L. Lam. My Lord’s undone! his Army has deserted him;
Left him defenceless to the Enemies Pow’r.
Ah, Coward Traytors! Where’s that brutal Courage,
That made you so successful in your Villanies?
Has Hell, that taught you Valour, now abandon’d ye?
—How in an instant are my Glories fall’n!
Crom. Ha, ha, ha—What, has your Highness any Cause of Grief?
Gill. Call up your Courage, Madam, do not let these things scoff you—you may be yet a Queen: Remember what Lilly told you, Madam.
L. Lam. Damn Lilly, who with lying Prophecies has rais’d me to the hopes of Majesty: a Legion of his Devils take him for’t.
Crom. Oh, have a care of Cursing, Madam.
L. Lam. Screech-Owl, away, thy Voice is ominous.
Oh I cou’d rave! but that it is not great;
—And silent Sorrow—has most Majesty.
Enter Wariston, huffing.
War. Wons, Madam, undone, undone; our honourable Committee is gone to th’ Diel, and the damn’d loosey Rump is aud in aud; the muckle Diel set it i’solt, and his Dam drink most for’t.
Crom. The Committee dissolv’d! whose wise work was that? it looks like Fleetwood’s silly Politicks.
War. Marry, and yar Ladiship’s i’th’ right,’twas en the Work o’th’ faud Loone, the Diel brest his Wem for’t.
Enter Hewson, Desbro, Whitlock, Duc. and Cob.
Hew. So, Brethren in Iniquity, we have spun a fine Thred, the Rump’s all in all now, rules the Roast, and has sent for the General with Scissers and Rasor.
Whit. With a Sisseraro, you mean.
Hew. None of your Terms in Law, good Brother.
War. Right; but gen ya have any Querks in Law, Mr. Lyar, that will save our Crags, ’twill be warth a Fee.
Duc. We have plaid our Cards fair.
War. I’s deny that; Wans, Sirs, ya plaid ’em faul; a Fule had the shooftling of’em, and the Muckle Diel himself turn up Trump.
Whit. We are lost, Gentlemen, utterly lost; who the Devil wou’d have thought of a Dissolution?
Hews. Is there no Remedy?
Duc. Death, I’ll to the Scotch General; turn but in time as many greater Rogues than I have done, and ’twill save my Stake yet—Farewel, Gentlemen.
Des. No Remedy?
War. Nene, Sirs, again the King’s Evil; Bread, Sirs, ya’s ene gan tol yar Stall agen: I’s en follow Duckenfield—Farewel, Mr. Leyer.
L. Lam. See the Vicissitudes of human Glory.
These Rascals, that but yesterday petition’d me
With humble Adoration, now scarce pay
Common Civilities due to my Sex alone.
Enter Fleetwood.
Crom. How now, Fool, what is’t that makes ye look so pertly? Some mighty Business you have done, I’ll warrant.
Fleet. Verily, Lady Mother, you are the strangest Body; a Man cannot please you—Have I not finely circumvented Lambert? made the Rump Head, who have committed him to the Tower; ne’er stir now that I have, and I’m the greatest Man in England, as I live I am, as a Man may say.
Crom. Yes, till a greater come. Ah, Fool of Fools, not to fore-see the danger of that nasty Rump.
L. Fleet. Good Madam, treat my Lord with more Respect.
Crom. Away, fond Fool, born with so little Sense, To doat on such a wretched Idiot; It was thy Fate in Ireton’s days to love him, Or you were foully scandalized.
Fleet. You are not so well spoken of neither, ne’er stir now, and you go to that. I can be King to morrow if I will.
Crom. Thou lyest, thou wo’t be hang’d first; mark that I tell thee so. I’ll prove Cassandra to thee, and prophesy thy Doom; Heav’n pays the Traitor back with equal Measure. Remember how you serv’d my poor Son Richard.
[Ex. Crom. and Page.
Fleet. She’s mad—Come, my Dear, let’s leave the House of this Villain, that meant to have cozen’d me illegally or three Kingdoms—but that I outwitted him at last.
[Ex. Fleet. L. Fleet, and Page.
Enter Page.
L. Lam. Imprison’d too, i’th’ Tower! what Fate is mine? [Leans on Des.
Page. Madam, the fine Heroick’s come to wait on you.
L. Lam. Hah! Loveless! let him not see the Ruin of my Greatness, which he foretold, and kindly begg’d I wou’d usurp no more. [Weep.
Enter Loveless.
Lov. This News has brought me back, I love this Woman,
Vain as she is, in spite of all her Fopperies of State— [Bows to her, and looks sad.
L. Lam. Alas, I do not merit thy Respect,
I’m fall’n to Scorn, to Pity and Contempt. [Weeping.
Ah, Loveless, fly the wretched—Thy
Virtue is too noble to be shin’d on
By any thing but rising Suns alone:
I’m a declining Shade—
Lov. By Heaven, you were never great till now;
I never thought thee so much worth my Love,
My Knee, and Adoration, till this Minute. [Kneels.
—I come to offer you my Life, and all
The little Fortune the rude Herd has left me.
L. Lam. Is there such God-like Virtue in your Sex?
Or, rather, in your Party.
Curse on the Lyes and Cheats of Conventicles,
That taught me first to think Heroicks Devils,
Blood-thirsty, leud, tyrannick, salvage Monsters.
—But I believe ’em Angels all, if all like Loveless.
What heavenly thing then must the Master be,
Whose Servants are divine?
[Enter Page running.
Page. Oh, Madam! all the Heroick Boys are up in Arms, and swear they’ll have your Highness, dead or alive,—they have besieg’d the House.
L. Lam. Heav’ns, the Rabble!—those faithless things that us’d to croud my Coach’s Wheels, and stop my Passage, with their officious Noise and Adoration.
Enter Freeman.
Free. Loveless, thy Aid; the City-Sparks are up;
Their zealous Loyalty admits no Bounds.
A glorious Change is coming, and I’ll appear now barefac’d.
Lov. Madam, fear not the Rabble; retire. Freeman and I can still ’em. Leads her in, and bows low.
Free. My dear Maria, I shall claim ye shortly—
L. Des. Do your worst, I’m ready for the Challenge. [Go in.
[Ex. Lov. and Free. another way.
Enter Captain and the rest.
Capt. I say we’ll have the She-Politican out, she did more mischief than her Husband, pitiful, dittiful Lambert; who is, thanks be prais’d, in the Tower, to which place Lord of his Mercy bring all the King’s Enemies.
All. Amen, Amen.
Enter Lov. and Freeman.
Lov. Why, how now, Captain, what, besiege the Women! No, let us lead our Force to nobler Enemies.
Capt. Nay, noble Chief, your Word’s our Law.
Lov. No, I resign that Title to the brave Scotch General, who has just now enter’d the City.
Capt. We know it, Sir; do you not observe how the Crop-ear’d Fanaticks trot out of Town?—The Rogues began their old belov’d Mutiny, but ’twould not do.
Lov. A Pox upon ’em, they went out like the Snuff of a Candle, stinkingly and blinkingly.
1 Pr. Ay, ay, let ’em hang themselves, and then they are cold Meat for the Devil.
Capt. But, noble Champion, I hope we may have leave to roast the Rump to night.
Lov. With all our Hearts, here’s Mony to make Fires—
Free. And here’s for Drink to’t, Boys.
All. Hey—Viva le Roy, viva les Heroicks! [Go out hollowing.
Enter Ananias peeping, Felt-maker, and Joyner.
Ana. So, the Rabble’s gone: ah, Brethren! what will this wicked World come to?
Felt. Alack, alack, to no Goodness, you may be sure: pray what’s the News?
[Fleet. peeping out of a Garret-Window.
Fleet. Anania, Anania!
Ana. Who calleth Ananias? lo, here am I.
Fleet. Behold, it is I, look up. How goeth tidings?
Ana. Full ill, I fear; ’tis a bad Omen to see your Lordship so nigh Heaven; when the Saints are Garretified.
Fleet. I am fortifying my self against the Evil-Day.
Ana. Which is come upon us like a Thief in the night; like a Torrent from the Mountain of Waters, or a Whirlwind from the Wilderness.
Fleet. Why, what has the Scotch General done?
Ana. Ah! he playeth the Devil with the Saints in the City, because they put the Covenant-Oath unto him; he pulls up their Gates, their Posts and Chains, and enters.
Felt. And wou’d the wicked City let him have his beastly Will of her?
Ana. Nay, but she was ravish’d—deflower’d.
Joy. How, ravish’d! oh monstrous! was ever such a Rape committed upon an innocent City? lay her Legs open to the wide World, for every Knave to view her Nakedness?
Felt. Ah, ah! what Days, what Times, and what Seasons are here? [Exeunt.
Enter Capt. Corp. and Prent. with Faggots, hollowing.
Corp. What say you now, Lads, is not my Prophecy truer than Lilly’s? I told you the Rump would fall to our handling and drinking for: the King’s proclaim’d, Rogues.
Capt. Ay, ay, Lilly, a Plague on him, he prophesied Lambert should be uppermost.
Corp. Yes, he meant perhaps on Westminster Pinacle: where’s Lilly now, with all his Prophecies against the Royal Family?
Capt. In one of his Twelve Houses.
1 Pren. We’ll fire him out to Night, Boy; come, all hands to work for the Fire. [Ex. all hollowing.
Fleet. Ah, dismal, heavy day, a day of Grief and Woe, Which hast bereft me of my hopes for ay, Ah, Lard, ah what shall I do? [Exit.
Scene IV. A Chamber in Lambert’s House.
Enter Lov. leading L. Lam. in disguise, Page and Gilliflower disguised, Lov. dressing her.
Lov. My Charmer, why these Tears,
If for the fall of all thy painted Glories,
Thou art, in the esteem of all good Men,
Above what thou wert then?
The glorious Sun is rising in our Hemisphere,
And I, amongst the crowd of Loyal Sufferers,
Shall share in its kindly Rays.
L. Lam. Best of thy Sex—
What have I left to gratify thy Goodness?
Lov. You have already by your noble Bounty,
Made me a Fortune, had I nothing else;
All which I render back, with all that Wealth
Heaven and my Parents left me:
Which, tho unjustly now detain’d from me,
Will once again be mine, and then be yours.
Enter Free.
Free. Come, haste, the Rabble gather round the House,
And swear they’ll have this Sorceress.
Lov. Let me loose among ’em, their rude officious Honesty must be punish’d.
L. Lam. Oh, let me out, do not expose thy Person to their mad Rage, rather resign the Victim. [Holds him.
Lov. Resign thee! by Heaven, I think I shou’d turn Rebel first.
Enter La. Des. disguised, and Tom with Jewels in a Box.
L. Des. With much ado, according to thy direction, dear Freeman, I have pass’d the Pikes, my House being surrounded; and my Husband demanded, fell down dead with fear.
Free. How, thy Husband dead!
L. Des. Dead as old Oliver, and much ado I got off with these Jewels, the Rabble swore I was one of the Party; and had not the honest Corporal convinc’d em, I had been pull’d to pieces.—Come, haste away, Madam, we shall be roasted with the Rump else.
L. Lam. Adieu, dear Mansion! whose rich gilded Roofs so oft put me in mind of Majesty—And thou, my Bed of State, where my soft Slumbers have presented me with Diadems and Scepters—when waking I have stretch’d my greedy Arms to grasp the vanish’d Phantom! ah, adieu! and all my hopes of Royalty adieu.—
Free. And dare you put your self into my Protection? Well, if you do, I doubt you’ll never be your own Woman again.
L. Des. No matter, I’m better lost than found on such occasions. [Exeunt.
Scene V. A Street; a great Bonfire, with Spits, and Rumps roasting, and the Mobile about the Fire, with Pots, Bottles, Fiddles.
1 Pren. Here, Jack, a Health to the King.
2 Pren. Let it pass, Lad, and next to the noble General.
1 Pren. Ralph, baste the Rump well, or ne’er hope to see a King agen.
3 Pren. The Rump will baste it self, it has been well cram’d.
Enter Freeman, L. Des. Loveless, and L. Lam. Gill. Tom, Pages, &c.
Cap. Hah, Noble Champion, faith, Sir, you must honour us so far as to drink the King’s Health, and the noble General’s, before you go.
Enter Wariston, drest like a Pedlar, with a Box about his Neck full of Ballads and Things.
War. Will ya buy a guedly Ballat or a Scotch Spur, Sirs? a guedly Ballat, or a Scotch Spur.—’Sbread, I’s scapt hitherte weele enough, I’s say’d my Crag fro stretching twa Inches longer than ’twas borne: will ya buy a Jack-line to roast the Rump, a new Jack Lambert Line?—or a blithe Ditty of the Noble Scotch General?—come buy my Ditties.
Cap. How, a Ditty o’th’ General? let’s see’t, Sirrah.
War. ’Sbread, Sirs, and here’s the guedly Ballat of the General’s coming out of Scotland.
Cap. Here, who sings it? we’ll all bear the bob.
[Wariston sings the Ballad, all bearing the Bob.
Enter Ananias crying Almanacks.
Ana. New Almanacks, new Almanacks.
Cap. Hah, who have we here? Ananias, Holder-forth of Clement’s Parish?
All. Ha, a Traytor, a Traytor.
Lov. If I am not mistaken, this blithe Ballad-singer too was Chair-man to the Committee of Safety.
Cap. Is your Lordship turned Pedlar at last?
War. What mon I do noo? Lerd, ne mere Lerd than yar sel, Sir; wons I show ’em a fair pair of Heels.
[Goes to run away, they get him on a Colt-staff, with Ananias on another, Fidlers playing Fortune my Foe, round the Fire.
Cap. Play Fortune my Foe, Sirrah.
Enter Hewson, drest like a Country Fellow.
Cor. Who are you, Sirrah? you have the mark o’ th’ Beast.
Hews. Who aye, Sir? Aye am a Doncer, that come a merry-making among ya—
Cap. Come, Sirrah, your Feats of Activity quickly then.
[He dances; which ended, they get him on a Colt-staff, and cry a Cobler, a Cobler.
All. A Cobler, a Cobler.
Cap. To Prison with the Traytors, and then we have made a good Night’s work on’t.
Then let’s all home, and to the Powers Divine
Pray for the King, and all the Sacred Line. [Exeunt.
EPILOGUE
Spoken by Lady Desbro.
THE Vizor’s off, and now I dare appear.
High for the Royal Cause in Cavalier;
Tho once as true a Whig as most of you,
Cou’d cant, and lye, preach, and dissemble too:
So far you drew me in, but faith I’ll be
Reveng’d on you for thus debauching me:
Same of your pious Cheats I’ll open lay,
That lead your Ignoramus Flock astray:
For since I cannot fight, I will not fail
To exercise my Talent, that’s to rail.
Ye Race of Hypocrites, whose Cloak of Zeal
Covers the Knave that cants for Commonweal,
All Laws, the Church and State to Ruin brings,
And impudently sets a Rule on Kings;
Ruin, destroy, all’s good that you decree
By your Infallible Presbytery,
Prosperous at first, in Ills you grow so vain,
You thought to play the Old Game o’er again:
And thus the Cheat was put upon the Nation,
First with Long Parliaments, next Reformation,
And now you hop’d to make a new Invasion:
And when you can’t prevail by open Force,
To cunning tickling Tricks you have recourse,
And raise Sedition forth without Remorse.
Confound these cursed Tories, then they cry, [In a preaching tone.
Those Fools, those Pimps to Monarchy,
Those that exclude the Saints; yet open th’ Door,
To introduce the Babylonian Whore.
By Sacred Oliver the Nation’s mad;
Beloved, ’twas not so when he was Head:
But then, as I have said it oft before ye,
A Cavalier was but a Type of Tory.
The Curs durst then not bark, but all the Breed
Is much encreas’d since that good Man was dead:
Yet then they rail’ d against the Good Old Cause,
Rail’d foolishly for Loyalty, and Laws;
But when the Saints had put them to a stand,
We left them Loyalty, and took their Land:
Yea, and the pious Work of Reformation
Rewarded was with Plunder, Sequestration.
Thus cant the Faithful; nay, they’re so uncivil,
To pray us harmless Players to the Devil.
When this is all th’ Exception they can make,
They damn us for our Glorious Master’s sake.
But why ’gainst us do you unjustly arm?
Our small Religion sure can do no harm;
Or if it do, since that’s the only thing,
We will reform when you are true to th’ King.