He said not.
Charles:
Strangely, the fellow grows on me. But he's a fool, Neal. Brave, but a fool. He sees nothing. Indeed, he's too dull. Ireton too—they are heavy stuff. Clods. Poor country. She needs us again truly. To check such mummers as these—all means are virtuous for that, Neal, eh?
Neal:
Your Majesty knows.
Charles:
Yes, we need no counsel. You are sure that Cromwell was not coming to-night.
Neal:
That was as he said, sire.
Charles: