Free. Death, how shall I bring my Friend off? he’ll certainly be ruin’d.
Enter Gill. Lov. and Lady Lam.
Gill. Madam, he’s coming up.
Lov. Madam, for my self I care not, but am much concern’d for you.
[L. Lam. takes two Papers out of her Pocket, and gives ’em to Lov. and Free.
L. Lam. Here take these two Petitions, each of you one—Poor Fellows—you may be gone, your Petitions will not be granted.
Enter Lambert.
Lam. How now, my Dear, what Petitions?—Friends, what’s your Bus’ness?
L. Lam. ’Tis enough we know their Business, Love, we are sufficient to dispatch such Suiters, I hope.
Lam. Pardon me, my Dear, I thought no harm; but I saw you frown, and that made me concern’d.