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 Blood flows on all sides; I have come from church, Whither I went to render thanks to God!" Cromwell [enthusiastically.]A blessed saint is Peters! Thurloe. Shall we spare The remnant of that race? Cromwell.  And wherefore? Nay, No mercy to the papists! Let us be Amid this nation as a burning torch Amid a field of grain! Thurloe [bowing.]  'Tis said, my lord. Cromwell.A pulpit's vacant in this same Armagh. Peters we nominate thereto; his note Is most succinct. Thurloe [bowing again.]  The Emperor would know Wherefore you do maintain in readiness New armaments, equipped at great expense. Cromwell [hotly.]Let him leave war to us and his whole mind Give to his festivals! What would he have With me,—with his two-headed eagle, ay, And Aulic Council?—Would he frighten me? The simple German! For that, on great days, He carries in his hand a painted globe He calls the world! Bah! thunder that ne'er strikes, But rumbles ever!
 * [He motions to  to continue.

Thurloe. Colonel Titus, next— For libel held in prison— Cromwell. What would he? A scurvy knave! Thurloe. His liberty, my lord. These nine months in his dungeon he has lain, Forgotten on his straw. Cromwell. Impossible!