Page. A rude, rough, hectoring Swash, an’t please your Highness; nay, and two or three times, Gad forgive me, he swore too. L. Lam. It must be he. [Aside. Page. His Habit was something bad and Cavalierish—I believe ’twas some poor petitioning, begging Tory, who having been sequester’d, wou’d press your Highness for some Favour. L. Lam. Yes, it must be he—ah, foolish Creature! and can he hope Relief, and be a villanous Cavalier? out upon ’em, poor Wretches—you may admit him tho’, for I long to hear how one of those things talk. Gill. Oh, most strangely, Madam—an please your Highness, I shou’d say. Enter _Loveless_. L. Lam. ’Tis he, I’ll swear, _Gilliflower_, these Heroicks are punctual men—how now, your Bus’ness with us, Fellow? Lov. My Bus’ness, Madam?— L. Lam. Hast thou ever a Petition to us? Lov. A Petition, Madam?—Sure this put—on Greatness is to amuse her Servants, or has she forgot that she invited me? or indeed forgot me?— [Aside. L. Lam. What art thou? 361 Page. Shall we search his Breeches, an’t please your Highness, for Pistol, or other Instruments? L. Lam. No, Boy, we fear him not, they say the Powers above protect the Persons of Princes. [Walks away. 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. 362 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.