Des. Ah, Patience, Sir, ah, ’tis a pious Virtue—
Ana. Ah, it is Zeal in one of us, the Out-goings of the Spirit.
Tom. Sir, will you go down to Prayers? the Chaplain waits.
Des. No, no, Boy, I am too serious for that Exercise, I cannot now dissemble, Heav’n forgive me.
Ana. How, Sir, not dissemble—ah, then you have lost a great Virtue indeed, a very great Virtue; ah, let us not give away the Good Old Cause—but, as [we have hitherto maintain’d] it by gadly Cozenage, and pious Frauds, let us persevere—ah, let us persevere to the end; let us not lose our Heritage for a Mess of Pottage, that is, let us not lose the Cause for Dissimulation and Hypocrisy, those two main Engines that have earned on the great Work.
Des. Verily, you have prevail’d, and I will go take counsel of my Pillow: Boy—call my Man to undress me—I’ll to Bed, for I am sick at Heart. [Ex. Tom.
Free. Death, what shall I do now?
[Des. walks, she whispers Ana.
L. Des. You must get my Man off, or we’re undone.