War. Ene tol what ya please, my gued Loord. [Takes him aside.
Lam. What think you of a single Person here in my Lord Fleetwood?
War. Marry, Sir, and he’s , but gen [I may cooncel], tak’t for yar sel my gued Loord, ant be gued for him, ’tis ene gued for ya te.
Lam. But above half the Nation are for him.
War. Bread a gued, and I’s for him then.
Fleet. The Will of the Lard be done; and since ’tis his Will, I cannot withstand my Fate—ingeniously.
Whit. My Lord Wariston, a Word—What if Lambert were the Man? [Takes him aside.
War. Right Sir, Wons and ya have spoken aud; [he’s a brave Mon, a Mon indeed gen] I’s have any Judgment.
Whit. So I find this Property’s for any use. [Aside.
Lam. My Lord, I perceive Heaven and Earth conspire to make you our Prince.