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 Cromwell. Ungrateful son! When even to the throne I do upraise His destiny!—Repeat to me once more The Puritans, their names. Willis. There's Lambert, first. Cromwell [with a disdainful laugh. Lambert! 'tis that that most doth anger me, That such a daring plot should give itself So cowardly a leader! Even less To genius than to chance is empire due. What a Vitellius for emperor! The common herd, with its irrev'rent hands Doth ever cast a blot on great ideas. Rome for its standard had a truss of hay. [To .]Continue. Willis. Ludlow, Cromwell. There's a worthy man, Who'll not go far. Brute, and not Brutus, he. Willis.Then Syndercomb—Barebones— [As ' speaks ' follows him on a list that he holds in his hand. Cromwell. If memory Serves me aright, my own upholsterer.— The fool! Willis.And Joyce— Cromwell. A clown! Willis. And Overton. Cromwell.A bel esprit! Willis. And Harrison. Cromwell. A thief! Willis.Wildman. Cromwell. A crack-brained idiot, once caught Dictating to his valet sounding words 'Gainst me.—But this is arrant comedy! Willis.One Carr.