_Enter HARRISON, L., hurriedly._ _Har._ I fear they will not sally forth; our host Meanwhile will melt away. Despondency Sits heavy on my soul. [_Firing is heard from the town._] _Ire._ If they abide In York, we'd best draw off. [_Exit ARTHUR, L._] _Crom._ But Rupert! Rupert! Wilt he not fight--The fiery-headed fool Will rush out on us from yon fenced town, And then--Whom have we here? [_An Orderly hastens in._] _Ord._ The earl doth bid you Prepare for instant action; Rupert and Newcastle Are forth outside the gates. _Crom._ Said I not so?-- Their hearts are hardened by the Lord of hosts. [_Musketry in the distance._] [_To an officer entering._] Did you not hear me when I said "Bring up the fascines?" How shall we cross the ditch? Do you not heed? Quick, man! _Offi._ Even as Balaam said to Balak, Lo! I will but speak what the Lord hath put in my mouth. [_Turning to the Soldiers._] Wherefore, I say, O brethren, be ye as they the Lord set apart to Gideon-- _Crom._ [_Striking him with his pistol butt._] Take that, thou babbling fool! this is no fitting time to preach. Ho! Jepherson. Bring up the facines. _Enter ARTHUR, L., to CROMWELL._ _Arth._ Fairfax is beaten, and our right wing scattered. _Crom._ Hist! dismay not these. Doth Rupert follow them? _Arth._ He doth fight fiercely. _Crow._ Then will I meet him. Victor to victor, we will close together. Ho! forward! [_Another Officer enters._] _Offi._ The musketry of Belial hath mowed our ranks, and the sons of Zeruiah-- _Crom._ Tush, tell me not of Zeruiah, or, by the Eternal, I will smite thee! Speak in English. _Offi._ The Scotch are in disorder. Lucas, and Porter, and the malignant Goring are playing havoc with them. Newcastle, with his white coats, is winning on us at the pike's point. _Crom._ That's what is done. What is to do? What says the General? _Offi._ That you charge Rupert. _Crom._ Why did you not speak sooner? I am dead To hear you drawl thus. Righteous Lambert, on! Bring up the regiments. Tell brave Frizell, He shall see sport anon-- [_A Soldier gives him his morion._] I will not wear it! I cannot see around-- [_A heavy discharge of cannon heard without._] Ho! Desborough, Here is a dinner for thee. See thou carve it Right well. On! on! a Cromwell for a Rupert! _Soldiers._ The Lord and Cromwell! _Crom._ Nay, not thus: shout rather "God and his people! England! Liberty!" [_Exeunt L._] [_Different parties of wounded Soldiers enter U.E.L; some being assisted, and others staggering; the scene becomes dark and obscured with clouds of smoke. Several Soldiers fall down._] [_Enter WILLIAM, R., meeting a wounded Trooper, L._] _Troop._ How goes the day? Why art thou not with the saints, that are now fighting?