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him away, throws himself on his knees and holds out his clasped hands to Cromwell.

Would thirty gallows be? Mercy, my lord!
Cromwell.⁠What! from the lash? Go to! have done with this.
Is't not the function of thy cringing back?
Lashed for thy King! thou servest the good cause.
Martyr thou 'lt call thyself; thou 'lt play Montrose.

[He waves his hand and the archers remove Murray.—Thereupon the Protector addresses the crowd with an imperial and inspired air.

Cromwell.⁠O blessèd people, let us spare our foes,
Who cringe and crawl. Even the elephant
Has pity on the snakes he tramples on.
May Heaven always guard thee from the snare,
Ye chosen vessels!
Rochester [to Sedley, in an undertone.
Ye chosen vessels! They are earthen jugs.

[The people respond with long acclamations. The Protector imposes silence by a gesture, and then continues:

I purpose, O my tried and loyal friends,
To signalize this day by acts of grace.
[To the High Sheriff.
Let Carr, a prisoner in the Tower, be brought.

[Exit the Sheriff.—Cromwell rests his elbows on the arms of his chair and seems to be lost in thought.—A general air of silent expectation.—Willis, who has been absent for some time and has just returned, accosts Ormond.

Willis [saluting Ormond.
I give you joy, my lord.
Ormond [surprised.] …, my lord. What! is it you,
Willis? you, too, are free.—This man's a problem!
To pardon us, he takes on kingly airs.