Enter _Hewson_, _Desbro_, _Duckenfield_, _Wariston_, and _Cobbet_. War. Guds Benizon light on yu, my gued Loords, for this Day’s Work; Madam, I kiss your white Honds. Duc. My Lord, I have not been behind-hand in this Day’s turn of State. Lam. ’Tis confess’d, Sir; what would you infer from that? Duc. Why, I wou’d know how things go; who shall be General, who Protector? Hews. My Friend has well translated his meaning. 357 L. Lam. Fy, how that filthy Cobler Lord betrays his Function. Duc. We’re in a Chaos, a Confusion, as we are. Hews. Indeed the Commonwealth at present is out at Heels, and wants underlaying. Cob. And the People expect something suddenly from us. Whit. My Lords and Gentlemen, we must consider a while. War. Bread a gued there’s mickle Wisdom i’that, Sirs. Duc. It ought to be consulted betimes, my Lord, ’tis a matter of Moment, and ought to be consulted by the whole Committee. Lam. We design no other, my Lord, for which Reason at three a Clock we’ll meet at _Wallingford_ House. Duc. Nay, my Lord, do but settle the Affair, let’s but know who’s our Head, and ’tis no matter. Hews. Ay, my Lord, no matter who; I hope ’twill be _Fleetwood_, for I have the length of his Foot already. Whit. You are the leading Men, Gentlemen, your Voices will soon settle the Nation. Duc. Well, my Lord, we’ll not fail at three a Clock. Des. This falls out well for me; for I’ve Business in _Smithfield_, where my Horses stand; and verily, now I think on’t, the Rogue the Ostler has not given ’em Oates to day: Well, my Lords, farewel; if I come not time enough to _Wallingford_ House, keep me a Place in the Committee, and let my Voice stand for one, no matter who. War. A gued Mon I’s warrant, and takes muckle Pains for the Gued o’th’ Nation, and the Liberty o’th Mobily—The Diel confound ’em aud. Lam. Come, my Lord _Wariston_, you are a wise Man, what Government are you for. War. Ene tol what ya please, my gued Loord. [Takes him aside. Lam. What think you of a single Person here in my Lord _Fleetwood?_ 358 War. Marry, Sir, and he’s a brave Mon, but gen I may cooncel, tak’t for yar sel my gued Loord, ant be gued for him, ’tis ene gued for ya te. Lam. But above half the Nation are for him. War. Bread a gued, and I’s for him then. Fleet. The Will of the Lard be done; and since ’tis his Will, I cannot withstand my Fate—ingeniously. Whit. My Lord _Wariston_, a Word—What if _Lambert_ were the Man? [Takes him aside. War. Right Sir, Wons and ya have spoken aud; he’s a brave Mon, a Mon indeed gen I’s have any Judgment. Whit. So I find this Property’s for any use. [Aside. Lam. My Lord, I perceive Heaven and Earth conspire to make you our Prince.