ous 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,
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 w