Fleetwood_, _Whitlock_, _Wariston_, discoursing earnestly; to them _Duckenfield_, _Cobbet_, _Hewson_, _Desbro_, and others; _Duck._ takes _Wariston_ by the Hand, and talks to him.
_War._ Bread a gued, Gentlemen, I's serv'd the Commonwealth long and faithfully; I's turn'd and turn'd to aud Interest and aud Religions that turn'd up Trump, and wons a me, but I's get naught but Bagery by my Sol; I's noo put in for a Pansion as well as rest o ya Loones.
_Cob._ What we can serve you in, my Lord, you may command.
_Duc._ And I too, my Lord, when the Government is new moulded.
_War._ Wons, Sirs, and I's sa moold it, 'twas ne'er sa moolded sen the Dam boon'd the Head on't.
_Duc._ I know there are some ambitious Persons that are for a single Person; but we'll have hot Work e'er we yield to that.
_War._ The faud Diel take 'em then for _Archibald_; 'tis warse than Monarchy.
_Duc._ A thousand times: have we with such Industry been pulling down Kings of the Royal Family, to set up Tyrants of our own, of mean and obscure Birth? No, if we're for a single Person, I'm for a lawful one.
_War._ Wons and ya have spoken aud, my Lord, so am I.
_Due._ But _Lambert_ has a busy, haughty Spirit, and thinks to carry it; but we'll have no single Person.
_War._ Nor I, ods Bread; the faud Diel brest the Wem of _Lambert_, or any single Person in _England_. I's for yare Interest, my gued Lords.
[Bowing.
_Lam._ My Lord _Wariston_, will you please to assume the Chair?
Enter _Loveless_, _Freeman_, and others with Petitions.
_War._ Ah, my gued Loord, I's yare most obedient humble Servant.
[Bowing to _Lam._ all set.
_All._ Hum, hum.
_Fleet._ My Lords and Gentlemen, we are here met together in the Name of the Lard--
_Duc._ Yea, and I hope we shall hang together as one Man-- A Pox upon your Preaching.
[Aside.
_Fleet._ --And hope this Day's great Work will be for his Praise and Glory.
_Duc._ 'Bating long Graces, my Lord, we are met together for the Bus'ness of the Nation, to settle it, and to establish a Government.
_Fleet._ Yea, verily: and I hope you will all unanimously agree, it shall be your unworthy Servant.
_Lam._ What else, my Lord.
_Fleet._ And as thou, Lard, hast put the Sword into my Hand--
_Due._ So put it into your Heart-- my Lord, to do Justice.