Chapter 109

Enter three _Soldiers_, and Corporal _Right_.

Cor. Ah, Rogue, the World runs finely round, the business is done.

1 Sold. Done! the Town’s our own, my fine Rascal.

2 Sold. We’ll have Harlots by the Belly, Sirrah.

1 Sold. Those are Commodities I confess I wou’d fain be trucking for—but no words of that, Boy.

Cor. Stand, who goes there?

[To them a Joyner and a Felt-maker.

1 Sold. Who are you for?—hah!

Joy. Are for, Friend? we are for Gad and the Lord _Fleetwood_.

1 Sold. _Fleetwood!_ knock ’em down, _Fleetwood_, that sniveling Thief?

Felt. Why, Friends, who are ye for?

Cor. For! who shou’d we be for, but _Lambert_, Noble _Lambert?_ Is this a time o’th’ day to declare for _Fleetwood_, with a Pox? indeed, i’th’ Morning ’twas a Question had like to have been decided with push a Pike.

2 Sold. Dry blows wou’d ne’er ha’ don’t, some must have sweat Blood for’t; but—’tis now decided.

Joy. Decided!

2 Sold. Yes, decided, Sir, without your Rule for’t.

Joy. Decided! by whom, Sir? by us the Free-born Subjects of _England_, by the Honourable Committee of Safety, or the Right Reverend City? without which, Sir, I humbly conceive, your Declaration for _Lambert_ is illegal, and against the Property of the People.

2 Sold. Plain _Lambert_; here’s a saucy Dog of a Joyner; 345 Sirrah, get ye home, and mind your Trade, and save the Hangman a labour.

Joy. Look ye, Friend, I fear no Hang-man in _Christendom_; for Conscience and Publick Good, for Liberty and Property, I dare as far as any Man.

2 Sold. Liberty and Property, with a Pox, in the Mouth of a Joyner: you are a pretty Fellow to settle the Nation—what says my Neighbour Felt-maker?

Felt. Why, verily, I have a high respect for my honourable Lord _Fleetwood_, he is my intimate Friend; and till I find his Party the weaker, I hope my Zeal will be strengthned for him.

2 Sold. Zeal for _Fleetwood!_ Zeal for a Halter, and that’s your due: Why, what has he ever done for you? Can he lead you out to Battle? Can he silence the very Cannon with his Eloquence alone?—Can he talk—or fight—or—

Felt. But verily he can pay those that can, and that’s as good—and he can pray—

2 Sold. Let him pray, and we’ll fight, and see whose business is done first; we are for the General who carries Charms in every Syllable; can act both the Soldier and the Courtier, at once expose his Breast to Dangers for our sakes—and tell the rest of the pretended Slaves a fair Tale, but hang ’em sooner than trust ’em.

1 Sold. Ay, ay, a _Lambert_, a _Lambert_, he has Courage, _Fleetwood’s_ an Ass to him.

Felt. Hum—here’s Reason, Neighbour. [To the Joyner.

Joy. That’s all one, we do not act by Reason.

Cor. _Fleetwood’s_ a Coward.

2 Sold. A Blockhead.

1 Sold. A sniveling Fool; a General in the Hangings, no better.

Joy. What think you then of _Vane?_

2 Sold. As of a Fool, that has dreamt of a new Religion, and is only fit to reign in the Fifth Monarchy he preaches so much up? but no King in this Age.

346 Felt. What of _Haslerig_?

2 Sold. A Hangman for _Haslerig_. I cry, No, no, One and all, a _Lambert_, a _Lambert_; he is our General, our Protector, our Keiser, our—even what he pleases himself.

1 Sold. Well, if he pleases himself, he pleases me.

2 Sold. He’s our Rising Sun, and we’ll adore him, for the Speaker’s Glory’s set.

Cor. At nought, Boys; how the Rogue look’d when his Coach was stop’d!

Joy. Under favour, what said the Speaker?

2 Sold. What said he? prithee, what cou’d he say that we wou’d admit for Reason? Reason and our Bus’ness are two things: Our Will was Reason and Law too, and the Word of Command lodg’d in our Hilts: _Cobbet_ and _Duckenfield_ shew’d ’em Cockpit-Law.

Cor. He understood not Soldier’s Dialect; the Language of the Sword puzzled his Understanding; the Keenness of which was too sharp for his Wit, and over-rul’d his Robes—therefore he very mannerly kiss’d his Hand, and wheel’d about—

2 Sold. To the place from whence he came.

Cor. And e’er long to the place of Execution.

1 Sold. No, damn him, he’ll have his Clergy.

Joy. Why, is he such an Infidel to love the Clergy?

Cor. For his Ends; but come let’s go drink the General’s Health, _Lambert_; not _Fleetwood_, that Son of a Custard, always quaking.

2 Sold. Ay, ay, _Lambert_ I say—besides, he’s a Gentleman.

Felt. Come, come, Brother Soldier, let me tell you, I fear you have a _Stewart_ in your Belly.

Cor. I am sure you have a Rogue in your Heart, Sirrah, which a Man may perceive thro that sanctified Dog’s Face of yours; and so get ye gone, ye Rascals, and delude the Rabble with your canting Politicks. [Every one beats ’em.

Felt. Nay, an you be in Wrath, I’ll leave you.

347 Joy. No matter, Sir, I’ll make you know I’m a Freeborn Subject, there’s Law for the Righteous, Sir, there’s Law. [Go out.

Cor. There’s Halters, ye Rogues—

2 Sold. Come, Lads, let’s to the Tavern, and drink Success to Change; I doubt not but to see ’em chop about, till it come to our great Hero again—Come to the Tavern.

[Going out, are met by _Loveless_ and _Freeman_, who enter, and stay the _Corporal_.

Cor. I’ll follow ye, Comrade, presently.

[Ex. the rest of the Soldiers.

—Save ye, noble Colonel.

Free. How is’t, Corporal?

Cor. A brave World, Sir, full of Religion, Knavery, and Change: we shall shortly see better Days.

Free. I doubt it, Corporal.

Cor. I’ll warrant you, Sir,—but have you had never a Billet, no Present, nor Love—remembrance to day, from my good Lady _Desbro?_

Free. None, and wonder at it. Hast thou not seen her Page to day?

Cor. Faith, Sir, I was imploy’d in Affairs of State, by our Protector that shall be, and could not call.

Free. Protector that shall be! who’s that, _Lambert_, or _Fleetwood_, or both?

Cor. I care not which, so it be a Change; but I mean the General:—but, Sir, my Lady _Desbro_ is now at Morning-Lecture here hard by, with the Lady _Lambert_.

Lov. Seeking the Lord for some great Mischief or other.

Free. We have been there, but could get no opportunity of speaking to her—_Loveless_, know this Fellow—he’s honest and true to the Hero, tho a Red-Coat. I trust him with my Love, and have done with my Life.

Lov. Love! Thou canst never make me believe thou art earnestly in love with any of that damn’d Reformation.

Free. Thou art a Fool; where I find Youth and Beauty, I adore, let the Saint be true or false.

348 Lov. ’Tis a Scandal to one of us to converse with ’em; they are all sanctify’d Jilts; and there can neither be Credit nor Pleasure in keeping ’em company; and ’twere enough to get the Scandal of an Adherer to their devilish Politicks, to be seen with ’em.

Free. What, their Wives?

Lov. Yes, their Wives. What seest thou in ’em but Hypocrisy? Make love to ’em, they answer in Scripture.

Free. Ay, and lie with you in Scripture too. Of all Whores, give me your zealous Whore; I never heard a Woman talk much of Heaven, but she was much for the Creature too. What do’st think I had thee to the Meeting for?

Lov. To hear a Rascal hold forth for Bodkins and Thimbles, Contribution, my beloved! to carry on the good Cause, that is, Roguery, Rebellion, and Treason, profaning the sacred Majesty of Heaven, and our glorious Sovereign.

Free. But—were there not pretty Women there?

Lov. Damn ’em for sighing, groaning Hypocrites.

Free. But there was one, whom that handsome Face and Shape of yours, gave more occasion for sighing, than any Mortification caus’d by the Cant of the Lay-Elder in the half Hogs-Head: Did’st thou not mind her?

Lov. Not I, damn it, I was all Rage; and hadst not thou restrain’d me, I had certainly pull’d that Rogue of a Holder forth by the Ears from his sanctify’d Tub. ’Sdeath, he hum’d and haw’d all my Patience away, nosed and snivel’d me to Madness. Heaven! That thou shouldst suffer such Vermin to infect the Earth, such Wolves amongst thy Flocks, such Thieves and Robbers of all Laws of God and Man, in thy Holy Temples. I rave to think to what thou’rt fall’n, poor _England!_

Free. But the she Saint—

Lov. No more; were she as fair as Fancy could imagine, to see her there wou’d make me loath the Form; she that can listen to the dull Nonsense, the bantering of such a 349 Rogue, such an illiterate Rascal, must be a Fool, past sense of loving, _Freeman_.

Free. Thou art mistaken.—But, didst thou mind her next the Pulpit?

Lov. A Plague upon the whole Congregation: I minded nothing but how to fight the Lord’s Battle with that damn’d sham Parson, whom I had a mind to beat.

Free. My Lady _Desbro_ is not of that Persuasion, but an errant Heroick in her Heart, and feigns it only to have the better occasion to serve the Royal Party. I knew her, and lov’d her before she married.

Lov. She may chance then to be sav’d.

Free. Come, I’ll have thee bear up briskly to some one of ’em, it may redeem thy Sequestration; which, now thou see’st no hopes of compounding, puts thee out of Patience.

Lov. Let ’em take it, and the Devil do ’em Good with it; I scorn it should be said I have a Foot of Land in this ungrateful and accursed Island; I’d rather beg where Laws are obey’d, and Justice perform’d, than be powerful where Rogues and base-born Rascals rule the roast.

Free. But suppose now, dear _Loveless_, that one of the Wives of these Pageant Lords should fall in love with thee, and get thy Estate again, or pay the double for’t?

Lov. I wou’d refuse it.

Free. And this for a little dissembl’d Love, a little Drudgery—

Lov. Not a Night, by Heaven—not an Hour—no, not a single Kiss. I’d rather make love to an _Incubus_.

Free. But suppose ’twere the new Protectress her self, the fine Lady _Lambert?_

Lov. The greatest Devil of all; damn her, do’st think I’ll cuckold the Ghost of old _Oliver_?

Free. The better; There’s some Revenge in’t; do’st know her?

Lov. Never saw her, nor care to do.

Cor. Colonel, do you command me any thing?

350 Free. Yes, I’ll send thee with a Note—Let’s step into a Shop and write it; _Loveless_, stay a moment, and I’ll be with thee. [Ex. _Free._ and _Corporal_.

Enter L. _Lambert_, L. _Desbro_, _Gilliflower_, _Pages_ with great Bibles, and Footmen. _Loveless_ walks sullenly, not seeing ’em. [L. _Lambert’s_ Train carried.

L. Lam. O, I’m impatient to know his Name; ah, _Desbro_, he betray’d all my Devotion; and when I would have pray’d, Heav’n knows it was to him, and for him only.

L. Des. What manner of Man was it?

L. Lam. I want Words to describe him; not tall, nor short; well made, and such a Face—

Love, Wit and Beauty revel’d in his Eyes; From whence he shot a thousand winged Darts That pierc’d quite through my Soul.

L. Des. Seem’d he a Gentleman?

L. Lam. A God! altho his outside were but mean; But he shone thro like Lightning from a Cloud, And shot more piercing Rays.

L. Des. Staid he long?

L. Lam. No, methought he grew displeas’d with our Devotion, And seem’d to contradict the Parson with his angry Eyes. A Friend he had too with him, young and handsom, Who seeing some Disorder in his Actions, got him away. —I had almost forgot all Decency, And started up to call him; but my Quality, And wanting something to excuse that Fondness, Made me decline with very much ado.

Gill. Heavens, Madam, I’ll warrant they were Heroicks.

L. Lam. Heroicks!

Gill. Cavaliers, Madam, of the Royal Party.

L. Des. They were so, I knew one of ’em.

L. Lam. Ah, _Desbro_, do’st thou? Ah, Heav’ns, that they should prove Heroicks!

351 L. Des. You might have known that by the Conquest; I never heard any one o’t’ other Party ever gain’d a Heart; and indeed, Madam, ’tis a just Revenge, our Husbands make Slaves of them, and they kill all their Wives. [_Lov._ sees ’em, and starts.

Lov. Hah, what have we here?—Women—faith, and handsome too—I never saw a Form more excellent; who e’er they are, they seem of Quality.—By Heav’n, I cannot take my Eyes from her. [Pointing to L. _Lamb_.

L. Lam. Ha, he’s yonder, my Heart begins to fail, My trembling Limbs refusing to support me— His Eyes seem fix’d on mine too; ah, I faint— [Leans on _Des_.

Gill. My Lady’s Coach, _William_—quickly, she faints.

Lov. Madam, can an unfortunate Stranger’s aid add any thing to the recovery of so much Beauty? [Bowing, and holding her.

L. Lam. Ah, wou’d he knew how much! [Aside.

Gill. Support her, Sir, till her Ladyship’s Coach comes—I beseech ye.

Lov. Not _Atlas_ bore up Heaven with greater Pride.

L. Lam. —I beg your Pardon, Sir, for this Disorder, That has occasion’d you so great a Trouble— You seem a Gentleman—and consequently May need some Service done you; name the way, I shall be glad to let you see my Gratitude.

Lov. If there be ought in me, that merits this amazing Favour from you, I owe my Thanks to Nature that endow’d me with something in my Face that spoke my Heart.

L. Lam. Heaven! How he looks and speaks— [To _Desbro_, aside.

L. Des. Oh, these Heroicks, Madam, have the most charming Tongues.

L. Lam. Pray come to me—and ask for any of my Officers, and you shall have admittance—

352 Lov. Who shall I ask for, Madam? for I’m yet ignorant to whom I owe for this great Bounty.

L. Lam. Not know me! Thou art indeed a Stranger. I thought I’d been so elevated above the common Crowd, it had been visible to all Eyes who I was.

Lov. Pardon my Ignorance. My Soul conceives ye all that Heaven can make ye, Of Great, of Fair and Excellent; But cannot guess a Name to call you by But such as would displease ye— My Heart begins to fail, and by her Vanity I fear she’s one of the new Race of Quality: —But be she Devil, I must love that Form. [Aside.

L. Lam. Hard Fate of Greatness, we so highly elevated Are more expos’d to Censure than the little ones, By being forc’d to speak our Passions first. —Is my Coach ready?

Page. It waits your Honour.

L. Lam. I give you leave to visit me—ask for the General’s Lady, if my Title be not by that time alter’d.

Lov. Pistols and Daggers to my Heart—’tis so.

L. Lam. Adieu, Sir.

[Ex. all but _Lov._ who stands musing.

Enter _Freeman_.

Free. How now, what’s the matter with thee?

Lov. Prithee wake me, _Freeman_.

Free. Wake thee!

Lov. I dream; by Heaven I dream; Nay, yet the lovely Phantom’s in my View. Oh! wake me, or I sleep to perfect Madness.

Free. What ail’st thou? what did’st dream of?

Lov. A strange fantastick Charmer, A thing just like a Woman Friend; It walkt and lookt with wondrous Majesty, Had Eyes that kill’d, and Graces deck’d her Face; 353 But when she talk’d, mad as the Winds she grew, Chimera in the form of Angel, Woman!

Free. Who the Devil meanest thou?

Lov. By Heav’n I know not, but, as she vanish’d hence, she bad me come to the General’s.

Free. Why, this is she I told thee ey’d thee so at the Conventicle; ’tis _Lambert_, the renown’d, the famous Lady _Lambert_—Mad call’st thou her? ’tis her ill acted Greatness, thou mistak’st; thou art not us’d to the Pageantry of these Women yet: they all run thus mad; ’tis Greatness in ’em, _Loveless._

Lov. And is thine thus, thy Lady _Desbro?_

Free. She’s of another Cut, she married, as most do, for Interest—but what—thou’t to her?

Lov. If Lightning stop my way:— Perhaps a sober View may make me hate her. [Exeunt both.