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 He is a monster! England breathes again Through you. Your generous arm doth set her free From the worst tyrant hell can ever bear!— I do not say all this to flatter you. Cromwell.I am convinced of it.

Mere war machines! The coarsest flattery beguiles that heart! Cromwell [aside. How many masks conceal that odious face! I'll make him drop them all, each in its turn, Before my eyes. [Aloud.]Wilt tell my fortune, Jew? Manasseh [bowing.]Reveal to you your future grandeur, here! Sir corporal, you do me too great honour. [Aside.]A beggarly recruit! {{Hidden text|}A beggar…}} [Aloud.] You 're on the road To fortune.
 * [Aside.] 'Tis to use a telescope

To see a candle. [Aloud.]As you will, fair sir. I 'll draw your horoscope; 'tis what we call In Latin making an experiment. In anima vili.
 * [Aside.]'Tis safe to flout

The blockhead to his very face in Latin.
 * [Aloud.

Give me your hand.—And let me tell you this:— Cromwell the villain—

Ah! what hand is this!