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Murray [terror-stricken.]Cromwell! and scores of soldiers, glist'ning arms! I am a dead man! The Cavaliers. Treachery! betrayed! Ormond [gazing at ' and ' in turn. Cromwell!—and Rochester! Rochester [rubbing his eyes.] Have I been hanged Already? Can it be that I 'm in hell? Yon glittering palace and these solemn ghosts, And hordes of imps who flaring torches wave— 'Tis hell, in sooth! Wilmot had little hope Of Heaven.
 * [Looking at.

Ay, and yonder's Satan, too. He much resembles Cromwell, by my faith! Cromwell [to ' and ', pointing to the Cavaliers. Arrest these men!

Ormond [breaking his sword across his knee. No man shall have my sword. Richard [aside.] What means all this? My latest escapade Will bring upon me some new punishment. I've broken my arrest; I am undone. Rochester [looking about him with a bewildered air. Why, here are Rosebery, Downie, Drogheda! I shall at least roast in good company.—