om the eyes of the beholders. Leaving the
military in the lobby, he entered the house, and composedly seated himself
on one of the outer benches. His dress was a plain suit of black cloth,
with grey worsted stockings. For a while he seemed to listen with interest
to the debate; but, when the speaker was going to put the question, he
whispered to Harrison, "This is the time: I must do it;" and rising, put
off his hat to address the house. At first his language was decorous and
even laudatory. Gradually he became more warm and animated: at last
he assumed all the vehemence of passion, and indulged in personal
vituperation. He charged the members with self-seeking and profaneness;
with the frequent denial of justice, and numerous

[Footnote 1: These particulars may be fairly collected from Whitelock, 554,
compared with the declaration of the officers, and Cromwell's speech to
his parliament. The intention to dissolve themselves is also asserted by
Hazlerig.--Burton's Diary, iii. 98.]

acts of oppression; with idolizing the lawyers, the constant advocates of
tyranny; with neglecting the men who had bled for them in the field, that
they might gain the Presbyterians who had apostatized from the cause;
and with doing all this in order to perpetuate their own power, and to
replenish their own purses. But their time was come; the Lord had disowned
them; he had chosen more worthy instruments to perform his work. Here the
orator was interrupted by Sir Peter Wentworth, who declared that he
never before heard language so unparliamentary, language, too, the more
offensive, because it was addressed to them by their own servant, whom they
had too fondly cherished, and whom, by their unprecedented bounty, they had
made what he was. At these words Cromwell put on his hat, and, springing
from his place, exclaimed, "Come, come, sir, I will put an end to your
prating." For a few seconds, apparently in the most violent agitation, he
paced forward and backward, and then, stamping on the floor, added, "You
are no parliament. I say you are no parliament: bring them in, bring them
in." Instantly the door opened, and Colonel Worseley entered, followed by
more than twenty musketeers. "This," cried Sir Henry Vane, "is not honest.
It is against morality and common honesty." "Sir Henry Vane," replied
Cromwell, "O Sir Henry Vane! The Lord deliver me from Sir Henry Vane! He
might have prevented this. But he is a juggler, and has not common honesty
hims