Ire. If they abide In York, we'd best draw off. [Exit ARTHUR, L.]
Crom. But Rupert! Rupert!
Wilt he not fight—The fiery-headed fool
Will rush out on us from yon fenced town,
And then—Whom have we here?
[An Orderly hastens in.]
Ord. The earl doth bid you Prepare for instant action; Rupert and Newcastle Are forth outside the gates.
Crom. Said I not so?— Their hearts are hardened by the Lord of hosts. [Musketry in the distance.] [To an officer entering.] Did you not hear me when I said "Bring up the fascines?" How shall we cross the ditch? Do you not heed? Quick, man!
Offi. Even as Balaam said to Balak, Lo! I will but speak what the Lord hath put in my mouth. [Turning to the Soldiers.] Wherefore, I say, O brethren, be ye as they the Lord set apart to Gideon—
Crom. [Striking him with his pistol butt.] Take that, thou babbling fool! this is no fitting time to preach. Ho! Jepherson. Bring up the facines.
Enter ARTHUR, L., to CROMWELL.
Arth. Fairfax is beaten, and our right wing scattered.
Crom. Hist! dismay not these. Doth Rupert follow them?