Page:CromwellHugo.djvu/153

 Who feed on horse-flesh!
 * [General merriment among the courtiers.

Carr [in a frenzy of rage.]Laugh, ye mouths of hell! Waller [ironically.]I love sweet courtesy. All. Let us put him out. Lenthall [going up to  and trying to induce him to leave. Look you, my good man, if by any chance His Highness should come in—
 * [They try to lead  away; he resists.

Carr. Nay, 'tis not I Who would go hence, but you. Whitelocke. He is a Saint. Waller.Nay, he's a madman. Carr. You are drunken, all! Drunken with error, pride, and lees of wine; And it is you who call my wisdom madness! Broghill.But, friend, his Highness will be here anon. Carr.And I await him. Broghill. Wherefore? Carr. Presently My mouth must needs address this Ichabod Whom you call Highness. Broghill. Prithee, my good sir, Entrust to me your business. I will speak To him for you, and all my influence— I am Lord Broghill. Carr [bitterly.] Woe is me! how changed Is Oliver! An old Republican Is deemed a blemish in his suite! Broghill— A Cavalier—my sponsor be with Cromwell! Thurloe [who has been scrutinizing  closely, aside.