those who entertain a stricter commerce and greater intimacy with him.
Ye may have skill in the nature of things, yet nature can do more than
all physicians put together, and God is far above nature." The doctor
besought him to rest, and left the room. Outside he met one of his
colleagues, to whom he gave it as his opinion their patient had grown
light-headed, and he repeated the words which Cromwell had spoken.
"Then," said his brother-physician, "you are certainly a stranger in
this house; don't you know what was done last night? The chaplain and
all their friends being dispersed into several parts of the palace
have prayed to God for his health, and they all heard the voice of God
saying, 'He will recover,' and so they are all certain of it."

"Never, indeed, was there a greater stock of prayers going on for any
man," as Thurlow, his secretary, writes. So sure were those around him
that Providence must hearken to and grant the fulfilment of such
desires as they thought well to express, that, as Thomas Goodwin, one of
Cromwell's chaplains, said, "We asked not for the Protector's life, for
we were assured He had too great things for this man to do, to remove
him yet; but we prayed for his speedy recovery, because his life and
presence were so necessary to divers things then of great moment to be
despatched." When this Puritanical fanatic was presently disappointed,
Bishop Burnet narrates "he had the impudence to say to God, 'Thou hast
deceived us.'"

Meanwhile the Protector lay writhing in pain and terror. His mind was
sorely troubled at remembrance of the last words spoken by his daughter
Elizabeth, who had threatened judgments upon him because of his refusal
to save the King; whilst his body was grievously racked with a tertian
fever, and a foul humour which, beginning in his foot, worked its way
steadily to his heart. Moreover, some insight regarding his future
seemed given to him in his last days, for he appeared, as Ludlow, his
contemporary, states, "above all concerned for the reproaches he saw men
would cast upon his name, in tramping upon his ashes when dead."

On the 30th of August his danger became evident even to himself, and
all hope of life left him. For hours after the certain approach of death
became undeniably certain, he remained quiet and speechless, seemingly
heedless of the exhortation and prayers of his chaplains, till suddenly
turning to one of them, he whispered, "Tell me, is it possible to fall