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 With gaming did debase the day of prayer; Nay, nor when Stuart, all vainglorious Of his time-honoured rights, the blazonry Of kings mistook for rays from God on high, With his superb and ancient royalty, Knelt down before the people's keen-edged axe! In each of them, methought, as it is writ, That we had sacrificed the Antichrist In mortal guise; but now, to-day, I see, That 'tis in Cromwell that triumphant Zion Strikes down at last that fatal parasite, And from the steps of his unfinished throne Doth hurl him back to Tophet, whence he came, Spewed forth by Satan! Ah! the glorious day! Goliath, England's bugbear, to cast down From his great height, face downward, to the earth! Syndercomb.A noble dagger-thrust to deal, in sooth! Pride.What honour for the saints who are to fight The battles of the Lord! Joyce [pointing to the throne.] Now may his blood Pour forth in rivers on this purple where Our nets await!

Barebones [striking himself on the forehead, aside. 'Tis true! Where are my wits? Past question, with their blood they 'll mar my throne! And then what shall I do? The stuff will lose One-fifth in value.
 * [Aloud, after a moment's thought.

On my heart your words Fall sweet as balm. The humblest member I