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 Without an act of sacrilege,—by cord, By bludgeon or by poison—what you will. Syndercomb [sheathing his dagger. 'Tis well! Garland [pressing  hand. Go to! I did not hear aright. Wildman [to .]It gives me joy to see thee once again Inspired by goodly sentiment, my friend. Overton [to .]Although the shedding blood 's a heinous sin, We have not time to kill him properly. Barebones [yielding with bad grace. So be it, stab the villain, if you will. [Aloud.]But 'tis deplorable! Garland. The sword of Judith Is brother to the knives that him will smite. Their place in Heaven's arsenal awaits them. Harrison. Brethren, let us give thanks to the Lord God. 'Tis He who doth dispense us from the aid Of the vile cavaliers. Their furtherance Would mar the work and blemish our renown. But God, who doth reserve the victory For us alone, confounding the designs Of Ormond and of Oliver, doth toss Ormond to Cromwell, Cromwell to the Saints. All [brandishing their daggers. The Lord be praised! Lambert. My friends, the moments fly, The people soon will flock to Westminster. Suppose we are surprised? Overton [to , in an undertone. Always afraid Is Lambert!