University of Virginia Library

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.