University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—An Apartment in Carisbrooke Castle.
The King and Herbert.
King.
Herbert!

Herbert.
My liege.

King.
Put up my book. I wait
The grave Commissioners, and to be seen
Poring o'er Shakespeare's page—Oh heinous sin!
Inexpiable deadly sin!

Herb.
Your Grace
Speaks cheerily.

King.
Why I have fed my thoughts
On the sweet woodland tale, the lovely tale
Of Ardenne Forest, till the peaceful end,
The gentle comfortable end, hath bathed
My very heart in sunshine. We are here
Banished as the old Duke, and friends come round,
And foes relent, and calm Forgiveness hangs,
An Angel, in the air, to drop her balm
On all our wounds. I thank thee, royal spirit,
Thrice princely poet, from whose lightest scene
Kings may draw comfort. Take yon sprig of bay
And lay between the leaves. I marvel much
Where loiter the Commissioners.

Herb.
Your Grace
Hath vanquished them so often that they creep
Fearfully to the field—a beaten foe.

King.
Nay, we are near agreed. I have granted more
Than they durst think for. They set forth to day
Bearing my answer to the Commons. Look
To see a sudden peace. Many will deem
I have yielded overmuch; but I keep quick
The roots of kingly power, albeit the boughs
Be shrewdly lopt. And then to see again
My wife, my children, to reward my poor
And faithful servants, to walk free, to reign!
Look to see sudden peace.

Herb.
Heaven speed the day!
Yet, Sire,—forgive my fear!—would thou hadst ta'en
The proffered means of safety, had escaped
This Island prison!

King.
What! when I had pledged
My word, my royal word! Fie! fie! good Herbert;
Better, if danger were, a thousand fold
Perish even here than forfeit that great bond
Of honour, a King's word. Fie! fie! Yet sooth
Thou mean'st me kindly, Herbert. Ha! the Sea,
That day and night hath chased so angrily,
Breaking around us with so wild a coil,
An elemental warder, smiles again,
Merrily dancing in the cold keen light
Of the bright wintery Sun. We shall have boats
From England.

Herb.
One hath landed, Sire.

King.
And they
May bear my message without pause. Who comes?

(Enter Hammond.)
Ham.
May't please you, Sire, the high Commissioners
Crave audience of your Majesty.

King.
Admit them.
Enter Lord Salisbury, Lord Say, Sir Harry Vane, and other Commissioners, some of them Ministers.
See, Vane hath lost his frown! We shall have peace.
Good morrow my good Lord of Salisbury!
Lord Say, Sir Harry Vane, and gentles all,
A fair good morrow. The sun smiles at last
Upon our meeting.

Say.
Sunshine after storm;
A happy omen, Sire, a type of peace.

Salis.
Yet clouds are gathering.

Say.
Tush! the noon-day sun
Will overcome them.

Vane.
Cease this heathenish talk
Of omens. Hath your grace prepared your answer
To the proposals of the Commons?

King.
Reach
Yon paper Herbert. Set ye forth to-day?

Vane.
With the next tide.

King.
So speed ye wind and wave,
And send ye swiftly hence, and swiftlier back
Blest messengers of peace, winged like the dove
That bore the olive token. Take my answer,
A frank compliance with each article
Save twain, save only twain.

Say.
And they—I pray thee
Be wholly gracious, Sire! Peril not thus
Your country's weal, your freedom, and your crown,
By timeless reservation.

King.
I have yielded
Power and prerogative, and state and wealth,
For my dear country. All that was mine own,
All that was mine to give, I freely gave;
That I withhold is of the conscience. Look
On these white hairs, and think if one so signed,
Marked for the grave, may for the vain respect
Of crowns or kingdoms offer up his friends
Or his old worship. Mark me: I'll not yield
A man of that devoted seven, nor bate
A word of my accustomed prayer, to save
My limbs from cankering fetters, or win back
That velvet prison, a throne. No more of this.
Bear ye the treaty, Sirs; and use but half
That goodly gift of eloquence for me
That ye to me have shown, and be but heard
With half the grace, and we shall meet full soon
Subject and King, in peace, in blessed peace.—
(Harrison heard without.)
Whoso asks entrance with so wild a din?
Give him admittance quickly.

Vane.
Yet, my liege,
For these seven cavaliers—

King.
No more! no more!
Thou hast my answer.—By the iron tread
A soldier.

Enter Harrison.
Salis.
Harrison! What brings thee hither?

Har.
A sad and solemn message to your prisoner.

King.
Speak out thy tidings. Speak thine errand, Sir.
I am strong-hearted—Sovran privilege
Of them that tower so high!—Strong as yon eagle
That nests among the cliffs. I have borne loads
That would have sunk a meaner man in gulphs
Of deep despair. Thine errand. Stop! Who sent thee?

Har.
The Commons.

King.
Now thine errand.

Har.
To demand
The body of Charles Stuart, sometime King
Of England—

King.
Sometime King?

Har.
Whom I attach
Of treason.

King.
Treason and the King! Off, Sir!
I warn thee touch me not. Some natures feel
A shuddering loathing at cold-blooded worms,
Snakes, aspics, vipers, toads—my flesh doth creep
And shiver if the reptile man approach
Too closely. Show thy warrant.

Har.
Look you, Sir,
The warrant be obeyed.

Vane.
Dost thou not see
(to Salisbury)
The master hand of Cromwell in this deed?
(to Harrison)
Where is the General?

Har.
Come victorious home—
Know'st thou not that?—to lend his pious aid
To our great work.

Salis.
But thou art from the Commons,
Not from the Council,—sure thou saidst the Commons?
And they were earnest for the treaty.

Har.
Aye,
But in that goodly field grew tares, rank tares,
Which have been weeded out: stiff presbyters,
Bitter malignants, and those sons of wrath
Who falter in the better path—dead boughs
Upon a noble tree. Some fifty horse
Swept off the rubbish.

Say.
But the men are safe?

Har.
Even as thyself.—Now, sir, hast thou enough
Studied yon parchment?

King.
Treason! to arraign
A crowned King of treason! I am here
Treating with these same Commons on the faith,
The general faith of nations. I appeal
To ye, my foes; to thee, my gaoler. What!
Stand ye all mute? high lords and learned lawmen,
And reverend ministers? Ye had glib tongues
For subtle argument, and treasonous craft,
And cobweb sophistry. Have ye no word
For faith, for honour? not one word? Shame! shame!

Vane.
We are the Commons' servants, and must needs
Obey their mandates.

Say.
Yet with grief of heart—

Har.
Silence;

King.
Aye, silence! Sir, I thank thee yet
That sparest me that sharpest injury
A traitor's pity. For that gentle deed
I yield me gently to thy hands. Lead on
Where'er thou wilt; I follow.

Har.
Straight to London.
To bide thy trial.

King.
What! will they dare that?
Doth not the very thought, the very word
Appal the rebels? Trial! When we meet
Confronted in that regal Hall, the King
And his revolted subjects, whoso then
Shall be the Judge? The King. Whoso make inquest,
Whoso condemn, and whoso fling a pardon,
A scornful pardon on your heads? The King,
The King, I tell ye, Sirs. Come on! I pant
To meet these Judges. For ye, solemn mockers,
Grave men of peace, deceivers or deceived,
Sincere or false boots little, fare ye well!
Yet give me yon vain treaty—Now, by Heaven
I shame to have communed with ye!—This slight paper,
That shivers at a touch, is tough and firm
Mated with such as ye. Bear to the Commons,
Your masters, yon torn fragments, fitting type
Of their divided factions!—fitting type
Of ye, men of a broken faith! Farewell!
I wait thy pleasure, Sir.