Where Cromwell comes; I will once more assail him,

And be yourselves the witness of his answer.-
Good Cromwell, welcome! And let my petition,
Join'd with these lords, prevail upon your pity;
Let Charles have life: is that so hard a boon?
In lieu of three fair kingdoms, give him life.
Crom. Why this address to me? Am I the
parliament?

'Tis they who justly call him to account,
And form this high tribunal.
Jux. Justly, Cromwell!

Crom. Ay, good bishop, justly!

I cry your mercy. By the good old cause!
It is but gratitude in you to plead :
Episcopacy was the rock he split on;
And he has ventured fairly for your lawn:
How learnedly did he uphold your cause,
When Henderson inveigh'd against your mitres !
Did he not write full nobly? Say'st thou, bishop?
Jur. His conscience prompted him to what
he did;

His zeal for us can never be forgotten.

Crom. His conscience! you say true-his con-
science did it;

He would have stretch'd to arbitrary sway,
And swallow'd down her liberties and laws:
His conscience would have soon digested them.

Fair. Let us not into insult turn our power; Good fortune is not wedded to our arms: Conquest, like a young maiden with her lover, If roughly treated, turns her smiles to frowns, And hates where once she lov'd.

Crom. I stand corrected.

To me then you apply in Charles's favour,
And wait my answer, which is briefly thus;
I am but one, and (as the weaker must)
Flow in the current of majority:
My single voice, be it against or for,
Avails him little: if the rest incline
To think of mercy and of Charles together,
'Tis fairly done, and e'en to Cromwell's wish:
This is the sum of all I can deliver—
Fairfax, I have matter for your private ear.
Jur. We humbly take our leaves.
Fair. My lords, farewell!

[Exeunt JUX. RICH. and L. FAIR. Crom. How can you waste your time on trash like this?

Were Fairfax' honour to be doubted, this might

make

The child suspicion grow to certainty;

But we are confident in you: your actions speak.
Yet, Fairfax, do not let thy noble eye
Catch the contagion of weak-judging pity,
And sympathize with beggars. To my purpose:
The council, at whose head your wisdom sits,
Weighing some depositions 'gainst the king,
Would have your judgment's sanction: they re-
quest

Your presence there; I bear their will with plea

sure.

Fair. It is not needed, sir.
As to the purpose of their meeting, say,
If they incline to mercy, let their charge
Be weaker than it is: but if to rigour,
They have, I fear, too much of that already:
Let them (if friendly Fairfax may advise)
Judge with that candour they expect of Heaven.
Crom. You will not go then?
Fair. Say I cannot go.

My reason pleads against so bad a deed,
And inclination holds me; nay, yet more,
A secret impulse strikes upon my soul,
Which, though I had the will, would yet detain

thee,

And to retain thee part with pomp and titles?
To buy thy presence, the gold-watching miser
Will pour his bags of mouldy treasure out,
And grow at once a prodigal. The wretch,
Clad with disease and poverty's thin coat,
Yet holds thee fast, though painful company.
Oh, life! thou universal wish, what art thou?-
Thou'rt but a day--a few uneasy hours:
Thy morn is greeted by the flocks and herds;
And every bird that flatters with its note,
Salutes thy rising sun: thy noon approaching,

My dearest queen!

I have been summing up the amount of life,
But found no value in it, till you came.
Queen. Do not perplex yourself with thoughts
like those:

Ill-fortune at the worst, returns to better;
At least we think so, as it grows familiar.
King. No, I was only arming for the worst.
I have try'd the temper of my inmost soul,
And find it ready now for all encounters.
Death cannot shake it.

Queen. Do not talk of death:

The apprehension shakes my tender heart;
Ages of love, I hope, are yet to come,
Ere that black hour arrives: such chilling thoughts
Disgrace the lodging of that noble breast.
King. What have I not to fear, thus close
confin'd,

To-morrow forc'd to trial? Will those men,
Who insolently drag me to the bar,

Stop in the middle of their purpose? No,
I must prepare for all extremities:
And (be that Power ador'd that lends me com-
fort)

I feel I am.Oh, do not weep, my queen!
Rather rejoice with me, to find my thoughts
Outstretch the painful verge of human life,
And have no wish on earth-but thee! 'Tis there
Indeed I feel: peace and resignation
Had wander'd o'er the rooms of every thought,
To shut misfortune out, but left this door
Unclos'd, through which calamity

Has enter'd in thy shape to seize my heart.

Queen. Be more yourself, my lord; let majesty Take root within thy heart, nor meanly bend Before ill-fortune's blast.

King. Oh, doubt me not!

'Tis only on the side where you are plac'd,
That I can know a fear. For Charles's self,
Let fierce encounter with the sword of danger
Bring him to bloodiest proof; and if he shrinks,
Despise him. Here, I glory in my weakness.
He is no man whom tenderness not melts,
And love so soft as thine. Let us go in.
And if kind Heaven design me longer stay
On this frail earth, I shall be only pleas'd,
Because I have thy presence here to crown me.
But if it destines my immediate end,

(Hard as it is, my queen, to part with thee),
I say, farewell, and to the blow resign,

I

That strikes me here-to make me more divine.

[Exit.

SCENE I.

Enter CROMWELL and BRADSHAW. Crom. It shall be better, Bradshaw: do not think

Desert, though lowly plac'd, escapes our eye;
To me it is as precious in the valley,
As glittering on the mountain's top:-
I praise myself that I have found thee out:
Tis not my favour, Bradshaw, but thy worth
Brings thee to light; thou dost not owe me
aught.

Now, Bradshaw, art thou our high president.
Thou hast a heart well tempered to the cause:
Thou look'st on monarchy in a true light,
And where the cause is just wilt shut out pity,
Pity!

The fool's forgiveness and the mother's tear,
The indiscretion of the unpractis'd maid,
Who through that organ hears her lover's plaint,
And listens to her ruin.

Alter'd my purpose in my own despite,
And, when I meant to level, rais'd you high.
Crom. Spoke in a hearty zeal for our good

cause.

That I have the same thoughts of thee, let this,
Thy present weighty office, speak, which should,
If Cromwell's nature bent to partiality,
Have fallen upon my kinsman, Ireton; one
Of good regard, and hearty in the service:
But Cromwell's heart points only to desert,
The north of all his purpose. Thou art ours;
And though thy modesty at first declin'd
To sit our head, and lead our counsels right,
Yet I determined not to lose thy worth,
If importunity could win it.

Brad. True, sir;

Thou art the very sinew of our cause;
The spirit of design and warmth of zeal
Glow in thy purpose. I adore that man,
Who, once resolv'd, outflies e'en expedition.
Thou art the glory of our brotherhood!

And spare not to reproach, to taunt and blacken,

T' insult their party; nay, the king himself;
Mindful that all his dignity is lost,

And he for monstrous crime brought forth to justice.

Seek an occasion too to talk with Fairfax,
And urge to him the strong necessity

Such is thy varying nature, that the waves Are not more fluctuating than thy opinions, Nor sooner are displac'd. To her is owing The wayward pity of her vassal lord.

But my haste wrongs it.

Crom. Go to, Bradshaw.

[Exit.

Such are the tools with which the wise must work:

And yet he too is wise, and might cajole
A weaker than himself, and does.

He is my proper instrument

To operate on those below my notice.

Thus by comparison are all things known;
And by such under-steps as him, and lower,
Do the ambitious mount to fame and honour.
Besides, I choose me those whom zeal inflames,
Who failing to convince you, will compel:
Such, prompted by enthusiasm's force,
And in predestination's armour cas'd,
Will to the mouth of danger plant their breasts,
And out-fight phrenzy and despair. But lo,
Where Ireton comes!

The morning after bliss; she smiles upon us,
And laughs at what she fears. Petitions call
For justice on the king-Our faction thrives;
Murmur increases to a public outcry.

All are 'gainst Charles, save a few pitying hearts,
Who melt with Fairfax, and incline to mercy.
Crom. 'Tis well. Send post unto the army,
Ireton,

And let those sums of money I have ordered
Be secretly dispers'd among the soldiers;
It will remind them of their promises:
Gold is specific for the memory.

O gold! wer't not for thee, what great design,
What bold ambition, that outstretches justice,
Could have success! Thou buy'st our very
prayers:

Thou art the head of opposition,

And the tooth of faction. Wer't not for thy aid,
Success would vary like th' uncertain wind,
And honesty might prosper. Hie thee, Ireton;
I must to the king; I have some bills to offer
him,

Which, for the life of Charles, Charles would not sign:

And his refusal turns to our advantage.
Thou shalt know more hereafter-Now dispatch.
Ire. Good sir, I fly.

[Exit.

Crom. Ha! whom have we yonder? O, 'tis the wife of Fairfax! once as hearty, As zealous for the cause, as Cromwell's self,

Who, when man leaves himself to toy with her, Knows how to win, and practise on his weak

ness.

But let me think-All women may be won.
The dame of Ephesus, the Anne of Richard,
Show us a woman's grief and resolution.
Why may not she be wrought up to my pur

pose?

I can approach in what they like, in flattery.

Enter Lady FAIRFAX.

Lady Fair. Stay, worthy Cromwell, and at tend my prayer

Hear me and may thy answer be propitious,
As this kind hour that favours my address!
O may my falling tears, that plead for mercy,
Drop on thy heart, and melt it to compliance,
Nor disregard the suit because a woman's!
Cromwell is noble; and the noble soul
Grants the most free indulger.ce to the weak,
Because its generous nature pleads their cause.
Crom. Such is a woman's weakness, that she
thinks

T'impose on us by what allures herself:
But I must turn this project upon her,
And fairly put it to an equal proof,
Who best dissembles, Cromwell-or a woman.

[Aside.

Charles.

It cannot be; the people cry for justice:
Would I could stop its course! But, gentle lady,
Think it more wise to fly a falling pile,
Than strive to prop its ruin. Charles must die.
Lady Fair. O gracious Cromwell!-
Crom. Nay, but hear me on.

Why will you thus employ your eloquence,
Which our whole council would with liking hear,
To help impossibilities? Good lady,
Rather employ it (and you know the way)
To teach your lord to value rising fortune,
And make his fame-

Lady Fair. As black as yours will be.
Shame on thy dark designs, and the whole cause,
If only such a deed can make it prosper!
Be the heart bloodless that conceives the act,
The tongue accurst that dares avow the purpose,
And the hand blasted that obeys the order!
May his life here be all the hell we think of,
Yet find a greater in the other world!

[Exit.

Crom. How wayward and perverse a thing is woman!

How much unlike the softness we expect,
When rage and trifles vex them! In the heat
And the full vigour of their first enjoyment,
Distrust succeeds their love; and he who pleases
Is hunted by their jealousy to hate.-
Fairfax and Bradshaw earnest in dispute!
I will not interrupt them, but to Charles. [Exit.

Enter FAIRFAX and BRADSHAW.

Brad. Why all this heat, my lord-because I said

That Charles deserves to die? Why, I repeat it:
And would you master this unmanly rage,
I might to reason prove it, but not phrenzy.

Fair. Well, I am calm-speak out your bloody purpose,

What hell devises, and what Bradshaw thinks. Brad. Cast your eye backward, then, and let us view

E'en the beginning of this Charles's reign:
In the first year a raging plague destroy'd us,
And was prophetic of our woes to come:
Did it not sweep whole multitudes away,
Fast as the sword, which Charles has since un-
sheath'd?

Did he not follow still his father's steps,
Retain his ministry, pursue his aims?
Would he, though pray'd and threatened by the
parliament,

Give up those men whose counsels had misled him?

And is not that prince weak-to say no more—
Who from a general outcry guards the man
Whose bold ambition strikes at liberty,
At native freedom, and the subjects' right?
Fair. You but this moment blam'd my warmth,
And art thyself transported.

Brad. Grant I be;

'Tis in the cause that liberty approves, And every honest Englishman must own it; But to proceed-Those men he still held fast,

Witness the earl of Strafford: tax'd the land
By grievous impositions; levy'd war
Against the commons, and the kingdom's peace.
But I forget me that I speak to Fairfax,
Who has so often fought against his arms,
And taught success to know the cause of right.
Fair. I fought for reparation of our wrongs→→→
But cannot think that it consists in murder.
I would not have him die.

Brad. By the good cause,

It does portend some more than common change,
When generals plead for mercy! Shame it hence,
And let your visage wear the glow of rage;
Let Prynn's undaunted soul inform thy breast,
And drive weak pity thence.

Fair. I'll hear no more: