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Immodest women, men devoid of shame,
Pomp, power, triumph—nothing doth he lack.
Ah well! to cause all this, e'en as a dream,
Or as the shadow of a chariot,
Or a sword's gleam, to vanish utterly,
What is it that the Lord Almighty needs?
[He presses his dagger against his breast.
A bit of steel in a poor fisher's hands.

[Cromwell, having walked slowly across the hall amid a profound silence, arrives at the foot of the throne and prepares to ascend it. The conspirators glide silently through the crowd and surround the platform.

Milton [among the crowd, in a stentorian voice.
Cromwell, beware!
Cromwell [turning toward the people.
Cromwell, beware! Who speaks?
Syndercomb [to Garland, in an undertone.
Cromwell, beware! Who speaks? May God confound
The blind man, who bids all the world beware!
Milton [to Cromwell.
Beware the Ides of March!
Overton [to Milton, in an undertone.
Beware the Ides of March! Tell not our secrets!
Cromwell [to Milton.
Milton, explain your words.
Milton [to Cromwell.] … your words. Mene, Tekel,
Upharsin!
[Cromwell shrugs his shoulders and ascends the throne.
Overton [to Garland, in an undertone.
Upharsin! Up he goes! I breathe again.
Garland [in an undertone.
It was a solemn warning.

[Cromwell seats himself on the throne. The