Page:CromwellHugo.djvu/209

Find fools who've conned their art more thoroughly?
Some are by instinct fools, of purpose we!
Go to! A jester always doth escape
From all mishap. Who would grow old on earth,
Where all is fleeting, he must e'en turn fool;
Such is the wisest course.
Trick. Such is the wisest course. In very truth,
Cromwell doth weary me! 'Tis said that Charles
Is merrier.
Elespuru. Is merrier. The tyrant's eagle eye,
Is it fatigued! What! it is we who know
What even he knows not; we hold the thread
That he as yet sees not! We, Cromwell's fools!
Gramadoch.⁠I'll said, Elespuru. We are his jesters,
But he's our fool. He thinks that we're his toys;
Poor man! he's ours. Doth he deceive us e'er
With all his prayers? Or doth he frighten us
With that loud voice and pious upward glance
The which cause kings to tremble? When he prays
Or preaches or proscribes, the hypocrite,
Can he e'en glance at us without a smile?
His secret policies and deeplaid plans
Cozen the whole world save us jesters four.
His reign, so fatal to this hapless folk
Whom he doth tease and worry, in our sight
A foolish drama is, which he doth play.
Let us observe. Before our eyes ere long
A score of mimes will pass, now calm, now sad,
Now merry; we the while, in shadow here,
Silent and philosophic lookers-on,
Applaud the happy strokes and mock and jeer
At the mishaps. Leave we Cromwell and Charles
To struggle blindly and each other rend
For our diversion! We alone possess
The key to this strange riddle. Let us not