Carr.The Antichrist's, who King of Scotland's called,
Or Charles the Second!
Cromwell. Ah! my son! my son!
Atrocious ribaldry! To drink that health
Was drinking to my death! And laughter, song,
And merrymaking—no touch of remorse!
Mad parricide! on thy pale brow, one day,
Will "Cain" be writ, or "Sardanapalus"?
Carr.Both.
[Enter Thurloe. He goes to Cromwell with an air of mystery.
Thurloe [in an undertone.
Richard Willis is below, my lord.
Cromwell.Sir Richard Willis!
[Aside.] He'll explain all this.
[To Thurloe.] I go.
May they come in?
Cromwell. Yes, since I needs must go.
[Aside.] I must be calm; 'tis meet that in this place
I seem untroubled. If my heart's of flesh,
Then brazen be my brow.
Be one of us. Cromwell will always place
Carr before all the rest. For your desires