University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—The King's Apartments.
Enter the King leading in the Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester.
King.
Here we may weep at leisure. Yon fierce ruffian
Will scarce pursue us here. Elizabeth,
I thought I had done with anger, but the soldier
Who gazed on thee awhile, with looks that seemed
To wither thy young beauty, and with words—
My child! my child! And I had not the power
To shield mine own sweet child!

Eliz.
I saw him not;
I heard him not: I could see none but thee;
Could hear no voice but thine.

King.
When I am gone
Who shall protect thee?

Glou.
I shall soon be tall;
And then—

King.
Poor boy! Elizabeth, be thou
A mother to him. Rear him up in peace
And humbleness. Show him how sweet Content
Can smile on dungeon floors; how the mewed lark
Sings in his narrow cage. Plant patience, dear ones,
Deep in your hearts.
Enter Herbert.
Herbert, where stays the Queen?
Still on that hopeless quest of hope, though friends
Drop from her fast as leaves in Autumn?

Herb.
Sire,
Her Grace is absent still. But General Cromwell
Craves audience of your Majesty.

King.
Admit him.
Wipe off those tears, Elizabeth. Resume
Thy gentle courage. Thou art a Princess.
Enter Cromwell.
Sir,
Thou seest me with my children. Doth thine errand
Demand their absence?

Crom.
No. I sent them to thee
In Christian charity. Thou hast not fallen
Amongst the Heathen.

King.
Howsoever sent,
It was a royal boon. My heart hath ached
With the vain agony of longing love
To look upon those blooming cheeks, to kiss
Those red and innocent lips, to hear the sound
Of those dear voices.

Crom.
Sir, 'twas meet they came
That thou might'st see them once again, might'st say—

King.
Farewell!—I can endure the word—a last
Farewell! I have dwelt so long upon the thought,
The sound seems nothing. Ye have signed the sentence?
Fear not to speak Sir.

Crom.
'Tis a grievous duty—

King.
Ye have signed. And the day?

Crom.
Tomorrow.

King.
What!
So soon? And yet I thank ye. Speed is mercy.
Ye must away, poor children.

Crom.
Nay, the children
May bide with thee till nightfall.

King.
Take them, Herbert!
Take them.

Children.
Oh! no, no, no!

King.
Dear ones, I go
On a great journey. Bless ye once again,
My children! We must part. Farewell.

Eliz.
Oh father,
Let me go with thee!

King.
Know'st thou whither?

Eliz.
Yes;
To Heaven. Oh take me with thee! I must die;
When the tree falls, the young buds wither. Take me
Along with thee to Heaven! Let us lie
Both in one grave!

King.
Now bless ye! This is death;
This is the bitterness of love.

Crom.
Fair child
Be comforted.

King.
Did'st thou not pat her head?

Crom.
She minded me, all in her innocent tears,
Of one in mine own dwelling.

King.
Thou hast daughters;
Be kind to her.

Crom.
I will.

King.
And the poor boy—
He comes not near the throne. Make not of him
A puppet King.

Crom.
I think not of it.

King.
Take them,
Good Herbert! And my wife—

Crom.
She shall be safe;
Shall home to France unharmed.

King.
Now fare ye well!—
Cromwell come back!—No, bring them not again—
No more of parting—bless them! bless them! See
The girl, the poor poor girl, hath wept away
Her tears, and pants and shivers like a fawn
Dying. Oh! for some gentle face to look on
When she revives, or she will surely die.

Crom.
She shall be cared for.

(Exeunt Herbert and the Children.)
King.
Are they gone? quite gone?
I might have kissed them once again, have charged them
To love each other.—No, 'tis best.

Crom.
Thou bad'st me
Remain. What is thy will?

King.
Be kind to them!
Be very kind to them!

Crom.
Have I not promised?
Was that what thou would'st say?

King.
No. But the love,
The o'ermastering love—that was the death-pang. Cromwell,
Thou wilt be kind to them?

Crom.
Would'st have me swear?

King.
Nay, swear not lest, I doubt. I will believe thee.
And for the human pity thou hast shown,
The touch of natural ruth, I pray thee take
My thanks.

Crom.
I would have saved thee. By this hand,
This sinful hand, I would have saved thee, King,
Had'st thou flung by yon bauble.

King.
There is One
Who reads all hearts, one who pursues all crimes,
From silver-tongued and bland hypocrisy
To treasonous murder. The unspoken thought,
And the loud lie, and the accursing act,
Mount to His throne together. Tempt Him not.
I know thee for the worker of this deed,
And knowing pardon thee:—but tempt not Him!

Crom.
Thy blood be on thy head! I would have saved thee—
Even now the thought stirred in me. Pardon, Lord,
That gazing on the father's agonies,
My heart of flesh waxed faint, and I forgot
Thy glory and Thy cause, the suffering saints,
The tyrant's tyrany, and Thy great word,
Freedom! Thy blood be on thy head.

King.
So be it.