Arth. [ Vainly attempts to speak.] Gentlemen, I say then—Hear!
[MILTON and others commence leaving. LUDLOW pursues CROMWELL, who finally runs down stairs, pursued by the former.]
Arth. [To Milton.] Nay! nay! my friend.
Milt. Another time. This is not seemly.
Har. Surely, doth the Lord Need us elsewhere. Who holdeth forth below?
[They all go but Arthur.]
Re-enter CROMWELL from the stairs.
Crom. I do protest that I am out of breath— Yet I commend thy reasoning.
Arth. But, my Lord.—
Crom. That rascal, Ludlow!