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That prisoned him.
Davenant [in an undertone.] That prisoned him. An Independent he
Of common type? Ranter? Socinian?
Ormond [in an undertone.]⁠No, he's a millenary. He believes
That for a thousand years to come the saints
Will rule unhindered.—Goodly folk the saints!
Carr [apparently absorbed in gloomy meditation.
Brethren, I've suffered sore! I was forgot
In my dark cell, like one long years dead.
The Parliament, which I, alas! outraged,
Oliver Cromwell had with force expelled,
And I, in durance, moaned old England's fate,
As, by the lonesome lake, the pelican;
Myself, too, I bemoaned! By sin's hot flame
My brow was branded, withered was my arm;
Accursèd by the God whom I proclaim,
Like unto wood by fire half consumed
Was I. Alas! so bitterly I've wept,
My bones are burned, my skin clings tight to them.
But now the Lord on me hath taken pity,
And raiseth me. Upon the temple-rock
My blade is sharpened; therewith I will smite
The traitor Cromwell, and expel from Zion
The desolation of perdition!
Rochester [to Davenant, in an undertone.
By my good name! a most unique harangue!
Carr.⁠Amongst you I resume my unstained robe.
Rochester [aside.]⁠Great God!
Carr. Great God! Lead me along the narrow way;
And laud yourselves, whose hearts are free from guile.
The thousand years are come. The saints whom God
Doth aid, from Gog to Magog, soon will rule
The world. And you are saints!
Rochester. The world. And you are saints! You do us honour.