Page:CromwellHugo.djvu/161

 Cromwell [aside.]O'erweening sectary, whom I am fain To treat with gentleness, and to caress The hand that stabs me! at my age and station! [Humbly, to. What am I? a poor worm. Carr. 'Tis even so! To the Eternal thou art but a worm, Like Attila; to us thou art a serpent! Wouldst take the crown? Cromwell [with tears in his eyes.]How ill thou knowest me! The purple doth encompass me about, But I've a gnawing ulcer at my heart. Pity me! Carr [with a bitter smile.] God of Jacob, dost thou hear This Nimrod who takes on a Job-like air? Cromwell [in a pitiful tone.]I have deserved the censure of the saints. Carr.Go to! the Lord by thine own nearest kin Doth punish thee! Cromwell [surprised.] What meanest thou by that? Carr [triumphantly.]One other name to thy list thou mayst add.— But no—why speak? By vice the crime's chastised.

Cromwell.What name? Tell me the name! For such a service Thou mayest ask, exact, whate'er thou wilt. Carr [as if struck by a sudden thought. In very truth? Wilt to thy promise hold? Cromwell.'Tis equal to an oath. Carr. On certain terms