It was the 16th of March: Parliament was discussing the form of the writs of election. "In the name of the king," said Prynne. "This Parliament has been in law dissolved since the death of the king his father. King Charles II. alone can summon another." The question was evaded; and the writs were despatched in the name of the Trustees of the Liberties of England. Scott proposed that in the powers accorded to the Council of State to treat with foreign governments, one exception should be made, namely, that they should not send any agent to Charles Stuart. A great tumult arose in the chamber. "I move," exclaimed Mr. Crewe, an ardent Presbyterian, "that, before separating, we shall testify that we have not steeped our hands nor our consciences in the detestable murder of the king, and that we hold that act in horror!" The voice of Scott was heard in the midst of the confusion: "Although to-day I know not where I may shelter my head, I acknowledge that I took part in that affair, not only with my hand but with my heart, and I wish for no greater honor in this world than to have this inscription written on my tomb: 'Here lies a man who, with both hand and heart, did approve the execution of Charles I., King of England.'" [Image] Effacing The Inscriptions. {329} Cries of reprobation stifled his words, and he left the House with some of his friends, who were as untamable as himself. The Dissolution Bill was adopted and the Long Parliament, which, in spite of its many errors and disasters, was destined to occupy so great a place in the history of its country, hastened to separate amidst irreverent exhibitions of public delight. The turn of Monk had come.