Lav. You hit the Character of your new Saint.
L. Lam. And then their Dress, Gilliflower.
Gil. Oh! ’Tis an Abomination to look like a Gentleman; long Hair is wicked and cavalierish, a Periwig is flat Popery, the Disguise of the Whore of Babylon; handsom Clothes, or lac’d Linen, the very Tempter himself, that debauches all their Wives and Daughters; therefore the diminutive Band, with the Hair of the Reformation Cut, beneath which a pair of large sanctify’d Souses appear, to declare to the World they had hitherto escap’d the Pillory, tho deserv’d it as well as [Pryn].
L. Lam. Have a care what you say, Gilliflower.
Gil. Why, Madam, we have no Informers here.
Enter Page.
Page. Madam, here’s Old Noll’s Wife desires Admittance to your Hon—your Highness.
L. Lam. Bid the poor Creature wait without, I’ll do her what Good I can for her Husband’s sake, who first infus’d Politicks into me, by which I may boast I have climb’d to Empire.
Lov. So, her Madness runs in that Vein I see. [Aside.
Gil. Alack, Madam, I think she’s coming.