Sir G. Cheerly, good lad! Lie thou quiet, no harm shall come to thee. [Sir Gilbert goes to chimney, takes an old book from shelf, and sits on settle. Noises of search gradually come nearer. Enter Diccon, followed by soldiers.]
Diccon [torn between his fear and hatred of the soldiers and his wish to propitiate them]. Here is my lord, your masterships! He bade me give you free welcome [bows politely, but as they pass him he snarls aside], and a pest upon all of ye!
Sir G. What would you of me, my men? Why, Diccon, these be all old neighbors—not soldiers.
[The men are disconcerted, and advance awkwardly,
pulling at their forelocks.
Stephen. Yes—Sir Gilbert—no, Sir Gilbert—we be verily soldiers—soldiers of the Parliament.
Sir G. You have taken up arms against your King? I had thought to see old neighbors and friends and loyal men. [Rises, laying down book.]
Stephen. We do be loyal men——
Andrew. Loyal to the Parliament.
Wat. And soldiers of Cromwell.
Sir G. What, then, would you of me? Ye do know I am a subject of King Charles.