In heaven's name, dost deem thyself less vile
Than a dog Jew? Do thyself justice, knave!
Rochester [aside.]He's monstrous civil!
Richard. When I'd paid thee well,
Betray me secretly! Take with both hands,
And shamelessly sell him who'd purchased thee!
Rochester [aside.]What does he mean?
Richard. At least, give back my gold!
Rochester [aside.]Satan! I have already sent the purse
To my Lord Ormond.
Richard. Wilt restore my gold,
Thou villain?
Rochester [aside.] What am I to do?
[Aloud.] The sum
Was trifling—
Richard. Was it so? It was too small!
Upon thy flesh and bones thou'lt pay me for't!
[He draws his sword.
If I have not my gold, with my good sword,
I'll have what Satan gave thee for a soul!
[He rushes at Rochester with uplifted sword.
My purse, I say!
Rochester [recoiling.]By heav'n, he'll murder me!
That cursèd purse!
Earl of Carlisle. In the Protector's name, give me your sword,
Good Master Richard Cromwell.
Richard [handing the Earl his sword.]You have come