acts of oppression; with idolizing the lawyers, the constant advocates of tyranny; with neglecting the men who had bled for them in the field, that they might gain the Presbyterians who had apostatized from the cause; and with doing all this in order to perpetuate their own power, and to replenish their own purses.  But their time was come; the Lord had disowned them; he had chosen more worthy instruments to perform his work.  Here the orator was interrupted by Sir Peter Wentworth, who declared that he never before heard language so unparliamentary, language, too, the more offensive, because it was addressed to them by their own servant, whom they had too fondly cherished, and whom, by their unprecedented bounty, they had made what he was.  At these words Cromwell put on his hat, and, springing from his place, exclaimed, “Come, come, sir, I will put an end to your prating.”  For a few seconds, apparently in the most violent agitation, he paced forward and backward, and then, stamping on the floor, added, “You are no parliament.  I say you are no parliament:  bring them in, bring them in.”  Instantly the door opened, and Colonel Worseley entered, followed by more than twenty musketeers.  “This,” cried Sir Henry Vane, “is not honest.  It is against morality and common honesty.”  “Sir Henry Vane,” replied Cromwell, “O Sir Henry Vane!  The Lord deliver me from Sir Henry Vane!  He might have prevented this.  But he is a juggler, and has not common honesty himself.”  From Vane he directed his discourse to Whitelock, on whom he poured a torrent of abuse; then, pointing to Challoner, “There,” he cried, “sits a drunkard;” next, to Marten and Wentworth, “There are two whoremasters:”  and afterwards, selecting different members in succession, described them as dishonest and corrupt livers, a shame and a scandal to the profession of the gospel.  Suddenly, however, checking himself, he turned to the guard, and ordered them to clear the house.  At these words Colonel Harrison took the speaker by the hand, and led him from the chair; Algernon Sidney was next compelled to quit his seat; and the other members, eighty in number, on the approach of the military, rose and moved towards the door.  Cromwell now resumed his discourse.  “It is you,” he exclaimed, “that have forced me to do this.  I have sought the Lord both day and night, that he would rather slay me, than put me on the doing of this work.”  Alderman Allen took advantage of these words to observe, that it was not yet too late to undo what had been done; but Cromwell instantly charged him with peculation, and gave him into custody.  When all were gone, fixing his eye on the mace, “What,” said he, “shall we do with this fool’s bauble?  Here, carry it away.”  Then, taking the act of dissolution from the clerk, he ordered the doors to be locked, and, accompanied by the military, returned to Whitehall.