Lov. Sure she’s mad, yet she walks loose about,
And she has Charms even in her raving Fit.
L. Lam. Answer me. What art thou?—
How shall I get my Servants hence with Honour? [Aside.
Lov. A Gentleman—
That could have boasted Birth and Fortune too,
Till these accursed Times, which Heaven confound,
Razing out all Nobility, all Virtue,
Has render’d me the rubbish of the World;
Whilst new rais’d Rascals, Canters, Robbers, Rebels,
Do lord it o’er the Free-born, Brave and Noble.
L. Lam. You’re very confident, know you to whom you speak? but I suppose you have lost your Estate, or some such trivial thing, which makes you angry.
Lov. Yes, a trivial Estate of some five and twenty hundred Pound a Year: but I hope to see that Rogue of a Lord reduc’d to his Cobler’s-Stall again, or more deserv’dly hang’d, that has it.
L. Lam. I thought ’twas some such Grievance—but you must keep a good Tongue in your Head, lest you be hang’d for Scandalum Magnatum—there’s Law for ye, Sir.
Lov. No matter, then I shall be free from a damn’d Commonwealth, as you are pleas’d to call it, when indeed ’tis but a mungrel, mangy, Mock-Monarchy.
L. Lam. Is it your business, Sir, to rail?
Lov. You rais’d the Devil, Madam.
Page. Madam, shall I call your Highness’s Guards, and secure the Traitor?
L. Lam. No, that you may see how little I regard or fear him; leave us all— [Ex. all but Gill.
We’ll trust our Person in his Hands alone—
—Now, Sir—Your Bus’ness? [Smilingly approaches him.
Lav. Madam, I waited here by your Commands.
L. Lam. How shall I tell him that I love him, Gilliflower?
Gill. Easily, Madam, tell him so in plain English. Madam,’tis great; Women of your exalted height ever speak first; you have no Equals dare pretend to speak of Love to you.
L. Lam. Thou art i’th’ right—Do’st know my Quality, and thy own Poverty? And hast thou nothing to ask that I may grant?
Lav. Sure she loves me! and I, frail Flesh and Blood, Cannot resist her Charms; but she’s of the damn’d Party. [Aside.
L. Lam. Are all your Party, Sir, so proud?
Lov. But what have I to do with Religion! Is Beauty the worse, or a kind Wench to be refus’d for Conventickling? She lives high on the Spoils of a glorious Kingdom, and why may not I live upon the Sins of the Spoiler? [Aside.
L. Lam. Sir—you are poor!
Lov. So is my Prince; a Plague on the occasion.
L. Lam. I think you are—no Fool too.
Lov. I wou’d I were, then I had been a Knave, had thriv’d, and possibly by this time had been tugging for rifled Crowns and Kingdoms.
L. Lam. This Satir ill befits my present Bus’ness with you—you—want some Necessaries—as Clothes, and Linen too; and ’tis great pity so proper a Man shou’d want Necessaries. Gilliflower—take my Cabinet Key, and fetch the Purse of Broad-pieces that lies in the lower Drawer; ’tis a small Present, Sir, but ’tis an Earnest of my farther Service. [Gill. goes out and returns with a Purse.
Lov. I’m angry, that I find one Grain of Generosity in this whole Race of Hypocrites. [Aside.
L. Lam. Here, Sir,’tis only for your present use; for Clothes—three hundred Pieces; let me see you sweet—
Lov. Stark mad, by this good Day.
L. Lam. Ah, Gilliflower! How prettily those Cavalier things charm; I wonder how the Powers above came to give them all the Wit, Softness, and Gallantry—whilst all the great ones of our Age have the most slovenly, ungrateful, dull Behaviour; no Air, no Wit, no Love, nor any thing to please a Lady with.
Gill. Truly, Madam, there’s a great Difference in the Men; yet Heaven at first did its part, but the Devil has since so over-done his, that what with the Vizor of Sanctity, which is the gadly Sneer, the drawing of the Face to a prodigious length, the formal Language, with a certain Twang through the Nose, and the pious Gogle, they are fitter to scare Children than beget love in Ladies.
Lav. You hit the Character of your new Saint.
L. Lam. And then their Dress, Gilliflower.
Gil. Oh! ’Tis an Abomination to look like a Gentleman; long Hair is wicked and cavalierish, a Periwig is flat Popery, the Disguise of the Whore of Babylon; handsom Clothes, or lac’d Linen, the very Tempter himself, that debauches all their Wives and Daughters; therefore the diminutive Band, with the Hair of the Reformation Cut, beneath which a pair of large sanctify’d Souses appear, to declare to the World they had hitherto escap’d the Pillory, tho deserv’d it as well as Pryn.
L. Lam. Have a care what you say, Gilliflower.
Gil. Why, Madam, we have no Informers here.
Enter Page.
Page. Madam, here’s Old Noll’s Wife desires Admittance to your Hon—your Highness.
L. Lam. Bid the poor Creature wait without, I’ll do her what Good I can for her Husband’s sake, who first infus’d Politicks into me, by which I may boast I have climb’d to Empire.
Lov. So, her Madness runs in that Vein I see. [Aside.
Gil. Alack, Madam, I think she’s coming.
Crom. [without] Does she keep State in the Devil’s Name, and must I wait?
L. Lam. Heavens! I shall be scandalized by the Godly. Dear Gilliflower, conceal my Cavalier; I would not have a Cavalier seen with me for all the World—Step into my Cabinet. [Ex. Gil. and Lov.
Enter L. Cromwel, held back by a Man—to them Gilliflower.
Crom. Unhand me, Villain—’twas not long since a Rudeness, Sir, like this had forfeited thy Head.
L. Lam. What wou’d the Woman?
Crom. The Knave, the perjur’d Villain thy Husband, by th’ Throat: thou proud, imperious Baggage, to make me wait; whose Train thou hast been proud to bear—how durst thou, after an Affront like this, trust thy false Face within my Fingers reach? that Face, that first bewitch’d the best of Husbands from me, and tempted him to sin.
Gil. I beseech your Highness retire, the Woman’s mad.
Crom. Highness in the Devil’s Name, sure ’tis not come to that; no, I may live to see thy Cuckold hang’d first, his Politicks are yet too shallow, Mistress. Heavens! Did my Husband make him Lord for this? raise him to Honour, Trusts, Commands, and Counsels,
To ruin all our Royal Family,
Betray young Richard, who had reign’d in Peace
But for his Perjuries and Knaveries;
And now he sooths my Son-in-law, soft Fleetwood,
With empty hopes of Pow’r, and all the while
To make himself a King:
No, Minion, no; I yet may live to see
Thy Husband’s Head o’th’ top of Westminster,
Before I see it circled in a Crown.
L. Lam. I pity the poor Creature.
Crom. Ungrateful Traytor as he is,
Not to look back upon his Benefactors;
But he, in lieu of making just Returns,
Reviles our Family, profanes our Name,
And will in time render it far more odious
Than ever Needham made the great Heroicks.
L. Lam. Alas, it weeps, poor Woman!
Crom. Thou ly’st, false Strumpet, I scorn to shed a Tear,
For ought that thou canst do or say to me;
I’ve too much of my Husband’s Spirit in me.
Oh, my dear Richard, hadst thou had a Grain on’t,
Thou and thy Mother ne’er had fall’n to this.
Gil. His Father sure was seeking of the Lard when he was got.
Enter L. Fleetwood, her Train born up.
Crom. Where is this perjur’d Slave, thy Wittal Lord?
Dares he not shew his Face, his guilty Face,
Before the Person he has thus betray’d?
L. Fleet. Madam, I hope you mistake my honour’d Lord Lambert, I believe he designs the Throne for my dear Lord.
Crom. Fond Girl, because he has the Art of fawning,
Dissembling to the height, can sooth and smile,
Profess, and sometimes weep:—
No, he’ll betray him, as he did thy Brother;
Richard the Fourth was thus deluded by him.
No, let him swear and promise what he will,
They are but steps to his own ambitious End;
And only makes the Fool, thy credulous Husband,
A silly deluded Property.
Enter Fleetwood.
Fleet. My honour’d Mother, I am glad to find you here; I hope we shall reconcile things between ye. Verily we should live in Brotherly Love together; come, ingeniously, you shall be Friends, my Lady Mother.
Crom. Curse on th’ occasion of thy being a Kin to me.
Fleet. Why, an please ye, forsooth, Madam?
Crom. My Daughter had a Husband,
Worthy the Title of my Son-in-Law;
Ireton, my best of Sons: he’d Wit and Courage,
And with his Counsels, rais’d our House to Honours,
Which thy impolitick Easiness pulls down:
And whilst you should be gaining Crowns and Kingdoms,
Art poorly couzening of the World with fruitless Prayers.
Fleet. Nay, I’ll warrant you, Madam, when there is any gadly Mischief to be done, I am as forward as the best; but ’tis good to take the Lard along with us in every thing. I profess ingeniously, as I am an honest Man, verily—ne’er stir—I shall act as becomes a good Christian.
Crom. A good Coxcomb.
Do’st thou not see her reverend Highness there,
That Minion now assumes that glorious Title
I once, and my Son Richard’s Wife enjoy’d,
Whilst I am call’d the Night-mare of the Commonwealth?
But wou’d I were, I’d so hag-ride the perjur’d Slaves,
Who took so many Oaths of true Allegiance
To my great Husband first, then to Richard—
Who, whilst they reign’d, were most illustrious,
Most high and mighty Princes; whilst fawning Poets
Write Panegyricks on ’em; and yet no sooner was
The wondrous Hero dead, but all his glorious
Titles fell to Monster of Mankind, Murderer
Of Piety, Traytor to Heaven and Goodness.
Fleet. Who calls him so? Pray take their Names down: I profess ingeniously, forsooth, Madam, verily I’ll order ’em, as I am here I will.
Crom. Thou, alas! they scorn so poor a thing as thou.
Fleet. Do they ingeniously? I’ll be even with ’em, forsooth, Mother, as I am here I will, and there’s an end on’t.
Crom. I wou’d there were an end of our Disgrace and Shame,
Which is but just begun, I fear.
What will become of that fair Monument
Thy careful Father did erect for thee, [To L. Fleetwood.
Yet whilst he liv’d, next to thy Husband Ireton,
Lest none shou’d do it for thee after he were dead;
The Malice of proud Lambert will destroy all.
Fleet. I profess, Madam, you mistake my good Lord Lambert, he’s an honest Man, and fears the Lard; he tells me I am to be the Man; verily he does, after all’s done.
Cram. Yes, after all’s done, thou art the Man to be pointed at.
Fleet. Nay, ingeniously, I scorn the Words, so I do: I know the great Work of Salvation to the Nation is to be wrought by me, verily.
Crom. Do, cant on, till Heaven drop Kingdoms in thy Mouth: Dull, silly Sot, thou Ruin of our Interest; thou fond, incorrigible, easy Fool.
Enter Page.
Page. My Lord, the Committee of Safety waits your coming.
Fleet. Why, law you now, forsooth—I profess verily, you are ingeniously the hardest of Belief—tell the Honourable Lords I’m coming: Go, Lady-mother, go home with my Wife; and verily you’ll see things go to your wish—I must to Coach.
L. Fleet. Madam, your humble Servant. [To La. Lam.
Fleet. Honour’d Lady, I kiss your Hands.
[Exeunt Crom. Fleet, and L. Fleet.
Enter Loveless.
Lov. Was this the thing that is to be Protector?
This little sniveling Fellow rule three Kingdoms?
But leave we Politicks, and fall to Love,
Who deals more Joys in one kind happy moment
Than Ages of dull Empire can produce.
L. Lam. Oh Gods! shall I who never yielded yet,
But to him to whom three Kingdoms fell a Sacrifice,
Surrender at first Parley?
Lov. Perhaps that Lover made ye gayer Presents,
But cou’d not render you a Heart all Love,
Or Mind embyass’d in Affairs of Blood.
—I bring no Guilt to fright you from my Embraces,
But all our Hours shall be serene and soft.
L. Lam. Ah, Gilliflower, thy Aid, or I am lost;
Shall it be said of me in after Ages,
When my Fame amongst Queens shall be recorded,
That I, ah Heavens! regardless of my Country’s Cause,
Espous’d the wicked Party of its Enemies,
The Heathenish Heroicks? ah, defend me!
Lov. Nay—by all that’s—
L. Lam. Ah, hold! Do not profane my Ears with Oaths or Execrations, I cannot bear the Sound.
Lov. Nay, nay—by Heav’n I’ll not depart your Lodgings, till that soft Love that plays so in your Eyes give me a better Proof—by—
L. Lam. Oh hold, I die, if you proceed in this Abomination.
Lov. Why do you force me to’t? d’ye think to put me off with such a Face—such Lips—such Smiles—such Eyes, and every Charm—You’ve made me mad, and I shall swear my Soul away, if disappointed now.
Gil. Ah, save the Gentleman’s Soul, I beseech ye, Madam.
L. Lam. I’m much inclin’d to Acts of Piety—And you have such a Power, that howe’er I incommode my Honour— [Leaning on him, smiling. He goes to lead her out, Enter La. Desbro.
—Desbro here! How unseasonably she comes?
L. Des. Cry mercy, Madam, I’ll withdraw a while.
L. Lam. Ah, Desbro! thou art come in the most lucky Minute—I was just on the point of falling—As thou say’st, these Heroicks have the strangest Power—
L. Des. I never knew a Woman cou’d resist ’em.
L. Lam. No marvel then, our Husbands use ’em so, betray ’em, banish ’em, sequester, murder ’em, and every way disarm ’em—
L. Des. But their Eyes, Madam.
L. Lam. Ay, their Eyes, Desbro; I wonder our Lords shou’d take away their Swords, and let ’em wear their Eyes.
L. Des. I’ll move it to the Committee of Safety, Madam, those Weapons should be taken from ’em too.
L. Lam. Still they’ll have some to be reveng’d on us.
L. Des. Ay, so they will will; My Lord says, a Cavalier is a kind of Hydra, knock him o’th’ Head as often as you will, he has still one to peep up withal.
Enter Page.
Page. Madam, here’s Mr. Freeman to speak with your Honour.
Lov. That’s a Friend of mine, Madam, and ’twou’d be unnecessary he saw your Highness and I together: let us withdraw—
L. Lam. Withdraw! why, what will Desbro say?
L. Des. O Madam, I know your Virtue and your Piety too well to suspect your Honour wrongfully: ’tis impossible a Lady that goes to a Conventicle twice a Day, besides long Prayers and loud Psalm—singing, shou’d do any thing with an Heroick against her Honour. Your known Sanctity preserves you from Scandal—But here’s Freeman— [Puts ’em in.
Enter Freeman.
Free. So, Madam—you are very kind—
L. Des. My charming Freeman, this tedious Day of Absence has been an Age in love. How hast thou liv’d without me?
Free. Like one condemn’d, sad and disconsolate, And all the while you made your Husband happy.
L. Des. Name not the Beastly Hypocrite, thou know’st I made no other use of him, But a dull Property to advance our Love.
Free. And ’tis but Justice, Maria, he sequester’d me of my whole Estate, because, he said, I took up Arms in Ireland, on Noble Ormond’s Side; nay, hir’d Rogues, perjur’d Villains—Witnesses with a Pox, to swear it too; when at that time I was but Eight Years Old; but I escap’d as well as all the Gentry and Nobility of England. To add to this, he takes my Mistress too.
L. Des. You mistake, my lovely Freeman; I married only thy Estate, the best Composition I cou’d make for thee, and I will pay it back with Interest too.
Free. You wou’d suspect my Love then, and swear that all the Adoration I pay you, were, as we do to Heav’n, for Interest only.
L. Des. How you mistake my Love, but do so still, so you will let me give these—Proofs of it. [Gives him Gold.
Free. Thus, like Atlante, you drop Gold in my Pursuit
To Love, I may not over-take you:
What’s this to giving me one happy minute?
Take back your Gold, and give me current Love,
The Treasure of your Heart, not of your Purse—
When shall we meet, Maria?
L. Des. You know my leisure Hours are when my Honourable Lord is busied in Affairs of State, or at his Prayers; from which long-winded Exercise I have of late withdrawn my self: three Hours by the Clock he prays extemporary, which is, for National and Household Blessings: For the first—’tis to confound the Interest of the King, that the Lard wou’d deliver him, his Friends, Adherers and Allies, wheresoever scatter’d about the Face of the whole Earth, into the Clutches of the Righteous: Press ’em, good Lard, even as the Vintager doth the Grape in the Wine-Press, till the Waters and gliding Channels are made red with the Blood of the Wicked. [In a Tone.
Free. And grant the Faithful to be mighty, and to be strong in Persecution; and more especially, ah! I beseech thee confound that malignant Tory Freeman—that he may never rise up in judgment against thy Servant, who has taken from him his Estate, his Sustenance and Bread; give him Grace of thy infinite Mercy, to hang himself, if thy People can find no zealous Witnesses to swear him to the Gallows legally. Ah, we have done very much for thee, Lard, thou shoud’st consider us thy Flock, and we shou’d be as good to thee in another thing. [In a Tone.
L. Des. Thou hit’st the zealous Twang right; sure thou hast been acquainted with some of ’em.
Free. Damn ’em, no; what honest Man wou’d keep ’em Company, where harmless Wit and Mirth’s a Sin, laughing scandalous, and a merry Glass Abomination?
L. Des. Yes, if you drink Healths, my wicked Brother: otherwise, to be silently drunk, to be as abusive and satirical as you please, upon the Heroicks, is allowable—for laughing, ’tis not indeed so well; but the precise Sneer and Grin is lawful; no swearing indeed, but lying and dissimulation in abundance. I’ll assure you, they drink as deep, and entertain themselves as well with this silent way of leud Debauchery, as you with all your Wit and Mirth, your Healths of the Royal Family.
Free. Nay, I confess, ’tis a great Pleasure to cheat the World.
L. Des. ’Tis Power, as divine Hobbes calls it.
Free. But what’s all this to Love? Where shall we meet anon?
L. Des. I’ll tell you, what will please you as well—Your Friend is within with her Highness that shall be, if the Devil and her Husband’s Politicks agree about the matter.
Free. Ha, has my cautious Railer manag’d matters so slyly?
L. Des. No, no, the matter was manag’d to his Hand; you see how Heav’n brings things about, for the Good of your Party; this Business will be worth to him at least a thousand Pound a year, or two, well manag’d—But see, my Lady’s Woman.
Gil. Oh, Madam, my Lord— [Running cross the Stage into her Lady’s Chamber.
Free. Death, how shall I bring my Friend off? he’ll certainly be ruin’d.
Enter Gill. Lov. and Lady Lam.
Gill. Madam, he’s coming up.
Lov. Madam, for my self I care not, but am much concern’d for you.
[L. Lam. takes two Papers out of her Pocket, and gives ’em to Lov. and Free.
L. Lam. Here take these two Petitions, each of you one—Poor Fellows—you may be gone, your Petitions will not be granted.
Enter Lambert.
Lam. How now, my Dear, what Petitions?—Friends, what’s your Bus’ness?
L. Lam. ’Tis enough we know their Business, Love, we are sufficient to dispatch such Suiters, I hope.
Lam. Pardon me, my Dear, I thought no harm; but I saw you frown, and that made me concern’d.
L. Lam. Frown! ’Twou’d make any Body frown, to hear the Impudence of Gentlemen, these Cavaliers—wou’d you think it, my Dear, if this Fellow has not the Impudence to petition for the Thirds of his Estate again, so justly taken from him for bearing Arms for the Man?—
L. Des. Nay, I’m inform’d, that they, but two Nights ago, in a Tavern, drunk a Health to the Man too.
Lam. How durst you, Sirrah, approach my Lady with any such saucy Address? you have receiv’d our Answer.
Lov. Death, I have scarce Patience. [Aside.
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.
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.
Fleet. Amen.
Due. I’d rather see it there than in your Hand— [Aside.
Fleet. For we are, as it were, a Body without a Head; or, to speak more learnedly, an Animal inanimate.
Hew. My Lord, let us use, as little as we can, the Language of the Beast, hard Words; none of your Eloquence, it savoureth of Monarchy.
Lam. My Lord, you must give Men of Quality leave to speak in a Language more gentile and courtly than the ordinary sort of Mankind.
Hew. My Lord, I am sorry to hear there are any of Quality among this honourable Dissembly. [Stands up.
Cob. Assembly, my Lord—
Hew. Well, you know my meaning; or if there be any such, I’m sorry they should own themselves of Quality.
Due. How! own themselves Gentlemen! Death, Sir, d’ye think we were all born Coblers?
Hew. Or if you were not, the more the pity, for little England, I say. [In a heat.
Fleet. Verily, my Lords, Brethren should not fall out, it is a Scandal to the good Cause, and maketh the wicked rejoice.
War. Wons, and theys garr the loosey Proverb on’t te, when loons gang together by th’ luggs, gued men get their ene.
All. He, he, he.
Due. He calls you Knaves by Craft, my Lords.
War. Bread a gued, take’t among ye, Gentlemen, I’s ment weel.
Fleet. I profess, my Lord Wariston, you make my Hair stand an end to hear how you swear.
War. Wons, my Loord, I’s swear as little as your Lordship, only I’s swear out, and ye swallow aud.
Due. There’s a Bone for you to pick, my Lord.
All. He, he, he.
Lam. We give my Lord Wariston leave to jest.
Des. But what’s this to the Government all this while? A dad I shall sit so late, I shall have no time to visit my Horses, therefore proceed to the Point.
Hew. Ay, to the Point, my Lords; the Gentleman that spoke last spoke well.
Cob. Well said, Brother, I see you will in time speak properly.
Duc. But to the Government, my Lords! [Beats the Table.
Lam. Put ’em off of this Discourse, my Lord. [Aside to War.
Des. My Lord Wariston, move it, you are Speaker.
War. The Diel a me, Sirs, and noo ya talk of a Speaker, I’s tell ye a blithe Tale.
Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lord, you are to blame to swear so.
Lam. Your Story, my Lord.
War. By my Sol, mon, and there war a poor Woman the other Day, begg’d o’th’ Carle the Speaker, but he’d give her nought unless she’d let a Feart; wons at last a Feart she lat. Ay marry, quoth the Woman, noo my Rump has a Speaker te.
All. He, he, he.
Due. But to our Bus’ness—
Des. Bus’ness; ay, there’s the thing, I’ve a World on’t. I shou’d go and bespeak a Pair of Mittins and Shears for my Hedger and Shearer, a pair of Cards for my Thrasher, a Scythe for my Mower, and a Screen-Fan for my Lady-Wife, and many other things; my Head’s full of Bus’ness. I cannot stay—
Whit. Fy, my Lord, will you neglect the bus’ness of the Day? We meet to oblige the Nation, and gratify our Friends.
Des. Nay, I’ll do any thing, so I may rise time enough to see my Horses at Night.
Lav. Damn ’em, what stuff’s here for a Council-Table?
Free. Where are our English Spirits, that can be govern’d by such Dogs as these?—
Lam. Clerk, read the Heads of what past at our last sitting.
War. In the first place, I must mind your Lordships tol consider those that have been gued Members in the Commonwealth.
Fleet. We shall not be backward to gratify any that have serv’d the Commonwealth.
Whit. There’s Money enough; we have taxt the Nation high.
Due. Yes, if we knew where to find it: however, read.
Clerk reads.] To Walter Walton, Draper, six thousand nine hundred twenty nine Pounds six Shillings and five Pence, for Blacks for his Highness’s Funeral.
Lam. For the Devil’s; put it down for Oliver Cromwel’s Funeral: We’ll have no Record rise up in Judgment for such a Villain.
Lav. How live Asses kick the dead Lion! [Aside.
Due. Hark ye, my Lords, we sit here to reward Services done to the Commonwealth; let us consider whether this be a Service to the Commonwealth or not?
Lam. However, we will give him Paper for’t.
Hews. Ay, let him get his Money when he can.
Lam. Paper’s not so dear, and the Clerk’s Pains will be rewarded.
War. Right, my gued Lord,’sbred, that Cromwel was th’ faudest limmer Loon that ever cam into lour Country, the faud Diel has tane him by th’ Luggs for robbing our Houses and Land.
Fleet. No swearing, my Lord.
War. Weel, weel, my Loord, I’s larne to profess and lee as weel as best on ya.
Hews. That may bring you profit, my Lord—but, Clerk, proceed.
Clerk reads.] To Walter Frost, Treasurer of the Contingencies, twenty thousand Pounds. To Thurloe, Secretary to his Highness—
Duc. To old Noll.
Clerk reads.] —Old Noll, ten thousand Pounds, for unknown Service done the Commonwealth—To Mr. Hutchinson, Treasurer of the Navy, two hundred thousand Pounds—
War. Two hundred thousand Pound; Owns, what a Sum’s there?—Marry it came from the Mouth of a Cannon sure.
Clerk reads.] A Present to the Right Honourable and truly Virtuous Lady, the Lady Lambert, for Service done to the late Protector—
Hews. Again—say Cromwel.
Clerk. —Cromwel—six thousand Pound in Jacobus’s.
War. ’Sbread, sike a Sum wou’d make me honour the Face of aud Jemmy.
Clerk. To Mr. Ice six thousand Pound; to Mr. Loether, late Secretary to his High—
Whit. To Oliver Cromwel say, can you not obey Orders?
Clerk. —Secretary to Oliver Cromwel—two thousand nine hundred ninety nine Pounds for Intelligence and Information, and piously betraying the King’s Liege People.
War. Haud, haud, Sirs, Mary en ya gift se fast ya’ll gif aud away from poor Archibald Johnson.
Whit. Speak for your self, my Lord; or rather, my Lord, do you speak for him. [To Lam.
Lam. Do you move it for him, and I’ll do as much for you anon. [Aside to Whit.
Whit. My Lord, since we are upon Gratifications,—let us consider the known Merit of the Lord Wariston, a Person of industrious Mischiefs to the malignant Party, and great Integrity to us, and the Commonwealth.
War. Gued faith, an I’s ha been a trusty Trojon, Sir, what say you, may very gued and gracious Loords?—
Duc. I scorn to let a Dog go unrewarded; and you, Sir, fawn so prettily, ’tis pity you shou’d miss Preferment.
Hews. And so ’tis; come, come, my Lords, consider he was ever our Friend, and ’tis but reasonable we shou’d stitch up one another’s broken Fortunes.
Duc. Nay, Sir, I’m not against it.
All. ’Tis Reason, ’tis Reason.
Free. Damn ’em, how they lavish out the Nation!
War. Scribe, pretha read my Paper.
Hews. Have you a Pertition there?
Cob. A Petition, my Lord.
Hews. Pshaw, you Scholards are so troublesome.
Lam. Read the Substance of it. [To the Clerk.
Clerk. That your Honours wou’d be pleas’d, in consideration of his Service, to grant to your Petitioner, a considerable Sum of Money for his present Supply.
Fleet. Verily, order him two thousand Pound—
War. Two thousand poond? Bread a gued, and I’s gif my Voice for Fleetwood. [Aside.
Lam. Two thousand; nay, my Lords, let it be three.
War. Wons, I lee’d, I lee’d; I’s keep my Voice for Lambert—Guds Benizon light on yar Sol, my gued Lord Lambert.
Hews. Three thousand Pound! why such a Sum wou’d buy half Scotland.
War. Wons, my Lord, ya look but blindly on’t then: time was, a Mite on’t had bought aud shoos in yar Stall, Brother, tho noo ya so abound in Irish and Bishops Lands.
Duc. You have nick’d him there, my Lord.
All. He, he, he.
War. Scribe—gang a tiny bit farther.
Clerk. —And that your Honours would be pleas’d to confer an Annual Pension on him—
Lam. Reason, I think; what say you, my Lords, of five hundred Pound a Year?
All. Agreed, agreed.
War. The Diel swallow me, my Lord, ya won my Heart.
Due. ’Tis very well—but out of what shall this be rais’d?
Lam. We’ll look what Malignants’ Estates are forfeit, undispos’d of—let me see—who has young Freeman’s Estate?
Des. My Lord, that fell to me.
Lam. What all the fifteen hundred Pound a Year?
Des. A Dad, and all little enough.
Free. The Devil do him good with it.
Des. Had not the Lard put it into your Hearts to have given me two thousand per Annum out of Bishops Lands, and three thousand per Annum out of the Marquess’s Estate; how shou’d I have liv’d and serv’d the Commonwealth as I have done?
Free. A plague confound his Honour, he makes a hard shift to live on Eight thousand Pound a Year, who was born and bred a Hedger.
Lov. Patience, Friend.
Lam. I have been thinking—but I’ll find out a way.
Lov. Or betray some honest Gentleman, on purpose to gratify the Loone.
Lam. And, Gentlemen, I am bound in Honour and Conscience to speak in behalf of my Lord Whitlock; I think fit, if you agree with me, he shou’d be made Constable of Windsor Castle, Warden of the Forest, with the Rents, Perquisities, and Profits thereto belonging; nor can your Lordships confer a Place of greater Trust and Honour in more safe Hands.
Due. I find he wou’d oblige all to his side. [Aside.
Has he not part of the Duke of Buckingham’s Estate already, with Chelsey House, and several other Gifts?
Lam. He has dearly deserv’d ’em; he has serv’d our Interest well and faithfully.
Due. And he has been well paid for’t.
Whit. And so were you, Sir, with several Lordships, and Bishops Lands, you were not born to, I conceive.
Duc. I have not got it, Sir, by knavish Querks in Law; a Sword that deals out Kingdoms to the brave, has cut out some small parcels of Earth for me. And what of this? [Stands up in a heat.
Whit. I think, Sir, he that talks well, and to th’ purpose, may be as useful to the Commonwealth as he that fights well. Why do we keep so many else in Pension that ne’er drew Sword, but to talk, and rail at the malignant Party; to libel and defame ’em handsomly, with pious useful Lyes,