Des. But if he proves the stronger, and shou’d chance to be so great a Traitor to us, to bring in the Man—the King.
L. Des. How, the King, Husband! the great Heroick!
Free. Death, this Woman is a Sybil: ah, noble Monk!
Ana. Hum—the King!—
Des. Ah, and with the King, the Bishops; and then, where’s all our Church and Bishops Lands! oh, undone—puff, puff.
Ana. How, bring in the King and Bishops! my righteous Spirit is raised too—I say, I will excommunicate him for one of the Wicked, yea, for a profane Heroick, a Malignant, a Tory,—a—I say, we will surround him, and confound him with a mighty Host; yea, and fight the Lard’s Battel with him: yea, we will—
Des. Truckle to his Pow’r—puff, puff.
Ana. [Nay, I say verily, nay]; for, in Sadness, I will die in my Calling.
Des. So I doubt shall I—which is Ploughing, Hedging, and Ditching.
Ana. Yea, we have the Sword of the Righteous in our Hand, and we will defend the mighty Revenues of the Church, which [the Lard hath given] unto his People, and chosen ones—I say, we will defend—