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 Carr.The Antichrist's, who King of Scotland's called, Or Charles the Second! Cromwell. Ah! my son! my son! Atrocious ribaldry! To drink that health Was drinking to my death! And laughter, song, And merrymaking—no touch of remorse! Mad parricide! on thy pale brow, one day, Will "Cain" be writ, or "Sardanapalus"? Carr.Both. [Enter ''. He goes to  with an air of mystery.'' Thurloe [in an undertone. Richard Willis is below, my lord.

Cromwell.Sir Richard Willis! [Aside.] He'll explain all this. [To .] I go.

These gentlemen about your door, May they come in? Cromwell. Yes, since I needs must go. [Aside.] I must be calm; 'tis meet that in this place I seem untroubled. If my heart's of flesh, Then brazen be my brow.

My brother, thanks! Be one of us. Cromwell will always place Carr before all the rest. For your desires