I did but laugh.—Be still!—Laughter's not speech.—
Were I not stifling, I would strangle thee!—
Hush! the Lord Mayor comes.—
Mark in the line
Worshipful Master Pack, the alderman,
Whom Noll, to compliment the city did,
All with a wooden staff, make belted knight.
He rides his rank as 'twere a hobby-horse.—
'Twas on his motion that they made this Pilate king.—
Aha! the Barons in their scarlet robes!
Huzza! Lord Hale! And Sergeant Wallop, too!—
Look at the colonels riding by.—How now!
Are there not guards enough who serve for pay?
The corporations in their robes form lines
To keep the people back.—Old Noll's a tyrant!
Noll's a usurper!—Ay, a Titan he,
Who fain would scale the walls of highest Heav'n!
Force is this Enceladus's sole claim.
He not ascends the throne, he escalades it.—
Peace, peace, thou Oxford runaway! Observe
This pedant! on my word, he's talking Latin!—
I have the right, upon his curule chair,
To curse this Appius!—He thinks, forsooth,
That Cromwell can be murdered with a rod!—
An Usher [dressed in black, appearing in the doorway.
Room for the Parliament!
