er to ye,
Or has your rising Fame made ye forget
How long that Cloud has hung upon your Brow?
--'Twas once the height of your Ambition, Sir;
When you were a poor-sneaking Slave to _Cromwell_,
Then you cou'd cringe, and sneer, and hold the Door,
And give him every Opportunity,
Had not my Piety defeated your Endeavours.

_Lam._ That was for Glory,
Who wou'd not be a Cuckold to be great?
--If _Cromwell_ leap'd into my Saddle once,
I'll step into his Throne for't: but, to be pointed at
By Rascals that I-- rule-- 'tis insupportable.

_L. Lam._ How got this Fellow drunk? call up my Officers!
Who durst deliver him this quantity of Wine?
Send strait in my Name, to summon all the
Drunken Committee of Safety into my Presence.
By Heav'n, I'll show you, Sir-- yes they shall
See what a fine King they're like to have
In Honest, Gadly, Sober, Wise _Jack Lambert_.
--Nay, I'll do't; d'ye think to take away my Honour thus?
I, who by my sole Politicks and Management
Have set you up, Villain of Villains, Sirrah.
--Away-- summon 'em all. [To _Gilliflower_.

_Lam._ Stay-- be not so rash; who was beneath the Carpet?

_L. Lam._ I will not answer thee.

_Lam._ Nor any living thing?

_L. Lam._ No Creature in the Room, thou silly Ideot, but _Gilliflower_
and I-- at our Devotion, praying to Heav'n for your Success to
morrow-- and am I thus rewarded?
[Weeps, _Gill._ weeps too.

_Lam._ My Soul, I cannot bear the Sight of Tears From these dear
Charming Eyes.

_L. Lam._ No matter, Sir, the Committee shall right me.

_Lam._ Upon my Knees I ask thy Pardon, Dear; by all that's good, I wou'd
have sworn I'd felt something stir beneath me as I sat, which threw me
over.

_L. Lam._ Only your Brains turn'd round with too much drinking and
dancing, Exercises you are not us'd to-- go sleep, and settle 'em, for
I'll not deign to Bed with you to night-- retire, as e'er you hope to
have my Aid in your Advancement to the Crown.

_Lam._ I'm gone-- and once more pardon my Mistake.
[Bows, and goes out. Ex. _Gill._

_L. Lam._ --So, this fighting Fool, so worshipp'd by the Rabble,
How meanly can a Woman make him sneak?--
The happy Night's our own-- [To _Loveless_.

Enter _Gill._ _Loveless_.

_Lov._ Excellent Creature, how I do adore thee!

_L. Lam._ But you, perhaps, are satisfied already--

_Lov._ Never; shou'dst thou be kind to all Eternity. Thou hast one
Virtue more, I pay the