has left me.

_L. Lam._ Is there such God-like Virtue in your Sex?
Or, rather, in your Party.
Curse on the Lyes and Cheats of Conventicles,
That taught me first to think Heroicks Devils,
Blood-thirsty, leud, tyrannick, salvage Monsters.
--But I believe 'em Angels all, if all like _Loveless_.
What heavenly thing then must the Master be,
Whose Servants are divine?

[Enter _Page_ running.

_Page._ Oh, Madam! all the Heroick Boys are up in Arms, and swear
they'll have your Highness, dead or alive,-- they have besieg'd the
House.

_L. Lam._ Heav'ns, the Rabble!-- those faithless things that us'd to
croud my Coach's Wheels, and stop my Passage, with their officious Noise
and Adoration.

Enter _Freeman_.

_Free._ _Loveless_, thy Aid; the City-Sparks are up;
Their zealous Loyalty admits no Bounds.
A glorious Change is coming, and I'll appear now barefac'd.

_Lov._ Madam, fear not the Rabble; retire. _Freeman_ and I can still
'em. Leads her in, and bows low.

_Free._ My dear _Maria_, I shall claim ye shortly--

_L. Des._ Do your worst, I'm ready for the Challenge. [Go in.

[Ex. _Lov._ and _Free._ another way.

SCENE III. _The Street._

Enter _Captain_ and the rest.

_Capt._ I say we'll have the She-Politican out, she did more mischief
than her Husband, pitiful, dittiful _Lambert_; who is, thanks be
prais'd, in the Tower, to which place Lord of his Mercy bring all the
King's Enemies.

_All._ Amen, Amen.

Enter _Lov._ and _Freeman_.

_Lov._ Why, how now, Captain, what, besiege the Women! No, let us lead
our Force to nobler Enemies.

_Capt._ Nay, noble Chief, your Word's our Law.

_Lov._ No, I resign that Title to the brave _Scotch_ General, who has
just now enter'd the City.

_Capt._ We know it, Sir; do you not observe how the Crop-ear'd Fanaticks
trot out of Town?-- The Rogues began their old belov'd Mutiny, but
'twould not do.

_Lov._ A Pox upon 'em, they went out like the Snuff of a Candle,
stinkingly and blinkingly.

_1 Pr._ Ay, ay, let 'em hang themselves, and then they are cold Meat for
the Devil.

_Capt._ But, noble Champion, I hope we may have leave to roast the Rump
to night.

_Lov._ With all our Hearts, here's Mony to make Fires--

_Free._ And here's for Drink to't, Boys.

_All._ Hey-- _Viva le Roy, viva les Heroicks!_ [Go out hollowing.

Enter _Ananias_ peeping, _Felt-maker_, and _Joyner_.

_Ana._ So, the Rabble's gone: ah, Breth