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 Ormond.Thy place is kept for thee, by Ravaillac. Cromwell.Old man, by hate thy heart is borne too far. Thy grey hairs should inspire more gentle thoughts. Cromwell a Ravaillac! Canst thou compare With that base hand the hand that moves the world, With the assassin's knife a people's axe? We the same point attain from hell and heav'n. Blood branded Cain and Samuel adorned. Ormond.But Ravaillac, of infamous renown,—- Hath he not to commend him all one needs To share thy glory? Like thyself he caused The death of a just king; what lacks he, pray? Cromwell.He struck too low; a king should ne'er be struck Save at the neck. Ormond. O my beloved master! O Charles! in all his glory he appears Before my weeping eyes!
 * [To , repulsing him.

Again I say, Out of my sight, you, whose impious hand Dared touch a king's majestic head! Cromwell. Go to! Blood sometimes stains, and sometimes purifies. [Aside.]How now! he doth accuse me and I plead My cause. I suffer him to make parade, With knee unbended, of his idiot's virtue And of his madman's honour! In good sooth He knows not whither, in its tyranny, Genius is sometimes borne by destiny. I'll leave this hopeless case. [He turns his back on  and accosts. What! Doctor Jenkins,
 * [Pointing to  and.