and ye must shed it
In shameless broils like these!
Thus the dear blood that should, if spilt it be,
Dye our white spotless cause with its rich crimson,
Must now for every muslin thing that spites
Her prentice-lover, making fools of you.
And O ye others, loyal gentlemen!
I weep indeed for England and our King,
To see ye all, in this the perilous gasp
Of hardy enterprize, yourselves forget,
Like Circe's brutish swine. I tell ye now,
While ye are lost in drunken quarrelling,
Cromwell is near.

_3rd or 4th Cav._ The King shall have his own.
Lillibullero!

_Cav._ I say, thee General Cromwell
Is on the road with some four hundred men,
And will surprise us. [_Confused movement to arm._]

_1st Cav._ [_Who has continued to drink._] Ha! What
does it concern thee with thy preaching? Dost thou
want ought here? [_Touching his sword-hilt._] I care
not for thee or Noll. Would he were here, and a
matter of four thousand to back him. [_Draws._] Sa! sa! canst
fight as well as talk? Wilt take up the
bilbo? Come, adopt the weapon of him I have sliced.
Come, be nimble, sir, jig. I would fain go visit the
haulage of my fancy.

[_A confused noise without._]

_Cav._ Too late! O gentlemen! here, Willsden, is
thy sword. Varley, arouse thee! The enemy!
Away, women! Come, gentlemen--this table--a
barricade, so-- [_1st Cavalier stands in his way._] Off,
fool! [_Hurls him aside._]

_A tremendous explosion; the wide doors behind are
burst in by a petard; the barn falls, and discovers
a view of York. Enter CROMWELL with IRONSIDES
through the break._

_Crom._ Yield, sons of Belial!

_Cav._ O Charles, my king!
'Tis time to die, ere see thy cause thus lost!

[_Throws himself on the pikemen._]

Here, cavaliers! a blow, one blow, 'tis Noll
The butcher, brewer Noll, that in your songs
Ye send to hell so often. Send him now,
If ye be men, not cowards. What! at loss!

[_1st Cavalier staggers against him as he parries
two or three pikemen, and he receives a mortal
stroke, and falls. During this the other
cavaliers are struck down or disarmed._]

Alas! I might have reach'd him, but betray'd
By our own rotten conduct, die--Oh, had I words
Now could I prophesy--destruction--Charles!
My king! [_Dies._]

_Crom._ There _is_ no king save one, and He
Is with us! [_Points to 1st Cavalier._]
Yon poor wretch--what saith he?
Nay!
Strike not his mouth.

_1st Cav._ I defy thee, Satan! I'll back my rapi