don him, my Dear, he meant no Disrespect to thee.

_L. Lam._ How dare you interrupt my Devotion, Sirrah? Be gone with all
your filthy ill-bred Crew.

[_Lam._ sits down on _Lov._

_Lam._ My only Dear, be patient; hah!-- Something moves under me;
Treason, Treason!
[He rises.

[_Lov._ rolls off, and turns _Lam._ over, the rest of the Men run
out crying Treason, Treason, overthrowing the Lights, putting 'em
out.

_L. Lam._ Treason, Treason! my Lord, my Lord!

_Lam._ Lights there, a Plot, a Popish Plot, Lights!

_L. Lam._ The Crown, the Crown, guard the Crown!
[She groping about, finds _Lov._ by his Clothes, knows him.
--Here, take this Key, the next room is my Bed-chamber, Secure
yourself a moment.--
[Ex. _Loveless_.
Lights there, the Crown-- who art thou?
[Takes hold of _Lam._

_Lam._ 'Tis I.

_L. Lam._ Ah, my Lord, what's the matter?--

_Lam._ Nay, my Lady, I ask you what's the matter?

Enter _Page_ with Lights.

By Heaven, all is not well; hark ye, my fine she Politician, who was it
you had hid beneath this Carpet?

_L. Lam._ Heav'ns! dost hear him, _Gilliflower_? Sure the Fellow's mad.

_Gill._ Alack, my Lord, are you out of your honourable Wits? Heav'n
knows, my Lady was at her Devotion.

_Lam._ Baud, come, confess thy self to be one. At her Devotion! yes,
with a He Saint.

_Gill._ Ah! Gad forbid the Saints should be so wicked.

_L. Lam._ Hark ye, thou little sniveling Hypocrite, who hast no Virtue
but a little Conduct in Martial Discipline; who hast by Perjuries,
Cheats, and pious Villanies, wound thy self up into the Rabble's Favour,
where thou mayst stand till some more great in Roguery remove thee from
that height, or to the Gallows, if the King return: hast thou the
Impudence to charge my Virtue?

_Lam._ I know not, Madam, whether that Virtue you boast were lost, or
only stak't, and ready for the Gamester; but I am sure a Man was hid
under this Carpet.

_L. Lam._ Oh Heav'ns, a Man!

_Gill._ Lord, a Man! Are you sure 'twas a Man, my Lord?-- Some villanous
Malignant, I'll warrant.

_Lam._ It may be so.

_Gill._ Alack, the Wickedness of these Heroicks to hide under Carpets;
why they'l have the impudence to hide under our Petticoats shortly,
if your Highness take 'em not down.
[To Lady _Lam._

_Lam._ I do believe so; Death-- a Cuckold? shall that black Cloud shade
all my rising Fame?

_L. Lam._ Cuckold! Why, is that Name so great a Strang