_Zel._ And when you could not work belief
In Albion of the imagined grief;
Your perjured vouchers, in a breath,
Made oath, that he was sick to death;
And then five hundred quacks of skill
Resolved, 'twas fit he should be ill.
_Aseb._ Now hey for a common-wealth,
We merrily drink and sing!
'Tis to the nation's health,
For every man's a king.
_Zel._ Then let the mask begin,
The Saints advance,
To fill the dance,
And the Property Boys come in.
_The Boys in white begin a Fantastic Dance[4]._
_Cho._ Let the saints ascend the throne.
_Dem._ Saints have wives, and wives have preachers,
Gifted men, and able teachers;
These to get, and those to own.
_Cho._ Let the saints ascend the throne.
_Aseb._ Freedom is a bait alluring;
Them betraying, us securing,
While to sovereign power we soar.
_Zel._ Old delusions, new repeated,
Shews them born but to be cheated,
As their fathers were before.
_Six Sectaries begin a formal affected Dance; the two gravest
whisper the other four, and draw them into the Plot; they pull out
and deliver Libels to them, which they receive._
_Dem._ See friendless Albion there alone,
Without defence
But innocence;
Albanius now is gone.
_Tyr._ Say then, what must be done?
_Dem._ The gods have put him in our hand[5].
_Zel._ He must be slain.
_Tyr._ But who shall then command?
_Dem.
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