Trick.Thus, then, the bluster of the Cavaliers
Doth Cromwell punish! To his gallows, friends,
He has more ropes than one.
Gramadoch. Although he bears
A world upon his neek, of all of those
Of whom we speak, he, Cromwell is the maddest.
He 'd still be king, and death is at his door.
Giraff [to Gramadoch.
What say'st thou?
Gramadoch. You will see.
Trick [to Gramadoch.] But tell me, pray—
Gramadoch.Nay, later.
Elespuru [to Gramadoch.
But what matters it to thee?
Gramadoch [shaking his head.
A mystery's an egg—list, an you please—
The which one must not break, if one would have
A chicken. Stay.—This Cromwell, unto whom
All things propitious seem, if he doth take
This final step, then he doth hurl himself
Over the precipice. There death awaits him.
Be at his coronation: you will see;
And you will laugh! Surely he is more mad,
Than all these dwarfs he crushes 'neath his feet,—
A hundred times more mad, say I, because
He deems himself the wisest of mankind.
Trick.To close the competition, the most mad,
Even including Cromwell, gentlemen,
Are we ourselves. For is it sensible
To waste in this affair the precious hours
We might employ in doing nought, in sleeping,
Singing to echo of our tedium,
Or gazing at the moon from out a well?
[Exeunt.
