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 I see just at this moment— Cromwell. What? Manasseh [without taking his eyes from the sky. Your star.
 * [Turning to , in a solemn tone.

For me the veil that doth thy future hide May be removed. Cromwell [with a start.] In truth? Ah! can it be? But no—old man, thou liest! Fear'st thou not The dagger's point? Manasseh [gravely.] If I do lie, may death, Whose sudden coming doth confound us all, Forever close these eyes to which the stars Give answer! Cromwell [pensively, aside.] Can it be? Of destiny To raise the curtain; in the sky, afar, To read the distant future; to decipher The life and character of every man; To find the answer to the mystery,— The answer that a hand invisible Doth trace with planets on the heavens' page! Stupendous power! with God alone 'tis shared.— And I, content with a mere earthly throne, Content to shine upon the eminence Whence kings their feeble radiance have cast, I scorned this Jew.—Beside him, what am I? And what my power beside his sovereignty? Contrasted with the end that he attains, What is the paltry goal of my ambition? His realm's the world, and no horizon has.— But no—it cannot be. For common sense— A bottomless abyss, which swallows all, And which can nought restore! Shortsighted doubt, Which doth deny for lack of comprehension! The idiot invokes it with a sneer.