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, 370 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my Honourable Lord is busied in Affairs of State, or at his Prayers; from which long-winded Exercise I have of late withdrawn my self: three Hours by the Clock he prays extemporary, which is, for National and Household Blessings: For the first—’tis to confound the Interest of the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.