would be left alone--

_Eliz._ O father, hold!
And pardon me for my distracted thought.
Thou knowest best, and I am wrong indeed:
I did but pine to see thee more with us,
To see thee happier--

_Crom._ My child, my child!
Mercy shall look with eyes like thine on me
Though justice frown beside. [_Takes her hand._]
Look up, my child!
Ask what thou wilt except our country's shame.

[_Cromwell hands Elizabeth off, R., and remains
looking after her._]

_Enter, R.D.U.E., MILTON, IRETON, BRADSHAW, MARTEN,
HARRISON (who brings a saddle and places it upon
the table), LILBURNE, ARTHUR WALTON, LUDLOW.
Enter, L., Sir HARRY VANE, HACKER, same time._

_Brad._ [_A letter in his hand. To VANE and
HACKER, who have just entered._] So, gentlemen--Had
you been here just now, you would have heard
at length, this precious information, which our worthy
General Cromwell, and Ireton here, have laid before
us. A letter to the Queen, and secret intercourse
with France--a rare betrayal, and richly worded too.
'Tis well we have friends at court, ere now it had
been at Dover.

_Vane._ I thought he did stand pledged to all we ask'd.

_Har._ The royal Judas! [_Cromwell comes forward._]

_Crom._ O sirs! It is but
A king's prerogative to break his faith.
We are not fitting judges of this thing.

_Har._ But we will judge. I say, whose dogs are we!

_Crom._ Peace, Harrison. Thou naughty traitor!
Peace.

_Ireton._ Away with all, save vengeance on the deed.

_Brad._ [_After placing the letter in the saddle._]
There! in that greasy, patch'd and reeking leather,
Lies a king's royal word, a Stuart's honour,
The faith of Charles, his most majestic pledge
Broken, defil'd, dishonour'd evermore.

_Har._ Why cry ye not, "God save our righteous King"?

_Crom._ Through me, he did proclaim, he would accept
Our army's terms. Alas! had we been cozen'd,
I, that believed his false tongue, had betray'd
The hope of Israel---

_Vane._ It is true, indeed,
He is the slave of his pernicious Queen.

_Mar._ I say the King of England henceforth is
An alien in blood, a bitter traitor--
What doth he merit of us?

_Ireton._ This! 'Tis right
That one man die for all, and that the nation
For one man perish not--

_Crom._ Ho! what? son Ireton.

_Vane._ Alas! indeed he merits not to live.

_Brad._ What say ye?

_Ireton._ Death!

_Mar. Har. Lilb. Lud. Hacker._ [_Severally._] Death!
Death!

_Brad._ I think, Sir Ha