The Malice of proud [Lambert will destroy all].
Fleet. I profess, Madam, you mistake my good Lord Lambert, he’s an honest Man, and fears the Lard; he tells me I am to be the Man; verily he does, after all’s done.
Cram. Yes, after all’s done, thou art the Man to be pointed at.
Fleet. Nay, ingeniously, I scorn the Words, so I do: I know the great Work of Salvation to the Nation is to be wrought by me, verily.
Crom. Do, cant on, till Heaven drop Kingdoms in thy Mouth: Dull, silly Sot, thou Ruin of our Interest; thou fond, incorrigible, easy Fool.
Enter Page.
Page. My Lord, the Committee of Safety waits your coming.
Fleet. Why, law you now, forsooth—I profess verily, you are ingeniously the hardest of Belief—tell the Honourable Lords I’m coming: Go, Lady-mother, go home with my Wife; and verily you’ll see things go to your wish—I must to Coach.
L. Fleet. Madam, your humble Servant. [To La. Lam.
Fleet. Honour’d Lady, I kiss your Hands.