Chapter 111

Enter L. _Lambert_, _Gilliflower_, and Women-servants.

L. Lam. _Gilliflower_, has none been here to ask for any of my People, in order to his approach to me?

Gill. None, Madam.

L. Lam. Madam! How dull thou art? wo’t never learn to give me a better Title than such an one as foolish Custom bestows on every common Wench?

Gill. Pardon my Ignorance, Madam.

L. Lam. Again Madam?

Gill. Really, Madam, I shou’d be glad to know by what other Title you wou’d be distinguish’d?

L. Lam. Abominable dull! Do’st thou not know on what score my Dear is gone to _Wallingford_ House?

Gill. I cannot divine, Madam.

L. Lam. Heaven help thy Ignorance! he’s gone to be made Protector, Fool, or at least a King, thou Creature; and from this Day I date my self her Highness.

Gill. That will be very fine indeed, an’t please your Highness.

L. Lam. I think ’twill sute better with my Person and Beauty than with the other Woman—what d’ye call her? Mrs. _Cromwell_—my Shape—and Gate—my Humour, 360 and my Youth have something more of Grandeur, have they not?

Gill. Infinitely, an’t please your Highness.

Enter _Page_.

Page. Madam, a Man without has the boldness to ask for your Honour.

L. Lam. Honour, Fool!

Gill. Her Highness, Blockhead.

Page. Saucily prest in, and struck the Porter for denying him entrance to your—Highness.

L. Lam. What kind of Fellow was’t?

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.

L. Lam. Thou art i’th’ right—Do’st know my Quality, and thy own Poverty? And hast thou nothing to ask that I may grant?

Lav. Sure she loves me! and I, frail Flesh and Blood, Cannot resist her Charms; but she’s of the damn’d Party. [Aside.

L. Lam. Are all your Party, Sir, so proud?

Lov. But what have I to do with Religion! Is Beauty the worse, or a kind Wench to be refus’d for Conventickling? She lives high on the Spoils of a glorious Kingdom, and why may not I live upon the Sins of the Spoiler? [Aside.

L. Lam. Sir—you are poor!

Lov. So is my Prince; a Plague on the occasion.

L. Lam. I think you are—no Fool too.

Lov. I wou’d I were, then I had been a Knave, had thriv’d, and possibly by this time had been tugging for rifled Crowns and Kingdoms.

L. Lam. This Satir ill befits my present Bus’ness with you—you—want some Necessaries—as Clothes, and Linen too; and ’tis great pity so proper a Man shou’d want Necessaries. _Gilliflower_—take my Cabinet Key, and fetch the Purse of Broad-pieces that lies in the lower Drawer; ’tis a small Present, Sir, but ’tis an Earnest of my farther Service. [_Gill._ goes out and returns with a Purse.

Lov. I’m angry, that I find one Grain of Generosity in this whole Race of Hypocrites. [Aside.

L. Lam. Here, Sir,’tis only for your present use; for Clothes—three hundred Pieces; let me see you sweet—

Lov. Stark mad, by this good Day.

L. Lam. Ah, _Gilliflower!_ How prettily those Cavalier 363 things charm; I wonder how the Powers above came to give them all the Wit, Softness, and Gallantry—whilst all the great ones of our Age have the most slovenly, ungrateful, dull Behaviour; no Air, no Wit, no Love, nor any thing to please a Lady with.

Gill. Truly, Madam, there’s a great Difference in the Men; yet Heaven at first did its part, but the Devil has since so over-done his, that what with the Vizor of Sanctity, which is the gadly Sneer, the drawing of the Face to a prodigious length, the formal Language, with a certain Twang through the Nose, and the pious Gogle, they are fitter to scare Children than beget love in Ladies.

Lav. You hit the Character of your new Saint.

L. Lam. And then their Dress, _Gilliflower_.

Gil. Oh! ’Tis an Abomination to look like a Gentleman; long Hair is wicked and cavalierish, a Periwig is flat Popery, the Disguise of the Whore of _Babylon_; handsom Clothes, or lac’d Linen, the very Tempter himself, that debauches all their Wives and Daughters; therefore the diminutive Band, with the Hair of the Reformation Cut, beneath which a pair of large sanctify’d Souses appear, to declare to the World they had hitherto escap’d the Pillory, tho deserv’d it as well as _Pryn_.

L. Lam. Have a care what you say, _Gilliflower_.

Gil. Why, Madam, we have no Informers here.

Enter _Page_.

Page. Madam, here’s Old _Noll’s_ Wife desires Admittance to your Hon—your Highness.

L. Lam. Bid the poor Creature wait without, I’ll do her what Good I can for her Husband’s sake, who first infus’d Politicks into me, by which I may boast I have climb’d to Empire.

Lov. So, her Madness runs in that Vein I see. [Aside.

Gil. Alack, Madam, I think she’s coming.

Crom. [without] Does she keep State in the Devil’s Name, and must I wait?

364 L. Lam. Heavens! I shall be scandalized by the Godly. Dear _Gilliflower_, conceal my Cavalier; I would not have a Cavalier seen with me for all the World—Step into my Cabinet. [Ex. _Gil._ and _Lov._

Enter L. _Cromwel_, held back by a Man—to them _Gilliflower_.

Crom. Unhand me, Villain—’twas not long since a Rudeness, Sir, like this had forfeited thy Head.

L. Lam. What wou’d the Woman?

Crom. The Knave, the perjur’d Villain thy Husband, by th’ Throat: thou proud, imperious Baggage, to make me wait; whose Train thou hast been proud to bear—how durst thou, after an Affront like this, trust thy false Face within my Fingers reach? that Face, that first bewitch’d the best of Husbands from me, and tempted him to sin.

Gil. I beseech your Highness retire, the Woman’s mad.

Crom. Highness in the Devil’s Name, sure ’tis not come to that; no, I may live to see thy Cuckold hang’d first, his Politicks are yet too shallow, Mistress. Heavens! Did my Husband make him Lord for this? raise him to Honour, Trusts, Commands, and Counsels,

To ruin all our Royal Family, Betray young _Richard_, who had reign’d in Peace But for his Perjuries and Knaveries; And now he sooths my Son-in-law, soft _Fleetwood_, With empty hopes of Pow’r, and all the while To make himself a King: No, Minion, no; I yet may live to see Thy Husband’s Head o’th’ top of _Westminster_, Before I see it circled in a Crown.

L. Lam. I pity the poor Creature.

Crom. Ungrateful Traytor as he is, Not to look back upon his Benefactors; But he, in lieu of making just Returns, Reviles our Family, profanes our Name, 365 And will in time render it far more odious Than ever _Needham_ made the great Heroicks.

L. Lam. Alas, it weeps, poor Woman!

Crom. Thou ly’st, false Strumpet, I scorn to shed a Tear, For ought that thou canst do or say to me; I’ve too much of my Husband’s Spirit in me. Oh, my dear _Richard_, hadst thou had a Grain on’t, Thou and thy Mother ne’er had fall’n to this.

Gil. His Father sure was seeking of the Lard when he was got.

Enter L. _Fleetwood_, her Train born up.

Crom. Where is this perjur’d Slave, thy Wittal Lord? Dares he not shew his Face, his guilty Face, Before the Person he has thus betray’d?

L. Fleet. Madam, I hope you mistake my honour’d Lord _Lambert_, I believe he designs the Throne for my dear Lord.

Crom. Fond Girl, because he has the Art of fawning, Dissembling to the height, can sooth and smile, Profess, and sometimes weep:— No, he’ll betray him, as he did thy Brother; _Richard_ the Fourth was thus deluded by him. No, let him swear and promise what he will, They are but steps to his own ambitious End; And only makes the Fool, thy credulous Husband, A silly deluded Property.

Enter _Fleetwood_.

Fleet. My honour’d Mother, I am glad to find you here; I hope we shall reconcile things between ye. Verily we should live in Brotherly Love together; come, ingeniously, you shall be Friends, my Lady Mother.

Crom. Curse on th’ occasion of thy being a Kin to me.

Fleet. Why, an please ye, forsooth, Madam?

Crom. My Daughter had a Husband, Worthy the Title of my Son-in-Law; _Ireton_, my best of Sons: he’d Wit and Courage, 366 And with his Counsels, rais’d our House to Honours, Which thy impolitick Easiness pulls down: And whilst you should be gaining Crowns and Kingdoms, Art poorly couzening of the World with fruitless Prayers.

Fleet. Nay, I’ll warrant you, Madam, when there is any gadly Mischief to be done, I am as forward as the best; but ’tis good to take the Lard along with us in every thing. I profess ingeniously, as I am an honest Man, verily—ne’er stir—I shall act as becomes a good Christian.

Crom. A good Coxcomb. Do’st thou not see her reverend Highness there, That Minion now assumes that glorious Title I once, and my Son _Richard’s_ Wife enjoy’d, Whilst I am call’d the Night-mare of the Commonwealth? But wou’d I were, I’d so hag-ride the perjur’d Slaves, Who took so many Oaths of true Allegiance To my great Husband first, then to _Richard_— Who, whilst they reign’d, were most illustrious, Most high and mighty Princes; whilst fawning Poets Write Panegyricks on ’em; and yet no sooner was The wondrous Hero dead, but all his glorious Titles fell to Monster of Mankind, Murderer Of Piety, Traytor to Heaven and Goodness.

Fleet. Who calls him so? Pray take their Names down: I profess ingeniously, forsooth, Madam, verily I’ll order ’em, as I am here I will.

Crom. Thou, alas! they scorn so poor a thing as thou.

Fleet. Do they ingeniously? I’ll be even with ’em, forsooth, Mother, as I am here I will, and there’s an end on’t.

Crom. I wou’d there were an end of our Disgrace and Shame, Which is but just begun, I fear. What will become of that fair Monument Thy careful Father did erect for thee, [To L. _Fleetwood_. Yet whilst he liv’d, next to thy Husband _Ireton_, 367 Lest none shou’d do it for thee after he were dead; The Malice of proud _Lambert_ will destroy all.

Fleet. I profess, Madam, you mistake my good Lord _Lambert_, he’s an honest Man, and fears the Lard; he tells me I am to be the Man; verily he does, after all’s done.

Cram. Yes, after all’s done, thou art the Man to be pointed at.

Fleet. Nay, ingeniously, I scorn the Words, so I do: I know the great Work of Salvation to the Nation is to be wrought by me, verily.

Crom. Do, cant on, till Heaven drop Kingdoms in thy Mouth: Dull, silly Sot, thou Ruin of our Interest; thou fond, incorrigible, easy Fool.

Enter _Page_.

Page. My Lord, the Committee of Safety waits your coming.

Fleet. Why, law you now, forsooth—I profess verily, you are ingeniously the hardest of Belief—tell the Honourable Lords I’m coming: Go, Lady-mother, go home with my Wife; and verily you’ll see things go to your wish—I must to Coach.

L. Fleet. Madam, your humble Servant. [To La. _Lam._

Fleet. Honour’d Lady, I kiss your Hands.

[Exeunt _Crom._ _Fleet_, and L. _Fleet._

Enter _Loveless_.

Lov. Was this the thing that is to be Protector? This little sniveling Fellow rule three Kingdoms? But leave we Politicks, and fall to Love, Who deals more Joys in one kind happy moment Than Ages of dull Empire can produce.

L. Lam. Oh Gods! shall I who never yielded yet, But to him to whom three Kingdoms fell a Sacrifice, Surrender at first Parley?

Lov. Perhaps that Lover made ye gayer Presents, But cou’d not render you a Heart all Love, 368 Or Mind embyass’d in Affairs of Blood. —I bring no Guilt to fright you from my Embraces, But all our Hours shall be serene and soft.

L. Lam. Ah, _Gilliflower_, thy Aid, or I am lost; Shall it be said of me in after Ages, When my Fame amongst Queens shall be recorded, That I, ah Heavens! regardless of my Country’s Cause, Espous’d the wicked Party of its Enemies, The Heathenish Heroicks? ah, defend me!

Lov. Nay—by all that’s—

L. Lam. Ah, hold! Do not profane my Ears with Oaths or Execrations, I cannot bear the Sound.

Lov. Nay, nay—by Heav’n I’ll not depart your Lodgings, till that soft Love that plays so in your Eyes give me a better Proof—by—

L. Lam. Oh hold, I die, if you proceed in this Abomination.

Lov. Why do you force me to’t? d’ye think to put me off with such a Face—such Lips—such Smiles—such Eyes, and every Charm—You’ve made me mad, and I shall swear my Soul away, if disappointed now.

Gil. Ah, save the Gentleman’s Soul, I beseech ye, Madam.

L. Lam. I’m much inclin’d to Acts of Piety—And you have such a Power, that howe’er I incommode my Honour— [Leaning on him, smiling. He goes to lead her out, Enter La. _Desbro_. —_Desbro_ here! How unseasonably she comes?

L. Des. Cry mercy, Madam, I’ll withdraw a while.

L. Lam. Ah, _Desbro!_ thou art come in the most lucky Minute—I was just on the point of falling—As thou say’st, these Heroicks have the strangest Power—

L. Des. I never knew a Woman cou’d resist ’em.

L. Lam. No marvel then, our Husbands use ’em so, betray ’em, banish ’em, sequester, murder ’em, and every way disarm ’em—

L. Des. But their Eyes, Madam.

369 L. Lam. Ay, their Eyes, _Desbro_; I wonder our Lords shou’d take away their Swords, and let ’em wear their Eyes.

L. Des. I’ll move it to the Committee of Safety, Madam, those Weapons should be taken from ’em too.

L. Lam. Still they’ll have some to be reveng’d on us.

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.

Free. And grant the Faithful to be mighty, and to be strong in Persecution; and more especially, ah! I beseech thee confound that malignant Tory _Freeman_—that he may never rise up in judgment against thy Servant, who has taken from him his Estate, his Sustenance and Bread; give him Grace of thy infinite Mercy, to hang himself, if 371 thy People can find no zealous Witnesses to swear him to the Gallows legally. Ah, we have done very much for thee, Lard, thou shoud’st consider us thy Flock, and we shou’d be as good to thee in another thing. [In a Tone.

L. Des. Thou hit’st the zealous Twang right; sure thou hast been acquainted with some of ’em.

Free. Damn ’em, no; what honest Man wou’d keep ’em Company, where harmless Wit and Mirth’s a Sin, laughing scandalous, and a merry Glass Abomination?

L. Des. Yes, if you drink Healths, my wicked Brother: otherwise, to be silently drunk, to be as abusive and satirical as you please, upon the Heroicks, is allowable—for laughing, ’tis not indeed so well; but the precise Sneer and Grin is lawful; no swearing indeed, but lying and dissimulation in abundance. I’ll assure you, they drink as deep, and entertain themselves as well with this silent way of leud Debauchery, as you with all your Wit and Mirth, your Healths of the Royal Family.

Free. Nay, I confess, ’tis a great Pleasure to cheat the World.

L. Des. ’Tis Power, as divine _Hobbes_ calls it.

Free. But what’s all this to Love? Where shall we meet anon?

L. Des. I’ll tell you, what will please you as well—Your Friend is within with her Highness that shall be, if the Devil and her Husband’s Politicks agree about the matter.

Free. Ha, has my cautious Railer manag’d matters so slyly?

L. Des. No, no, the matter was manag’d to his Hand; you see how Heav’n brings things about, for the Good of your Party; this Business will be worth to him at least a thousand Pound a year, or two, well manag’d—But see, my Lady’s Woman.

Gil. Oh, Madam, my Lord— [Running cross the Stage into her Lady’s Chamber.

Free. Death, how shall I bring my Friend off? he’ll certainly be ruin’d.

372 Enter _Gill._ _Lov._ and Lady _Lam._

Gill. Madam, he’s coming up.

Lov. Madam, for my self I care not, but am much concern’d for you.

[L. _Lam._ takes two Papers out of her Pocket, and gives ’em to _Lov._ and _Free_.

L. Lam. Here take these two Petitions, each of you one—Poor Fellows—you may be gone, your Petitions will not be granted.

Enter _Lambert_.

Lam. How now, my Dear, what Petitions?—Friends, what’s your Bus’ness?

L. Lam. ’Tis enough we know their Business, Love, we are sufficient to dispatch such Suiters, I hope.

Lam. Pardon me, my Dear, I thought no harm; but I saw you frown, and that made me concern’d.

L. Lam. Frown! ’Twou’d make any Body frown, to hear the Impudence of Gentlemen, these Cavaliers—wou’d you think it, my Dear, if this Fellow has not the Impudence to petition for the Thirds of his Estate again, so justly taken from him for bearing Arms for the Man?—

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.