University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—(As in Act I. Scene I.)
The same Party enters.
Rudyard.
Twelve subsidies!

Vane.
Oh Rudyard, do not laugh
At least!

Rudyard.
True: Strafford called the Parliament—
'T is he should laugh!

A Puritan.
Out of the serpent's root
Comes forth a cockatrice.

Fiennes.
—A stinging one,
If that's the Parliament: twelve subsidies!
A stinging one! but, brother, where's your word
For Strafford's other nest-egg, the Scots' war?

The Puritan.
His fruit shall be a fiery flying serpent.

Fiennes.
Shall be? It chips the shell, man; peeps abroad.
Twelve subsidies!—Why, how now, Vane?

Rudyard.
Peace, Fiennes!

Fiennes.
Ah?—But he was not more a dupe than I,
Or you, or any here, the day that Pym
Returned with the good news. Look up, friend Vane!
We all believed that Strafford meant us well
In summoning the Parliament.

Hampden enters.
Vane.
Now, Hampden,
Clear me! I would have leave to sleep again:
I'd look the People in the face again:
Clear me from having, from the first, hoped, dreamed
Better of Strafford

Hampden.
You may grow one day
A steadfast light to England Henry Vane!

Rudyard.
Meantime, by flashes I make shift to see
Strafford revived our Parliaments; before,
War was but talked of; there's an army, now:
Still, we've a Parliament! Poor Ireland bears
Another wrench (she dies the hardest death!)—
Why, speak of it in Parliament! and lo,
'T is spoken, so console yourselves!

Fiennes.
The jest!
We clamoured, I suppose, thus long, to win
The privilege of laying on our backs
A sorer burden than the King dares lay!

Rudyard.
Mark now: we meet at length, complaints pour in
From every county, all the land cries out
On loans and levies, curses ship-money,
Calls vengeance on the Star Chamber; we lend
An ear. “Ay, lend them all the ears you have!”
Puts in the King; “my subjects, as you find,
“Are fretful, and conceive great things of you.
“Just listen to them, friends; you'll sanction me
“The measures they most wince at, make them yours,
“Instead of mine, I know: and, to begin,
“They say my levies pinch them,—raise me straight
“Twelve subsidies!”

Fiennes.
All England cannot furnish
Twelve subsidies!

Hollis.
But Strafford, just returned
From Ireland—what has he to do with that?
How could he speak his mind? He left before
The Parliament assembled. Pym, who knows
Strafford . . .

Rudyard.
Would I were sure we know ourselves!
What is for good, what, bad—who friend, who foe!

Hollis.
Do you count Parliaments no gain?

Rudyard.
A gain?
While the King's creatures overbalance us?
—There's going on, beside, among ourselves
A quiet, slow, but most effectual course
Of buying over, sapping, leavening
The lump till all is leaven. Glanville's gone.
I'll put a case; had not the Court declared
That no sum short of just twelve subsidies
Will be accepted by the King—our House,
I say, would have consented to that offer
To let us buy off ship-money!

Hollis.
Most like,
If, say, six subsidies will buy it off,
The House . . .

Rudyard.
Will grant them! Hampden, do you hear?
Congratulate with me! the King's the king,
And gains his point at last—our own assent
To that detested tax? All's over, then!
There's no more taking refuge in this room,
Protesting, “Let the King do what he will,
“We, England, are no party to our shame:
“Our day will come!” Congratulate with me!

Pym enters.
Vane.
Pym, Strafford called this Parliament, you say,
But we'll not have our Parliaments like those
In Ireland, Pym!

Rudyard.
Let him stand forth, your friend!
One doubtful act hides far too many sins;
It can be stretched no more, and, to my mind,
Begins to drop from those it covered.

Other Voices.
Good!
Let him avow himself! No fitter time!
We wait thus long for you.

Rudyard.
Perhaps, too long!
Since nothing but the madness of the Court,
In thus unmasking its designs at once,
Has saved us from betraying England. Stay—
This Parliament is Strafford's: let us vote
Our list of grievances too black by far
To suffer talk of subsidies: or best,
That ship-money's disposed of long ago
By England: any vote that's broad enough:
And then let Strafford, for the love of it,
Support his Parliament!

Vane.
And vote as well
No war to be with Scotland! Hear you, Pym?
We'll vote, no war! No part nor lot in it
For England!

Many Voices.
Vote, no war! Stop the new levies!
No Bishops' war! At once! When next we meet!

Pym.
Much more when next we meet! Friends, which of you
Since first the course of Strafford was in doubt,
Has fallen the most away in soul from me?

Vane.
I sat apart, even now under God's eye,
Pondering the words that should denounce you, Pym,
In presence of us all, as one at league
With England's enemy.

Pym.
You are a good
And gallant spirit, Henry. Take my hand
And say you pardon me for all the pain
Till now! Strafford is wholly ours.

Many Voices.
Sure? sure?

Pym.

Vane.
Forgive me, Pym!

Voices.
This looks like truth: Strafford can have, indeed
No choice.

Pym.
Friends, follow me! He's with the King.
Come, Hampden, and come, Rudyard, and come, Vane
This is no sullen day for England, sirs!
Strafford shall tell you!

Voices.
To Whitehall then! Come!