e 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,
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_,
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 W