Cromwell, "proves that you well understand my
plain nature and abhorrence of flattery, and my condescension in
visiting you shows I take you to be open, fair enemies, not likely to
engage in conspiracies, or desirous of renewing the times of confusion.
But I would ask, What hope have you left, or what portion, even in its
best days, did your thriftless loyalty acquire you? Eusebius Beaumont it
found an obscure rector, and so it left you; for you could only boast
simplicity of life and doctrine; but court-chaplains, drivellers in
learning, and lewd knaves in manners, were rewarded with stalls and
mitres. You, Allan Neville, were stripped of your patrimony, and
slandered in your reputation, by the injustice of the King for whom you
bled."

Neville started from his indignant reverie. "Were you," said he,
"invested with tenfold terrors, I would not hear this aspersion cast
upon my Sovereign's memory. Injustice consists in knowing what is wrong,
and persisting in doing it. My King was misled, deceived, like myself,
by the viper we both cherished; even by one of those recreants to whom
you owe your exaltation. With double perfidy, you overthrew the King by
attributing to him the crimes of his favourites, and then converted them
into state-engines, first to elevate you to greatness, and afterwards to
convey away the offscourings of the dignity you had soiled. My King was
open to conviction. He knew the fidelity of his soldier, and purposed to
make him ample reparation."

"I have the power," returned Cromwell, "to accomplish those purposes."
"Impossible!" was Neville's reply; "my lands were alienated by a King of
England, and by his lawful successor only can they be restored."

"Are you," returned the Usurper, "aware that you are the only man in
Europe who dares question my power. I visited you with friendly
dispositions, and you receive me with insults."

"When, veiling your dignity with disguises," answered Neville; "you
borrow the occupation of your myrmidons, and steal on the privacies of
those you oppress, can you wonder to hear their imprecations sound in
unison with the clanking of their fetters?"

"I have a will," replied Cromwell, "as stubborn as yours. We will try
for the mastery. What hinders me from laying that head of yours on the
block?"

"--The insufferable goadings of your afflicted conscience, perpetually
whispering that you have shed too much blood already.--Every wrinkle
which care has imprinted on yo