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 , pale as death and speechless, is reparing to go down from the platform when  detains him. Cromwell.Ah! Lambert, you will dine with us to-day.
 * [In an undertone, as  turns in alarm.

Why tremble still? He is no longer there. Lambert [faltering.]Who? Cromwell [still in an undertone. Overton, whose mission was to urge Thy wavering hand. [With a sardonic smile.]For you were in the plot Lambert.My lord, I swear— Cromwell. Nay, nay, swear not at all. Lambert.But, good my lord— Cromwell. Oh! I have witnesses. You were the leader. Lambert. I the leader? Cromwell. Yes. In name, at least. But your own hardihood You feared to trust, and you would not have dared To stab me, standing face to face. Lambert. My lord— [Aside.]The thoughts of every man are plainly writ Upon his forehead for this tyrant's keen, Unerring eye. Cromwell [with a smile.] Is it the truth, my lord, As I have heard from lips not too discreet, That to a quiet and retired life Your tastes incline? And flowers, too, 'tis said That you do madly love.
 * [In an undertone, grinding his teeth.

Without delay In my hands your commission you will place. [He dismisses him with a gesture.