Page:CromwellHugo.djvu/215

But sparingly. But here—
[He offers Cromwell the parchment.
Cromwell. But sparingly. But here Read on.
Trick [unrolling it.] But sparingly. But here Read on. Ahem!
"Quatrain."—'Tis wretched stuff!—"To my divinity."
"O fair Egeria"—
Rochester [aside.] …geria" God! my quatrain 'tis!
[He rushes at Trick and snatches the parchment from him.
Demons! damnation! Heaven pardon me,
[He hows to Cromwell.
And you, my lord, if I do swear, but how
Listen unmoved the while before my face
A torrent of obscenities bursts forth?
[To Trick, who is roaring with laughter.
Away, thou Edomite, thou Midianite.
[Aside.]⁠I can recall no other rhyme in ite!
Those devils filched my quatrain from my pocket!
Cromwell [to Rochester.]⁠I well believe these verses do arouse
Your scorn—
Rochester [aside.] ⁠ Nay, nay!
Cromwell. Your scorn—Nay, nay! But we are not in church;
And I would read what doth incur your blame.
So give it me.
Rochester.⁠What! songs of hell, my lord!
Cromwell [impatiently.]⁠Give, or I—
Rochester. Give, or I—But, my lord—
Cromwell [imperatively.] …my lord—Sirrah, obey.

[Lord Rochester bows and hands the parchment to Cromwell, who glances over it and returns it.

These verses are as bad as bad can be!