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 If he elude our snares, fall 'neath their daggers! Rochester.Well said, dear Davenant! high-sounding words! Trust the true poet to speak metaphors! Cromwell an oak and fox in one same breath! A fox with daggers slain.—You are the torch Of th' English Pindus! Wherefore, master mine, I crave your judgment— Ormond [aside.] Bah! again the quatrain. Rochester.On certain verses which last night— Ormond. My lord, Is this the place? Rochester [aside.] What narrow-minded fools All these great nobles be! If it so chance That one of them have wit, he loses caste! Davenant [to .]When Charles the Second is in Windsor Lodge, You shall repeat your verses, good my lord, And we'll invite to this same spot, to hear, Wither and Waller and St. Albans, too.— By your good leave, I cry your mercy now. Ormond.Yes, let us plot in peace. [To .] 'Twas nobly said, My friend!
 * [Aside.] Wilmot should die of very shame;

Davenant the poet is less mad than he. Rochester [to. You will not listen, then? Davenant. Lord Rochester Himself, methinks, will not insist thereon. We've divers matters to deliberate Touching our plot. Rochester. You think my quatrain bad! Because I have not written masquerades And tragi-comedies!—So be it, sir!