in by doubters. Perfidy
Makes mouths at me. Suspicion rears her head,
Hissing upon my path. And my friends drop off,
Leaving a sting behind!
Stay! Arthur Walton,
England doth bid thee stay!

_Arth._ I came here, when
A king did threaten England's liberties,
Her charter'd rights. He cannot threaten now.
His power has pass'd to others. I am not
Ambitious. If they use it well, 'tis well,
And I am needed not--

_Crom._ [_Crosses to R._] Farewell, then, Sir;
But not, I trust, for ever. Go, in peace,
Amid the voices of the nations hear and note
What they shall say of England and of Cromwell.
Farewell, sweet lady, pray for her and me.

[_To FLORENCE._]

Come, I have business, both of you, farewell!

[_Exeunt all, but WILLIAM and HOST._]

_Host._ Confess now, I have done well in discovering
these villanies.

_Will._ Ay, thou art an Eldorado of cunning.

_Host._ Herein you see the man of experience: I
did not rush to tell it all directly.

_Will._ No, indeed, thou didst not, and had I not
been there to extract the pearl of discovery from the
jaw-bone of ignorance with the forceps of discernment,
my Master by this time had been sped.

_Host._ Why, I was in the very nick of time. I am
older than thou art.

_Will._ Thy experience did ever squint, and the
obliquity of the mind grows worse with years. Yet
I grant thee, as it hath happened, thou hast been
equal to the occasion, which is true greatness, and
that thou art great no one who looks at thee can deny.
I am glad that Wyckoff hath at length paid his long
reckoning.

_Host._ But he hath not, he hath not!

_Will._ Did you not see them take him?--

_Host._ Tis all very well to jest, but I have often seen,
that when a poor man is defrauded, first there is no
justice whatsoever, and again, if there be any, it is
in this wise, that, while the wrong-doer suffers by the
Law, the Law swallows up the simple desired thing,
which is restitution. The Law takes the money, the
Law disposes of the chattels, and finally, Jack Ketch,
who is the Law's Ancient and most grim functionary,
lays claim to the clothes. There was more real
justice, friend Will, in the little finger of the Law
of Moses, than in the whole right arm and sword
of our boasted English trull, and you may throw
her scales and blind-man's-buff frippery into the
bargain.

_Will._ Stop, stop, thou art struck with an apoplexy
of sense. Wisdom peeps through both thine eyes, li