shou'd chance to be so great a
Traitor to us, to bring in the Man-- the King.

_L. Des._ How, the King, Husband! the great Heroick!

_Free._ Death, this Woman is a Sybil: ah, noble _Monk_!

_Ana._ Hum-- the King!--

_Des._ Ah, and with the King, the Bishops; and then, where's all our
Church and Bishops Lands! oh, undone-- puff, puff.

_Ana._ How, bring in the King and Bishops! my righteous Spirit is raised
too-- I say, I will excommunicate him for one of the Wicked, yea, for a
profane Heroick, a Malignant, a Tory,-- a-- I say, we will surround him,
and confound him with a mighty Host; yea, and fight the Lard's Battel
with him: yea, we will--

_Des._ Truckle to his Pow'r-- puff, puff.

_Ana._ Nay, I say verily, nay; for, in Sadness, I will die in my
Calling.

_Des._ So I doubt shall I-- which is Ploughing, Hedging, and Ditching.

_Ana._ Yea, we have the Sword of the Righteous in our Hand, and we will
defend the mighty Revenues of the Church, which the Lard hath given unto
his People, and chosen ones-- I say, we will defend--

_Des._ Ah, Patience, Sir, ah, 'tis a pious Virtue--

_Ana._ Ah, it is Zeal in one of us, the Out-goings of the Spirit.

Enter _Tom_.

_Tom._ Sir, will you go down to Prayers? the Chaplain waits.

_Des._ No, no, Boy, I am too serious for that Exercise, I cannot now
dissemble, Heav'n forgive me.

_Ana._ How, Sir, not dissemble-- ah, then you have lost a great Virtue
indeed, a very great Virtue; ah, let us not give away the Good Old
Cause-- but, as we have hitherto maintain'd it by gadly Cozenage, and
pious Frauds, let us persevere-- ah, let us persevere to the end; let us
not lose our Heritage for a Mess of Pottage, that is, let us not lose
the Cause for Dissimulation and Hypocrisy, those two main Engines that
have earned on the great Work.

_Des._ Verily, you have prevail'd, and I will go take counsel of my
Pillow: Boy-- call my Man to undress me-- I'll to Bed, for I am sick at
Heart.
[Ex. _Tom._

_Free._ Death, what shall I do now?

[Des._ walks, she whispers _Ana.

_L. Des._ You must get my Man off, or we're undone.

_Ana._ Madam, be comforted, Heaven will bring all things about for our
Advantage--
[As _Des._ turns.

_L. Des._ But he's behind the Curtains, Man--

[Des. turns from 'em.

_Ana._ Ah, let Providence alone-- [Spreads his Cloak wide, and goes by
degrees toward the Bed.] --Your pious Lady, Sir, is doubtful, but I
will give her ample Sa