Part 11 (2/2)

_Crom._ Tush, tell me not of Zeruiah, or, by the Eternal, I will smite thee! Speak in English.

_Offi._ The Scotch are in disorder. Lucas, and Porter, and the malignant Goring are playing havoc with them. Newcastle, with his white coats, is winning on us at the pike's point.

_Crom._ That's what is done. What is to do? What says the General?

_Offi._ That you charge Rupert.

_Crom._ Why did you not speak sooner?

I am dead To hear you drawl thus. Righteous Lambert, on!

Bring up the regiments.

Tell brave Frizell, He shall see sport anon--

[_A Soldier gives him his morion._]

I will not wear it!

I cannot see around--

[_A heavy discharge of cannon heard without._]

Ho! Desborough,

Here is a dinner for thee. See thou carve it Right well. On! on! a Cromwell for a Rupert!

_Soldiers._ The Lord and Cromwell!

_Crom._ Nay, not thus: shout rather ”G.o.d and his people! England! Liberty!”

[_Exeunt L._]

[_Different parties of wounded Soldiers enter U.E.L; some being a.s.sisted, and others staggering; the scene becomes dark and obscured with clouds of smoke.

Several Soldiers fall down._]

[_Enter WILLIAM, R., meeting a wounded Trooper, L._]

_Troop._ How goes the day? Why art thou not with the saints, that are now fighting?

_Will._ I was about to fight; but they waited not for me. It is all over now. The king hath no more chance than a b.u.t.terfly three days at sea amongst a covey of Mother Carey's chickens. I would pursue, but lack spurs and a horse, or you should not find me here; [_Aside._] or within ten miles of it.

_Troop._ Get me some water, friend!

_Will._ Ah! you would have watered me in a pond two days since; but here--this is better than water.

[_The Soldier takes a flask from him._]

_Troop._ I think thou saidst that the malignants were smitten. Praised be the Lord! Yet I would I had not seen my father's white hairs amid yon accursed red coats. I parried a stroke from him that must have jarred the old man's arm.

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