University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

FAIRFAX
solus.

Enter CROMWELL.
CROMWELL.
Fairfax in Thought? My noble Lord, good Day.

FAIRFAX.
To make it good, let Cromwell grant my Pray'r,
So Mercy and the Sun shall shine together.

CROMWELL.
Still on this paltry Subject? Fairfax, why,
Why will you wrong Intreaty by this Cause?
Fairfax is wise, and should not ask of Cromwell
To grant what Justice stops; yours are not Years,
When Childhood prattles, or when Dotage mopes:—
Pardon the Expression.

FAIRFAX.
I forgive you all,
All you can think, but Rigour to the King.

CROMWELL.
Pr'ythee no more: This Mercy that you pray for,
As ill becomes the Tongue, as my Severity;
Nay worse; would you obstruct the Law
In its due Office? Nor permit the Ax
To fall upon Offenders, such as Charles?
Wou'd you see Tyranny again arise,
And spread in its Foundation? Let us then
Seize on our General, Liberty, who still
Has in the Front of Battle fought our Cause,
And led us on to Conquest; let us bind him
In the strong Chains of rough Prerogative,
And throw him helpless at the Feet of Charles:
He will absolve us then, and praise our Folly.

FAIRFAX.
This is a Sophistry too weak for Reason:
You wou'd excuse the Guilt of Charles's Death,
By shewing me the opposite Extreme;
But can you find no Mean, no middle Course,
Steering between the Danger of the last,
And Horror of the first? I know you can.

CROMWELL.
It is not to be done: Wou'd Fairfax now,
When he has labour'd up the steep Ascent,
And wasted Time and Spirits; would he now,
When but one Step exalts him to the Summit,
Where to his Eye the fair Horizon stretches,
And ev'ry Prospect Greatness can command;
Would he now stop, let go his fearful Hold,
And tumble from the Height?

FAIRFAX.
I aim at none;
Damn'd be all Greatness that depraves the Heart,
Or calls one Blush from Honesty—no more,
I shall grow warm to be thus trifled with:
Think better, Cromwell—I have given my Promise
That Charles shall live.

CROMWELL.
A Promise may be broke,
Nay start not at it—'Tis an hourly Practice;
The Trader breaks it, yet is counted honest,
The Courtier keeps it not—yet keeps his Honour;
Husband and Wife in Marriage promise much,
Yet follow sep'rate Pleasures, and are—virtuous.
The Churchmen promise too, but wisely, they
To a long Payment stretch the crafty Bill,
And draw upon Futurity: A Promise!
'Tis the wise Man's Freedom, and the Fool's Restraint,
‘It is the Ship in which the Knave embarks,
‘Who rigs it with the Tackle of his Conscience,
‘And sails with ev'ry Wind: Regard it not.

FAIRFAX.
Can Cromwell think so basely as he speaks?
It is impossible, he does but try
How well fair Speech becomes a vicious Cause,
But, I hope, scorns it in the richest Dress.
Yet hear me on, it is our Interest speaks,
And bids us spare his Life; while that continues,
No other Title can annoy our Cause,
And him we have secure; but grant him dead,
Another Claim starts up, another King,
Out of our reach—this bloody Deed perhaps
May rouse the Princes of the Continent,
(Who think their Persons struck at in this Blow)
To shake the very Safety of our Case.

CROMWELL.
When you consult our Int'rest, speak with Freedom,
It is the Turn and Point of all Design:
But take this Answer, Fairfax, in return;
Britain, the Queen of Isles, our fair Possession
Secur'd by Nature, laughs at foreign Force;
Her Ships her Bulwark, and the Sea her Dike,
Sees Plenty in her Lap, and braves the World;
Be therefore satisfy'd, for Charles must die.

FAIRFAX.
Wilt thou be heard, tho' at thy utmost Need,
Who now art deaf to Mercy and to Pray'r?
O curst Ambition—thou devouring Bird,
How dost thou from the Field of Honesty,
Pick ev'ry Grain of Profit and Delight,
And mock the Reaper, Virtue! Bloody Man!
Know that I still have Pow'r, have still the Means,
To make that certain, which I stoop to ask;
And fix my self against thy black Design,
And tell thee, dauntless, that he shall not die.

CROMWELL.
Will Fairfax turn a Rebel to the Cause,
And shame his Glories?

FAIRFAX.
I abjure the Name,
I know no Rebel on the Side of Virtue.
This I am sure of; He that acts unjustly
Is the worst Rebel to himself, and tho' now
Ambition's Trumpet and the Drum of Pow'r
May drown the Sound, yet Conscience will, one Day,
Speak loudly to him, and repeat that Name.

CROMWELL.
You talk as 'twere a Murder, not a Justice;
Have we not brought him to an open Trial?
Does not the general Cry pronounce his Death?
Come, Fairfax dares not.

FAIRFAX.
By yon Heav'n I will:—
I know thee resolute, but so is Fairfax.
You see my Purpose, and shall find I dare—

[going.
CROMWELL.
Fairfax, yet stay; I would extend my Pow'r
To its full Stretch, to satisfy your Wish;
Yet wou'd not have you think that I shou'd grant
That to your Threats, which I deny'd your Pray'r:—
Judge not so meanly of your self and me:
Be calm, and hear me—What is human Nature,
When the intemperate Heat of Passion blinds
The Eye of Reason, and commits her Guidance
To headlong Rashness; he directs her Steps
Wide of Success, to Error's pathless Way,
And Disappointments wild; Yet such we are,
So frail our Being, that our Judgment reaches
Scarce farther than our Sight—Let us retire,
And in this great Affair intreat his Aid,
Who only can direct to Certainty.
There is I know not what, of good presage,
That dawns within, and lights to happy Issue.

FAIRFAX.
If Heav'n and you consider it alike,
It must be happy.

CROMWELL.
An Hour or two of Pray'r
Will pull down Favour upon Charles and us.

FAIRFAX.
I am contented, but am still resolv'd
That Charles shall live—I shall expect your Answer
With the Impatience of desiring Lovers,
Who swell a Moment's Absence to an Age.

[Exit.
CROMWELL.
This was a Danger quite beyond my View,
Which only this Expedient cou'd prevent;
Fairfax is weak in Judgment, but so brave,
That set Determination by his Side,
And he ascends the Mountain Top of Peril;
Now Time is gain'd to ward against his Pow'r,
Which quickly must be thought on—To my Wish—

Enter IRETON.
IRETON.
I but this Instant met the General, Fairfax,
Who told me his Intreaty had prevail'd
To save the Life of Charles: 'Tis more than Wonder—

CROMWELL.
Ireton, thy Presence never was more timely;
I would disclose—but now each Moment's Loss,
Is more than the Neglect of future Years:
Hie thee in Person to St. James's, Ireton,
And warn the Officer, whose Charge leads forth
The King to Execution, to be sudden,
Let him be more than punctual to the Time;
If his Respect to us forerun his Warrant,
It shall win Greatness for him; so inform him—
That done repair oth' Instant to the Army,
And see a chosen Party march directly,
(Such as can well be trusted) post them, Ireton,
Around the Scaffold; my best Kinsman, fly.
[Exit Ireton.
Why now, I think, I have secur'd my Point,
I set out in the Current of the Tide,
And not one Wind that blows around the Compass,
But drives me to Success: Ambition now
Soars to its darling Height, and Eagle like
Looks at the Sun of Pow'r, enjoys its Blaze,
And grows familiar with the Brightness; now I see
Dominion nigh; Superiority
Beckons and points me to the Chair of State;
There, Grandeur robes me: Now let Cromwell boast,
That he has reft the Crown from Charles's Brow,
To make it blaze more awful on his own.

[Exit.
SCENE, The King discover'd on a Couch.
Kind Sleep, farewel!
Thou hast been loyal in the nightly Care,
And always smooth'd my Pillow; at our Parting,
As to a faithful Friend, I say Farewel,
And thank thee for thy Service: Here's another,
Enter Bp. JUXON.
Whose better Care brings Quiet to the Mind:
Who gives the rich Opiate of Content,
That makes us sleep in Hope, and wake to Mercy;
Him too, the Bankrupt Charles can only pay,
As he has done the former, no Return,
But the poor Gratitude of Thanks, warm from the Heart.
Say, my good Lord, have you so soften'd Rigour,
That I may see my Children ere I die?

JUXON.
It is permitted, Sir, they wait without:
I would not let them enter, 'till I knew
You were prepar'd, and ready for the Interview.

[Exit Juxon.
KING.
Good Juxon, lead them hither. Now the Father,
Spite of my Firmness, steals into my Eye,
And melts my Manhood; Heart! thou hast no Temper
Proof against Nature, speaking in a Child.

Enter Bp. JUXON, JAMES, GLO'STER, and ELIZABETH.
JAMES.
My Royal Father!

KING.
Good Juxon, make them rise,
For if I look that Way I shall kneel too,
And join with them in Tears; A Chair, good Juxon.
[Juxon brings a Chair forward, and raises the Children.
Come hither, James; nay, do not weep, my Boy,
Keep thy Eyes bright to look on better Times.

JAMES.
I will command my Nature if I can,
And stop these Tears of Sorrow, for indeed
They drown my Sight; and I would view thee well;
Copy my Royal Father in his Death,
And be the Son of his heroic Virtues

KING.
Thou art the Child of Duty; hear me, James,
And lay up this last Lesson in thy Heart;
When I am dead, look on thy Brother Charles,
Not as thy Brother only, but thy King;
Pay him Fraternal Love and Subject Duty;
Nor let Ambition, or the Thirst to reign,
Poison thy firm Allegiance: When thou seest him,
Bear him my Blessing, and this last Advice:
If Heav'n restores him to his lawful Crown,
Let him wreak no Revenge upon his Foes,
But think it his best Conquest to forgive;
With Kindness let him treat Success, so shall she be
A constant Guest; his Promise, when once given,
Let no Advantage break; nor any View
Make him give up his Honesty to reach it;
Let him maintain his Pow'r, but not increase it;
The String Prerogative, when strain'd too high,
Cracks, like the tortur'd Chord of Harmony,
And spoils the Consort between King and Subject;
‘Let him regard his People more than Minister,
‘Whose Interest or Ambition may mislead him;
These Rules observ'd, may make him a good Prince,
And happier than his Father—Wilt thou, James,
Remember this?

JAMES.
O doubt not, Royal Sir,
Can what my Father says escape my Memory,
And at a time when he shall speak no more.

KING.
Come to my Arms, my Boy.

JAMES.
Would I cou'd weep the Blood that warms my Heart,
For Water wrongs my Sorrow.

KING.
My dear Elizabeth,
Draw near, and take thy dying Father's Blessing;
Say to thy Mother (if thou e'er shalt see her)
That my Thoughts never wander'd from her, that my Heart
Holds her as dear, e'en in this Hour of Death,
As when my Eyes first languish'd on her Beauties:
Tell her, that Charles is only gone before
To merit an immortal Crown, and share it with her!
Farewel, Elizabeth, and let thy Love,
And thy Obedience wait thy Brother Charles.

ELIZABETH.
Alas, my Father, I but now have found
A Passage for my Words, and yet you say
Farewel already.

KING.
Come, my little Glo'ster.
Come to my Arms, and let me kiss thy Cheek.

GLO'STER.
Alas, my Lord! 'tis cold and wet with Tears,
I'll wipe it dry, and warm it with my Hand,
That it may meet your Kindness as it ought.

KING.
Glo'ster, when I am dead, your Brother Charles
Is then your King and Master—Love and obey him.
These Men who shall cut off thy Father's Head,
When I am dead, perhaps, may make thee King;
But do not thou, I charge thee on my Blessing,
Accept the Crown while thy two Brothers live;
Consider, Glo'ster, they were born before thee,
And have an elder Title; wilt thou, Glo'ster?

GLO'STER.
A King! no, they shall tear me first in Pieces.

KING.
O Nature, Nature, do not strike so deeply;
This Scene is worse than Death—I am ready, Sir.

[Tomlinson at the Door.
JAMES.
O, Sir.

ELIZABETH.
My Lord!

GLO'STER.
My Father.

KING.
Oh!

GLO'STER.
I cannot part from you, my dearest Father!
Would not those bloody Men that cut your Head off,
If I should beg it, cut off mine?

KING.
Heart, thou art Marble, not to break at this—
Yet I must go, for dire Necessity
Has struggled long with my paternal Fondness,
And has at length prevail'd: Farewel at once,
[Going, returns.
I thought I had taken my last Leave of them,
But find that Nature calls me back again,
And asks another Look, another parting Kiss;
[Embrace.
Be virtuous, and be happy.

GLO'STER.
O my poor Father—

[They are led off.
KING.
So, now 'tis over—Let thy friendly Aid,
Good Juxon, bear me Company to Death—
Now, Sir, lead on; ere long I hope to see
A World more glorious; where no Discord lives,
Nor Error rises, and no Faction thrives:
There the unfetter'd Mind Perfection knows,
And looks with Pity upon humane Woes.

[Exeunt.
Enter Duke of RICHMOND, and Marquiss of LINDSEY.
RICHMOND.
O fatal Day! now Horror is on foot
In her worst Garb, and stern Calamity
Can do no more to England: Charles's Sun
Sets in his Blood, and blushes for his People.

LINDSEY.
What awful Majesty his Visage bears,
Nor deigns the Tribute of one sorrowing Look,
To grace Misfortune.

RICHMOND.
Look where Fairfax comes;
His Motion wild, and his distemper'd Eye
Shoots Fire around, and speaks some strange Emotion.

Enter FAIRFAX.
FAIRFAX.
Curs'd be the Villain's Arts, and every Wile
That wrought me to believe him: O Credulity,
Thou hast as many Ears as Fame has Tongues,
Open to every Sound of Truth and Falshood!
'Tis now too late, impossible to save him:
Fool that I was, I knew him for a Villain,
Yet trusted to him, to the Monster Cromwell.

RICHMOND.
Fairfax, the World acquits thee of the Deed;
Thy Pow'r has labour'd strongly for his Safety:—
Behold where Juxon the good Bishop comes,
Return'd from his last Service to his Master.

FAIRFAX.
I will not stay to hear the sad Relation,
But think on my Revenge on Cromwell;
May the Mercy which he deny'd to Charles's mortal Part,
Ne'er light upon his Soul, tho' at his last Intreaty.

Enter JUXON.
RICHMOND.
Charles is at Peace.

JUXON.
He is, my gentle Lord;
And may we all meet Death with equal Firmness!
Patience sat by him in an Angel's Garb,
And held out a full Bowl of rich Content,
Of which he largely quaff'd: Then came Charity,
And in behalf of Charles, with hasty Hand,
Dealt round Forgiveness to the World; his Pray'r
Was for his Foes more earnest than himself,
Because their Wants were greater—Thus fell Charles!
A Monument of Shame to the present Age—
A Warning to the future: His Example
May prove this Maxim's Truth to all Mankind;
The Subject's Reverence, and the Prince's Love,
Grasping, and grasp'd, walk Hand in Hand together,
Strengthned by Union; then, the King's Command
Is lost in the Obedience of the Subject;
The King, unask'd, confirm'd the Peoples Rights,
And by the willing Gift prevents the Claim:
These are the Virtues that endear a King,
Adorn a People, and true Greatness bring.