Page:CromwellHugo.djvu/106

To my content, the scaffold of Lord Capel
Is not so rotten that it will not hold
A block for your head, too!
Ormond [aside.] A block for your head, too! He thinks that he
Is destined for the throne, and even now
His gibbet's making ready!
[A pause.
Lambert [aside.] His gibbet's making ready! Well, 'tis done,
And I am compromised! They've chosen me
To lead them!—Why did I agree? What odds?
I must go on. My fear is most absurd;
Besides, who knows, in sooth, where one may go,
When one draws back. I'll speak to them.

[He folds his arms across his breast and raises his eyes to the ceiling. The Puritans assume their favorite attitude of meditation and prayer. The Cavaliers are seated about the table, the young men drinking merrily. Only Ormond, Willis, Davenant and Jenkins seem to listen to Lambert's harangue.

When one draws back. I'll speak to them. My friends,
It hath of late been given us to know,
That, in despite of our contemnèd rights,
A man who doth himself Protector call
Of England would assume unto himself
The old hereditary royal title.
Wherefore we come to you and summon you
To say if it be meet that we chastise
This upstart pride, and if 'tis your desire,
Avenging by your swords our ancient franchise,
Abolished or usurped, to doom to death,
Without or grace or pardon, Oliver
Cromwell of County Huntingdon? Now, speak,
All [except Carr and Harrison.
Let Cromwell die!