pillow, lest the evil one should prevail. Desborough
told him of it.

_Har._ Heard you of Falkland's death?

_Ire._ At Newbury?--
I did. On either side, in this sad war
The good and noble seem the ripest fruit,
And so fall first.

_Har._ Thus let them perish, all
That strive against the Lord.
Is Cromwell nigh?--

_Ire._ He will be here anon.

_Har._ [_To himself._] The mighty men
Of Israel slew _all_. It was a sin
To spare the child in the womb.
I am a fool
To shiver thus to think that night must come.
The lion trembles at the sun's eclipse,
But, not for murder of the innocent lamb.
Who walks across my grave?--

_Ire._ Come, let us go:
I cannot pray or wrestle in the spirit;
But let us talk of earthly fights and toils.
I love fat quarters in a Bishopric
As well as any preacher of us all.