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 To Heaven? To the gibbet we are led; But know you who we are? Cromwell. Brigands condemned To death. Ormond. But gentlemen. You knew it not, Doubtless, and therefore we do tell it you. The gibbet's not for those who bear our names. And, even though your own nobility Is of the lowliest, the hangman's rope That us dishonours, doth inflict on you No less a stigma. Folk of quality And of good taste have nought to do with hanging. We do protest. Cromwell. And is this all? [Aside.]Aha! They ask for life! Ormond. It is. Weigh the request. Cromwell.What, pray, do you desire? Ormond. To lose our heads. Avaunt the gallows and its dire disgrace! We are entitled as of right to be Decapitated, one and all. Cromwell [to , in an undertone. Strange men! Look you. No fear, no shame. Pride mounts with them E'en to the scaffold; to eternity Their prejudices wait upon their steps; And in their eyes the block's a glorious thing!
 * [To the Cavaliers, with a mocking smile.

I understand.—When you do enter Heav'n It much imports that the great gates be thrown Wide open to admit you; and 'twould be For a poor hempen cord too great an honour