Arth. Will the trial be?
Crom. 'Twould justify us much.
Arth. But if he die—
Crom. [In a hurried tone and walking off.]
It is not thy affair, or mine—Why now—
Let's talk anon, I'm tir'd. Hast thou seen
My daughter Frances?—fares she well to-day?
Give me thine arm—I do admire thy reasons.
You see, these angry fanatics boil over;
'Twill simmer down anon—The king must live.
And yet he hath done much—wrought evil work,
And so—
[Exeunt. CROMWELL leaning on his arm and talking rapidly.]
END OF ACT III.
ACT IV
SCENE I.
[2nd Grooves.]
GURTON'S Ale House.