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 Avaunt! I, Carr, who brave thee to thy beard, Do rather choose the anklet of the prisoner, Than the slave's collar? Ay, and more than that, I much prefer my destiny to thine, My tower to thy booty-laden palace. I would not for thy crime exchange my punishment, My lawful chains for thy usurpèd sceptre! For, criminals alike, when we are dead, God will cast up thy sins, and my remorse Will duly weigh!—Open my prison doors To me once more!—Or, if it is thy will That I be free,—and free in very truth,— Restore the even balance of the State, Give back the Parliament. Then, we will see. Then thou wilt come with me, and both alike, With bended heads, a cord about our waists, Our faces smeared with dust, will at its bar Implore forgiveness. Cromwell, till that day, So long and ardently desired, shall dawn, Give back my chains; respect my liberty.
 * [Loud laughter in the assemblage.

Call off thy dogs! I, in my dungeon, am Perchance the only Englishman of whom Thou art not master; yea, the one free man! There, I do curse thee, Cromwell; there, us twain I offer as a holocaust to God. My prison! vainly dost thou sentence me To break its bounds. My prison! And, in sooth, If worldly texts and laws I must invoke, Thither I go once more by virtue of The habeas corpus. Cromwell. Have it as you will. The law invoked is not to be gainsaid. Trick [in the gallery. His prison! he mistakes—he means his box.