Page:CromwellHugo.djvu/74

Ormond.⁠Stay! Ask me rather to protect your head.
Your upstart champion, protector, king,
Your Cromwell is more near his fall than I.
Broghill.⁠What do I hear?
Ormond. What do I hear? Once more hear what I say:
Consumed with spleen, and of the paltry names
Of highness and protector all a-weary,
'Tis Cromwell's purpose, to be raised aloft
To the King's throne, to be by monarchs hailed
With the proud title of His Majesty.
And in this spoil, which all do share, he takes
The bloodstained heritage of Charles the First.
And he shall have it all! his throne and bier.
The King king-killer in his pride shall learn
How heavy is the crown; and that, although
One seizes it by craft and violence,
It crushes oft the heads that it adorns.
Broghill.⁠What do you say?
Ormond. What do you say? To-morrow, at the hour
When Westminster shall open for this king
Whom hell is soon to consecrate, I say
That you will see him wallow in his blood,
Felled by our swords, ay, on the very steps
Of the throne that he an instant has usurped!
Broghill.⁠Madman! the army is his suite, and aye
That moving wall of iron protects his life.
Do you know e'en the number of his guards?
How will you force a passage through three ranks
Of halberds and his mail-clad infantry,
His heralds, clubmen and black musketeers,
And scarlet cuirassiers?
Ormond. And scarlet cuirassiers? They are with us.
Broghill.⁠What is your hope? To see the Cavaliers
United with the Roundheads?