Here, cavaliers! a blow, one blow, 'tis Noll
The butcher, brewer Noll, that in your songs
Ye send to hell so often. Send him now,
If ye be men, not cowards. What! at loss!

[_1st Cavalier staggers against him as he parries
two or three pikemen, and he receives a mortal
stroke, and falls. During this the other
cavaliers are struck down or disarmed._]

Alas! I might have reach'd him, but betray'd
By our own rotten conduct, die--Oh, had I words
Now could I prophesy--destruction--Charles!
My king! [_Dies._]

_Crom._ There _is_ no king save one, and He
Is with us! [_Points to 1st Cavalier._]
Yon poor wretch--what saith he?
Nay!
Strike not his mouth.

_1st Cav._ I defy thee, Satan! I'll back my rapier,
an' thou wilt fight, Brewer! Curse on thy muddy
veins, thou hast no honourable desperation in thee.
Come, if thou beest a man, give up thy odds. What,
ho! Excalibur!

[_Makes a rush to get at CROMWELL_]