_Charles:_
I imagined that it might be so. But your character and your reputation,
Mr. Cromwell, can ignore these.
_Cromwell:_
It is suggested that we become courtiers, and susceptible as courtiers
are. But that is nothing. Continually we are told that Your Majesty will
outwit us.
_Charles:_
But that is too fantastic. Between men so open one with another. Our
scruples--persuasion--yes, these may take time. We may not always easily
understand each other there. But that there should be any question of
duplicity between us--it is monstrous. We may disagree, stubbornly, Mr.
Cromwell, but we know each the other's thought.
_Cromwell:_
I believe it. You know nothing of these Scotch agents in London?
_Charles:_
Scotch?
_Ireton:_
They arrived yesterday.
_Charles:_
Who are they?
_Cromwell:_
You do not know, sir?
_Charles:_
I? Indeed, no.
_Cromwell:_
I did not suppose it. But already I am beset by warnings. I dismiss
them, giving my word in this for your integrity, as it were.
_Charles:_
Minds are strained in these days, It is shameless of them to say this.
_Ireton:_
It means so much, you see, sir. Intrigues with Scotland--there are none,
we are assured, but if there were it would almost inevitably bring civil
war again.
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