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 Cromwell.What next? Thurloe [holding a letter, and in a tone of anxiety. My lord, in secret I am warned Your Highness will be foully done to death To-morrow. Cromwell. Next? Thurloe. The plot is all contrived By concert of the military chiefs With Cavaliers— Cromwell [interrupting him impatiently. What next? Thurloe. Would you not have Further details of these dark schemes, my lord? Cromwell.'Tis some new fable!—Let us end this task.— What next? Thurloe. The marshal of the Polish Diet writes— Cromwell.Pray have there come no letters from Cologne? Thurloe [looking among the papers. Ay, truly; but a single one. Cromwell. From whom? Thurloe.From Manning, sent to keep an eye on Charles. Cromwell.Ah! give it me! [He seizes the letter and hastily breaks the seal. 'Tis of the fifth. How slow Are all these messengers! Full three weeks old! [He reads the letter, and while reading it, exclaims: Ah! Master Davenant! a cunning ruse!— At night—the lights all out.—Could any man More shrewdly palter with an oath? For that, One must be papist!—Ah! the royal note Hid in his hat.—A very shrewd device! But I am curious.—Thurloe, send word