University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter King CHALES, the QUEEN and Lady FAIRFAX.
QUEEN.
Is it like Love thus to persuade me hence?
Is it like Love, alas! in me to go?
Can she be faithful to her luckless Lord,
Who will be absent in Affliction's Hour?
Is it not then the lenient Hand of Love
Proves its best Office? Then the virtuous Wife
Shines in the full Meridian of her Truth,
And claims her Part of Sorrow: Oh, my Lord,
Have I been so unthrifty of thy Joy,
That you deny me to partake your Woe?

KING.
No, my best Queen—You wrong my Heart's Design.
'Tis not my Wish advises—but my Fear,
My Fears for thee, the tenderest Part of Charles;
When thou art safe beyond their barbarous Pow'r,
I cannot feel Misfortune.

QUEEN.
But I shall,
More than to share e'en Death with thee:—
My Sorrows will be doubted if I go:—
The Pangs of Separation must be great,
And my Conceit of what my Charles may feel
Exceed Reality—O let me stay—
I was prepared to suffer all Things with you,
But not the Shock of Parting.

Lady FAIRFAX.
Welcome Tears!
Who that have Virtue can behold this Scene?
And not be Actors in it?

KING.
Now 'tis past,
I wou'd have sooner spoke, but pow'rful Nature
First claim'd my Tears, ere she wou'd lend me Words:
It must not be, my Love, thy Pray'r to stay
(The growing Proof of thy eternal Love)
Argues against thee to my tender Heart,
And forces thee away: This worthy Lady
Has found the Means, and made the generous Offer,
Her Care prepares your Flight: The present Hour
That forces me before their black Tribunal,
Will hold all Eyes regardless of your Steps,
And make Security thy Guide:—Farewel,
Till we shall meet again, thy dear Idea
Shall in my waking Fancy still revive;
And fill up every Dream.

QUEEN.
My dearest Lord,
Can you so easily pronounce—Farewel,
When that Farewel may be perhaps—for ever?
O can you leave me thus?—
Methinks our Parting shou'd affect the World,
And Nature sympathize with Griefs like ours—
O let me stay, at least, till this black Day
Be past, that I may know the worst.
To be in doubt is worse than to be certain;
My Apprehension will increase my Woe,
And bring the blackest Scenes of Death before me.

KING.
No more, my Queen! that were to risk thy Safety,
And make me more unhappy in thy Danger:
Farewel.

QUEEN.
O, yet a little longer!
Each Moment now is worth an Age before;
Thou never resting Time! 'tis only now
I count thy Value: O, my dearest Lord!
Who cou'd believe when first we met in Love,
That we shou'd know a Parting worse than Death?
Do not go yet.

KING.
Heav'n knows I wou'd not go—
But dire Necessity must be obey'd:
And see where he appears in his worst Form.
Keep in thy Tears, my Love, lest he suspect—
And teach thy Heart to say Farewel at once.

Enter Col. TOMLINSON.
TOMLINSON.
My Lord, I have Orders to attend your Majesty
To Westminster.

KING.
A Moment spent in private,
And I am ready: Do not droop, my Queen,
[Exit Tom.
Exert the strongest Vigour of thy Soul,
Call up thy Piety, thy awful Virtue,
Thy Resolution, and thy Sex's Pride,
And take their friendly Counsel; they will soon
Determine you to think of Charles, as one
Beyond the Power of Faction in this World,
And ready for another—Fare thee well,
I have this Compliment to pay thy Worth,
That I now leave thee with more tender Thoughts
Than first I met thy Love—this Tear—adieu.
Now, Sir, lead on.

[To C. Tom. entring.
QUEEN.
O stay, my dearest Lord!
[Exe. King and C. Tom.
Let me assure thee of my Faith and Love—
Witness thou awful Ruler of the World,
How much I feel in Parting—how my Heart
Labours to break to prove its Constancy;
How my Affection still has call'd thee Dear;
Never unkind, 'till in this parting Moment,
What do I say! Alas, my Charles is gone—
Fancy presented him before my Eyes,
And my Tears wrong'd my Sight—he's gone for ever.

Lady FAIRFAX.
Good Madam, think your Safety calls upon you,
Your very Sorrows are not here secure;
Tho' you neglect your own, yet think his Ease,
The Ease of Charles, depends upon your Flight;
I have provided every proper Means,
They wait your Will.—

QUEEN.
Kind Lady, I will go—
But oh, be just to Nature, and to Pity,
And own 'tis hard—I thank your friendly Tears,
They speak my Meaning—but I weary you.—
The Wretch who feels Misfortunes will complain,
And I have wondrous Reason—O my Charles!
Since I must go, may every adverse Star
Dart on my wandring Head, and leave thy Sky
Deck'd with propitious Planets only.—May thy Life,
Clear as thy Innocence, adorn the World,
And be the Theme of Wonder—O my Heart!

[Exeunt.
Enter the Marquiss of LINDSEY, meeting the Duke of RICHMOND.
LINDSEY.
Saw you the King pass by?

RICHMOND.
I did, my Lord:
As to his Coronation, not his Trial:
Such was his Look—such awful Majesty
Beam'd out on every Side, and struck the Gazer.
No Mark of Sorrow furrow'd up his Face,
Nor stopp'd his Smiles to his saluting Friends;
Clear as his Conscience, was his Visage seen,
The Emblem of his Heart. As I approach'd,
Richmond, said he, commend me to my Friends;
Say, tho' my Pow'r is gone, my Wishes reach 'em,
And ev'ry Pray'r that rises, breathes their Welfare.
'Tis not in Faction to subdue the Spirit,
Or break the noble Mind: His speaking Eyes
Repeated his Commands, and pierc'd my Heart;
E'en the base Rabble—licens'd to insult,
Struck with the Dignity of Kingly Awe,
Forgot their Hire, and rose from Praise to Wonder.

LINDSEY.
Will you not follow, Sir? 'twere worth Remark,
How he deports himself.

RICHMOND.

Enter FAIRFAX.
FAIRFAX.
Now the Scene of bloodiest Purpose is on foot, and acting;
Now Murder mounts the Bench, array'd like Justice,
And points the Sword at Charles—ill-fated Man!
Ha! who are those? The Friends of Cromwell's Faction?
No, they are with their Huntsmen on the Scent
Of Royal Blood, uncoupled for Destruction:—
If Sorrow blinds me not—the Duke of Richmond.

RICHMOND.
Good Sir, how fare you?

FAIRFAX.
Wondrous ill, My Lord.
Cou'd I but tell you what I feel,—yet live,
You wou'd conclude me Danger-proof—O Sir!
Reflexion shews me the vast Tract I've past,
And stern Impossibility denies
One Step Return—yet (be my Witness Heav'n)
This dreadful Day was never in my Wish.

RICHMOND.
We do not think it was—but, gentle Lord!
Think of some Means to ward this fatal Blow,
And save the King. Wou'd you but go, my Lord,
Your Struggle might—

FAIRFAX.
Alas! what can I do?
Was ever Army routed by one Man?
I have an Army there to combate with:—
Shou'd I go there in order for Prevention,
Failing, my Presence wou'd be made Consent,
And I still more unhappy: O the Change!
This is the Curse of Independent Pow'r,
For Presbytery never meant it? Yet, my Lords,
You shall not say, that Fairfax only talks,
He will approve his Honesty by Deeds;
Somewhat he will attempt to save his Honour,
And clear it to the View of future Times.

RICHMOND.
We do not doubt your Will nor yet your Power;
My Lord, Farewel—

[Exe. Richm. and Lind.
FAIRFAX.
My Pow'r—say, what is Pow'r?
The vain Extent of Title and of Land;
The barbarous Impulse to the insulting Wretch,
To use his Fellow-Creature like a Slave;
The Woman's Idol, and the Man's Misfortune,
As it too often robs him of Humanity.
This is the worst Degree—behold the best,
And now 'tis lovely; the Redress of Wrongs,
Hunger's Repast, and the large Draught of Thirst,
The poor Man's Riches, and the rich Man's Wealth,
When thus apply'd—The Means to stop the Death,
The Death of Charles—This is my Wish for Pow'r.

[Exit.
SCENE draws and discovers the High-Court.
KING, BRADSHAW, CROMWELL, IRETON, &c.
KING.
Sir, were my Person all the Danger here,
I shou'd not think it worth the Pain of Speech;
Your Charge 'gainst me is of the smallest Force,
But 'tis my People's Liberties I prize,
At which, thro' me you strike: Impeachments run
In the King's Name, and therefore cannot lie
Against the King himself; what earthly Pow'r
Can justly call me to account? By what Law
Have you erected this pretended Court?—
The House of Commons?—Say, is that alone
A Court of Judicature? Where are the Lords
To lend their Aid? The King to sit supreme,
And pass the Nation's Laws? Are these your Means
To bring the King to meet his Parliament?
To force him hither like a Criminal?
I lately did require and press'd it warmly,
Stoop'd, almost to Intreaty, to be heard
Before both Houses in the Painted-Chamber;
I told you, what I had to offer there,
Concern'd the Kingdom's Safety more than mine:
I was refus'd—Is this your boasted Justice?
Consider of it yet—and hear your King;
If you do not, remember where it lies,
The Weight of this Day's Guilt; if you refuse,
Do as you please—I have no more to say.

BRADSHAW.
The Court has something then to say to you,
Which, tho' it may not please you, must be spoke:
You have been charg'd with Tyranny and Murder,
With levying Arms against the Commonwealth,
And joining in Rebellion 'gainst the People.

KING.
Sir, give me Leave to speak ere Sentence passes
Against those Imputations—

BRADSHAW.
By your favour,
Your time is past, and Sentence now approaching.

KING.
Am I not to be heard?

BRADSHAW.
'Tis now too late;
You have disown'd us for a Court of Justice;
We have too long been trifled with already;
And must proceed—Attend your Sentence, Sir:
The Commons, in behalf of the whole People,
Have constituted this High-Court of Justice,
To try Charles Stuart lately King of England.
He has thrice heard his Charge, and thrice deny'd
The Pow'r and Jurisdiction of the Court,
For which Contempt, and Proof of his High Crimes,
It does pronounce him Tyrant, Traitor, Murderer,
Adjudging him to Death, by severing
His Head and Body—This is the joint Act,
The Sentence, Judgment, and the Resolution
Of the whole Court.

[The whole Court rises in token of their Assent.
KING.
Will you hear me, Sir?

BRADSHAW.
Not after Sentence.

KING.
No, Sir?

BRADSHAW.
It is too late. Withdraw your Prisoner.

KING.
‘May I not speak—? I may, Sir, after Sentence.
‘Your favour, Sir, I may, Sir, after Sentence.

BRADSHAW.
‘Adjourn the Court.

[The King is brought forward; the Scene closes.
KING.

TOMLINSON.
Sir, my Commands are to attend you back;
I have no more in charge.

KING.
I follow you.

[As he goes out, Fairfax enters.
FAIRFAX.
Sir, let me trespass for a Word or two,
Ere you remove your Prisoner.

To Tomlinson.
TOMLINSON.
I obey, Sir.

KING.
Your Pleasure, Sir! If you come here t'insult,
Spare not the Taunt, nor the opprobrious Smile,
I have to-day already born so much,
That an Addition will be scarcely felt.

FAIRFAX.
Wrong me not so; I bear a fairer Purpose:
My Heart, detesting this accursed Day,
Comes to approve its Honesty to Charles:
If I have often fought against thy Arms,
My Conscience dictated, and not my Hate;
Acquit me to thy self of this last Act,
And judge the former as you please.

KING.
Good Fairfax,
The present Times are liable to Error,
I am a fatal Instance; then forgive me.
I had forgot how lately I had Cause
To think you now no Enemy to Charles;
But Sorrow forc'd down her lethargick Draught,
Which had clos'd up the Eye of Memory.

FAIRFAX.
Ill-fated Prince! how does thy Firmness shine,
And make Affliction glorious: O 'tis thus,
The truly Great exert their Resolution,
And make Calamity a Virtue: Cromwell now
Loses the barb'rous Joy of his Design,
To see Misfortune's Arrow fail to pierce thee.

KING.
Believe me, Fairfax, 'tis not innate Firmness,
The Dame Morality, the Stoick Patience,
That furnish true Serenity of Mind:
I had try'd all these Helps, but prov'd 'em weak,
And found the best Philosophy in Virtue:
Can the fond Teacher's Lesson, conn'd by Rote,
Change the dark Lodging of the Murderer's Breast,
To the Sun-lighted Rooms of Innocence? O, no!
As to the Agents of my present Fate,
I look upon 'em with the Eye of Thanks;
Who from this Life of Sorrow wing my Parting,
And send me sooner to an happier Throne.

FAIRFAX.
Such Resignation wears the noble Mind,
And triumphs over Death: But, gentle Charles!
Think not of Death so soon, live long and happy:
Fairfax will try his utmost Stretch of Power,
But you shall live, tho' this black Day has happen'd;
Persuasion, Pray'r and Force shall all be us'd
To make my Promise good.

KING.
Good Fairfax, hear me;
Nor indiscreetly throw thy self away,
To save the Man whose Wishes are to die.
I had remov'd my Thoughts from Earth, and now
'Twill be such Pain to call 'em back again—
Life is not worth the Trouble: Yet I thank thee.

FAIRFAX.
This was but half my Purpose: Hear me on—
If in the Hurry of intemp'rate Zeal,
I have outgone the Justice of the Cause,
And, erring in my Judgment, fought in wrong,
Let this Intreaty win thee to a Pardon.

KING.
If to have my Forgiveness, makes thee clear,
Thou art as white as Virtue.

FAIRFAX.
Glorious Charles!
But I will hasten to preserve his Life,
And make my Gratitude, my Thanks; Farewel!
It is the common Interest of Mankind
To let him live, to shine out an Example.

KING.
Who dresses in good Fortune's gorgeous Ermine,
Looks not so comely to a virtuous Eye,
As he who clothes him in repentant Black:
I tire your Patience: Come, Sir, lead the way;
Lighter than Fancy does my Bosom feel,
My Thoughts are Mercy, and my quiet Conscience
Tranquillity's still calm; no anxious Fear
Beats in in my Pulse, or ruffles me with Care:
If the bare Hope of Immortality
Knows Peace like this, what must the full Enjoyments be.