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[Enter the Commons, in two lines, headed by the Speaker, before whom march the mace-bearers, ushers, clerks, and sergeants-at-arms.—The crowd watches closely.—While they take their seats in the front rows of the benches at the rear, the conversations in the crowd continue.

Voices in the Crowd. Room for the Parliament! Ah! What's the name
Of Mr. Speaker?—'Tis Sir Thomas Widdrington,
I think.—A comely man, in sooth.—A Judas!
Overton [to Wildman, in an undertone.
The people have their animosities.
You see that no one cries: "God save the Commons!"
Wildman [to Overton.]May God confound them! One and all are sold
To the usurper. Belatucadrus
And Cromwell they adore.

Trick [glancing over the assemblage from the gallery where the Jesters are installed.

And Cromwell they adore. The aldermen—
The courts—the Parliament—yes, all the gods
Of poor old England—all of them are here!
Giraff.Amusing gods!
Elespuru. Amusing gods! What say you to them, brothers?
Giraff.They're gods by the same token that we're fools.
Trick.I long to see the tempest burst upon
This solemn-faced Olympus.
Giraff. This solemn-faced Olympus. Yes, and I,
Good Trick; my errant fantasy, like thine,
Doth pandemonium to the pantheon
Prefer.

Elespuru [pointing to Gramadoch, who is still in a corner of the hall, guarded by four halberdiers, and is going through all sorts of contortions.