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Quoth he. It likes me much that we should be
All four in the same hiding-place, my dears.
Elespuru.⁠When we together are, the Jesters all,
Then joys the gods might envy are toward.
Gramadoch.⁠'Tis what I do enjoy
'Tis what… [Enter Milton.]⁠Here's Master Milton;
Our number is complete.

Scene 8.—The Four Jesters, Milton.

[Milton, attended by his guide, walks slowly onto the stage, and stands for a long time turned toward the throne, in an attitude of gloom and despair.

Milton.⁠It was to be! 'Tis done! E'en to the dregs
I needs must drain the bitter, bitter cup,
Accept the torture, miss no pang thereof,
And see this man made king!—The stage is built.
Before this day is done, he'll have gone down
Into the tomb, or fall'n upon a throne!
Trick [to Gramadoch, in an undertone.
Yon chorister of Satan handily
Doth turn a sermon!
Milton [continuing.] …rmon! Whether he die or reign,
Upon this day of mourning here it is
That Cromwell's bier will open to receive him.
Ah! Cromwell hero immolates himself
For Cromwell king, and for the diadem
The halo lays aside; debasement rare
Of heads the most sublime! He'd fain be king.
He greedily for rank doth give his glory,
His name for a vain title.
Gramadoch [to Trick, in an undertone.
His name for a vain title. Though he has
No mitre on his head, he preaches well.