University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in Cromwell's House.
Cromwell alone.
Crom.
So, my lord Broghill! We are shrewdly rid
Of one bold plotter. Now to strike at once,
Ere fresh conspiracies—
Enter Ireton.
What mak'st thou here,
Fair son?

Ire.
The Lords Commissioners refuse
To sign the warrant. He'll escape us yet.

Crom.
Refuse! What all?

Ire.
No; Harrison and Bradshaw,
And Marten, still hold firm.

Crom.
Too few! too few!
Aye, he'll escape. They'll treat. What say the traitors?

Ire.
The most keep stubborn silence. Harrison
Is hoarse with railing.

Crom.
Overhot! But that's
A fault may pass for virtue. Overcold's,
Your modish sin. Weakness or treachery!
Peters or Judases! They'll treat. They'll treat.
Where lies thy regiment?

Ire.
At Westminster.
One glance of their bright swords, one stirring note
Of their war-trumpet, and these dastard Judges—
I'll seek them instantly.

Crom.
Son, thou mistak'st.
Foul shame it were here in a Christian land
To govern by brute force—How many hast thou?

Ire.
A thousand horse.

Crom.
Or turn their very guards
Against the Judges—Be they trusty?

Ire.
Sir,
I'll answer for them as myself.

Crom.
Nay, go not.
No force, good Son! No force!
Enter a Servant.
What wouldst thou? Speak.

Servant.
The Colonel Harrison sends me to crave
Your Excellency's presence.

Crom.
Aye! I come.
Didst meet thy fellow Robert, and the gallant
Whom thou saw'st here this morning?

Serv.
Sir, they passed me
At speed.

Crom.
I come. No force, good son. Remember
This is a Christian land. We must keep pure
The Judgment seat. No force.
(Exit Ireton.)
At speed! Ere now
They have crost the Thames at Kew. We are quit of one
Bold Cavalier.—What said the Colonel?

Serv.
Prayed
Your instant presence, and between his teeth
Muttered “Faint craven souls!”

Crom.
Fie! Fie! to speak
Irreverently of such great ones. Faint
And craven souls! Follow my son; thou'lt find him
Heading his valiant horse. Bid him be still
Till I send to him—still as night. And now
For ye wise Judges!

(Exeunt.)

Scene II.

—The Painted Chamber. Bradshaw, Harrison, Cook, Downes, Tichburne, Marten, and other Judges.
Har.
Be ye all smit with palsy? Hang your arms
Dead at your sides, that ye refuse to sign
The Warrant? Be ye turned Idolaters?
Rank worshippers of Baal?

Brad.
They refuse not.

Mar.
They parley, Sir, they dally, they delay.

Cook.
The wiser if they did. 'Twere vantage ground,
The keen axe swinging o'er his head, to treat
With yon great prisoner.

Har.
Treat! Was yonder trial
A mummery, a stage-play, a farce? Oh blind
And stubborn generation!

Dow.
The whole people
Are struck with awe and pity. Each man's cheek
Is pale; each woman's eye is wet; each child
Lifts up its little hands as to implore
Mercy for the poor King.

Har.
Captivity
And bondage will o'ertake them! They fall off
Like the revolted Tribes. Egyptian bondage!

Enter Cromwell.
Crom.
Wherefore so loud good Colonel? Sirs, I shame
To have held ye waiting here. A sudden cause,
I pray ye believe it urgent, hindered me.
Where is the warrant? Have ye left a space
For my poor name?

Mar.
Thou wilt find room enow.
There!

Crom.
What unsigned?—Harrison!—He came hither
To crave your signatures.

Har.
I did my message!
But these Philistines—

Crom.
Do ye shame to set
Your names to your own deeds? Did ye not pass
This solemn sentence in the face of day,
Before the arraigned King, the shouting people,
The majesty of Heaven?

Tich.
Thou dost mistake us.

Crom.
I crave your pardon, Sirs. I deemed ye were
The judges, the King's judges, the elect
Of England, chosen by her godly Commons
As wisest, boldest, best. I did mistake ye.

Dow.
Listen, ere thou accuse us.

Mar.
Listen! sign!
And we will listen though your pleaded reason
Outlast Hugh Peters' sermon.

Dow.
Hear me first.

Crom.
Well!

Dow.
We have here Commissioners from Scotland
Praying our mercy on the King.

Crom.
They gave him
Into our hands.

Har.
And they are answered Sir.
Thou know'st that Cromwell singly put them down,
As they had been young babes.

Dow.
The Pensionary—

Crom.
Pshaw!

Dow.
Hath sent pressing missives; Embassies
From every court, are on the seas; and Charles
Proffers great terms.

Crom.
Have we not all?

Cook.
But he
Will give a fair security, a large
And general amnesty. So are we freed
From fear of after-reckoning.

Crom.
Master Cook
No wonder that a lawyer pleads to-day
Against his cause of yesterday—if feed
To the height. But thou art not of us; thy part
Is o'er

Mar.
He will give large securities!
For what?

Dow.
The general safety and our own.

Mar.
Safety, say liberty! Securities.
Marry large promises! An ye will trust
Ye may be Earls and Marquesses, and portion
This pretty islet England as a manor
Amongst ye. Shame ye not to think a bribe
Might win your souls from freedom?

Har.
From the Lord!
Would ye desert His people? sell for gain
His cause?

Crom.
Hush! Hush! none thinketh to forsake
The cause!

Tich.
Let Bradshaw sign. What need more names
Than the Lord President's?

Brad.
I am ready, Sirs,
An ye will follow me. The Instrument
Were else illegal. When ye are prepared,
Speak.

Crom.
My good masters, ye remember me
Of a passage of my boyhood.
(then aside to Bradshaw and Harrison)
Deem me not
A light unmeaning trifler, recollect
How Nathan spake to David. (then aloud)
Being a child
Nutting with other imps in the old copse
At Hinchinbroke, we saw across a wide
But shallow stream one overhanging hazel.
Whose lissome stalks were weighed by the rich fruitage
Almost into the water. As we stood
Eyeing the tempting boughs, a shining nut
Fell from its socket, dimpling wide around
The dark clear mirror. At that sight one bold
And hardy urchin, with myself, no less
In those young days a daring wight, at once
Plunged in the sparkling rivulet. It rose
Above our ancles, to our knees, half up
Our thighs, and my scared comrade in the midst
Of the stream turned roaring back, and gained the bank
Nutless and wet, amidst the scoffing shouts
Of the small people.

Brad.
And thou?

Crom.
Why I bore
My course right on, and gained the spoil. Sirs, we
Have plunged knee deep in the waters; are midway
The stream: Will ye turn now and leave the fruit
Ungathered, recreants? or hold boldly on
And win the holy prize of freedom? Give me
The warrant. (signs.)
So! methinks an it were not
Over ambitious, and that's a sin;
My homely name should stand alone to this
Most righteous scroll. Follow who list. I've left
A space for the Lord President.

Brad.
I'll fill it
With an unworthy name.

(signs.)
Crom.
Now swell the roll
My masters! Whither goest thou Marten? None
Shall stir till he hath signed. Thou a ripe scholar,
Not write thy name! I can write mine i' the dark,
And oft with my sword-point have traced in air
The viewless characters in the long hour
Before the joy of battle. Shut thine eyes,
And write thy name! Anywhere! See
(Marking Marten's cheek with a pen.)
Nay Marten,
Stand still!—See! See! how fair and clerkly! Yet
This parchment is the smoother.

Mar.
Hold thee sure
I'll pay thee, General.

Tich.
Why he hath marked thee
Like a new ruddled sheep.

Mar.
I'll pay thee.

Crom.
Sign.

Marten.
Willingly; joyfully.

(signs.)
Crom.
Why so. Where goes
Our zealous alderman? I deemed to see
His name the first.

Brad.
He fears the City's safety,
Full, as he says, of the King's friends.

Crom.
He fears!
They be bold men who fearlessly do own
Their fears. I dare not. Fear! Sir, didst thou come
By water hither?

Tich.
No.

Crom.
And didst thou meet
No soldiers on thy way?

Tich.
Many. The streets
Are swarming with them.

Crom.
Were they silent?

Tich.
No,
They called aloud for execution.

Crom.
Say,
For justice and for execution. Marry,
My Ironsides know not the new state trick
To separate the words. Well! are not they
A nearer fear? Sign boldly.

(Cromwell, Marten and Downes, advance to the front)
Mar.
They flock fast.

Crom.
'Tis time, for plots are weaving round about us,
Like spider's nets in Autumn. But this morning
I swept one web away. Lord Broghill—

Mar.
What!
Hath he been here?

Dow.
Is he discovered?

Crom.
Sir,
I have a slow-hound's scent to track a traitor.
He's found and he's despatched.

Dow.
How?

Mar.
Where?

Crom.
To Ireland,
With a commission 'gainst the rebels. 'Tis
An honest soldier who deserves to fight
For the good cause. He but mistook his side;
The Queen beguiled him, and the knightly sound
Of loyalty. But 'tis an honest soldier.
He will prove faithful.

Mar.
How didst win him?

Crom.
How?
A word of praise, a thought of fear. How do men
Win traitors? Hark ye Downes! Lord Broghill left
A list of the King's friends amongst us here;—
Grave seeming Roundheads, bold and zealous soldiers,
High officers—I marvel not ye look
Distrustfully—one of renown, a Colonel,
A Judge too! Downes, hast thou signed yonder Warrant?

Mar.
What was the plan?

Crom.
Go sign I say.—The plan!
A sudden rescue, to o'erpower the guard.—
Ha! Ingoldsby
(Seizing one of the Judges and leading him to the table.
Nay, man, if thou be questioned,
Some dozen years hence, say that I forced thee, swear
Thy wicked kinsman held thy hand.—Aye, now
The blank is nobly filled, and bravely! now
I know ye once again, the pious Judges
The elect and godly of the land!
(A trumpet heard without)
Ha!—Marten,
Haste to my son; bid him disband his force;
The peril is gone by.

(Exit Marten.)
Har.
What peril?

Crom.
Ye
That are assembled here, should lift your voice
In earnest thanks for quick deliverance
From sudden danger. Ye knew nought of this
Great jeopardy, nor need ye know. Give thanks,
And question not. Ye are safe.

Brad.
Art sure of that?

Crom.
Did ye not hear me even now take order
The guard should be dispersed? Question no more.
Ye are so safe, that this slight parchment, Sirs,
May be your shield.

Brad.
The deed is incomplete.
It hath no date.

Crom.
Ah! well reminded! write
The Thirtieth.

Dow.
Tomorrow? that were sudden.

Crom.
Why so we must be. There be plots astir,
And speed is our best safety.—Thou hast signed?
Thy name is here amongst us?—I must haste
To overtake the hour. 'Tis still unsealed.
Add thou my signet, Bradshaw.

(Exit Cromwell.)
Tich.
What intends
The General?

Brad.
Question not of that. A taper!
Your seals, my Lords Commissioners! Your seals!

(The Scene closes.)

Scene III.

—The King's Apartments.
Enter the King leading in the Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester.
King.
Here we may weep at leisure. Yon fierce ruffian
Will scarce pursue us here. Elizabeth,
I thought I had done with anger, but the soldier
Who gazed on thee awhile, with looks that seemed
To wither thy young beauty, and with words—
My child! my child! And I had not the power
To shield mine own sweet child!

Eliz.
I saw him not;
I heard him not: I could see none but thee;
Could hear no voice but thine.

King.
When I am gone
Who shall protect thee?

Glou.
I shall soon be tall;
And then—

King.
Poor boy! Elizabeth, be thou
A mother to him. Rear him up in peace
And humbleness. Show him how sweet Content
Can smile on dungeon floors; how the mewed lark
Sings in his narrow cage. Plant patience, dear ones,
Deep in your hearts.
Enter Herbert.
Herbert, where stays the Queen?
Still on that hopeless quest of hope, though friends
Drop from her fast as leaves in Autumn?

Herb.
Sire,
Her Grace is absent still. But General Cromwell
Craves audience of your Majesty.

King.
Admit him.
Wipe off those tears, Elizabeth. Resume
Thy gentle courage. Thou art a Princess.
Enter Cromwell.
Sir,
Thou seest me with my children. Doth thine errand
Demand their absence?

Crom.
No. I sent them to thee
In Christian charity. Thou hast not fallen
Amongst the Heathen.

King.
Howsoever sent,
It was a royal boon. My heart hath ached
With the vain agony of longing love
To look upon those blooming cheeks, to kiss
Those red and innocent lips, to hear the sound
Of those dear voices.

Crom.
Sir, 'twas meet they came
That thou might'st see them once again, might'st say—

King.
Farewell!—I can endure the word—a last
Farewell! I have dwelt so long upon the thought,
The sound seems nothing. Ye have signed the sentence?
Fear not to speak Sir.

Crom.
'Tis a grievous duty—

King.
Ye have signed. And the day?

Crom.
Tomorrow.

King.
What!
So soon? And yet I thank ye. Speed is mercy.
Ye must away, poor children.

Crom.
Nay, the children
May bide with thee till nightfall.

King.
Take them, Herbert!
Take them.

Children.
Oh! no, no, no!

King.
Dear ones, I go
On a great journey. Bless ye once again,
My children! We must part. Farewell.

Eliz.
Oh father,
Let me go with thee!

King.
Know'st thou whither?

Eliz.
Yes;
To Heaven. Oh take me with thee! I must die;
When the tree falls, the young buds wither. Take me
Along with thee to Heaven! Let us lie
Both in one grave!

King.
Now bless ye! This is death;
This is the bitterness of love.

Crom.
Fair child
Be comforted.

King.
Did'st thou not pat her head?

Crom.
She minded me, all in her innocent tears,
Of one in mine own dwelling.

King.
Thou hast daughters;
Be kind to her.

Crom.
I will.

King.
And the poor boy—
He comes not near the throne. Make not of him
A puppet King.

Crom.
I think not of it.

King.
Take them,
Good Herbert! And my wife—

Crom.
She shall be safe;
Shall home to France unharmed.

King.
Now fare ye well!—
Cromwell come back!—No, bring them not again—
No more of parting—bless them! bless them! See
The girl, the poor poor girl, hath wept away
Her tears, and pants and shivers like a fawn
Dying. Oh! for some gentle face to look on
When she revives, or she will surely die.

Crom.
She shall be cared for.

(Exeunt Herbert and the Children.)
King.
Are they gone? quite gone?
I might have kissed them once again, have charged them
To love each other.—No, 'tis best.

Crom.
Thou bad'st me
Remain. What is thy will?

King.
Be kind to them!
Be very kind to them!

Crom.
Have I not promised?
Was that what thou would'st say?

King.
No. But the love,
The o'ermastering love—that was the death-pang. Cromwell,
Thou wilt be kind to them?

Crom.
Would'st have me swear?

King.
Nay, swear not lest, I doubt. I will believe thee.
And for the human pity thou hast shown,
The touch of natural ruth, I pray thee take
My thanks.

Crom.
I would have saved thee. By this hand,
This sinful hand, I would have saved thee, King,
Had'st thou flung by yon bauble.

King.
There is One
Who reads all hearts, one who pursues all crimes,
From silver-tongued and bland hypocrisy
To treasonous murder. The unspoken thought,
And the loud lie, and the accursing act,
Mount to His throne together. Tempt Him not.
I know thee for the worker of this deed,
And knowing pardon thee:—but tempt not Him!

Crom.
Thy blood be on thy head! I would have saved thee—
Even now the thought stirred in me. Pardon, Lord,
That gazing on the father's agonies,
My heart of flesh waxed faint, and I forgot
Thy glory and Thy cause, the suffering saints,
The tyrant's tyrany, and Thy great word,
Freedom! Thy blood be on thy head.

King.
So be it.