University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE: WHITEHALL PALACE.
[Drums heard in the distance.]
Huntley discovered.
Huntley.
Hark to the drums!
The rattle of that snake, a civil war!
There go the drums! good sooth, why, that should be
The train-bands under arms! Bad, very bad.
Had I known this betimes, I had not counsell'd
His Majesty to trust himself in London.
Had I thought it,
I should have held my tongue to Master Cromwell.
I like it not. There's mischief brewing here,
May loosen my old sword within its scabbard,
If Master Cromwell thinks to play me false.
Enter Moray.
Good e'en to you, my lord. What news from York?

Moray.
Great news, my lord. I trow there's little cause
Of sadness, save, indeed, the risk we run
In trusting our victorious heads within
The lion's mouth.

Huntley.
Nay, I have heard some rumours
About a siege or battle.

Moray.
If pounding at the rebel walls of Hull
With cannon-shot be call'd a siege—why, yes;
If blows and bullets constitute a battle,
We've had enough. “Lord Huntley, there is fruit
“Stout men may pluck to-day.” I tell thee, man,
I'm promised the blue ribbon.

Huntley.
Ah, then, my future marquis, thou art paid.
York is the King's head-quarters. The first action where?

Moray.
The first and only action was near Worcester,
When gallant Rupert hurl'd us into bloodshed.
The war, whene'er it ends, will date from then.

Huntley.
Alas, my lord! it dates from further back.
That fatal day of the invaded rights,
When the King flung the glove to Parliament.

Moray.
You march'd to York with our dear Queen, my lord;
How did she bear herself?

Huntley.
How else? A Queen!
Sir! when I think of it—the sleepless zeal,
The fire, (that sort which makes all bosoms blaze!)
The beauty, and the tearless fortitude—
Boadicea come to rescue Britain!
When I remember it, my eyes do smart;
I feel a choking here.
'Twas a fine progress, man! Our little Queen
Had sold her diamonds to buy soldiers with.
Some ladies, first, methinks, would sell their souls.
The gentry gave her all their plate to help her.
She never look'd so regal as when begging!

Moray.
She took a little town?

Huntley.
Little? I know not. Gad! She took a town.
The wall fell down before her pretty face—
As Jericho before a blare of trumpets!
And then, in her sweet broken English, sir,
She made her half-paid soldiers such a speech!
Like any general, i'faith she did,
Till they cheer'd to the echo! Sir, 'fore George!
I scarce knew whether I should laugh or cry;
I rubb'd my eyes, and thought it was a vision:
That some bright warrior-angel captain'd us,
Whose tongue yet lisp'd the language of the skies!

[Clock chimes three-quarters.
Enter a Page.
Page
(announcing).
The Queen!

Enter Queen.
Queen
(hurriedly).
Ah! my lord—
[Stops suddenly, seeing Moray.
Nay, please you, good my lord
Attend upon the King, and wait his coming.
[Exit Moray.
[Exit Page.
Some stranger comes to-night to see the King.
Who is't? I saw the letters; some one comes.

Huntley.
Well, then, your Majesty, some one doth come.

Queen.
Bon Dieu! The King has come without a guard!
This person may bring soldiers from the Commons,
Surround the palace—carry off the King!

Huntley.
I'faith, they'll do it over Huntley's body—
Over the bodies of three hundred friends
Who linger, out of sight, about the palace!

Queen.
Quel soulagement! My dear lord, who are they?

Huntley.
The loyal gentlemen of Lincoln's Inn,
And of the Temple. I have summoned them
To guard the person of his Majesty,
Unseen by him, and by his enemies,
If such there be. He must not know of it,
As it would rob his coming of its grace.

Queen.
The good brave gentlemen! I do not mean
To stir until this visitor be gone.
I will pretend to go; but I will stay
And watch as if I had an hundred eyes.

Huntley.
And trust me, I shall be within a call.

Queen.
Outside the door.
[Huntley bows, and is going.
Hold! stay! It shall be so.
If I see danger, I will dart myself between,
And cry, “God save the King!”

Huntley.
It is an honest signal;
I'll pass it to our friends without. Your Majesty
Shall hear the peal of music that will follow.

Queen.
'Tis agreed.
Hush! I do hear the King.

Enter the King, attended by Moray and a few Cavaliers.
King
(embracing Queen).
Why, dearest, thou hast made good speed to town.
A carrier pigeon never wing'd so straight.

Queen
(as a helmet falls on stage from over the door).
“Oh, Heaven! a fatal omen!

King.
“Lo! friends, good fortune has declared for us.
“This is the head-piece of a Commoner;
“And lacks the knightly visor. By Saint George!
“The omen is for us and victory!
“Do you look grave? If any gentleman
“Elects to leave a cause he reckons falling,
“Why, let him go. Those who'd abide with me—
“Take fortune fair or foul with their poor master—
“Let each advance and offer me his hand.
“Why, here's an omen! among all my friends
“There is not found a cold one.
“ (To the Queen.)
Now, love, what news?
“The children well? My Jamie, as I hear,
“Begins to play at soldiers; and Elizabeth—
“What, silent?

Queen.
“Alas! we come too late! The nest is robb'd,
“They are poor little prisoners!

King.
“I did not think they waged a war on children.
“What, dear heart! do not droop. To-night may see
“An end to all these crosses; and till then
“At least they're safe.” My lords, look on the Queen.
Ye little wot the dreadful character
She plays in London.
In sooth, now, does she not look dangerous?
[Huntley about to speak.
Nay, Huntley, I foresee thy courtly jest,
And grant that danger.
But, seriously—what is the latest guise
Your gentle Queen is credited withal?

First Cavalier.
A General, my liege.

King.
Stranger than that.

Second Cavalier.
Goddess Astrea just alit on earth?

King.
I'faith, man, hadst thou said a snake-hair'd Gorgon,
Then hadst been nearer. Sir, she is proclaimd
A traitor!

Omnes.
A traitor?

Huntley.
By George! I saw the posted proclamation
All through the town.

King.
And signed with the King's name.
[Kneels to Queen.
And so, dear heart, I will impeach thee thus.

[Kisses her.
Queen.
Nul autre que votre Majesté n'osera me denoncer ainsi.

King
(rises).
Ourself will guard this traitor. Lords, good night!
You will find soldiers' quarters in the palace.

[The Cavaliers bow, and exeunt.
Huntley
(aside, as he bows).
At six, your Majesty?

King.
I shall be ready.
Good night, dear lord.

[Exit Huntley.
[The King goes to fireplace, and sighs.
Queen.
Why do you sigh?

King.
My love, I'm sad to-night.

Queen.
Give me my share of sadness. What is it?
Just now you had such cheer. What does it mean?

King.
The King must cheer his followers' sinking hearts
Though without cheer himself.

[Strikes bell on table.
Moray.
An please your Majesty, if I may venture
To chide a little your despondency,
If it doth blow a tempest, yet thus far
The gale is prosperous to your Majesty.
From Edinburgh I have had advices
That you may reckon on a large adherence.
I have the letters boldly signed by all.

King.
Thanks, Moray. I accept at sight thy vouchers.

Moray.
And since 'tis wise even in fortune's heyday
Still to provide for possible retreat,
Here is a haven ever open to thee.

Queen.
We thank you, Sir: our haven is in France.

King.
Nay, friend, if trouble beat down Charles at last,
The haven England's King shall choose is England.

Moray.
My liege, to-morrow—

Enter an Attendant.
King
(motions courteously to Moray. To Attendant)
On the stroke of six I have a visitor.
Conduct him to me by the private stair.
[Exit the Attendant.
To-morrow, Moray?—

Moray.
My liege, to-morrow I'll to Edinbro',
I have been promised there a large command;
And in the time it takes to march to York,
I'll bring your Majesty some stalwart comfort;
Not words—but bristling files of marching men

Queen.
It is well done, my lord. The King will thank you,
Another time.

Moray
(bows, goes up to door R.)
Your Majesty now credits me at last?

Queen.
My lord, I do.
[Exit Moray.
Prithee, let Moray be thy summer friend;
And I shall be thy harbinger of summer;
Thy little bird that comes in early spring
When all is cold, and sings of coming green.

King.
Mary, canst guess what brought me here to London?

Queen.
To bring our children back?

King.
Some day our children will return to us;
But, oh, the fathers, husbands, brothers slain,
Who lie near Worcester, never will return!

Queen.
Those who died for their King died gloriously!
And who would pity traitors?
I see no further than my husband's honour;
My grief can only stretch as far as him.
But he will triumph o'er his enemies,
Then, dearest, come to me for tears of joy.

King.
This evening, as grey London came in sight,
With a swift paleness o'er the leaning grass
Travell'd the wind, and seem'd to breathe a curse!
The very clouds did frown, and the low sun
Had rent his orange mantle o'er the city,
As in some wrathful vow at my approach.

Queen.
'Twas only fancy from the want of sleep.
When I woke up I saw a sky of glory.

King.
Mary, I would it were the fabled time
When kings went forth among their humblest subjects;
And I might enter at the cottage door,
And lift with timely aid the sinking man,
And take his lisping child upon my knee,
And say, “Hail! little subject; thou wilt yet
Remember thy King's look, and feel his hand
Still on thy head; and when they call him ‘tyrant,’
Thou shalt warm up, and cry, ‘No! the King loved us!’”
[Chimes.—Four quarters. Clock strikes six.
Mary, retire; nay, question not, but leave me.

[Charles conducts her to door.
Queen.
You do trust me?

King
(kisses her hand as she exits).
Trust you?
Whom else—whom else in all the world?

[Charles crosses to fireplace.
Enter Attendant.
Attendant.
Two gentlemen, your Majesty.
[Exit Attendant.

Enter Cromwell and Ireton.
King.
You are welcome. Master Cromwell, I believe.

Cromwell.
The same, so please you.

King.
Pray be seated.

Cromwell.
Nay, so please you.

King
(sitting).
I pray you.
[Cromwell sits.
Lord Huntley often has commended you
As one who shews high promise of the statesman.
One, who with lusty speech can rule a throng;
Holding their passions in his hand, like reins,
To guide them, I believe and hope, to good.

Cromwell.
I cannot tell. I know not. If this meeting,
So please your Majesty, is to bear fruit,
I must not wear the muzzle of a courtier.
Under your favour, I am rough of speech,—

King.
Albeit a gentleman.

Cromwell.
And little used to kingly presence, save,
If I may dare to be so humbly bold,
That Kingly presence before whom thyself
And I are equal subjects.

King.
Sir, I do trust in this we feel alike;
Touching this meeting, I have but one motive,
And briefly, when you are possess'd of that,
Avoiding all irrelevant discourse,
Upon that issue I would challenge candour;
To touch the very nerve, howe'er it pain.

Ireton
(aside).
Ay, though the iron entereth the soul!

King.
The merit of those most unhappy questions
Which stand between me and my Parliament,
I would we left untouched; this is the past.

Cromwell.
So please you, 'tis the knot to be untied.

King.
Oh, let us not cleave through it with the sword;
With every sacrifice a King might make,
With what abasement may consist with honour;
I would avert this woful civil war.

Cromwell
(rising—sternly).
And yet the first blood-guiltiness was thine!
Prince Rupert has already stain'd his sword;
The Queen has—

King
(interrupting).
I pray you first—Come you in privacy,
As by Lord Huntley I have been advised,
Or with the cognizance of Parliament?

Cromwell.
At a word, I am their Ambassador!

King
(calmly).
Oh! their Ambassador?

Cromwell.
'Twould scarce befit
My duty or my office to be private;
So please you, as a private man, no weight
Attaches to my words, and honesty
Might pass for disrespect.

King
(points to paper in Cromwell's hand).
That paper—What is it?

Cromwell.
Haply 'tis of some import to your Majesty,
And haply not, as this discourse may savour.

King.
Then, Sir, of it, anon.
The footing of our meeting somewhat alters;
Addressing you, am I to understand
That I address my Commons?

Cromwell.
If it so please you.

King
(rising, and with dignity).
Then, Sir, avert the dangerous mistake—
Saving much time, and fence, and vain manœuvre—
That this, my overture, is sign of weakness.
Pray, Sir, note this; my cause is prosperous!
The good, the brave, the loyal, throng in thousands
Around my standard.
It is not, then, distrust of my good cause
Which urged me, at some risk, to seek this meeting;
But from a single motive—a pure hope,
That we, at any cost, may purchase peace.

Cromwell.
Your Majesty, I do not question it.
Toward you we are all love and tenderness,
To the confusion of your evil counsellors.
I, too, may be permitted to set forth
The vigour of your faithful Parliament,
To wit: my Lord of Essex has gone forth—
It boots not to say whither—with an army
Of fourteen thousand men, who have one mind—
The stout defence of King and Parliament!

King.
Defence, Sir, of the King?

Cromwell.
Against himself and evil counsellors!
Northumberland is Admiral of England;
And the fleet lies—where, boots it not to say.
Well mann'd, provision'd, watchful off the coast,
For the defence of King, and Parliament!

King.
Methinks to ask the King's leave were as well.

Cromwell.
The train-bands and militia wait our bidding;
And our enlistments outstrip estimate;
All animate, leaven'd with liberty,
Bold in defence of King and Parliament.

King.
Nay, Sir, enough of this—

Cromwell.
London declares for us.

King.
More shame for London!
Now, sir, be brief.

Cromwell.
Please you to hear a message from your Commons?

King.
Sir, I am at their service. Pray be seated.

Cromwell.
Your Commons who have never turn'd aside
From reconcilement with your Majesty,
Have charged me even now, with words of love.

King.
So far, Sir, it looks fair. Forgive my haste.

Cromwell.
Truly your Commons have a righteous jealousy
Of the false counsellors about your person.
Here is a goodly oak strangled with ivy!
Lop off the ivy—Lo! a stately tree!
And we accept its comfortable shade.

Ireton
(aside).
Or peradventure lay the axe to its root.
(Aside to Cromwell as he passes.)
Nay, not too smooth with him.

King.
So far in courtesy, I have heard you out;
To business, Sir, I pray you.
(As he displays a parchment.)
These are the articles, nineteen in all,
Call'd by the Commons, a remonstrance?

Cromwell.
I know it, having help'd to draw it up.
It is the same.

King.
To stay the civil war now imminent,
All these I sign and seal.

Cromwell.
So please your Majesty
And 'twere well done. Thus many grievous blunders
Shall drop from us. To quote your Majesty,
These propositions bear upon the past!

King.
Your meaning, Sir?

Cromwell.
It was, as I may say, the gracious seed-time,
When from your hand might fall the germs of freedom,
Or the rank grain of Popery and poison.
The seeds fell anywhere, broadcast about,
Some hopeful sprouts perchance reward the sower;
But I will take the humble boldness here
To tell you, many poison-seeds were mingled:
Malignant seeds of evil counselling,
And who will now distinguish—who with candle
Of holy writ will search throughout the fields
To espy and root them out?

Ireton.
And least of all,
That enemy that came and sowed the tares!

Cromwell.
Yea, who will now—?

King.
Sir, in the cloudiest sky is some faint light,
Which hints the sun behind; but through thy speech-fogs
There shines no light of true sincerity.

Cromwell.
Your Majesty invites me to be plain.
Your ill-advisers have begun the war!
Blood hath been shed, and crieth out against them.
And for your Majesty's late acts of treason—

King
(rising in anger).
Treason! Sir, you forget. I am your King.

Cromwell.
Now thou hast set a lion in my path—
That word, ‘the King’—but I will cope with it.
‘The King’ is a word of might
When he is a friend and father to his Commons.
The King, distinct from us, is but a simple man!

King.
Your language, Sir, swells to such insolence,
Our interview had better close at once.
You take advantage of my condescension.
'Tis not for you to limit or set forth
The rights divine of an anointed King.

Cromwell.
A people's rights! And are they not divine?
Bethink thee, what concerns the King of kings
The most—a nation, or a crowned man?

King.
The people's rights, Sir, are indeed divine;
Not so, the wrong of rebels.
The crowned man hath from the King of kings,
Received his seal and mission.
[Cromwell turns away incredulous.
Dost thou scoff
At rights the hand of God Himself indorsed?
Hast thou no reverence for the marble pile
Of England's past! O Sir, 'tis such as thou,
Deface the fairest monuments of history,
Inscribing with coarse sacrilege their names
On its most sacred tablets; scarring beauty
That it took centuries to make, and but an hour to mar.

Cromwell.
I mean but this. A King has err'd ere now.
We treat this error as we treat disease—
As we might put restraint on the insane.
So, give me leave to say, we now are justified
In taking arms against thy counsellors,
And in large sense, sooth, to defend the King.

King.
Oh, sir, I've noted
When men are bent on a deliberate wrong,
They seldom are at loss to justify it;
To thieve with a most honourable pretext,
And murder with a moral.
Under the cry of evil counsellors,
You aim your thrusts at me, and call it loyalty.
So they stabb'd Cæsar for the love of Rome,
And then fell to, to cutting Roman throats!
I am responsible for all my acts.
That scroll contains—?

Cromwell.
Further securities
And pledges to your Commons, of good faith.

King.
So, Sir; I still must yield, and yield, my rights;
Wronging ourself, and wronging our succession
Until my office is an empty shell,
And I have nothing but the name of King.

Ireton.
That too, may pass, e'en as a tale that's told,
If we are put to it.

King.
Who is this rude gentleman?

Cromwell.
A gentleman of trust and piety!
[Turns to Ireton.
Ireton, restrain the movement of thy spirit,
For fitting time and place.
(To Charles.)
Those are the propositions of the Commons,
Most humbly offer'd to your Majesty.

King
(reads paper in muttered surprise; then aloud).
“Lastly, that all his friends and counsellors
“Should straight be handed over, to be dealt with
“According to the strictest inquisition.”
Even as you did for my good angel, Strafford!
And is this all?

Cromwell.
At present, all. More as the need shall grow.
As for the safety of your royal person,
I am commanded to assure your Majesty—

King.
Yes; my friends murder'd, I have leave to live.
[Rising.
No. Tender thou my thanks to Parliament.
Our interview is ended.

Cromwell
(to the King).
Pray you a moment?
Ireton, give us room.
[Ireton retires up at back.
Your Majesty in our commenced discourse,
Was pleased to bear your gracious testimony
To the most modest weight and influence,
“Humble in outward show, albeit more felt,
“Because it underlies—I say th'acknowledged weight”
My voice and vote obtain'd in Westminster.

King.
Well, sir: well, well?

Cromwell.
I speak that I do know, the humble burgess
Of Cambridge hath a reach which doth extend
(Within the bounds of conscience) to the aid
And comfort of your gracious Majesty,
Yea, to the restitution of thy shorn prerogative.

King.
What's your price?

Cromwell.
Your Majesty is much too short with me.
I do not say that I have any price.

King.
Then, Sir, your motive?

Cromwell.
In pointing to your Majesty's just rights,
If I might venture, I would couple mine.

King.
I'm at a loss—

Cromwell.
The Earl of Essex, General of the Commons,
Is without issue, nor is ever like.
By four descents I draw my pedigree
Straight from Joan Cromwell, who was only sister
To the first Earl of Essex, Thomas Cromwell,
Who married Morgan Williams.

King.
Well, Sir, well?

Cromwell.
Their son retain'd the noble name of Cromwell;
Heaven knows I say not this vaingloriously.

King.
Well, Sir?

Cromwell.
Should Essex die—that cold friend to the King—

King.
Sir—if I see your drift—and yet such arrogance
May well surpass belief. I—

Cromwell.
I mean nothing, nothing—nothing!
If Essex die still have the Commons generals,
That's all I mean.

King.
And hast thou borne till now so bold a front,
And look'd me in the face, this in thy heart?
So, the demands and troubles of my people
Before they reach me, filter through a medium
Both faithless and corrupt.
Send me some fearless, honourable man,
And let him tell me all the round of wrongs
My people suffer. I will take that scroll
And place it on the altar of my memory,
Till with a bounteous will all be redress'd.
But for this false concoction of pure malice,
Brought to me here by such a messenger—
Thee, who dost truckle for the wealth and title
Which you denounce so roundly from the hustings,—
A mouthing patriot with an itching palm,
In one hand menace, in the other greed—
For such a lie its proper place is there.
[Dashes paper on floor and stamps on it.
There is a trust placed in my hands by God;
I will not barter it to hirelings!

Cromwell.
If we be hirelings, we do not flee
When the wolf cometh. Yea, we shall stand fast.
Treaties on treaties have we offer'd thee;
And thou hast palter'd with us year by year.
“Thou chosen champion of our holy Church
“Hath ope'd the back door to the Jesuit.
“Thy letters have been seized upon the sea,
“And out of thine own lips shall we impeach thee:
“Thou art the rotten keystone in the arch
“Of English liberty. Thou art the patch
“On our new garment—
“Beware, or we shall hew that keystone out;
“Take heed, or we shall rend that patch away,
“And cast it in the fire, if needs we must!”

[Puts on his hat.
King.
Uncover in the presence of your King!
[Cromwell sullenly uncovers.
Under your favour, Sir, you have spoke much,
Too much, and with a noisy licence here
Had cost a better gentleman his head.
Thou hast done more to brace my arm anew
And raise my sinking heart, than thou canst wot of.
If I believed by yielding up my Crown,
Peace would descend on this unhappy land,
I think—I know, I should not shrink from it.
But now the sacrifice were worse than vain.
Now thou art pleased to drop thy patriot mask
Methinks I see a modern Attila!
One, who if once our dynasty should wane,
Would rally to the front with iron truncheon;
A tyrant, maundering and merciless;
Anarch of Liberty! At heart a slave!
A scourge, the Commons' plait to lash themselves.
A heel to tramp their constitution down.
Thou and thy dupes have driven me to war,
And on thy conscience fall its fell account!

Cromwell.
Charles Stuart! Thyself shalt bear this message back.

[Ireton beckons on Soldiers.
King.
Traitor! Is this thy faith?

[draws his sword.
Cromwell.
Advance! Do him no violence.

King
(throwing down his sword).
I am alone! and will not call my friends.
Which of you touches his anointed King?

[Soldiers hold back.
Cromwell
(drawing).
In God's name, that will I.

Enter the Queen.
Queen
(waving her handkerchief).
God save the King!

Enter Huntley and strong force of Cavaliers.
Cavaliers.
God save the King!

[Cromwell and his soldiers form on one side. Huntley and the Cavaliers on the other.]