University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene I.

—Whitehall.
The King, the Queen, Hollis, Lady Carlisle. (Vane, Holland, Savile, in the background.)
Lady Carlisle.
Answer them, Hollis, for his sake! One word!

Charles.
[To Hollis.]
You stand, silent and cold, as though I were
Deceiving you—my friend, my playfellow
Of other times. What wonder after all?
Just so, I dreamed my People loved me.

Hollis.
Sir,
It is yourself that you deceive, not me.
You'll quit me comforted, your mind made up
That, since you've talked thus much and grieved thus much,
All you can do for Strafford has been done.

Queen.
If you kill Strafford—(come, we grant you leave,
Suppose)—

Hollis.
I may withdraw, sir?

Lady Carlisle.
Hear them out!
T is the last chance for Strafford! Hear them out!

Hollis.
“If we kill Strafford”—on the eighteenth day
Of Strafford's trial—“We!”

Charles.
Pym, my good Hollis—
Pym, I should say!

Hollis.
Ah, true—sir, pardon me!
You witness our proceedings every day;
But the screened gallery, I might have guessed,
Admits of such a partial glimpse at us,
Pym takes up all the room, shuts out the view.
Still, on my honour, sir, the rest of the place
Is not unoccupied. The Commons sit
—That's England; Ireland sends, and Scotland too,
Their representatives; the Peers that judge
Are easily distinguished; one remarks
The People here and there: but the close curtain
Must hide so much!

Queen.
Acquaint your insolent crew,
This day the curtain shall be dashed aside!
It served a purpose.

Hollis.
Think! This very day?
Ere Strafford rises to defend himself?

Charles.
I will defend him, sir!—sanction the past
This day: it ever was my purpose. Rage
At me, not Strafford!

Lady Carlisle.
Nobly!—will he not
Do nobly?

Hollis.
Sir, you will do honestly;
And, for that deed, I too would be a king.

Charles.
Only, to do this now!—“deaf” (in your style)
“To subjects' prayers,”—I must oppose them now!
It seems their will the trial should proceed,—
So palpably their will!

Hollis.
You peril much,
But it were no bright moment save for that.
Strafford, your prime support, the sole roof-tree
Which props this quaking House of Privilege,
(Floods come, winds beat, and see—the treacherous sand!)
Doubtless, if the mere putting forth an arm
Could save him, you'd save Strafford.

Charles.
And they mean
Consummate calmly this great wrong! No hope?
This ineffaceable wrong! No pity then?

Hollis.
No plague in store for perfidy?—Farewell!
You called me, sir—[To Lady Carlisle.]
you, lady, bade me come
To save the Earl: I came, thank God for it,
To learn how far such perfidy can go!
You, sir, concert with me on saving him
Who have just ruined Strafford!

Charles.
I?—and how?

Hollis.
Eighteen days long be throws one after one,
Pym's charges back: a blind moth-eaten law!
—He'll break from it at last: and whom to thank?
The mouse that gnawed the lion's net for him
Got a good friend,—but he, the other mouse,
That looked on while the lion freed himself—
Fared he so well, does any fable say?

Charles.
What can you mean?

Hollis.
Pym never could have proved
Strafford's design of bringing up the troops
To force this kingdom to obedience: Vane—
Your servant, not our friend, has proved it.

Charles.
Vane?

Hollis.
This day. Did Vane deliver up or no
Those notes which, furnished by his son to Pym,
Seal Strafford's fate?

Charles.
Sir, as I live, I know
Nothing that Vane has done! What treason next?
I wash my hands of it. Vane, speak the truth!
Ask Vane himself!

Hollis.
I will not speak to Vane,
Who speak to Pym and Hampden every day.

Queen.
Speak to Vane's master then! What gain to him
Were Strafford's death?

Hollis.
Ha? Strafford cannot turn
As you, sir, sit there—bid you forth, demand
If every hateful act were not set down
In his commission?—whether you contrived
Or no, that all the violence should seem
His work, the gentle ways—your own,—his part,
To counteract the King's kind impulses—
While . . . but you know what he could say! And then
He might produce,—mark, sir!—a certain charge
To set the King's express command aside,
If need were, and be blameless. He might add . . .

Charles.
Enough!

Hollis.
—Who bade him break the Parliament,
Find some pretence for setting up sword-law!

Queen.
Retire!

Charles.
Once more, whatever Vane dared do,
I know not: he is rash, a fool—I know
Nothing of Vane!

Hollis.
Well—I believe you. Sir,
Believe me, in return, that . . .
[Turning to Lady Carlisle.]
Gentle lady,
The few words I would say, the stones might hear
Sooner than these,—I rather speak to you,
You, with the heart! The question, trust me, takes
Another shape, to-day: not, if the King
Or England shall succumb,—but, who shall pay
The forfeit, Strafford or his master. Sir,
You loved me once: think on my warning now! [Goes out.


Charles.
On you and on your warning both!—Carlisle!
That paper!

Queen.
But consider!

Charles.
Give it me!
There, signed—will that content you? Do not speak!
You have betrayed me, Vane! See! any day,
According to the tenor of that paper,
He bids your brother bring the army up,
Strafford shall head it and take full revenge.
Seek Strafford! Let him have the same, before
He rises to defend himself!

Queen.
In truth?
That your shrewd Hollis should have worked a change
Like this! You, late reluctant . . .

Charles.
Say, Carlisle,
Your brother Percy brings the army up,
Falls on the Parliament—(I'll think of you,
My Hollis!) say, we plotted long—'t is mine,
The scheme is mine, remember! Say, I cursed
Vane's folly in your hearing! If the Earl
Does rise to do us shame, the fault shall lie
With you, Carlisle!

Lady Carlisle.
Nay, fear not me! but still
That's a bright moment, sir, you throw away.
Tear down the veil and save him!

Queen.
Go, Carlisle!

Lady Carlisle.
(I shall see Strafford—speak to him: my heart
Must never beat so, then! And if I tell
The truth? What's gained by falsehood? There they stand
Whose trade it is, whose life it is! How vain
To gild such rottenness! Strafford shall know,
Thoroughly know them!)

Queen.
Trust to me! [To Carlisle.]
Carlisle,
You seem inclined, alone of all the Court,
To serve poor Strafford: this bold plan of yours
Merits much praise, and yet . . .

Lady Carlisle.
Time presses, madam.

Queen.
Yet—may it not be something premature?
Strafford defends himself to-day—reserves
Some wondrous effort, one may well suppose!

Lady Carlisle.
Ay, Hollis hints as much.

Charles.
Why linger then?
Haste with the scheme—my scheme: I shall be there
To watch his look. Tell him I watch his look!

Queen.
Stay, we'll precede you!

Lady Carlisle.
At your pleasure.

Charles.
Say—
Say, Vane is hardly ever at Whitehall!
I shall be there, remember!

Lady Carlisle.
Doubt me not.

Charles.
On our return, Carlisle, we wait you here!

Lady Carlisle.
I'll bring his answer. Sir, I follow you.
(Prove the King faithless, and I take away
All Strafford cares to live for: let it be—
'T is the King's scheme!
My Strafford, I can save,
Nay, I have saved you, yet am scarce content,
Because my poor name will not cross your mind.
Strafford, how much I am unworthy you!)

Scene II.

—A Passage adjoining Westminster Hall.
Many Groups of Spectators of the Trial. Officers of the Court, etc.
1st Spectator.
More crowd than ever! Not know Hampden, man?
That's he, by Pym, Pym that is speaking now.
No, truly, if you look so high you'll see
Little enough of either!

2nd Spectator.
Stay: Pym's arm
Points like a prophet's rod.

3rd Spectator.
Ay, ay, we've heard
Some pretty speaking: yet the Earl escapes.

4th Spectator.
I fear it: just a foolish word or two
About his children—and we see, forsooth,
Not England's foe in Strafford, but the man
Who, sick, half-blind . . .

2nd Spectator.
What's that Pym's saying now
Which makes the curtains flutter? look! A hand
Clutches them. Ah! The King's hand!

5th Spectator.
I had thought
Pym was not near so tall. What said he, friend?

2nd Spectator.
“Nor is this way a novel way of blood,”
And the Earl turns as it to . . . look! look!

Many Spectators.
There!
What ails him? no—he rallies, see—goes on,
And Strafford smiles. Strange!

An Officer.
Haselrig!

Many Spectators.
Friend? Friend?

The Officer.
Lost, utterly lost: just when we looked for Pym
To make a stand against the ill effects
Of the Earl's speech! Is Haselrig without?
Pym's message is to him.

3rd Spectator.
Now, said I true?
Will the Earl leave them yet at fault or no?

1st Spectator.
Never believe it, man! These notes of Vane's
Ruin the Earl.

5th Spectator.
A brave end: not a whit
Less firm, less Pym all over. Then, the trial
Is closed. No—Strafford means to speak again?

An Officer.
Stand back, there!

5th Spectator.
Why, the Earl is coming hither!
Before the court breaks up! His brother, look,—
You'd say he'd deprecated some fierce act
In Strafford's mind just now.

An Officer.
Stand back, I say!

2nd Spectator.
Who's the veiled woman that he talks with?

Many Spectators.
Hush—
The Earl! the Earl!

[Enter Strafford, Slingsby, and other Secretaries, Hollis, Lady Carlisle, Maxwell, Balfour, etc. Strafford converses with Lady Carlisle.
Hollis.
So near the end! Be patient—
Return!

Strafford
[to his Secretaries].
Here—anywhere—or, 't is freshest here!
To spend one's April here, the blossom-month:
Set it down here! [They arrange a table, papers, etc.

So, Pym can quail, can cower
Because I glance at him, yet more's to do?
What's to be answered, Slingsby? Let us end!
[To Lady Carlisle.]
Child, I refuse his offer; whatsoe'er
It be! Too late! Tell me no word of him!
'T is something, Hollis, I assure you that—
To stand, sick as you are, some eighteen days
Fighting for life and fame against a pack
Of very curs, that lie through thick and thin,
Eat flesh and bread by wholesale, and can't say
“Strafford” if it would take my life!

Lady Carlisle.
Be moved!
Glance at the paper!

Strafford.
Already at my heels!
Pym's faulting bloodhounds scent the track again.
Peace, child! Now, Slingsby

[Messengers from Lane and other of Strafford's Counsel within the Hall are coming and going during the Scene.
Strafford
[setting himself to write and dictate].
I shall beat you, Hollis!
Do you know that? In spite of St. John's tricks,
In spite of Pym—your Pym who shrank from me!
Eliot would have contrived it otherwise.
[To a Messenger.]
In truth? This slip, tell Lane, contains as much
As I can call to mind about the matter.
Eliot would have disdained . . .
[Calling after the Messenger.]
And Radcliffe, say,
The only person who could answer Pym,
Is safe in prison, just for that.
Well, well!
It had not been recorded in that case,
I baffled you.
[To Lady Carlisle.]
Nay, child, why look so grieved?
All's gained without the King! You saw Pym quail?
What shall I do when they acquit me, think you,
But tranquilly resume my task as though
Nothing had intervened since I proposed
To call that traitor to account! Such tricks,
Trust me, shall not be played a second time,
Not even against Laud, with his grey hair—
Your good work, Hollis! Peace! To make amends,
You, Lucy, shall be here when I impeach
Pym and his fellows.

Hollis.
Wherefore not protest
Against our whole proceeding, long ago?
Why feel indignant now? Why stand this while
Enduring patiently?

Strafford.
Child, I'll tell you—
You, and not Pym—you, the slight graceful girl
Tall for a flowering lily, and not Hollis—
Why I stood patient! I was fool enough
To see the will of England in Pym's will;
To fear, myself had wronged her, and to wait
Her judgment: when, behold, in place of it . . .
[To a Messenger who whispers.]
Tell Lane to answer no such question! Law,—
I grapple with their law! I'm here to try
My actions by their standard, not my own!
Their law allowed that levy: what's the rest
To Pym, or Lane, any but God and me?

Lady Carlisle.
The King's so weak! Secure this chance! 'T was Vane,
Never forget, who furnished Pym the notes . . .

Strafford.
Fit,—very fit, those precious notes of Vane,
To close the Trial worthily! I feared
Some spice of nobleness might linger yet
And spoil the character of all the past.
Vane eased me . . . and I will go back and say
As much—to Pym, to England! Follow me!
I have a word to say! There, my defence
Is done!
Stay! why be proud? Why care to own
My gladness, my surprise?—Nay, not surprise!
Wherefore insist upon the little pride
Of doing all myself, and sparing him
The pain? Child, say the triumph is my King's!
When Pym grew pale, and trembled, and sank down,
One image was before me: could I fail?
Child, care not for the past, so indistinct,
Obscure—there's nothing to forgive in it
'T is so forgotten! From this day begins
A new life, founded on a new belief
In Charles.

Hollis.
In Charles? Rather believe in Pym!
And here he comes in proof! Appeal to Pym!
Say how unfair . . .

Strafford.
To Pym? I would say nothing!
I would not look upon Pym's face again.

Lady Carlisle.
Stay, let me have to think I pressed your hand!

[Strafford and his friends go out.
Enter Hampden and Vane.
Vane.
O Hampden, save the great misguided man!
Plead Strafford's cause with Pym! I have remarked
He moved no muscle when we all declaimed
Against him: you had but to breathe—he turned
Those kind calm eyes upon you.

[Enter Pym, the Solicitor-General St. John, the Managers of the Trial, Fiennes, Rudyard, etc.
Rudyard.
Horrible!
Till now all hearts were with you: I withdraw
For one. Too horrible! But we mistake
Your purpose, Pym: you cannot snatch away
The last spar from the drowning man.

Fiennes.
He talks
With St. John of it—see, how quietly!
[To other Presbyterians.]
You'll join us? Strafford may deserve the worst:
But this new course is monstrous. Vane, take heart!
This Bill of his Attainder shall not have
One true man's hand to it.

Vane.
Consider, Pym!
Confront your Bill, your own Bill: what is it?
You cannot catch the Earl on any charge,—
No man will say the law has hold of him
On any charge; and therefore you resolve
To take the general sense on his desert,
As though no law existed, and we met
To found one. You refer to Parliament
To speak its thought upon the abortive mass
Of half-borne-out assertions, dubious hints
Hereafter to be cleared, distortions—ay,
And wild inventions. Every man is saved
The task of fixing any single charge
On Strafford: he has but to see in him
The enemy of England.

Pym.
A right scruple!
I have heard some called England's enemy
With less consideration.

Vane.
Pity me!
Indeed you made me think I was your friend!
I who have murdered Strafford, how remove
That memory from me?

Pym.
I absolve you, Vane.
Take you no care for aught that you have done!

Vane.
John Hampden, not this Bill! Reject this Bill!
He staggers through the ordeal: let him go,
Strew no fresh fire before him! Plead for us!
When Strafford spoke, your eyes were thick with tears!

Hampden.
England speaks louder: who are we, to play
The generous pardoner at her expense,
Magnanimously waive advantages,
And, if he conquer us, applaud his skill?

Vane.
He was your friend.

Pym.
I have heard that before.

Fiennes.
And England trusts you.

Hampden.
Shame be his, who turns
The opportunity of serving her
She trusts him with, to his own mean account—
Who would look nobly frank at her expense!

Fiennes.
I never thought it could have come to this.

Pym.
But I have made myself familiar, Fiennes,
With this one thought—have walked, and sat, and slept,
This thought before me. I have done such things,
Being the chosen man that should destroy
The traitor. You have taken up this thought
To play with, for a gentle stimulant,
To give a dignity to idler life
By the dim prospect of emprise to come,
But ever with the softening, sure belief,
That all would end some strange way right at last.

Fiennes.
Had we made out some weightier charge!

Pym.
You say
That these are petty charges: can we come
To the real charge at all? There he is safe
In tyranny's stronghold. Apostasy
Is not a crime, treachery not a crime:
The cheek burns, the blood tingles, when you speak
The words, but where's the power to take revenge
Upon them? We must make occasion serve,—
The oversight shall pay for the main sin
That mocks us.

Rudyard.
But this unexampled course,
This Bill!

Pym.
By this, we roll the clouds away
Of precedent and custom, and at once
Bid the great beacon-light God sets in all,
The conscience of each bosom, shine upon
The guilt of Strafford: each man lay his hand
Upon his breast, and judge!

Vane.
I only see
Strafford, nor pass his corpse for all beyond!

Rudyard and others.
Forgive him! He would join us, now he finds
What the King counts reward! The pardon, too,
Should be your own. Yourself should bear to Strafford
The pardon of the Commons.

Pym.
Meet him? Strafford?
Have we to meet once more, then? Be it so!
And yet—the prophecy seemed half fulfilled
When, at the Trial, as he gazed, my youth,
Our friendship, divers thoughts came back at once
And left me, for a time . . . 'T is very sad!
To-morrow we discuss the points of law
With Lane—to-morrow?

Vane.
Not before to-morrow—
So, time enough! I knew you would relent!

Pym.
The next day, Haselrig, you introduce
The Bill of his Attainder. Pray for me!

Scene III.

—Whitehall.
The King.
Charles.
My loyal servant! To defend himself
Thus irresistibly,—withholding aught
That seemed to implicate us!
We have done
Less gallantly by Strafford. Well, the future
Must recompense the past.
She tarries long.
I understand you, Strafford, now!
The scheme—
Carlisle's mad scheme—he'll sanction it, I fear,
For love of me. 'T was too precipitate:
Before the army's fairly on its march,
He'll be at large: no matter.
Well, Carlisle?

Enter Pym.
Pym.
Fear me not, sir:—my mission is to save,
This time.

Charles.
To break thus on me! Unannounced!

Pym.
It is of Strafford I would speak.

Charles.
No more
Of Strafford! I have heard too much from you.

Pym.
I spoke, sir, for the People; will you hear
A word upon my own account?

Charles.
Of Strafford?
(So turns the tide already? Have we tamed
The insolent brawler?—Strafford's eloquence
Is swift in its effect.) Lord Strafford, sir,
Has spoken for himself.

Pym.
Sufficiently.
I would apprise you of the novel course
The People take: the Trial fails.

Charles.
Yes, yes
We are aware, sir: for your part in it
Means shall be found to thank you.

Pym.
Pray you, read
This schedule! I would learn from your own mouth
—(It is a matter much concerning me)—
Whether, if two Estates of us concede
The death of Strafford, on the grounds set forth
Within that parchment, you, sir, can resolve
To grant your own consent to it. This Bill
Is framed by me. If you determine, sir,
That England's manifested will should guide
Your judgment, ere another week such will
Shall manifest itself. If not,—I cast
Aside the measure.

Charles.
You can hinder, then,
The introduction of this Bill?

Pym.
I can.

Charles.
He is my friend, sir: I have wronged him: mark you,
Had I not wronged him, this might be. You think
Because you hate the Earl . . . (turn not away,
We know you hate him)—no one else could love
Strafford: but he has saved me, some affirm.
Think of his pride! And do you know one strange,
One frightful thing? We all have used the man
As though a drudge of ours, with not a source
Of happy thoughts except in us; and yet
Strafford has wife and children, household cares,
Just as if we had never been. Ah sir,
You are moved, even you, a solitary man
Wed to your cause—to England if you will!

Pym.
Yes—think, my soul—to England! Draw not back!

Charles.
Prevent that Bill, sir! All your course seems fair
Till now. Why, in the end, 't is I should sign
The warrant for his death! You have said much
I ponder on; I never meant, indeed,
Strafford should serve me any more. I take
The Commons' counsel; but this Bill is yours—
Nor worthy of its leader: care not, sir,
For that, however! I will quite forget
You named it to me. You are satisfied?

Pym.
Listen to me, sir! Eliot laid his hand,
Wasted and white upon my forehead once;
Wentworth—he's gone now!—has talked on, whole nights,
And I beside him; Hampden loves me: sir,
How can I breathe and not wish England well,
And her King well?

Charles.
I thank you, sir, who leave
That King his servant. Thanks, sir!

Pym.
Let me speak!
—Who may not speak again; whose spirit yearns
For a cool night after this weary day:
—Who would not have my soul turn sicker yet
In a new task, more fatal, more august,
More full of England's utter weal or woe.
I thought, sir, could I find myself with you,
After this trial, alone, as man to man—
I might say something, warn you, pray you, save—
Mark me, King Charles, save—you!
But God must do it. Yet I warn you, sir—
(With Strafford's faded eyes yet full on me)
As you would have no deeper question moved
—“How long the Many must endure the One,”
Assure me, sir, if England give assent
To Strafford's death, you will not interfere!
Or—

Charles.
God forsakes me. I am in a net
And cannot move. Let all be as you say!

Enter Lady Carlisle.
Lady Carlisle.
He loves you—looking beautiful with joy
Because you sent me! he would spare you all
The pain! he never dreamed you would forsake
Your servant in the evil day—nay, see
Your scheme returned! That generous heart of his!
He needs it not—or, needing it, disdains
A course that might endanger you—you, sir,
Whom Strafford from his inmost soul . . .
[Seeing Pym.]
Well met!
No fear for Strafford! All that's true and brave
On your own side shall help us: we are now
Stronger than ever.
Ha—what, sir, is this?
All is not well! What parchment have you there?

Pym.
Sir, much is saved us both.

Lady Carlisle.
This Bill! Your lip
Whitens—you could not read one line to me
Your voice would falter so!

Pym.
No recreant yet!
The great word went from England to my soul,
And I arose. The end is very near.

Lady Carlisle.
I am to save him! All have shrunk beside;
'T is only I am left. Heaven will make strong
The hand now as the heart. Then let both die!