ACT SECOND. THE SPIES.
The Banqueting Hall at Whitehall.—At the back of the stage is the window through which Charles I passed on his way to the scaffold.—At the right a large Gothic chair beside a table with a velvet cover whereon the cipher C. R. (Carolus Rex) can still be distinguished. The same cipher, in gilt on a blue ground, still covers the walls, although half effaced.—When the curtain rises the stage is occupied by numerous groups of courtiers in court costume, talking together in low tones. The Ambassadors of France and Spain, with their suites, are in the foreground. The Spaniard is at the left, surrounded by pages, esquires, court alcaldes and alquazils, in the midst of whom is a herald of the Council of Castile, bearing the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece on a black velvet cushion. The French Ambassador is at the right, surrounded by his pages and gentlemen; beside him is Mancini; behind the latter two gentlemen bearing on blue velvet cushions, one a superb sword with a hilt of carved gold, the other a letter from which hangs a huge seal of red wax. Four pages of Cardinal Mazarin carry a large roll wrapped in silk. The Spanish Ambassador wears the costume of a knight of the Golden Fleece; all of his suite are dressed in black satin and velvet. The French Ambassador wears the costume of a knight of the Saint-Esprit; his suite displays a gorgeous medley of costumes, uniforms and liveries.—Behind these two main groups is one of Swedish envoys, another of Piedmontese, another of Dutch, all noticeable by reason of their distinctive costumes.—In the background a group of English nobles, among whom Hannibal Sesthead, a young Danish nobleman, attracts attention by his coat of gold brocade and the two pages in attendance on him.—Two Puritan sentinels, armed with halberd and musket, are pacing to and fro in front of a large Gothic door at the rear of the hall.
Don Luis de Cardenas [to one of his pages.
Page, what's the hour?
The Page [looking at a large watch that hangs from his girdle.] 'Tis noon.
Don Luis. Now, by St. James!
Two hours I 've waited! Howsoever great
This Cromwell be, that it doth much import
His glory that a noble of Castile
Should at his door be seen to cool his heels,
I do agree; nathless he's over-late.
The Page.Most noble lord, the while your worship waits
The Lord Don Cromwell's pleasure, it is said
That he holds Council for—
Don Luis [harshly, and with an oblique glance at the Duc de Créqui.] Who questions you?
Mancini [to the Duc de Créqui, in an undertone.
'Tis most diverting that a Spanish don,
Here in this palace, tremblingly, yet wroth,
Should beg a soft glance from an Englishman!
Upon his face shame doth contend with pride.
Don Luis [aside.] How will the Lord Protector take my message?
Duc de Créqui [to Mancini.
What place is this, Mancini?
Mancini. Monseigneur,
The banquet hall, as court of honour used.
The cipher of the murdered Charles, o'erlooked,
Remains upon these walls; and yonder see
Th' ill-omened window thorough which that King
Went forth to death. 'Twas but a single step
He had to take! And 'tis a regicide,
An impious, psalm-singing sectary—
An Usher [in a loud voice.
His Grace the Lord Protector of all England!
Scene 2.—The Same; Cromwell, in very simple military dress; leather doublet, broad baldric embroidered with his arms, from which hangs a long sword; Whitelocke, Commissioner of the Great Seal, in a long gown of black satin trimmed with ermine, and a huge wig; Earl of Carlisle, Captain of the Protector's Guards, in his uniform; Stoupe, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
Cromwell [standing in front of his chair.
Greeting and peace to all well-purposed hearts!
Since all of you are envoys to our State,
We, in the English nation's name, do give
You audience.
[He sits down, removes his hat, then puts it on again.
Speak, Duc de Créqui, you.
Duc de Créqui.My lord, th' alliance which doth you assure
Of his Most Christian Majesty's support
Is closer drawn to-day by other bonds.
Monsieur de Mancini will presently
Read to your grace the letter which his uncle,
His Eminence the Cardinal sends to you.
Cromwell [to Mancini.]From Cardinal Mazarin? Pray, read.
Mancini [unfolds the letter and reads.
"To his Highness Monseigneur the Protector of the Republic of England.
"Monseigneur:—
"The glorious part borne by your Highness's troops in the present war of France against Spain, the valuable assistance which they gave the King my master, in the campaign in Flanders, increase tenfold His Majesty's gratitude to so powerful an ally, who assists so effectively in humbling the haughty insolence of the House of Austria. Therefore has the King thought it well to send, as his Ambassador Extraordinary to your court, Monsieur le Duc de Créqui, who has it in charge from His Majesty to give your Highness to know that the stronghold of Mardyke, of late taken by our troops, has been placed at the disposition of the generals of the English Republic, pending the time when Dunkirk, which, still holds out, shall be delivered to them in accordance with the treaties. Monsieur le Duc de Créqui has the further commission to offer to your Highness a golden sword which the King of France sends you in token of his esteem and affection. Monsieur de Mancini, my nephew, will make known to you the contents of this letter, and will lay at your Highness's feet a trivial gift the which I presume to add, in my own name, to that of the King; it is a tapestry from the new royal factory, called the Gobelins. I trust that this mark of my devotion may be acceptable to your Highness. Were it not that I am ill at Calais, I should myself have journeyed to England, to the end that I might offer my respects to one of the greatest men who have ever lived, whom I should have been most proud to serve after my King. Compelled to forego that honour, I send the person most closely bound to me by ties of blood, to express to your Highness all my veneration for your person, and my firm determination to maintain an everlasting friendship between yourself and the King my master.
"I presume to declare myself most earnestly
"Your Highness's most obedient and most humble servant,"Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church."
Cromwell [to the Duke and Mancini.
For these rich presents upon us bestowed,
Be pleased, fair sirs, to thank his Eminence.
To France a sister aye will England be.
[To Whitelocke, in an undertone.
This priest, who fawns on me and bends his knee,
Calls me, "Great man" aloud, and 'neath his breath,
"The Lucky fool"!
[He turns abruptly to the Vaudois envoys.
And you—what is your will?
One of the Envoys.Our hearts with sorrow overfull, we come
To ask your Highness' succour.
Cromwell. Who are you?
The Envoy.Envoys commissioned by the Canton Vaud.
Cromwell [in a kindly tone.]Aha!
The Envoy. Tyrannic laws upon our lives
Impose harsh fetters. We are Calvinists,
Our Prince a Catholic; and fire and steel
Have set our towns ablaze, all to the end
That we may be compelled to pray as he does.
Our mourning country sends us to your feet.
Cromwell.Who dares oppress you? who?
The Envoy. The Duke of Savoy.
Cromwell.My lord Ambassador of France, dost hear?
Go bid the Cardinal for love of us
To stay the ills whereby this people groan.
France holds this noble duke within her grasp;
See that he yields! To persecute for faith
Is contrary to the divine precept.
Moreover, I love Calvin.
[The Duke bows.
Mancini [to the Duke, in an undertone.]To indite
These words more plainly: "Public Toleration,"
His hands he's dipped in blood of Catholics.
Cromwell [to the Swedish envoy.
Your name?
The Swedish Envoy [bowing.
Filippi; Terracina is my home;
And 'tis my mission at a hero's feet
To lay this gift the which to him doth send
My Queen Christina's august majesty.
[To Cromwell, in an undertone.
By whose command and in whose interest
Monaldeschi was slain at Fontainebleau,
Her letter tells.
Cromwell. So she's avenged herself
Upon this former lover?
Filippi [still in an undertone.]Mazarin
Vouchsafed permission to my outraged Queen
To blot him out e'en in the heart of France.
Cromwell [to Whitelocke, in an undertone.
Rare hospitality—for murder given!
Filippi.My Queen, self-exiled from her throne, bespeaks
Asylum 'neath the great Protector's pow'r.
Cromwell [surprised and displeased.
She doth seek refuge here?—Without delay
I cannot answer. We've no palace here
To give a queen.
Don Luis [aside.] They'll have one for a king
Ere long.
Cromwell [to Filippi, after a moment's pause.
'Twere better she remain in France.
For kings dethroned, noisome is London air.
[To Whitelocke, in an undertone.
His harlot Queen! a vile, immoral jade!
Who'd show herself unclad to public gaze!
How now?
Filippi [bowing and pointing to the casket.
My mission still is unperformed.
Will not your Highness graciously be pleased
To ope this casket?
Cromwell. What does it contain?
Filippi [bowing again.]Open, my lord.
Cromwell. You much astonish me.
What mystery—
Filippi [handing him a gold key.
My lord, the key.
Cromwell. Give, give!
Whitelocke [to Cromwell, in an undertone.
Beware, my lord! full oft there hath been known
A traitor, by his master given charge
To strike a great man down, who bore to him,
As now to you, within an iron box,
Alchemic drugs or thunderbolts of hell.
The devilish contrivance would explode,
The victim be destroyed.—You are misliked.
This man hath crime writ in his very glance.
Distrust him, for it may be that this box
You were about to open holds a snare
Will cause your death.
Cromwell [to Whitelocke.] You think so. It may be.
Therefore, good Whitelocke, open it yourself.
Whitelocke [terrified and faltering.
My unexcelled devotion—
[Aside.] God!
Cromwell [with a smile.] I know
And profit by it.
[Aside.] Let us judge of it.
[He hands him the key.
Whitelocke [aside.] What courage one must have to be a courtier!
'Tis most embarrassing! death—or disgrace!
Ah! that's another death!
At least I'll die
With a good grace.
A crown!
[The Swedish Envoy assumes a radiant expression.
Cromwell [amazed.] What say you, sirs?
'Tis still a snare, but of another sort.
Cromwell [frowning.
What means this?
Filippi [bowing with a satisfied air.] Sire!
Cromwell [pointing to the crown.] Is it honest gold?
Filippi.Ah! Sire, can you doubt it?
Ah! Sire, can you doubt it?
Cromwell [to Whitelocke, aloud.] If 'tis so,
Let it be forthwith melted! I bestow
The metal on the London hospitals.
[To the stupefied Filippi.
I can to no more fitting purpose turn
These gawds, these women's gewgaws, royal toys.
I should not know what use to make of them.
Don Luis [aside.]Is he resolved, in good sooth, to remain
Protector.
Mancini [to the Duc de Créqui, in an undertone.
He might well send to Christina
A king's head in exchange.
Duc de Créqui [to Mancini, in an undertone.
'Tis even so;
That gift would the more fittingly unite
The vassal regicide and murd'rous queen.
Cromwell [dismissing Filippi with a displeased gesture.
Farewell, Sir Swede, of Terracina born!
[To Whitelocke, in an undertone.
Filippi and Mancini! Everywhere
Close bonds unite intrigue with the Italian.
Those bastard Romans, without character
Or laws, degenerate inheritors
Of the world's masters who upraised so high
The sword of battle, still do rule the world,
But from below! And Rome, whose ordinance
Europe obeys, now casts a lynx's glance
Where gleamed of old the eagle's piercing eye.
The chain imposed on twenty distant nations
Is by a hidden thread replaced, which moves
Base jumping-jacks. O dwarfs, from giants sprung!
O foxes in the she-wolf's womb conceived!
We find you with your soft words everywhere.
Filippi, Mazarini and Mancini!
Satan, to scheme, should take a name in i.
[To the Dutch Envoys, after a pause.
What would you, sirs? The truce is at an end.
The Leader of the Dutch Envoys.The States of the
United Provinces,
Free like yourselves, and, like you, Protestants,
Do sue to you for peace.
Cromwell [roughly.] Nay, 'tis too late.
And more, the Parliament of this republic
Deems you too worldly in your politics,
And chooses not to make fraternal pacts
With allies who so vain and fleshly are.
Aha! my lord Ambassador of Spain,
Good even! We had not seen you before.
Don Luis [concealing his anger beneath a profound reverence.
May God go with your Highness! We have come
For matters of high moment, to demand
The favour of a secret audience.
We have been sundered by the Flemish war,
But none the less the Catholic King perchance
May come to terms with you; and to show forth
The high esteem in which he holds you still,
My master doth unto your Highness send
The Golden Fleece.
[The pages bearing the Golden Fleece come forward.
Cromwell [rising indignantly.]What think you that I am?
What! I, the rigid and unbending chief
Of ancient England's old Republicans,
Give my support to odious vanities,
And soil this contrite heart with pagan symbol!
Greek idols hanging from the rosary
Upon the breast of Sodom's conqueror!
Away with these temptations, these vain pomps,
This collar! Cromwell doth refuse to make
Alliance with Belshazzar!
Don Luis [aside.] Heretic!
[Aloud.] The Catholic King did first acknowledge you
As the republic's head.
Cromwell [breaking in upon him.] Thinks he to change.
By treating Cromwell as enfranchised slave,
Zion's fair tow'r to whited sepulchre?
The Golden Fleece to me! Their actor-priests
And temple-theatres I gladly leave
To the idolaters. They seek in hell
Their gods and treasure, and they have the fleece
E'en as of old men had the Golden Calf.—
Shall I be outraged with impunity?
From my just wrath did Portugal's envoy
Preserve his brother? Can it be, Don Luis,
Your master has the signal hardihood
To flout me by his envoy to my face?
'Twould be an insult too notorious!
But go!
Don Luis [in a rage.
Farewell, then! War, unceasing war!
[Exit with his suite.
Mancini [to the Duc de Créqui, in an undertone.
The proud Castilian raised his Highness' gorge.
And yet, that insult I solicited!
Cromwell [to Stoupe, in an undertone.
'Twas most important, in this conference,
To break with Spain before th' envoys of France.
But follow him and try to placate him,
And learn, if may be, what he doth propose.
[Exit Stoupe.
[At this moment the great folding-door is thrown open.
An Usher.My lady the Protectress.
Cromwell. Ah, great heaven!
It is my wife!
[He dismisses all those present with a wave of the hand.
Farewell, duke—gentlemen.
Cromwell [to the Protectress.] Good-morrow, dame. You seem in evil case.
Slept you not well?
Elizabeth Bourchier. Nay, not till break the day
Closed I my eyes. Ah, Sir, in very truth,
I like not all this pomp and ceremony.
The chamber of the Queen, wherein I lie,
Is too enormous. That emblazoned bed
Whereon the Stuarts and the Tudors lay,
That gorgeous cloth of silver canopy,
Those posts of gilded wood, the kingly plumes,
The balustrade that holds me captive on
My royal daïs, and the ornaments
And velvet furniture—'tis like a dream
Which takes away my sleep!—And one must needs
Explore this palace with most heedful care.
I am not wonted to its labyrinths.
Ay, in this Whitehall vast I lose myself,
And in a royal chair I'm ill at ease!
Cromwell.Your rise in fortune you cannot endure!
Your daily lamentations—
Elizabeth. Well I know
That they annoy you, but I would prefer
Our Cockpit to this palace of a king;
[To Mistress Fleetwood.] And more than all, is it not so, my child,—
Our family estate in Huntingdon!
[To Cromwell.] Oh! those were happy times! What joy it was
To rise at daybreak, visit poultry-yard
And park and orchard, watch the children play
And gambol gaily in the fields; and then
To go together to the brewery!
Cromwell.My lady!
Elizabeth. Happy days! when Cromwell was
Of no account, when I was all at ease
And slept so well!
Cromwell. Put off these vulgar tastes.
Elizabeth.Why put them off? for I was born to them.
Was I in childhood to such grandeur doomed?
My life does not to th' atmosphere of courts
Adapt itself, and in these trailing gowns
My feet become entangled. Yesterday,
At the Lord Mayor's banquet, I was hipped.
A wondrous pleasure, in good sooth, to dine
With London, tête-à-tête! Why you yourself
Seemed monstrous bored.—Ah me! in the old days,
We supped so gaily by our own fireside!
Cromwell.My new rank—
Elizabeth. Ah! but think of your poor mother.
Your grandeur, unsure and ephemeral,
Marred her old age; a thousand carking cares
Impelled her to the tomb before her time.
Numb'ring the risks to which you are exposed,
Her eye, e'en as you rose, measured your fall.
And when, as you your rivals overcame,
London acclaimed each new-won victory,
If the far tumult of the joyful town
Might chance to reach her sluggish, palsied ear,—
The guns and clanging bells and myriad steps,
And acclamations of the populace,—
Awakened with a start, she'd raise her head,
Seek in her fears a reason for the fête,
And tremblingly exclaim, "My son is dead!"
Cromwell.Now in the sepulchre of kings she sleeps.
Elizabeth.A blissful privilege! Pray does one sleep
More comfortably there? And does she know
If you will there rejoin her mortal dust?
God grant that it be many years hence!
Lady Claypole [in a languishing tone.
Ah! I shall go to that abode of death
Before you, father.
Cromwell. How now! what is this!
Still these lugubrious fancies? Morbid still?
Lady Claypole.Ah yes! my strength is fading fast away;
I need the country air, the sun. To me
This gloomy palace is most like the tomb.
In these long corridors and these vast halls
A shuddering, icy darkness ever reigns.
I shall be dead ere long!
Cromwell [kissing her on the forehead.
Nonsense, my child!
Some day we will revisit our loved vales.
A few more days in London I must have.
Mistress Fleetwood [sourly.]To make yourself a throne, is it not so?
In candour, father, would you not be king?
But Fleetwood, yes, my husband, will prevent!
Cromwell.How now! my son-in-law—
Mistress Fleetwood. He does not choose
To fake a crooked line. There is no place
In a republic for a king. Therein
I am with him opposed to your designs.
Cromwell.And my own daughter, too!
Lady Falconbridge [to Mistress Fleetwood.] Upon my word,
I do not understand you, sister mine!
Our father's a free man, his throne is ours.
Why should not he be king, like any other?
And why deny ourselves th' ecstatic joy
Of being princesses of royal blood?
Mistress Fleetwood.Sister, I am by worldly vanities
But little moved. My thoughts are all intent
Upon salvation.
Lady Falconbridge. I do love the court,
And know not why, my husband being a lord,
My father is not king.
Mistress Fleetwood. The pride of Eve,
My sister, the first man destroyed!
Lady Falconbridge [turning away, disdainfully.
'Tis plain
That of a nobleman she's not the wife!
Cromwell [in an irritated tone.
Be silent, both! Of your young sister, pray,
The mild and placid bearing imitate.
Frances, of what think you?
Lady Frances. Alas! dear father,
The sight of this thrice venerated spot
Distresses me. Your sister, by whose side
I've passed my life, taught me to reverence
Those who are banished; and the few brief days
Since I have been within these frowning walls,
Unceasingly I fancy that I see
Despondent phantoms wandering about.
Cromwell.Phantoms of whom?
Lady Frances. The Stuarts.
Cromwell [aside.] How that name
Doth ring for ever in my ears!
Lady Frances. 'Twas here
The martyr died!
Cromwell. My child!
The one through which King Charles the First went forth
For the last time from Whitehall—Charles the First,
Whom they dared persecute?
Cromwell [aside.] My guileless child,
How thou dost torture me!
[Enter Thurloe.
Ah! Thurloe comes!
Thurloe [bowing.]Urgent affairs, my lord.
Cromwell [to his wife.] Pardon, my lady—
Your Highness—
Elizabeth. Prithee, whom do you address?
Cromwell.Your Highness.
Elizabeth. Cromwell, me! Pray pardon me.
In all my grandeur I forget myself,
I lose myself! my mind doth not accord
My borrowed titles and my real name,
My Lady Protectress and Mistress Cromwell.
Cromwell.I am not happy, Thurloe.
Thurloe. But those ladies
Adore your Highness—
Cromwell. Bah! five women! I
Would rather far, by absolute decrees,
Govern five towns, five earldoms, or five kingdoms!
Thurloe.What! you who England and all Europe rule!
Cromwell.A bourgeoise wed the master of the earth!
I am a slave, my friend!
Thurloe. My lord, you might—
Cromwell.Not so. The balance of my destiny
Is overthrown. Europe is in one scale,
My wife is in the other.
Thurloe. If, perchance,
I could exchange my place for yours, a woman—
Cromwell [sternly.]You're overbold to harbor such a thought!
Thurloe [abashed.]My lord, I say—
Cromwell. 'Tis well! let's say no more!
What news have you?
Thurloe [taking up a paper.]Scotland.—The Grand Provost
Would fain surrender. All the North submits
To the Protector.
Cromwell. Well, what next?
Thurloe. Next, Flanders.—
The Spaniards are prepared to yield. Dunkirk
To the Protector soon will be restored.
Cromwell.What next?
Thurloe. London.—At anchor in the Thames
Are three great vessels laden with the gold
That Blake hath taken from the Portuguese.
Cromwell.What next?
Thurloe. The Duke of Holstein sends to you
Eight Friesland horses.
Cromwell. Next?
Thurloe. That you may see
How bitterly he doth regret that he
Gave Rupert shelter, Tuscany's Grand Duke,
To whom Sir Robert Blake hath said a word,
Sends in gold sequins all that twenty mules
Can bear.
Cromwell. What next?
The Oxford clerics, who
Your rivals were, do choose you Chancellor
Of th' University.
[Handing the parchment to Cromwell.
The letters patent these.
Cromwell.What next?
Thurloe [seeking among his papers.
His Majesty the Russian Czar
Doth by petition humbly supplicate
Of your good-will a public evidence.
Cromwell.What next?
Thurloe [holding a letter, and in a tone of anxiety.
My lord, in secret I am warned
Your Highness will be foully done to death
To-morrow.
Cromwell. Next?
Thurloe. The plot is all contrived
By concert of the military chiefs
With Cavaliers—
Cromwell [interrupting him impatiently.
What next?
Thurloe. Would you not have
Further details of these dark schemes, my lord?
Cromwell.'Tis some new fable!—Let us end this task.—
What next?
Thurloe. The marshal of the Polish Diet writes—
Cromwell.Pray have there come no letters from Cologne?
Thurloe [looking among the papers.
Ay, truly; but a single one.
Cromwell. From whom?
Thurloe.From Manning, sent to keep an eye on Charles.
Cromwell.Ah! give it me!
[He seizes the letter and hastily breaks the seal.
'Tis of the fifth. How slow
Are all these messengers! Full three weeks old!
[He reads the letter, and while reading it, exclaims:
Ah! Master Davenant! a cunning ruse!—
At night—the lights all out.—Could any man
More shrewdly palter with an oath? For that,
One must be papist!—Ah! the royal note
Hid in his hat.—A very shrewd device!
But I am curious.—Thurloe, send word
To Master Davenant that I would see him.
He's at The Siren, near to London Bridge.
[Exit Thurloe to execute the order.
We'll see which of us two will be the dupe.
Ill-wishing knaves! but in the darkness where
Your steps are hid, I always have a torch,
Which you cannot put out.
[Enter Thurloe.
Let us pursue.
Have you Spain's envoy seen?
Thurloe. He offers you
Calais, if you send succour to Dunkirk
Without delay.
Cromwell [reflecting.] France offers us Dunkirk,
Spain, Calais. But their generosity
Is somewhat lessened by this circumstance:
Dunkirk belongs to Spain, Calais to France.
Each of these monarchs doth designedly
Give me my choice among his neighbour's towns;
And that my favour may prefer his claim,
Gives me as pledge a conquest to be won.
With France's King I must remain at peace.
Wherefore betray him? T'other offers less.
Thurloe [continuing his report.
The Protestants of Nimes, like the Vaudois
Oppressed, entreat your generous support.
Cromwell.I'll write the Cardinal in their behalf.
But when will he be tolerant?
Thurloe. Dev'reux
Hath carried Catholic Armagh by assault,
And thus doth Chaplain Peters write thereon:
"To Israel's arms hath God shewed clemency.
Armagh is ta'en at last! By fire and sword
Old men and women we have put to death,
And children; at the least, two thousand slain.
Blood flows on all sides; I have come from church,
Whither I went to render thanks to God!"
Cromwell [enthusiastically.]A blessed saint is Peters!
Thurloe. Shall we spare
The remnant of that race?
Cromwell. And wherefore? Nay,
No mercy to the papists! Let us be
Amid this nation as a burning torch
Amid a field of grain!
Thurloe [bowing.] 'Tis said, my lord.
Cromwell.A pulpit's vacant in this same Armagh.
Peters we nominate thereto; his note
Is most succinct.
Thurloe [bowing again.] The Emperor would know
Wherefore you do maintain in readiness
New armaments, equipped at great expense.
Cromwell [hotly.]Let him leave war to us and his whole mind
Give to his festivals! What would he have
With me,—with his two-headed eagle, ay,
And Aulic Council?—Would he frighten me?
The simple German! For that, on great days,
He carries in his hand a painted globe
He calls the world! Bah! thunder that ne'er strikes,
But rumbles ever!
[He motions to Thurloe to continue.
Thurloe. Colonel Titus, next—
For libel held in prison—
Cromwell. What would he?
A scurvy knave!
Thurloe. His liberty, my lord.
These nine months in his dungeon he has lain,
Forgotten on his straw.
Cromwell. Impossible!
Nine months?
Thurloe. 'Twas in October he was ta'en,
And now 'tis June. Reckon, my lord.
Cromwell [counting on his fingers.] 'Tis true.
Thurloe.And through these months the poor man has remained,
Dying of grief, cold, naked, and alone.
Cromwell. Nine months! Great God! how time doth speed away!
[A pause.
And now, touching the plan proposed, what doth
The close committee of the Parliament?
Thurloe.Against you these have spoken: Purefoy,
Goffe, Pride, and Nicholas, and, more than all,
Garland.
Cromwell [angrily.] The regicide!
Thurloe. But 'gainst the wind
In vain they'll struggle. The majority
Is on our side; and in Lord Pembroke's words,
A one-time peer who rides on every wave,
The crown is yours of right.
Cromwell [scornfully.] A doting fool!
Thurloe.Colonel John Birch, alone, although he, too,
To the majority is more inclined,
By some vain scruple from the Bible borrowed,
Doth keep the House of Commons wav'ring still.
Cromwell.At the Excise there must be somewhat due
To him. Prompt payment will be adequate
To do away his scruple; so it be
That the cashier err in his reckoning
To his advantage.—Thurloe, as for you,
Be pleased, if it be possible, to name
The Holy Bible with more reverence.
Thurloe [bowing with the utmost humility.
By your ambition Fagg declares himself
Aroused to opposition.
Cromwell. Him I name
The Sergeant of the City.
Thurloe. Trenchard, too,
Seems ill-content and sullen.
Cromwell. Give to him
A tithe on the estates of Lord Montrose.
Thurloe.Sir Gilbert Pickering, the judge who takes
From every hand, has turned recalcitrant.
Cromwell.A baron of th' Exchequer let him be.
Thurloe.The rest is my affair. If my lord will
But let things take their course, this very day,
Most humbly, in the name of Parliament,
You'll be entreated to accept the crown.
Cromwell.Aha! at last I have it in my grasp,
That sceptre unattainable! My feet
Have reached the summit of the mount of sand!
Thurloe.But you have reigned these many months, my lord.
Cromwell.Nay, nay! I have the power, but not the name.
Thou smilest, Thurloe. Ah! thou dost not know
The pit that covetous ambition digs
In our heart's depths! How it enables us
Grief, labour, peril to defy,—ay, all,
To gain an end that seems so puerile!
How hard to bear the fortune that falls short
Of full fruition! And I know not why,
But there's a lustre wherein one may see
The sky reflected, that environs kings
From olden time. Those words: "King "—"Majesty"—
Are sorcerers. To be the arbiter
Of the whole world, and not the King! The thing
Without the word, the power without the title!
Mere tinsel! Empire and rank are one.
Thou know'st, my friend, how it doth mortify,
When one leaves far behind the common herd,
And sees the summit close at hand, to feel
That there is something still above one's head!
Ah! were it but a word, that word is all.
Manasseh [bowing to the ground.
My gentle sir, God guide you to the end!
Cromwell.It is the Jew, Manasseh Ben-Israel.
[To Thurloe.] Go finish your despatches.
What wouldst thou?
Manasseh [in an undertone.]I have fresh news. There is a Swedish ship,
Laden with caroluses which she brings
To th' exiled monarch's friends, moored in the Thames,
My lord, e'en as I speak.
Cromwell. A neutral flag!
Ah! if by thy assistance, I the whole
Can deftly confiscate, the half is thine.
Manasseh.In very truth? The vessel's yours, my lord.
But look to't that at need some one's at hand
To bear me aid.
Is an unfailing talisman. Now haste,
And come anon to tell me how thou farest.
Manasseh.One word, my lord.
Cromwell. Say on.
Manasseh. My duty is
To tell you that your Richard doth conspire
With th' Cavaliers.
Cromwell. Thou sayest?
Manasseh. Clifford's debt
To me he paid. That tells all that's to tell.
Cromwell [laughing.]Thou seest everything in thy strong-box!
My son is indiscreet; his friendships are
Ill-sorted; nothing more!
Manasseh. To pay pistoles
And count them not; 'tis something strange!
Cromwell [with a shrug.] Now, go!
Manasseh.In mercy's name, my lord, since it doth chance
That the good fortune I do sometimes have
To serve you, for my recompense therein,
Our synagogues reopen and revoke
The law against astrologers.
Cromwell [dismissing him with a gesture.]Thereon
We will reflect.
Manasseh [bowing to the ground.
We kiss your feet, my lord!
[Aside.] These despicable Christians!
Cromwell. Live in peace.
[Aside.] Vile Jew, fit to be hanged between two dogs!
[Exit Manasseh by the low door, which closes behind him.
Thurloe.My lord!—pray will you deign to hear me now?—
This foreign ship, the money that it brings
To scatter amongst them who wish you ill,
The cursèd Jew's advice—doth not all this
Accord with what I've said?—Open your eyes.
Cromwell.Whereon?
Thurloe. On these detestable intrigues
Of whose concocting a devoted friend
Doth me advise. I shudder even now,
Thinking upon the little that we know.
Cromwell.Whenever such reports come to my hands,
If I had given all my thought to them,
My time to seeking out the plot denounced,
Would all my days, my whole life have sufficed?
Thurloe.The present case seems perilous, my lord.
Cromwell.Fie, Thurloe! blush to be so timorous.
I know my rule is tyrannous to some,
That certain generals would fain not see
Yesterday's equal in to-morrow's King.
And yet the army's on my side. The gold
Whereof the dog Jew spoke, the gold's a gift
Bestowed upon me by my good friend Charles,
Which at this moment is most opportune
To pay the outlay for my coronation.
Fear nought, my friend! But think how many times
Our souls have been tormented with false news.
These terrifying plots are but a game
Of rivals ill-disposed and envious,
Whose impotence leaves them with nought to do
Save to divert themselves at our expense.
[Footsteps are heard in a gallery at one side.
Here come the courtiers with their mummery.
I go to take the air. Look thou to them.
[Exit through the low door.
Whitelocke [to Thurloe.
His Highness is not here?
Thurloe. Nay.
Lenthall [to Thurloe.] I would fain
Remind him of my rights.
Sergeant Maynard [to Thurloe.] Hither I came
Upon most urgent business.
Colonel Jephson [to Thurloe.] An affair
Of utmost moment brings me to the palace.
Murray [to Thurloe.]In this petition proffered to my lord,
I seek an office in his future court.
Waller [to Thurloe.]Not to harass his Highness is my rule.
Nathless—
Sir William Murray.What unfamiliar animal is this?
Carr [solemnly.] A man! I understand that in this den
Where Baal shows his face without a mask,
Where none are seen save wolves and mountebanks,
False prophets, sparrow-hawks, and drunken curs,
Winged serpents, dragons with a thousand heads,
Vultures, and those who take God's name in vain,
And basilisks with darts of flame for tails—
That here his face should unfamiliar be!
Waller [laughing.]If these be our portraits, sir, much thanks!
Carr [becoming excited.]Ye fellow-revellers of Satan, hear!
The ashes are within the apple—eat!
Vampires of Israel, the people's dead;
Feed on its flesh, the flesh of the elect
Of heav'n, the flesh of mighty men of war,
The flesh of horses!
Waller [laughing.] No undainty dish.
And so we have the honour, one and all;
The signal honour, to be basilisks
Who feed on horse-flesh!
[General merriment among the courtiers.
Carr [in a frenzy of rage.]Laugh, ye mouths of hell!
Waller [ironically.]I love sweet courtesy.
All. Let us put him out.
Lenthall [going up to Carr and trying to induce him to leave.
Look you, my good man, if by any chance
His Highness should come in—
[They try to lead Carr away; he resists.
Carr. Nay, 'tis not I
Who would go hence, but you.
Whitelocke. He is a Saint.
Waller.Nay, he's a madman.
Carr. You are drunken, all!
Drunken with error, pride, and lees of wine;
And it is you who call my wisdom madness!
Broghill.But, friend, his Highness will be here anon.
Carr.And I await him.
Broghill. Wherefore?
Carr. Presently
My mouth must needs address this Ichabod
Whom you call Highness.
Broghill. Prithee, my good sir,
Entrust to me your business. I will speak
To him for you, and all my influence—
I am Lord Broghill.
Carr [bitterly.] Woe is me! how changed
Is Oliver! An old Republican
Is deemed a blemish in his suite! Broghill—
A Cavalier—my sponsor be with Cromwell!
Thurloe [who has been scrutinizing Carr closely, aside.
I know this man. His words are reasonless;
But, mad or not, methinks that he's escaped
From London Tower rather than from Bedlam.
I go to seek my lord.
[Exit.
Broghill [in a patronizing tone, to Carr.
I might, in sooth,
Be sponsor for you, friend, but—
Carr [with a melancholy smile.] So it was
That in Mount Zion to the Son of Man
The devil did his guaranty propose.
Whitelocke.Stubborn!
Waller. Incurable!
All. A fig for that!
Let us expel him!
Carr. Back; avaunt, I say!
I must have speech with this audacious man,
Who, in our soldiers' eyes, is self-transformed
From Maccabæus to Iscariot.
Broghill.Madman!
Waller. A neatly-turned periphrasis
To tell to Cromwell!
Carr. I the angel am
Sent hither to give warning unto Lot
Ere Sodom is consumed by flames from heaven.
Waller [laughing.]How now! God's angels shaven as thou art?
Colonel Jephson.I see with pleasure thou dost rise in rank.
From man to angel thou art now transformed.
Murray [to Carr, elbowing him.
Comrade, with visions would you vex my lord?
[To the others.] From our petitions he'll divert his thoughts.
[Roughly to Carr.
Away!
Colonel Jephson. Away!
Serg. Maynard. Away!
All. Come, haste! be off!
Carr [gravely.]Forbear, I bid you, to speak thus to me.
Serg. Maynard.If he should see thee, straightway would my lord
Commit thee to the Tower.
[Carr glances at him and shrugs his shoulders.
Sir William Murray [pointing to Carr's puritanical dress.]
Is this fit guise
Wherein to appear at court?
Lenthall. To speak to thee
My lord would sadly lack of self-respect.
All.Away!
[They throw themselves upon Carr and try to drag him from the hall.
Carr [struggling, in a tone of anguish.
O Thou the God of men of war,
Thou God of Sabaoth, vouchsafe to cast
Thine eyes upon me!
All [pushing him.] Go!
Carr [continuing his invocation and looking upward.
In thy blest cause
I struggle with Leviathan!
Cromwell [gazing at Carr in surprise.]'Tis Carr
The Independent!
[To the others with a contemptuous wave of the hand.] Go!
[Aside.] 'Tis passing strange!
[Exeunt all, speechless with amazement, and bowing low. Carr remains unmoved.
Waller [in an undertone, to Lenthall, pointing to Carr.
He said it. Let us leave Lot with the angel.
Scene 10.—Carr, Cromwell.
Cromwell.Carr, the Long Parliament imprisoned you.
By what means came you forth?
Carr [calmly.] By treachery.
Cromwell [surprised and alarmed.
What say you?
[Aside.] Can it be he's lost his wits?
Carr [musing.]Yes, I the Supreme council of the Saints
Did mightily offend. Now, 'neath thy law,
Are all proscribed: I, blameworthy, by them;
They, innocent, by thee.
Cromwell. Since you approve
Your sentence, tell me who did break your chains?
Carr [shrugging his shoulders.
'Twas treachery, I tell thee! I was led,
Blindly toward a new offence; in time
I saw the snare.
Cromwell. What snare?
Carr. Come sit thee down.
Thy life's to me more sacred at this hour
Than is the hog's flesh to the hungry hind,
Or Jonah's bones to the gigantic fish
That saved him from the waves in his huge maw.
[Cromwell sits down, with a curious and suspicious glance at Carr.
Cromwell [aside.]With patience I must let him say his say,
Carr.Listen: thy life is menaced by a plot,
And thou dost comprehend—I make no doubt—
That, if nought else were threatened, I would not
Waste words and steps to give thee warning on't.
Rather thou'lt do me justice to believe
That it would be my glory and my pride
To lend the saints my aid therein. But now
The question is to rescue Israel.
I save thee, by the way; so much the worse!
Cromwell.This plot, does it in very truth exist?
And know you where they meet?
Carr. I came from thence.
Cromwell.Is't so? Who from the Tower set you free?
Carr.Tremble! 'Twas Barkstead!
Cromwell. Barkstead false to me!
But he was one who signed the King's death-sentence.
Carr. The hope of pardon 'twas that conquered him.
Cromwell.Their purpose, then, is Stuart to restore?
Carr.List yet again. When at the meeting-place
At daybreak I arrived, it was my hope
That first, and above all, it was designed
To set the people free by slaying thee.
Cromwell.For that much thanks!
Carr. Then, that we should restore
To the Long Parliament its lawful power
Shattered by thy malignant despotism.
But I had scarcely entered when I saw
A Philistine in velvet doublet slashed
With satin. There were three of them. The chief
Of the conspirators assailed my ears
With briefs and bulls and quatrains—
Cromwell. Quatrains?
Carr. Yes,
'Tis by that name they call their heathen psalms.
Ere long came Saints and pious citizens;
But, fascinated by strange spells, their eyes
Smiled on the demons mingled with the angels.
The demons shouted: "Death to Cromwell! death!"
And 'neath their breath they said: "Now let us turn
To our advantage their embittered strife;
To Babylon Gomorrah shall give place,
The roofs of sycamore to cedarn roofs,
And bricks to stones, the bridle to the yoke,
The brazen rod to th' iron sceptre.
Cromwell. Ah!
And Cromwell to the second Charles—not so?
Carr. Such is their dream. But 'tis not Jacob's will
That they shall slay an ox with his own sword
And he have not his share; that Cromwell be
Struck down, and Stuart gain his end thereby.
Between two evils one must shun the worse.
And evil as thou art I much prefer
Thy rule to any royal debauchee's,
Stuart, or Herod, worthless parasite
Of the old uprooted oak! Wherefore confound
These plots that by my voice are known to thee!
Cromwell [striking him on the shoulder.
I thank you for this news yon bring, my friend.
[Aside.] A stroke from heav'n. But Thurloe did not err.
[To Carr, in a wheedling tone.
And so the rival factions, of the King
And Parliament against me are in league?
Who are the leaders of the royalists?
Carr.Think'st thou I had a list? I care no more
For those accursèd Satans than the straw
Whereon I've slept these seven weary years!
But, if I err not, they pronounced the names
Of Rochester and Ormond—
Cromwell [hastily seizing a pen and paper.
Art thou sure?
In London, they!
[He writes their names on the paper.—To Carr.
Come, make an effort, pray.
Carr [slowly, searching his memory.
Sedley—
Cromwell [writing.] Well!
Carr. Clifford—Drogheda—
Rosebery—
Cromwell [still writing.] Rakes!
[He approaches Carr with renewed gentleness and affection.] And on the people's side
Who were the leaders?
Carr [drawing back indignantly.
Stay! What! I betray
Our Saints to thee—the eyes wherewith we see!
Nay, shouldst thou offer me ten thousand shekels,
As to the witch of Endor did King Saul;
Or shouldst thou bid some eunuch try his sword
Upon my neck; or shouldst thou me consign,
Like Daniel, to the savage lions' den,
For my contumacy; or shouldst thou light
A terrifying fire of blazing pitch,
Hotter by sevenfold than e'er was seen,
That I, like Ananias, should behold
The flames encompass me on every side,
And flooding with their glare the domiciles
Of a degraded people, overpass
By many cubits the infernal stake!
Cromwell.Be calm.
Carr. Nay, never! shouldst thou give to me
The fields of Thebes and all the country round,
And Libanus and golden-gated Tyre,
And Ecbatana, built of quarried stone,
A thousand oxen and the fertile slime
Of the Egyptian Nile, a throne and all the skill
Of that magician who, from the ocean wave,
Caused flame to issue forth, singing the while,
And with a whistle called from distant lands,
Thorough the trackless azure of the skies,
Egyptian flies and Assur's honey-bees!
Nay, shouldst thou make me colonel in the army!
Cromwell [aside.]'Tis hard to open a closed mouth by force.
I'll not attempt it.
[Offering Carr his hand.
Carr, we are old friends,
God in his field hath set us, like two stones—
Carr.Cromwell hath travelled far, for a mere stone!
Cromwell.From pressing perils thou hast rescued me,
And I shall not forget. Who Cromwell saves—
Carr [abruptly.]Insult me not! Carr saves but Israel.
Cromwell [aside.]O'erweening sectary, whom I am fain
To treat with gentleness, and to caress
The hand that stabs me! at my age and station!
[Humbly, to Carr.
What am I? a poor worm.
Carr. 'Tis even so!
To the Eternal thou art but a worm,
Like Attila; to us thou art a serpent!
Wouldst take the crown?
Cromwell [with tears in his eyes.]How ill thou knowest me!
The purple doth encompass me about,
But I've a gnawing ulcer at my heart.
Pity me!
Carr [with a bitter smile.] God of Jacob, dost thou hear
This Nimrod who takes on a Job-like air?
Cromwell [in a pitiful tone.]I have deserved the censure of the saints.
Carr.Go to! the Lord by thine own nearest kin
Doth punish thee!
Cromwell [surprised.] What meanest thou by that?
Carr [triumphantly.]One other name to thy list thou mayst add.—
But no—why speak? By vice the crime's chastised.
Cromwell.What name? Tell me the name! For such a service
Thou mayest ask, exact, whate'er thou wilt.
Carr [as if struck by a sudden thought.
In very truth? Wilt to thy promise hold?
Cromwell.'Tis equal to an oath.
Carr. On certain terms
I can reveal thy sore.
Cromwell [with disdainful satisfaction, aside.
Whate'er they be
To him who pays or flatters them, at heart
These good Republicans are all alike.
[Aloud.
What dost thou ask? A title and its arms?
Or military rank? or an estate?
Carr. Thou say'st?
Cromwell.What wouldst thou at our hands? speak.
Carr. Abdicate.
Cromwell [aside.]He is incorrigible!
[Aloud, after a moment's reflection.
Am I king,
That I should abdicate?
Carr. Mere subterfuge.
How now! dost palter with thy word so soon?
Cromwell [abashed.]Why, no!
Carr. I see that thou dost hesitate.
Cromwell [sighing.]Alas! I have put force upon myself
An hundred times, not to resign my rule.
My power's my cross.
Carr [shaking his head.]Thou dost not mend thy ways,
Cromwell. Methinks 'tis easier by far
For camel to pass through a needle's eye,
Or eel to swallow the leviathan,
Than for the rich and powerful of earth
To enter in at heaven's radiant doors!
Cromwell [aside.
Fanatic!
Carr [aside.] Hypocrite!
[To Cromwell.] In subtle speech
Thou dost exhaust thyself in vain.
Cromwell [with a contrite air.] My brother,
Vouchsafe to hear me. That my rule's unjust
And arbitrary, I agree; but, Carr,
In Issachar, in Judas, or in Gad,
There's none on whom it weighs so grievously
As on myself. I hate these vanities
That make one long to fly to the world's end;
Words that give forth a hollow tomb-like sound:
Throne, sceptre, honours vain, bequeathed to us
By Charles; false gods, who neither Alpha are
Nor Omega! But I may not restore
Abruptly, to this people whom I love,
The power supreme, before the longed-for day
When there shall come to rule this land of ours
The eighty old men and four animals.
Go, therefore, and seek Selden and St. John,
Judges in law, and most profoundly learned
In matters of religion. Say to them
To frame a plan of government, whereby
I may forthwith retire.—Art thou content?
Carr [shaking his head.
Not overmuch. These doctors thou invok'st
Too frequently do utter oracles
Of doubtful import. But 'tis not my wish
To leave thee half content.
Cromwell. Tell me his name,
My other enemy.
Carr. 'Tis Richard Cromwell!
Cromwell [in a grief-stricken tone.
My son!
Carr [unmoved.] Ay! Cromwell, art thou satisfied?
Cromwell [in utter stupefaction.
Thus vice and blasphemy by slow degrees
Have led him on to parricide! The Jew
Was right!—Vengeance divine! I slew my King;
My son will kill his father!
Carr. What wouldst thou?
Vipers engender vipers. Grievous 'tis,
Past doubt, to know one's son a felon, and,
No David thou, to have an Absalom,
As for the death of Charles, wherein thou think'st
To recognize thy crime, I tell thee now,
'Tis the sole virtuous, holy, lawful act
That doth redeem the burden of thy sins,
And 'tis the fairest side of thy whole life.
Cromwell [paying no heed to him.
That Richard, whom I reckoned frivolous.
And heedless and as care-free as the bird
That sings and flies away, should seek my death!
[Earnestly, to Carr, grasping his hand.
But tell me, brother, art thou sure? My son—
Carr.Was at the rendezvous this morning.
Cromwell. Where?
Carr.At the Three Cranes.
Cromwell. What said he?
Carr. Many things
Now vanished from my mind. He sang, then laughed,
Swearing that he had paid Lord Clifford's debts.
Cromwell [aside.]So said the Jew!
Carr. But wilt thou credit this?
At last I saw him drink to Herod's health!
Cromwell.Herod's? what Herod?
Carr. Yea; Belshazzar's, then!
Cromwell.Whose?
Carr. Pharaoh's!
Cromwell. But wouldst thou haply say—
Carr.The Antichrist's, who King of Scotland's called,
Or Charles the Second!
Cromwell. Ah! my son! my son!
Atrocious ribaldry! To drink that health
Was drinking to my death! And laughter, song,
And merrymaking—no touch of remorse!
Mad parricide! on thy pale brow, one day,
Will "Cain" be writ, or "Sardanapalus"?
Carr.Both.
[Enter Thurloe. He goes to Cromwell with an air of mystery.
Thurloe [in an undertone.
Richard Willis is below, my lord.
Cromwell.Sir Richard Willis!
[Aside.] He'll explain all this.
[To Thurloe.] I go.
These gentlemen about your door,
May they come in?
Cromwell. Yes, since I needs must go.
[Aside.] I must be calm; 'tis meet that in this place
I seem untroubled. If my heart's of flesh,
Then brazen be my brow.
My brother, thanks!
Be one of us. Cromwell will always place
Carr before all the rest. For your desires
My power will know no bounds.
[Exit with Thurloe. All bow, except Carr.
Carr [alone at the front of the stage.
And thus it is
That he doth abdicate, the damned usurper!
You saw how courteously his Highness spoke
With yonder fellow!
Carr [still alone at the front of the stage.] Ah! what villainy!
Lenthall.He deigned to smile on him.
Carr. He dares to flout met
Col. Jephson.Such honour!
Carr. Such a gibe! How be revenged!
Waller.He is some favourite.
Carr. Thus I'm his dupe,
Like all the rest! Not even I escape
The tyrant's yoke!
Murray. He has whate'er he wills!
Carr.Cromwell would take from me my only treasure—
My virtue! I, Nebuchadnezzar serve!
I, in his court! what! I, in Zion's sight,
E'en as the linen once as white as snow
The which the Temple traffickers have stained
With saffron, indigo, or purple,—I
To Abednego change my name of Carr!
Murray [scrutinizing Carr.]In his demeanour I remark, methinks,
A certain savour of nobility.
We judged him ill at first.
Carr. Am I a slave?
For what does Cromwell take me?
Lenthall [to Sir William Murray.
He's a man
Of influence.
Murray. A man of quality
Past doubt. His costume none the less—
Carr [still standing by himself.] The traitor!
Lenthall [aside.]The friendship that my lord displays for him
Should be of use, perchance, to them for whom
He vouchsafes a petition to endorse.
If he'd serve me!—He hath the master's ear.
[He approaches Carr with profuse reverences.
My lord, would you, with rare benevolence,
Vouchsafe to say to all whom you may know,
In my behalf, a worthy citizen,
One of those words you say so pithily?
I have a valid claim to be made peer,
I'm Master of the Rolls, and—
Carr [staring at him in amazement.] I have hung
My harp upon the willow; I sing not
My country's songs to them of Babylon
Who have invaded us.
Serg. Maynard [aside.] To our prayers—
Lenthall [to Maynard, in a discouraged tone.
He bears us all ill-will!
Murray [forcing his way to the front.
How now! His Grace
But one will favour. Be my advocate,
My lord! for since he's to be made a king,
I can, methinks, be useful to his Highness.
I am a noble Scotsman. In my youth
Incomparable favour I enjoyed
With Charles the Prince of Wales. Whene'er it chanced
That to some evil spirit giving way
His Royal Highness lapsed, to me befell
The privilege unique and memorable
Of suffering the lash the Prince had earned.
Carr [with restrained indignation.
Base sycophant! thus, twice detestable,
He was with Stuart vile, and is with Cromwell!
Like Mephiboseth, he limps with either leg.
Waller [offering Carr a paper.
My name is Waller. Dithyrambs I've writ
Anent the galleys from the Spaniard ta'en.
Carr [between his teeth.]Gold is thy inspiration and reward,
Thou worshipper of Noll!
Col. Jephson [to Carr.] Prithee, my lord,
Recall my name unto his Highness' mind.—
'Tis Colonel Jephson. My good mother was
A countess. I would fain be made a peer.
Serg. Maynard [to Carr.]Tell the Protector what for his behoof
I cast aside.—George Cony, forced to pay
Illegal taxes, hotly me besought
To be his advocate. But I refused,
Although my table is but ill-supplied.
Carr [aside.]In all this rhodomontade I descry
The aspic's venom and the dragon's gall.
Murray [to Carr.] I prithee, thy endorsement at the foot
Of my memorial!
Carr [roughly.] To sign thy scrawl
Go bid Beelzebub!
Murray. My lord is wroth!
[To the others.]You all do deafen him!
Waller [to Carr.] I seek a place—
Carr.In Bedlam!
Col. Grace [laughing.] For a poet 'tis most meet.
[To Carr.]Support my plea!
Carr. Nay, Noah in the Ark
Had no more animals than these!
Col. Jephson. My lord,
'Twas I who first proposed in Parliament
That Oliver be king.
Murray. Two words, my lord—
Carr [in a frenzy.]"My lord! my lord!" confusion of strange tongues!
The clash of fetters is a pleasing sound
Beside this clamour! To these priests of Baal
I much prefer a gaoler, by my faith—
And London Tower to the Tower of Babel.
To prison I return. May Israel
Confound them all!
[He forces his way through the crowd, and exit.
Scene 12.—The Same, excepting Carr; later, Thurloe.
Murray.What says he of the Towers of London and
Of Babel?
Serg. Maynard. My lord's friend declares aloud
That he'll return to prison!
Waller. It is clear
That he is mad!
Lenthall. What reason doth impel
His Highness to entreat so affably
This old demoniac?
[Enter Thurloe.
Thurloe [saluting.] I come, my friends,
By the Protector's well-advised commands.
His Highness is unable to receive.
Col. Jephson [angrily.
Cromwell receives that knave, and him alone!
Scene 13.—Cromwell, Sir Richard Willis.
Cromwell [turning to the open door.
They're gone.—Come you, and as it much imports
You be not seen, go out by this same door.
I may not doubt! My Richard! my first-born!
Willis.He drank the King Charles Stuart's health; and all
The arch-conspirators, your deadly foes,
Esteemed him over-bold.
Cromwell. Ungrateful son!
When even to the throne I do upraise
His destiny!—Repeat to me once more
The Puritans, their names.
Willis. There's Lambert, first.
Cromwell [with a disdainful laugh.
Lambert! 'tis that that most doth anger me,
That such a daring plot should give itself
So cowardly a leader! Even less
To genius than to chance is empire due.
What a Vitellius for emperor!
The common herd, with its irrev'rent hands
Doth ever cast a blot on great ideas.
Rome for its standard had a truss of hay.
[To Willis.]Continue.
Willis. Ludlow,
Cromwell. There's a worthy man,
Who'll not go far. Brute, and not Brutus, he.
Willis.Then Syndercomb—Barebones—
[As Willis speaks Cromwell follows him on a list that he holds in his hand.
Cromwell. If memory
Serves me aright, my own upholsterer.—
The fool!
Willis.And Joyce—
Cromwell. A clown!
Willis. And Overton.
Cromwell.A bel esprit!
Willis. And Harrison.
Cromwell. A thief!
Willis.Wildman.
Cromwell. A crack-brained idiot, once caught
Dictating to his valet sounding words
'Gainst me.—But this is arrant comedy!
Willis.One Carr.
Cromwell. I know.
Willis. Garland and Plinlimmon.
Cromwell.What! he?
Willis. And Barkstead, one of those who slew
The King!
Cromwell [as if suddenly awakened.
To whom speak you?
Willis [bowing low, in much perturbation.
O, pardon, Sire!
In heaven's name! A habit of long use,
Acquired in service of the other race.
That phrase cannot impair your majesty.
Cromwell [aside.]His flattery doth aggravate the blow.
The bungling fool!
[Aloud.] Enough.
[Pointing to the list.] And are these all
The Puritans?
Willis. Yes, Sire.
Cromwell [aside.] An inquiry
I'll hold.
[to Willis.] The leaders of the Cavaliers?
Willis.Your kindness will permit me to withhold
Their names. They all are one-time friends of mine
Whom it would pain me sorely to betray;
And I am watching them; in any case
They'll not escape.
Cromwell. 'Tis well! 'tis very well!
[Aside.
All cowards have their scruples.
[Aloud.] By all means
Respect your comrades' secret.
[Aside.] In good sooth
I know their names. What different types of men
Supplied these lists: Willis, the Puritans,
And Carr, the Royalists!
Willis. Moreover, Sire,
For them you will remit the penalty
Of death; for otherwise, upon my honour, I
Should bear too great a burden of remorse.
Cromwell [aside.]Upon his honour!
Willis. I do render them
A priceless service, of a surety;
For clemency I thus invoke for them
Before the fact; their plot I do unmask;
It moves my pity; and 'tis—friendship true
That leads me to betray them to you, Sire.
Cromwell.Your wage henceforth will be two hundred pounds.
[Between his teeth.
The price of thy friends' blood thou dost betray!
Thou tiger-cat! who, after fawning, rends,
Most skilled in selling lives with kindliness!
Willis [who hears only the last word.
Ah, yes, with kindliness!
Here is the draft.
Willis [bowing as he takes it.
Drawn as before upon the secret fund?
Cromwell [with an affirmative gesture.
Stay! Saw you not the Stuart's laureate,
One Davenant? He hath of late arrived
From Germany.
Willis. Who? Davenant? No, Sire.
Cromwell.A letter to Lord Ormond he doth bring—
From someone.
Willis. I saw nought to Ormond given,
Although I was alert and vigilant.
I think that he was not among the plotters.
Cromwell [aside.]A useless tool! But I myself will see
This Davenant.
Scene 14.—Cromwell, Sir Richard Willis, Lord Rochester.
Rochester.Well, here am I!—Let me rehearse my rôle.
In sooth one must be doubly Puritan,
When one to Cromwell speaks, by Milton sent.
'Tis Davenant to whom I owe the chance.
Thanks to his cozenage of Milton, I
Shall be Noll's chaplain ere an hour's past.
If Satan flies away with me to-day,
He'll fly away with Cromwell's almoner—
No less, by heav'n!—Come, Wilmot, now begin
The tragi-comedy! In the wolfs maw
Place thy presumptuous head, and for thy King,
Without repining, wear that headgear strange;
Frances thou'lt see once more!
But who are these?
Willis [to Cromwell.]'Tis by a Swedish brig the gold is sent;
And in his letter Hyde, the Chancellor,
Advises me that for the enterprise,
A Jew doth likewise proffer credit.
Rochester. What!
They talk of correspondence with Lord Hyde!
Can it be true?
Cromwell [to Willis.] Return you to the Tower
Forthwith, that no suspicion be aroused.
Rochester [still at the back of the stage.
All this bewilders me!
Willis [to Cromwell.] His Majesty
Knows my profound devotion.
Rochester [still unnoticed.] Majesty!
Devotion! Why, these men are Cavaliers!
Cromwell [to Willis, walking toward the door.
Above all things, look to the sentinels!
If any one should see us, our success
Would be endangered.
[Exeunt Cromwell and Willis.
Rochester [alone; he comes forward to the front of the stage.] I should say as much!
I' faith, King Charles has most imprudent friends.
In this place to converse of our affairs!
The deuce! Conspire 'neath Cromwell's very roof!
'Tis most incredible audacity!
Suppose that other ears than mine had heard!
[Looking into the gallery.
But one of them returns. To frighten him
Is most important; let him realize
How recklessly he doth expose himself.
[He conceals himself behind one of the pillars.—Enter Cromwell.
Scene 15.—Lord Rochester, Cromwell.
Cromwell [he does not see Rochester.
Alas! man doth propose and God dispose.
I thought that I was safe in port, at peace,
Well sheltered from the waves, and here am I,
Cast suddenly into a sea of plots!
Once more I throw the dice—my head the stake!
But, courage! this last tempest I'll defy,
And strike a blow to freeze their very blood
With terror! shatter all who still resist!
The people need a king.
Rochester. Now by my faith,
This is, indeed, an ardent royalist.
Cromwell. I'll take them in a net; I'll track them down;
Their feet entangle in an unseen mesh.
I'll blind them, and I'll watch; they'll not escape.
Rochester.At one stroke Cromwell and his family
He doth proscribe.
Cromwell. Let them all die!
Rochester. What! all?
Oh! mercy for his daughter!
Cromwell [in a melancholy reverie.] Cromwell, say,
What wouldst thou? Is't a throne? Wherefore a throne?
Is thy name Stuart, or Plantagenet,
Or Bourbon? Art thou of that race of men,
Who, from their birth, thanks to their ancestors,
Have viewed the whole world with a master's eye?
What sceptre does not break beneath thy weight,
O fortune-favoured soldier? And what crown
Is made to fit thy amplitude of brow?
Thou, King, the child of chance! Posterity
Would count thy reign 'mongst fortune's accidents!—
Thy family—a dynasty!
Rochester. 'Tis plain
He's for the Stuarts!
Cromwell. King of Parliament!
For stepping-stones the bodies of thy victims!
Is't thus that one ascends a lawful throne?
What! Cromwell, having marched so long and far,
Art thou not weary? Has the sceptre, pray,
Some hidden charm?—Reflect.—The universe
Reposes 'neath thy sway; 'tis in thy hand,
And 'tis of small account. Thy fortune's car,
Whereon thy claims are based, rolls on apace,
And splashes earthly kings with royal blood!
Mighty in peace, victorious in war.
And all is emptiness without the throne!
Paltry ambition!
Rochester. How he doth berate
Poor Cromwell!
Cromwell. Well, and if thou hadst this thing,
This throne of England and ten others, too?
What then? What wouldst thou do with it. Whereon
Would thy desires fall? Must not man have
An end in life? Thou guilty fool!
Rochester. Ah! Cromwell!
If thou shouldst hear him!
Cromwell. What's a throne, in truth?
A few poor boards, a stool beneath a daïs,
Whereon the gaping multitude doth gaze,
Changing their name according to the stuff
That covers them. If velvet, 'tis a throne;
If a black cloth, a scaffold!
Rochester. Learned man!
Cromwell. And are these things, Cromwell, what thou'ldst have?
The scaffold!—Ah! with horror the mere word
My soul doth fill. My head is burning hot.
I'll open yonder window.
[He walks toward King Charles's window.
The cool air
And sunshine will dispel my painful thoughts.
Rochester.He stands not upon ceremony! Faith,
'Twould seem he is at home.
Cromwell. 'Tis rarely opened.
The lock is rusty. With the Stuart blood
The window's marred. Ay, thence he took his flight
Toward heaven! It would ope more readily,
Perchance, if I were king!
Rochester. A cool conceit!
Cromwell.If every crime must expiated be,
Then, Cromwell, tremble! 'Twas an impious deed.
A nobler brow ne'er graced the royal seat.
A good man and a just was Charles the First
Rochester.A loyal subject!
Cromwell. How could I forestall
That murd'rous frenzy? Spared I aught of prayers,
Of vigils and of fasts to save the victim?
But his decree of death was signed in heav'n.
Rochester.By Cromwell, too, who falsified the scales
And acted silently, while thou didst pray,
O pure and spotless man!
Cromwell [in profound distress.] Full many a time
These palace walls have seen me moan the fate
Of England's best!
Rochester [wiping away a tear.
Dear man! he moveth me
To tears.
Cromwell.What dire remorse that august head
Hath caused me!
Rochester. Be not to thyself unjust!
Regret, I understand; but why remorse?
Cromwell [with his eyes on the ground.
What think they of us, they who've gone before?
Rochester. Poor fellow! grief doth discompose his brain.
Cromwell.How many unknown ills a crime reveals!
How many times, to give thee back thy life,
I would have given all my blood, O Charles!
Rochester.He speaks too loud. I' faith, he'll be surprised,
And that were pity! I full homage do
To his fair sentiments beneath my breath,
But to express them openly the place
Is but ill-chosen. I will frighten him.
[He leaves his hiding-place and suddenly walks toward Cromwell.
My friend, what do you here?
Cromwell [surprised, eyeing him from head to foot.
What says the knave?
Rochester.I speak to you.
[Aside.] What said he? Was it knave?
I must, then, bear the aspect of a saint.
So much the better! Let me play my part.
[Aloud, and with a knowing air.
My good man, know you where you are?
Cromwell. And thou,
Know'st thou to whom thou speakest?
Rochester. By my faith!—
[Aside.]God's death! I must not swear!
[Aloud.] I know to whom
I speak.
Cromwell [aside.] Can he a paid assassin be,
In Charles's service?
[He draws a pistol from his breast and points it at Rochester.
[Aloud.]Varlet, come not near!
Rochester [aside.] The devil! prudence. These conspirators
Are armed, all, to the teeth! In Cromwell's cause
I must not with a comrade measure swords.
[Aloud.]Fair sir, I have no wish to ruin you.
Cromwell [in amazement, disdainfully.
Thou sayest?
Rochester. On the contrary, I come
To give you counsel: in this place, your speech
Is far too contumacious.
Cromwell. Mine?
Rochester. Ay, yours.
Go hence, or I shall summon aid.
Cromwell [aside.] He's mad.
[Aloud.]What moves thee to address me in this wise?
Rochester.Reflect that you're 'neath the Protector's roof.
Cromwell.Who art thou, pray?
Rochester. His lowliest servitor,
His chaplain.
Cromwell [hotly.] Thou dost lie with strange assurance.
My chaplain, thou?
Rochester [in dire alarm, aside.] 'Tis Cromwell! O my God!
What do I hear? 'Tis Cromwell! There must be
A traitor 'mongst us!
Cromwell.Thou should'st drag thyself
Before me on thy knees, thou rank impostor!
Rochester.Pardon, my lord—your Highness—
[Aside.] Does one say
Your Highness or your Grace?
[Aloud.] Pray pardon me.
My error comes from all too hot a zeal
Against your foes. Words indistinctly heard—
Cromwell.But why this falsehood?
Rochester. 'Twas a dream, whereof
My deep devotion did anticipate
The sure fulfilment. I presume to seek
The post of chaplain in your household, Sire.
Cromwell.Art thou a learned doctor in the faith?
Thy name?
Rochester [aside.] God's death! my cursed memory!
What saint's name is't I bear?
[Aloud.] Unknown to fame—
Cromwell.Thy name?—The spring may flow from the deep pit.
Rochester.My lord, this letter tells you who I am.
Cromwell.From whom?
Rochester. John Milton.
Cromwell [opening the letter.] A most worthy man!
'Tis pity he is blind!
[He reads a few lines.
And so thy name
Is Obededom?
Rochester [bowing, aside.] Gadzooks! what a name!
[Aloud.]My lord hath said it.—
[Aside.] Obed—Obededom!
Ah! Davenant, thou knave, to give to me
A name to make the devil fly! a name
One can't pronounce without a sad grimace!
Cromwell [refolding the letter.
A noble name! For Obededom, he
Of Geth, received the Ark into his house.
Be worthy of that memorable name.
Rochester [aside.]Here goes for Obededom!
Cromwell. He who sponsors you,
Is of our Saints, the Council's clerk, John Milton.
[Aside.]He seems devoted to me, and, in truth,
His very zeal was surest proof thereof.
[Aloud.]But put you to the proof I must and will,
And question you at length touching the faith,
Ere making you my chaplain.
Rochester [bowing.] So be it.
[Aside.]This is the parlous moment!
Cromwell. List to me.
In what month did King Solomon begin his temple?
Rochester.In Zio, second of the sacred year.
Cromwell.And when complete it?
Rochester. In the month of Bul.
Cromwell.Terah three children had. And where?
Rochester. In Ur,
Of the Chaldeans.
Cromwell. Who are they who will
Regenerate the vitiated earth?
Rochester.The saints, who'll reign here a full thousand years.
Cromwell.By whom are holy duties best performed?
Rochester.Every believer hath within himself
Grace all sufficient. Would he preach the word,
Why let him in the pulpit but appear,
And learn, his thirst assuaged at Carmel's spring,
To say, instead of A, B, C, Aleph,
Beth, Ghimel.
Cromwell. 'Tis well said. Proceed unhindered.
Rochester [enthusiastically.]The Lord in spirit doth reveal himself
To all. One may, although not minister,
Or priest, or doctor, from on high receive
The vivifying ray—
[Aside.] A sun-stroke, it may be.
[Aloud.]Without faith man but crawls upon the earth.
But watch, your mind enlighten with the lamp.
The mind's a temple, every man a priest.
Your talents to the common hearthstone bring;
The prophets preached in all the public squares,
The holy temple's windows were askew.
[Aside.]O Obededom Wilmot, may thou hang,
If I do understand a word I've said!
Cromwell [aside.]An Anabaptist he.—In logic strong;
But in reality his doctrine is
Most demagogical.
Rochester [continuing with animation.
The gift of tongues
Doth come to him who often speaks, and much.
[Aside.]I am a living proof!
[Aloud.]By vigils, prayers
And meditation, one becomes a Levite.
Then one may overtake, though fast he walks,
Satan, who, notwithstanding his club-foot,
In but one day, to Beth-Marcaboth goes
From Beth-Lebaoth.
[Aside.]This goes well, i' faith!
I will arouse him e'en to ecstasy.
Cromwell [checking him.]Enough.—Upon false bases you erect
Your edifice. But we'll recur thereto.
What are the impure beasts?
Rochester. The herons all,
The ostrich, larus, ibis, from the Ark
Excluded, and the bittern,
[Aside.]And the Cromwell—
[Aloud.]And everything that doth both fly and walk.
Cromwell.And those whereof we are allowed to eat?
Rochester.Altacus, buchus, ophiomachus.
Cromwell.But you forget the locust.
Rochester [aside.] Ah! the deuce!
But who would put such vermin in his paunch?
Cromwell.Nor do you say what 'tis most meet to know:
"Who touches a dead body doth remain
Impure till evening."
[Aside.] But it matters not
He is most learned! and one may well not have
Ideas so strict as mine on such concerns.
[Aloud.]One last word. To conform to Holy Writ,
Must one his hair wear long or short?
Rochester [with assurance.] Oh! short,
Quite short!
[Aside.]Thou Roundhead, make the most of that!
Cromwell.Which leads you to conclude?
Rochester [hastily.] This hair of ours
Is vanity! For Absalom was hanged
By his long hair.
Cromwell. But Samson ceased to live
When he was shorn.
Rochester [aside, biting his lips.] The devil! fairly caught!
Cromwell.So far as may be, to elucidate
So grave a point, I go to fetch my Bible. [Exit
Scene 16.—Lord Rochester, alone.
Rochester.Go to! that skirmish I sustained not ill.
Though Puritan he be, the knave's no fool.
I fear, in truth—St. Paul! who can he be,
This traitor who is in the confidence
Of Cromwell and of Hyde the Chancellor?—
The villain!—But the old devil I deceived!
How he does question one in pulpit-phrase!
And scan one with his hypocritic eye!
[Looking himself over.
'Tis well for me I have an evil look.
I have the aspect of a very villain,
A true king-killer! In good sooth, at first
He took me for a thief, I do believe!
[He laughs.]This preaching man-of-war, this patriarch-
Brigand, lest he be taken unawares,
Goes armed from head to foot, in his own palace,
With pious riddles and good pistols, too.
Thus can he comfort you in either-wise.
[Enter Richard Cromwell.
Scene 17.—Lord Rochester, Richard Cromwell.
Rochester [as he sees Richard coming toward him.
What! Richard Cromwell! I must disappear!
If he should know me, 'ware the rope or stake!
Good Obededom soon would lose his Greek!
Richard [scrutinizing Rochester.]Methinks that somewhere I have seen that face.
Rochester [aside, counterfeiting Puritan gravity.
The bear hath winded the pretended corpse.
Richard.'Tis past all doubt!
Rochester [aside.] An evil omen that!
Richard [still examining him.]He's nothing less than Puritan divine.
He drank this morning with our Cavaliers.
I have a shrewd suspicion who he is,
The scoundrel!
Rochester [aside.] Now, a murrain on thy head!
No more disastrous meeting have I known
Since, with my Lady Seymour tête-à-tête,
I to her fifty summers talked of love!
Richard [aside.]But how distrust a man with whom one drinks
From the same glass?
Rochester [aside.] Ah! what a savage glance!
Richard [aside.]'Tis some informer in my father's pay,
Who'll make against me a malign report.
In the same tavern he will say I drank
With hot opponents of the ruling power.
'Tis in my father's eyes a heinous crime;
It is high treason; 'tis lèse-majesté!
I'll try to win him, and the storm avert.
[He fumbles in his pocket.
I have a few gold nobles in my purse.
Rochester [observing his act, aside.
He's making ready to attack me.—Ah!
And has he pistols, too?
[He steps back in some anxiety.
Richard [aside.] An they be paid,
What do these varlets care?
Rochester [perturbed.]My lord, may heaven have you in its keeping!
[Aside.]With what a hellish smile he eyes his prey!
[Aloud.]Of the church militant an humble limb
Am I. I will pray God in your behalf.
Richard.I saw you otherwhere not praying, no,
But swearing lustily.
Rochester [hastily.] You err, my lord!
I, swear?
Richard. Ay! by St. George, and by St. Paul!
Rochester.What! I?
Richard. Swear that you did not swear.
Rochester. What! I?
Richard.Come, reverend sir, be frank upon this point.
Rochester [aside.]The devil!
Richard. No, you are not what you seem.
'Neath a saint's mask, you hide a traitor's eye.
Rochester [in consternation, aside.
I'm lost.
[Aloud.] My lord—
Richard. Is't true?
Rochester [aside.] A parlous plight!
Richard.I know all.—But betray me not.
Rochester [surprised, aside.] How now!
I was about to make the same request.
What says he?
Richard. I by nature wayward am.
I have friends everywhere; and though, like you,
A Puritan, I drank with Cavaliers.
How will it profit you to tell my father
That in that den his son caroused with them,
And for a little wine, the which, in truth,
I drank but ill, cause me to be expelled
E'en as a scapegoat from the sect?
Rochester [aside.] I'm saved!
Richard.I know my father is, in everything,
Alert to know whatever's said and done.
But had our meeting aught to do with plots?
For you, my friend, are numbered 'mongst his spies.
I divine all!
Rochester [aside.] He doth in truth divine!
My skill in this saint's rôle is past compare!
Its spirit I so thoroughly have grasped,
One takes me for a spy, one for a thief!
[Aloud, bowing.]My lord, your Grace doth too much honour me!
Richard.Spare me the wrath of my irascible
And captious father. Promise me, my friend,—
I am with golden nobles well supplied,—
That you to the Protector will say nought
Of what you saw this morning.
Rochester. Willingly.
Richard [offering him a purse embroidered with his arms.
See, here's my purse; for not ingrate am I.
Rochester [taking it, after a moment's hesitation; aside.
Bah! 'tis a resource! and, when one conspires,
One needs a well-lined purse, in very truth.
Moreover, greed comports with my disguise.
[Aloud.]My lord is generous—
Richard. 'Tis well, 'tis well!
Pray take it and go drink.
Rochester [aside.] Upon my word!
This ending is far better than I feared.
Richard.My friend, how much canst earn at this thy trade,
Besides the gallows?
Rochester. A most learned divine—
Richard.Nay, as a spy?
Rochester. My lord doth flatter me!
Richard.In thy employ a philosophic mind
Is most essential. Wherefore blush?
Rochester. My lord!
Scene 18.—The Same; Cromwell.
Cromwell [a Bible, with emblazoned covers, in his hand.
List, Master Obededom, to this verse
On Dabir, King of Edom—
[He spies his son.] Ah!
[To Rochester.] Begone!
Rochester [aside.
What hath disturbed him! How morose he is!
The tyrant doth succeed the pedagogue! [Exit.
Scene 19.—Richard Cromwell, Cromwell.
Richard [bowing low.
Father.—But whence this unforeseen chagrin?
What is this cloud that overspreads your brow,
On whom is like to fall the thunderbolt
That it doth harbour, and whose threatening gleam
Lurks in your eyes? What irks you? What's been done?
Tell me, what fear you? 'Midst the joy of all,
What can thus sadden you, my lord and father?
To-morrow the republic dies,—goes hence
To join the phantoms of the former kings,
And doth to you bequeath their kingdoms three;
To-morrow on the throne you grow more great;
To-morrow, in Westminster heralding
Your undisputed title to the throne,
And casting at your rivals' feet the glove
Of England, England's doughty champion,
Amid the cannon's roar and pealing bells,
Will in the name of Oliver the King
Defy the world. What lack you? London, England,
Europe, your kindred, all mankind bows down,
Responsive to your will. And if I dared
To name myself, my lord and father, I
Have thought for nothing save your present health,
Your life and welfare—
Cromwell [who has not taken his eyes from his face.
What's the news, my son,
Of King Charles Stuart?
Richard [thunderstruck.] Sir!
Cromwell. Another time,
More wisely choose your boon-companions.
Richard.May I be cut in pieces and be deemed
More worthless than the pavements, good my lord,
If—
Cromwell [interrupting him.
Do they serve good wine at the Three Cranes?
Richard [aside.]Ah! the damned spy had told him all before!
[Aloud.]I swear to you, my lord—
Cromwell. You seem confused.
Is it a sin, being in merry mood,
To meet some friends about a jug of wine?
I doubt not that you drank my health, my son?
Richard [aside.]Ay, there's the rub! the thrice accursèd toast
To Charles.
[Aloud.] My lord, that meeting, on my soul,
And on the name I bear, most harmless was.
Cromwell [in a voice of thunder.
You are a most abandoned knave! My son
With Cavaliers drank his share of my blood,
This morning at a hellish festival!
Richard.Father!
Cromwell. What! drink with pagans I abhor,
To Charles's health!—And on a fast-day, too!
Richard.I swear, my lord, that I knew nought of that.
Cromwell.Keep for thy Tyrian King thy oaths profane!
Blazon not, traitor, 'neath my very eyes,
Thy parricide, made worse by blasphemy!
Ah! 'twas a fatal wine that snarled thy wits!
'Twas poison thou didst drink to the King's health.
My vengeance hovered, silent, o'er thy crime;
Although my son, my victim thou shalt be.
The tree will set the torch unto itself,
To burn its fruit. [Exit
Scene 20.—Richard Cromwell, alone.
Richard. For one poor glass of wine,
A mighty pother, truly. But to drink
On a fast-day!—why, that is sacrilege.
Traitor, blasphemer, parricide—what else?
'Twere better far, though exquisite the feast,
To fast with saints, i' faith, than drink with madmen!
That is a truth that never till this day
Did my shrewd wit suspect. My father is
Beside himself.
[Enter Lord Rochester.
Scene 21.—Richard Cromwell, Lord Rochester.
Rochester [aside.] Richard seems ill at ease.
Richard [spying Rochester as he passes across the back of the stage.
Ah! 'tis my spy! The villain had told all.
I'll track him as he were a Scottish fox.
[He walks toward Rochester with a threatening air.
Traitor, I meet thee once again!
Rochester [aside.] The deuce!
A fresh attack! But we had made our peace.
[Aloud.
What have I done, my lord, to give offence?
Richard.I verily believe that he doth flout me!
Think'st thou again to cloak thy perfidy?
I've seen my father, villain! He knows all!
[Seeing that Rochester is dumbfounded and speechless.
Consider what reply thou'lt make to me.
Rochester [aside.
Damnation! it is true that one of us
Serves as a spy to Cromwell! Can it be
That he knows who I am?
Richard. Methinks he laughs
In secret.
Rochester.Ah! my lord—
Richard. Pray dost thou think
That thou'lt escape me twice? Thy treachery
Is all laid bare. My father's in a rage.
Rochester.Yes, I am recognized, beyond a doubt
Go to! we'll face the tempest gallantly.
Richard.Coward!
Rochester [aside.] 'Tis time to say good-bye to ruse
And summon courage.
[Aloud.] Master Richard Cromwell,
Since you know who I am, you can unshamed
Honour me with a duel. Each of us
Owes to the other satisfaction.
Choose you the hour, place and weapons; I
Leave all to you. A worthy champion
Am I, methinks.
Richard. What! Richard Cromwell fight
A duel with a spy!
Rochester [aside.] Still in the dark!
The insult comforts me.
Richard. 'Neath thy snake's skin,
Thy churchly gown, of duels dost thou prate?
In heaven's name, dost deem thyself less vile
Than a dog Jew? Do thyself justice, knave!
Rochester [aside.]He's monstrous civil!
Richard. When I'd paid thee well,
Betray me secretly! Take with both hands,
And shamelessly sell him who'd purchased thee!
Rochester [aside.]What does he mean?
Richard. At least, give back my gold!
Rochester [aside.]Satan! I have already sent the purse
To my Lord Ormond.
Richard. Wilt restore my gold,
Thou villain?
Rochester [aside.] What am I to do?
[Aloud.] The sum
Was trifling—
Richard. Was it so? It was too small!
Upon thy flesh and bones thou'lt pay me for't!
[He draws his sword.
If I have not my gold, with my good sword,
I'll have what Satan gave thee for a soul!
[He rushes at Rochester with uplifted sword.
My purse, I say!
Rochester [recoiling.]By heav'n, he'll murder me!
That cursèd purse!
Earl of Carlisle. In the Protector's name, give me your sword,
Good Master Richard Cromwell.
Richard [handing the Earl his sword.]You have come
Too soon; in punishing a trait'rous knave
'Twas occupied.
God rescues Eleazar from the hands
Of King Antiochus!
Carlisle [to Richard.] To your apartments
I beg your Honour to betake yourself;
I 'm bid to place two archers at the door.
Richard [to Rochester.
'Tis thou who by thy treachery hast brought
Me to this pass!
Rochester [aside.] My wits have gone astray!
'Tis I who cause the Lord Protector's son
To be imprisoned! And from the fierce wrath
Of Cromwell's son, 'tis Cromwell rescues me!
Nathless, against the father I conspire,
And I have done no wrong unto the son.
Richard.Wilt thou affront me with thy challenges
Again, thou coward?
[To Lord Carlisle.] Do not trust this man;
He has two faces. I would not repine
Could I have paid him for his dastard words
As I was fain to do. The double face
Should have four buffets.
[Exit Richard, surrounded by the halberdiers.
Rochester [aside.] This is what it means
To wear a Roundhead mask!
Scene 23.—Earl of Carlisle, Lord Rochester, Thurloe.
Thurloe [to Rochester.
My lord, esteeming much your weighty speech,
Doth name you chaplain to his household, sir.
At morn and even you will offer prayer;
You'll preach a sermon to his bodyguard;
You'll bless the food wherewith his table's served,
And the hippocras his Highness drinks at night.
Rochester [bowing, aside.
Good! 'tis the end we seek.
Thurloe. Such are your duties.
Rochester [aside.]Ah! Wilmot pray for Cromwell! 'tis past price!
A hoary devil blest by a young imp!
Thurloe [to Lord Carlisle, handing him a document.
To-morrow a conspiracy breaks out
At Westminster, my lord.
Rochester [aside.] They know not all!
Thurloe [still addressing Carlisle.
Arrest Lord Rochester.
Rochester [aside.] But find him first!
Thurloe.And Ormond—
Rochester [aside.] Seasonably warned by me,
Ormond ere this has changed abode and name.
Thurloe.As for the rest, they must be closely watched,
Unsought, they'll throw themselves into our nets.
[Exeunt Thurloe and Lord Carlisle.
Scene 23.—Lord Rochester, alone.
Rochester.Their schemes will be defeated by our ruse.
Cromwell will be surprised by us to-night.
Tho' half betrayed, I'll follow out our plan,
And for the Stuarts and my native land,
Defy, in this absurd yet parlous rôle,
Pistols and swords and wordy arguments
Upon the Bible. Clad in fox's skin
Among the wolves, I'll play the casual saint,
Th' impromptu chaplain, equally prepared
For questioning or fighting, as they will,
Sometimes Ezekiel, sometimes Scaramouche!