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 4.—, the still in their hiding-place.

Cromwell [his eyes fixed on the postern. They're in the trap! Murray [rubbing his hands.]At last we've reached our goal! This mighty Cromwell, he who hath no peer In the whole world, this famous general, This clever statesman to whom Europe sings Eternal hymns of praise, this master-mind, This hero, for whose stature Europe deems The sceptre of this realm too light, the throne Too narrow, lets himself be caught at last, E'en as a wingless bird, by eight poor fools Who have not 'twixt them all a pair of brains! For I'm the only one whose brain is sound. Without me nothing had been done, i' faith!— Cromwell, a vagabond, adventurer, Hardly a gentleman, reign over kings, Like any Roman Cæsar!—But these kings May learn a useful lesson from us now! The man whose power curtailed their ancient rights, Surprised in his own palace!—and by us! What ignominy!—Fifteen years and more The world has dubbed him genius.

Think of it, My friend! Because he won some paltry battles! Cromwell [aside.]In which thou hadst no part! Murray. Because with words And sermons and grimaces he is apt To please the crowd and stir the multitude, The world lies prostrate at his feet, instead