[Exit Brown]
THE WATCHWORD.
'Trust in the Lord, and keep your powder dry!'
So cried stout OLIVER in the storm, before
That redder rain on bloody Marston Moor,
Which whelmed the flower of English chivalry.
Repeat the watchword when the sullen sky
Stoops with its weight of terror, while the roar
Of the far thunder deepens, and no more