"Because of this war my spirit hath groaned!" interrupted Cromwell. "Should there not rather be a union between two Protestant republics than war? And what do not you spend on it? All that which you have gained from King and bishops. I say it were more befitting us, as Christians and Englishmen, to have peace with the Dutch."
Whitelocke refused to be drawn into this argument. He returned to his point.
"The Council of State rule well and wisely—the people uphold them."
"Nay, do they?" interrupted the Lord-General, in a very decided tone. "I tell you this, Mr. Whitelocke, I have been up and down the country and heard the opinions of many men, and I say that most, and the best of them, do loathe the Parliament."
"Where is this leading?" asked the lawyer sharply.
"Ay, where?" repeated Cromwell. "There are the people new come from civil strife unheard of, and ye lay on them the great burden of a foreign war; ye settle nothing and strive after nothing but to prolong your own sitting. There are scandalous members among you—ay, I know it well—self-seekers, drunkards, men of lewd life. I say it is not well these should be uncontrolled in power, therefore I spoke for a king or for one with a king's authority. They have none to check them, they do as they will, they are slow, they are idle, they meddle in private matters; it will not do. Let them look to their authority, which is on high; let them seek God painfully."
He spoke with passion now, but also with a certain weariness, as if he was oppressed with great thoughts and slowly struggled to the outward expression of them.
"You are a soldier and therefore impatient," returned Whitelocke quietly. "The Parliament is slow—but that is within human reason."
The Lord-General turned and looked at him grimly.