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 373 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, 374 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. ACT III. 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.