University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter CROMWELL and BRADSHAW.
CROMWELL.
It Shall be better, Bradshaw: Do not think
Desert, tho' lowly plac'd, escapes our Eye;
To me it is as precious in the Valley,
As glittering on the Mountain's Top:—
I praise my self that I have found thee out:
'Tis not my Favour, Bradshaw, but thy Worth
Brings thee to light; thou dost not owe me aught.
Now, Bradshaw, art thou our High-President.
Thou hast a Heart well temper'd to the Cause:
Thou look'st on Monarchy in a true Light:
And where the Cause is just wilt shut out Pity.
Pity!
The Fool's Forgiveness and the Mother's Tear:
The Indiscretion of th'unpractis'd Maid,
Who thro' that Organ hears her Lover's Plaint,
And listens to her Ruin.

BRADSHAW.
My good Sir;
Think not of Bradshaw thus. My Souls firm;
The melting Eye and the relenting Heart
Ne'er wrong'd my Resolution. As to Kings,
To Monarchy, and to superior State,
That I disclaim'd; 'till your exalted Merit
Alter'd my Purpose in my own Despite,
And when I meant to level, rais'd you high.

CROMWELL.
Spoke in a hearty Zeal for our good Cause.
That I have the same Thoughts of thee, let this,
Thy present weighty Office, speak, which shou'd,
If Cromwell's Nature bent to Partiality,
Have fallen upon my Kinsman Ireton; One
Of good Regard and hearty in the Service:
But Cromwell's Heart points only to Desert,
The North of all his Purpose. Thou art ours:
And tho' thy Modesty at first declin'd
To sit our Head, and lead our Counsels right,
Yet I determin'd not to lose thy Worth,
If Importunity cou'd win it.

BRADSHAW.
True, Sir;
I own I thought my self unequal to it;
Nor am I yet convinc'd: Yet what I want in Merit,
I will make out in Rigour on the King,
In Justice to the People and to Heaven.

CROMWELL.
Bradshaw,
Thou art the very Sinew of our Cause;
The Spirit of Design and Warmth of Zeal
Glow in thy Purpose. I adore that Man,
Who, once resolv'd, out-flies e'en Expedition.
Thou art the Glory of our Brotherhood!
And spare not to reproach, to taunt and blacken,
T'insult their Party: Nay, the King himself:
Mindful that all his Dignity is lost,
And he, for monstrous Crime, brought forth to Justice.
Seek an Occasion too, to talk with Fairfax,
And urge to him the strong Necessity
Of the King's Death—Perhaps he may prove angry—
But do not thou regard it. The Time presses;
And thou hast liv'd too long to squander that.

BRADSHAW.
Good Sir, farewel! my Love wou'd offer more,
But my Haste wrongs it.

[Exit.
CROMWELL.
Go too, Bradshaw.
Such are the Tools with which the Wise must work:
And yet he too is wise, and might cajole
A Weaker than himself, and does.
He is my proper Instrument
To operate on those below my Notice.
Thus by Comparison are all Things known;
And by such under Steps as him, and lower,
Do the Ambitious mount to Fame and Honour.
Besides, I choose me those whom Zeal inflames,
Who failing to convince you, will compel:
Such, prompted by Enthusiasm's Force,
And in Predestination's Armour cas'd,
Will to the Mouth of Danger plant their Breasts,
And out-fight Frenzy and Despair. But lo!
Where Ireton comes!

Enter IRETON.
My trusty Friend,
What Look wears our Design?

IRETON.
Such as a Bride,
The Morning after Bliss, she smiles upon us,
And laughs at what she fear'd. Petitions call
For Justice on the King—Our Faction thrives;
Murmur increases to a publick Outcry.
All are 'gainst Charles, save a few pitying Hearts,
Who melt with Fairfax and incline to Mercy.

CROMWELL.
'Tis well; Send Post unto the Army, Ireton,
And let those Sums of Money I have order'd,
Be secretly dispers'd among the Soldiers;
It will remind them of their Promises:
Gold is Specifick for the Memory.
O Gold! wer't not for thee, what great Design,
What bold Ambition, that outstretches Justice,
Cou'd have Success? Thou buy'st our very Prayers:
Thou art the Heart of Opposition,
And the Tooth of Faction. Wer't not for thy Aid,
Success wou'd vary like the uncertain Wind,
And Honesty might prosper! Hie thee, Ireton;
I must to the King; I have some Bills to offer him,
Which for the Life of Charles, Charles would not sign;
And his Refusal turns to our Advantage.
Thou shalt know more hereafter—Now dispatch.

IRETON.
Good Sir, I fly.

[Exit.
CROMWELL.
Ha! who have we yonder?
O! 'Tis the Wife of Fairfax: Once as hearty,
As zealous for the Cause, as Cromwell's self,
And wrought her Lord to think so. Now, O Woman!
Such is thy varying Nature, that the Waves
Are not more fluctuating than thy Opinions,
Nor sooner are displac'd. To her is owing
The wayward Pity of her Vassal Lord.
Oh 'tis certain Danger to have such a Woman,
Who, when Man leaves himself to toy with her,
Knows how to win, and practise on his Weakness.
But let me think—All Women may be won.
The Dame of Ephesus, the Anne of Richard,
Shew us a Woman's Grief and Resolution.
Why may not she be wrought up to my Purpose,
I can approach in what they like, in Flattery?

Enter Lady FAIRFAX.
Lady FAIRFAX.
Stay, worthy Cromwell, and attend my Prayer,
Hear me, and may thy Answer be propitious,
As this kind Hour that favours my Address.
O may my falling Tears that plead for Mercy,
Drop on thy Heart, and melt it to Compliance,
Nor disregard the Suit because a Woman's.
Cromwell is noble; and the noble Soul
Grants the most free Indulgence to the Weak,
Because its generous Nature pleads their Cause.

CROMWELL.
Such is a Woman's Weakness, that she thinks
T'impose on us, by what allures her self:
But I must turn this Project upon her,
And fairly put it to an equal Proof,
Who best dissembles, Cromwell—or a Woman.
[Aside.
Lady, I must esteem a Compliment,
When from a Tongue, that seldom errs that way.
From what I know, and what I oft have heard,
You can dress Praise like Truth: That Praise I mean,
Which from our liking to the Theme we speak of,
Swells to Extravagance, (tho' still our Thoughts)
Such Warmth is Virtue's Fault; and such, I hope,
May be your kind Excuse for praising me.

Lady FAIRFAX.
Talk not of Praise, good Sir, your Merit shames it,
When from a Woman's Mouth.

CROMWELL.
Well turn'd again.
[Aside.
O Lady, were I but to speak my Thoughts
Of you, and your brave Lord, you wou'd conclude
'Twere Praise indeed—for Virtue looks within
For her Faults only, not for her Perfections.
Hear some of those: You once espous'd our Cause,
E'en with Persuasion's Warmth; and well you su'd.
We have not, sure, o'erlook'd Desert so far
To merit Opposition?
The State is busy—but the Time will come
When her best Office shall be pleasing you.

Lady FAIRFAX.
You mock me, Sir; I do not wish that Time,
Vain as you think my Sex. I came to say—

CROMWELL.
E'en to that purpose, to the Life of Charles.
It cannot be, the People cry for Justice:
Wou'd I cou'd stop its Course! But, gentle Lady!
Think it more wise to fly a falling Pile,
Than strive to prop its Ruin. Charles must die.

Lady FAIRFAX.
O gracious Cromwell!—

CROMWELL.
Nay, but hear me on.
Why will you thus employ your Eloquence,
Which our whole Council wou'd with liking hear,
To help Impossibilities? Goody Lady,
Rather employ it (and you know the way)
To teach your Lord to value rising Fortune,
And make his Fame—

Lady FAIRFAX.
As black as yours will be.
Shame on thy dark Designs, and the whole Cause,
If only such a Deed can make it prosper.
Be the Heart bloodless that conceives the Act,
The Tongue accurst that dares avow the Purpose,
And the Hand blasted that obeys the Order!
May his Life here be all the Hell we think of,
Yet find a greater in the other World.

[Exit.
CROMWELL.
How wayward and perverse a thing is Woman!
How much unlike the Softness we expect,
When Rage and Trifles vex 'em: In the Heat
And the full Vigour of their first Enjoyment,
Distrust succeeds their Love; and he who pleases,
Is hunted by their Jealousy to Hate.—
Fairfax and Bradshaw earnest in Dispute:
I will not interrupt them, but to Charles.

[Exit.
Enter FAIRFAX and BRADSHAW.
BRADSHAW.
Why all this Heat, my Lord; because I said
That Charles deserves to die? Why, I repeat it;
And wou'd you master this unmanly Rage,
I might to Reason prove it, but not Frenzy.

FAIRFAX.
Well, I am calm—Speak out your bloody Purpose,
What Hell devises, and what Bradshaw thinks.

BRADSHAW.
Cast your Eye backward then, and let us view
E'en the beginning of this Charles's Reign;
In the first Year a raging Plague destroy'd us,
And was prophetick of our Woes to come:
Did it not sweep whole Multitudes away
Fast as the Sword? which Charles has since unsheath'd.
‘Did he not follow still his Father's Steps,
‘Retain his Ministry, pursue his Aims?
‘Wou'd he, tho' pray'd and threaten'd by the Parliament,
‘Give up those Men, whose Counsels had misled him?
‘And is not that Prince weak—to say no more—
‘Who from a general Outcry guards the Man,
‘Whose bold Ambition strikes at Liberty,
‘At native Freedom, and the Subjects Right?

FAIRFAX.
You but this Moment blam'd my Warmth,
And art thy self transported.

BRADSHAW.
Grant I be:
'Tis in the Cause that Liberty approves,
And every honest Englishman must own it:
But to proceed—Those Men he still held fast,
Or parted with 'em, as the Heart drops Blood:
‘Witness the Earl of Strafford: Tax'd the Land
By grievious Impositions; levy'd War
Against the Commons, and the Kingdom's Peace.
But I forget me that I speak to Fairfax,
Who has so often fought against his Arms,
And taught Success to know the Cause of Right.

FAIRFAX.
I fought for Reparation of our Wrongs—
But cannot think that it consists in Murder.
I wou'd not have him die.

BRADSHAW.
By the good Cause,
It does portend some more than common Change,
When Generals plead for Mercy! Shame it hence,
And let your Visage wear the Glow of Rage;
Let Prynn's undaunted Soul inform thy Breast,
And drive weak Pity thence.

FAIRFAX.
I'll hear no more:
Thy servile Tongue may spare its hireling Office,
It roots my Purpose firmer: In thy Speech,
I read Design, tho' Oratory's Flowers
Strive to conceal the Rancour of the Heart.
O Eloquence! thou violated Fair,
How art thou woo'd, and won to either Bed,
Of Right or Wrong! O when Injustice folds thee,
Dost thou not curse thy Charms for pleasing him,
And blush at Conquest? But the Juncture calls,
Nor will I leave one Moment unemploy'd,
Till the King's Safety be confirm'd.

[Exit.
BRADSHAW.
'Tis well.
I must to other Folk, here time is lost.
This Man has step'd into the Stream of Mischief,
Just like the Boy, who tries the Waters cold,
And shrinking pulls his Foot to Land: Men, like me,
Plunge boldly in, and weather to their Point.

SCENE changes to the King's Apartment.
Enter KING and Bishop JUXON.
JUXON.
Why does your Highness seem so lost in Thought?
Consider not so deeply, good my Lord.

KING.
The Purport of my Dream this Afternoon,
Has set this Visage on. I'll tell thee, Juxon—
Finding my Spirits faint, I laid me down,
And courted Sleep to ease me; to my Wish
It quickly seiz'd my Eye-lids, and methought,
(So Fancy painted) former Times return'd
Grandeur encircled me, and regal State;
My People's Love flew round about my Throne,
On Acclamation's Wing; 'twas Glory all,
And such a Reign as Charles has pray'd for: Homage,
The Bond of Friendship, and the Oath of Trust,
Were all before me: Straight the pleasing Scene,
Quick as the fearful Eye can wink, was chang'd;
And in its Room, a vast and dreary Plain,
Comfortless, wild, without Inhabitant,
Stretch'd out a dismal length that tir'd the Eye;
I was about to go,—when kind Adversity
Pull'd me behind, and as I turn'd around,
Shew'd me where Innocence stood weeping by;
He whisper'd in my Ear, that she alone
Of all my boasting Friends had staid with me.
The Thought struck deep, I wak'd, and good my Lord,
I found my weeping Queen within my Arms.

Enter CROMWELL.
CROMWELL.
If I disturb you, Sir, I ask your Pardon:
Necessity will sometimes be importunate,
And out-go Compliment.

KING.
Your Business, Sir?

CROMWELL.
Know then, whatever may be thought of Cromwell,
He pays this Visit to approve his Love,
His fair Design and Honesty of Heart
To Charles—Solicitous to bring you good.
Behold two Bills, in Tenor much the same
With those before presented; I presume,
The Eye in Danger more distinctly sees,
Freed from Security's thick Film: These sign'd,
Rigour may break her Sword, and Concord join us.

KING.
Can the low Peasant mount his Thoughts with Kings?
The servile Judge of all Men by themselves.
But know, mistaken Man, the noble Mind
Rises above Distress; and Terms, perhaps,
Which in the Day of Power I might accept,
Must be refus'd in this: But these can never.
There is no Good that equals the Exchange
Of peaceful Thoughts and an untainted Mind.

CROMWELL.
Where were those Thoughts in Charles's former Days?
When to despotick Sway you stretch'd your View,
And wou'd have pull'd up Laws! When to that End
You so caress'd your Fav'rite Buckingham
The Tool of your Designs. What were your Thoughts?
When from the fair Impeachment of the Publick,
You shelter'd up that Monster Minister,
And hid him in the Bosom of your Fondness?

JUXON.
Insolent Cromwell! Know to whom thou speak'st,
Think what a Distance Heav'n has set between you,
And be your Words as humble as your State.

CROMWELL.
Distance! good Bishop! But I cry you Mercy!
‘For thus the Clergy will still argue on,
‘Deny from Pique, assert from Prejudice;
‘Shew us the Lesson, seldom the Example,
‘And preach up Laws which they will ne'er obey:
But thou art Trash below the Note of Cromwell:
To thee I speak Protector of black Buckingham,
‘What must that Monarch be, who lets one Man
‘Ingross the Offices of Place and Pow'r,
‘Who with the purloin'd Money of the State
‘Buys Popularity, and whose careless Eye
‘Sees our fair Trade destroy'd by Corsair Force,
‘And Pirate Violence: Who merchandises Trusts,
‘And highest Posts—and whose unbounded Pow'r
‘Does on his worthless Kindred lavish Titles.

KING.
Were I the Person that thy Malice speaks,
I shou'd deserve this Treatment. Thy base Charge
Strikes at my Honesty as King and Man,
And forces me to answer. Well I know,
That for my Actions here, to Heav'n alone
I stand accountable; yet stooping thus,
(Low as to thee) I thus avow my Justice;
Have I not still maintain'd the Subjects Rights,
Preserv'd Religion pure; nay, struggl'd for it,
E'en to this Hour, the Witness of thy Insolence?
What wou'd your Faction have? If Monarchy;
Must I not govern by the Acts of State?
I am a Monarch else without a Council.
Wou'd you reduce the State to Anarchy?
You are a Council then without a Pow'r.

CROMWELL.
You feel our Pow'r ('as slightly as you term it)

KING.
Such as a Robber's, by Surprize and Force:
Where is your Right from Heav'n?

CROMWELL.
Power!
The Right of Nature and the free-born Man.

KING.
Leave me.

CROMWELL.
You speak as if you still were King.

KING.
If not: What am I then?

CROMWELL.
Charles Stuart, nothing more.

KING.
Well may the servile Herd insult and threaten,
When they behold the Lion in the Toils.

CROMWELL.
You may complain as much as suits your Will,
You've still that Comfort left—So fare you well.

[Exit.
JUXON.
Thus is good Fortune treated by the Base:
O did she know how much they shame her Favours,
She wou'd confer 'em only on the Great!
Be chearful, Sir; he is not worth a Thought.

KING.
O Juxon! think what Majesty must feel,
Who bears an Insult from a subject Tongue:
But let him hence—I am compos'd again,
And for the worst prepar'd. All gracious Heav'n!
You gave me Power and you may take it back;
You gave me Life, and may reclaim the Gift;
That as you please—But spare this luckless Land,
And save it from Misfortune's rugged Hand!
My ev'ry Wish is for its Joys Increase,
And my last Pray'r shall be my Peoples Peace.