L. Des. It shall be worse, Sirrah, my Husband shall know how kind you wou’d have been to him, because your Disciple and Benefactor, to have begot him a Babe of Grace for a Son and Heir.
Ana. Mistake not my pious meaning, most gracious Lady.
L. Des. I’ll set you out in your Colours: Your impudent and bloody Principles, your Cheats, your Rogueries on honest Men, thro their kind, deluded Wives, whom you cant and goggle into a Belief, ’tis a great work of Grace to steal, and beggar their whole Families, to contribute to your Gormandizing, Lust and Laziness; Ye Locusts of the Land, preach Nonsense, Blasphemy, and Treason, till you sweat again, that the sanctify’d Sisters may rub you down, to comfort and console the Creature.
Ana. Ah! Am—
L. Des. Sirrah, be gone, and trouble me no more—be gone—yet stay—the Rogue may be of use to me—Amongst the heap of Vice, Hypocrisy, and Devils that possess all your Party, you may have some necessary Sin; I’ve known some honest, useful Villains amongst you, that will swear, profess, and lye devoutedly for the Good Old Cause.
Ana. Yea, verily, I hope there are many such, and I shou’d rejoice, yea, exceedingly rejoice in any Gadly Performance to your Ladiship.
L. Des. This is a pious Work: You are a Knave of Credit, a very Saint with the rascally Rabble, with whom your seditious Cant more prevails, your precious Hum and Ha, and gifted Nonsense, than all the Rhetorick of the Learn’d or Honest.
Ana. Hah!
L. Des. —In fine, I have use of your Talent at present, there’s one now in Confinement of the Royal Party—his Name’s Freeman.
Ana. And your Ladiship wou’d have him dispatch’d; I conceive ye—but wou’d you have him dispatch’d privately, or by Form of Law? we’ve Tools for all uses, and ’tis a pious Work, and meritorious.