By a blue ribbon. But your Adam, Eve,
And hell and lake of fire! Shocking, all!
Satan unclad beneath his scorchèd wings!—
'Twere bearable if he but cloaked his form
Beneath a dainty costume; if he wore
On flowing wig a jewel-studded casque,
A dawn-hued doublet and a Florence cloak;
As I recall, in the French Opéra,
Wherewith the court at Paris did erstwhile
Regale us, to have seen the Sun arrayed!
Milton [amazed.]What! all this worldly jargon from a saint!
Rochester [biting his lips, aside.
Another foolish outbreak! Luckily
He heard me ill; but nathless Rochester
Doth constantly mismanage the affairs
Of solemn Obededom.
[Aloud, to Milton.] 'T was in jest.
Milton.Jesting 's a foolish thing!
[Aside, still facing Cromwell.
How slightingly
Doth Oliver entreat me!—When all 's said,
What is 't to govern Europe, tell me, pray?
'Tis mere child's play! I fain would see him write,
As I do, Latin verses.
Cromwell [abruptly.] Come, my masters,
'Twere well to laugh a while. Bethink you, fools,
Some pleasant quip. Sir Hannibal Sesthead—
Hannibal Sesthead [with a piqued expression.
My lord, your pardon.—I no jester am,
But cousin to a king of ancient race
Who, be it said without offence to you,
