Fleet. I profess, my Lord, by yea and nay, I am asham’d of this Goodness, in making me the Instrument of saving Grace to this Nation; ’tis the great Work of the Lard.
L. Lam. The Lard! Sir, I’ll assure you the Lard has the least Hand in your good Fortune; I think you ought to ascribe it to the Cunning and Conduct of my Lord here, who so timely abandon’d the Interest of Richard.
Fleet. Ingeniously I must own, your good Lord can do much, and has done much; but ’tis our Method to ascribe all to the Powers above.
L. Lam. Then I must tell you, your Method’s an ungrateful Method.
Lam. Peace, my Love.
Whit. Madam, this is the Cant we must delude the Rabble with.
L. Lam. Then let him use it there, my Lord, not amongst us, who so well understand one another.
Lam. Good Dear, be pacified—and tell me, shall the Gentlemen without have Admittance?
L. Lam. They may. [Page goes out.
Enter Hewson, Desbro, Duckenfield, Wariston, and Cobbet.