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To Heaven? To the gibbet we are led;
But know you who we are?
Cromwell. But know you who we are? Brigands condemned
To death.
Ormond. To death. But gentlemen. You knew it not,
Doubtless, and therefore we do tell it you.
The gibbet's not for those who bear our names.
And, even though your own nobility
Is of the lowliest, the hangman's rope
That us dishonours, doth inflict on you
No less a stigma. Folk of quality
And of good taste have nought to do with hanging.
We do protest.
Cromwell. We do protest. And is this all?
We do protest. And is… [Aside.]Aha!
They ask for life!
Ormond. They ask for life! It is. Weigh the request.
Cromwell.What, pray, do you desire?
Ormond. What, pray, do you desire? To lose our heads.
Avaunt the gallows and its dire disgrace!
We are entitled as of right to be
Decapitated, one and all.
Cromwell [to Thurloe, in an undertone.
Decapitated, one and all. Strange men!
Look you. No fear, no shame. Pride mounts with them
E'en to the scaffold; to eternity
Their prejudices wait upon their steps;
And in their eyes the block's a glorious thing!
[To the Cavaliers, with a mocking smile.
I understand.—When you do enter Heav'n
It much imports that the great gates be thrown
Wide open to admit you; and 'twould be
For a poor hempen cord too great an honour