Maxwell. In the Commons' name, their servant
Demands Lord Strafford's sword.
[156]Strafford. What did you say?
Maxwell. The Commons bid me ask your lordship's sword.
Strafford. Let us go forth: follow me, gentlemen!
Draw your swords too: cut any down that bar us.
On the King's service! Maxwell, clear the way!
[The Presbyterians prepare to dispute his passage.
Strafford. I stay: the King himself shall see me here.
Your tablets, fellow!
[To Mainwaring.] Give that to the King!
Yes, Maxwell, for the next half-hour, let be!
Nay, you shall take my sword!
[Maxwell advances to take it.
Or, no—not that!
Their blood, perhaps, may wipe out all thus far,
All up to that—not that! Why, friend, you see
When the King lays your head beneath my foot
It will not pay for that. Go, all of you!
Maxwell. I dare, my lord, to disobey: none stir!
Strafford. This gentle Maxwell!—Do not touch him, Bryan!
[To the Presbyterians.] Whichever cur of you will carry this
Escapes his fellow's fate. None saves his life?
None?