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 Lambert. Let us not be lulled to sleep In false security. Why do we pause? Let 's hasten to the end. Syndercomb. We must strike home Where Cromwell in his armour hath a flaw. Lambert.But where?—and when?—and how? Overton. Listen, my friends. Standing amongst the actors or spectators, Let us be all attentive to the rite, Holding our daggers ever in our hands. First we shall hear great orators galore, Harangues of preachers and of aldermen; Then Cromwell, seated on his fleeting throne, From Warwick will the purple cloak receive, The sword from the Lord Mayor, and the seals From Whitelocke; and, to fetter him still more, The Bible with gold clasps from Widdrington; Lastly, from Lambert he will take the crown. 'Tis the decisive moment. Let us then Surround him, and whenas upon his brotr The unclean gem shall gleam, then let us strike! All.Amen! Lambert. But who will strike the first blow? Syndercomb. I! Pride.I! Wildman. I! Overton. The honour should of right be mine. Garland.I claim it. I have blessed this sword of mine, The better to ensure my aim at Noll. Harrison.I will begin. My dagger owes a blow To the old poisoner for every name Of the Lord God; and for a fortnight past My arm hath trained itself for sterner work By smiting lustily a waxen Cromwell.