issitudes of human Glory.
These Rascals, that but yesterday petition'd me
With humble Adoration, now scarce pay
Common Civilities due to my Sex alone.

Enter _Fleetwood_.

_Crom._ How now, Fool, what is't that makes ye look so pertly? Some
mighty Business you have done, I'll warrant.

_Fleet._ Verily, Lady Mother, you are the strangest Body; a Man cannot
please you-- Have I not finely circumvented _Lambert_? made the Rump
Head, who have committed him to the _Tower_; ne'er stir now that I have,
and I'm the greatest Man in _England_, as I live I am, as a Man may say.

_Crom._ Yes, till a greater come. Ah, Fool of Fools, not to fore-see the
danger of that nasty Rump.

_L. Fleet._ Good Madam, treat my Lord with more Respect.

_Crom._ Away, fond Fool, born with so little Sense, To doat on such a
wretched Idiot; It was thy Fate in _Ireton's_ days to love him, Or you
were foully scandalized.

_Fleet._ You are not so well spoken of neither, ne'er stir now, and you
go to that. I can be King to morrow if I will.

_Crom._ Thou lyest, thou wo't be hang'd first; mark that I tell thee so.
I'll prove _Cassandra_ to thee, and prophesy thy Doom; Heav'n pays the
Traitor back with equal Measure. Remember how you serv'd my poor Son
Richard.

[Ex. _Crom._ and _Page_.

_Fleet._ She's mad-- Come, my Dear, let's leave the House of this
Villain, that meant to have cozen'd me illegally or three Kingdoms-- but
that I outwitted him at last.
[Ex. _Fleet._ L. _Fleet_, and _Page_.

Enter _Page_.

_L. Lam._ Imprison'd too, i'th' Tower! what Fate is mine?
[Leans on _Des._

_Page._ Madam, the fine Heroick's come to wait on you.

_L. Lam._ Hah! _Loveless_! let him not see the Ruin of my Greatness,
which he foretold, and kindly begg'd I wou'd usurp no more.
[Weep.

Enter _Loveless_.

_Lov._ This News has brought me back, I love this Woman,
Vain as she is, in spite of all her Fopperies of State--
[Bows to her, and looks sad.

_L. Lam._ Alas, I do not merit thy Respect,
I'm fall'n to Scorn, to Pity and Contempt. [Weeping.
Ah, Loveless, fly the wretched-- Thy
Virtue is too noble to be shin'd on
By any thing but rising Suns alone:
I'm a declining Shade--

_Lov._ By Heaven, you were never great till now;
I never thought thee so much worth my Love,
My Knee, and Adoration, till this Minute. [Kneels.
--I come to offer you my Life, and all
The little Fortune the rude Herd