Strafford (Browning)/Act IV
Scene I[edit]
WHITEHALL.
The KING, the QUEEN, HOLLIS, CARLISLE. (VANE, HOLLAND, SAVILE, in the back-ground.)
CARLISLE.
Answer them, Hollis, for his sake!—One word!
CHARLES.
(To HOLLIS.) You stand, silent and cold, as though I were
Deceiving you—my friend, my playfellow
Of other times! What wonder after all?
Just so I dreamed my People loved me!
HOLLIS.
Sire,
It is yourself that you deceive, not me!
You'll quit me comforted—your mind made up
That since you've talked thus much and grieved thus much,
All you can do for Strafford has been done.
QUEEN.
If you kill Strafford . . . come, we grant you leave,
Suppose . . .
HOLLIS.
I may withdraw, Sire?
CARLISLE.
Hear them out!
'Tis the last chance for Strafford! Hear them out!
HOLLIS.
"If we kill Strafford"—on the eighteenth day
Of Strafford's trial—We!
CHARLES.
Pym, my good Hollis—
Pym, I should say!
HOLLIS.
Ah, true—Sire, pardon me!
You witness our proceedings every day,
But the screened gallery, I might have guessed,
Admits of such a partial glimpse at us—
Pym takes up all the room, shuts out the view!
Still, on my honour, Sire, the rest of the place
Is not unoccupied: the Commons sit
—That's England; Ireland sends, and Scotland too,
Their representatives: the Peers that judge
Are easily distinguished; one remarks
The People here and there . . . but the close curtain
Must hide so much!
QUEEN.
Acquaint your insolent crew,
This day the curtain shall be dashed aside!
It served a purpose!
HOLLIS.
Think! This very day?
Ere Strafford rises to defend himself?
CHARLES.
I will defend him, Sir! sanction the past—
This day—it ever was my purpose! Rage
At me, not Strafford! Oh I shall be paid
By Strafford's look!
CARLISLE.
(To HOLLIS.) Nobly! Oh will he not
Do nobly?
HOLLIS.
Sire, you will do honestly;
And, for that look, I too would be a king!
CHARLES (after a pause).
Only, to do this now—just when they seek
To make me out a tyrant—one that's deaf
To subjects' prayers,—shall I oppose them now?
It seems their will the Trial should proceed . . .
'Tis palpably their will!
HOLLIS.
You'll lose your throne:
But it were no bright moment save for that!
Strafford, your prime support, the sole roof-tree
That props this quaking House of Privilege,
(Floods come, winds beat, and see—the treacherous sand!)
Doubtless if the mere putting forth an arm
Could save him, you'd save Strafford!
CHARLES.
And they mean
Calmly to consummate this wrong! No hope?
This ineffaceable wrong! No pity then?
HOLLIS.
No plague in store for perfidy?—Farewell!
You summoned me . . . (To CARLISLE.) You, Lady, bade me come
To save the Earl! I came, thank God for it,
To learn how far such perfidy can go!
. . . You dare to talk with me of saving him
Who have just ruined Strafford!
CHARLES.
I?
HOLLIS.
See, now!
Eighteen days long he throws, one after one,
Our charges back: a blind moth-eaten law!
—He'll break from us at last! And whom to thank?
The Mouse that gnawed the Lion's net for him
Got a good friend,—but he, the other Mouse,
That looked on while the Lion freed himself——
Fared he so well, does any fable say?
CHARLES.
What can you mean?
HOLLIS.
Pym never could have proved
Strafford's design of bringing up the troops
To force this kingdom to obedience: Vane—
Your servant, Vane . . .
QUEEN.
Well, Sir?
HOLLIS.
. . Has proved it.
CHARLES.
Vane?
HOLLIS.
This day! Did Vane deliver up or no
Those notes which, furnished by his son to Pym,
Have sealed . . .
CHARLES.
Speak Vane! As I shall live, I know
Nothing that Vane has done! What treason next?
I wash my hands of it! Vane, speak the truth!
—Ask Vane himself!
HOLLIS.
I will not speak to Vane
Who speak to Pym and Hampden every day!
QUEEN.
Speak to Vane's master then! Why should he wish
For Strafford's death?
HOLLIS.
Why? Strafford cannot turn
As you sit there—bid you come forth and say
If every hateful act were not set down
In his commission?—Whether you contrived
Or no that all the violence should seem
His work, the gentle ways—your own, as if
He counteracted your kind impulses
While . . . but you know what he could say! And then
Would he produce, mark you, a certain charge
To set your own express commands aside,
If need were, and be blameless! He'd say, then . . . .
CHARLES.
Hold!
HOLLIS.
. . . . Say who bade him break the Parliament,—
Find out some pretext to set up sword-law . . .
QUEEN.
Retire, Sir!
CHARLES.
Vane—once more—what Vane dares do
I know not . . . he is rash . . . a fool . . . I know
Nothing of Vane!
HOLLIS.
Well—I believe you; Sire
Believe me, in return, that . . .
(Turning to CARLISLE.) Gentle Lady,
The few words I would say the stones might hear
Sooner than these . . . I'll say them all to you,
You, with the heart! The question, trust me, takes
Another shape, to-day: 'tis not if Charles
Or England shall succumb,—but which shall pay
The forfeit, Strafford or his Master: Sire,
You loved me once . . . think on my warning now! (Exit.)
CHARLES.
On you and on your warning both!—Carlisle!
That paper!
QUEEN.
But consider!
CHARLES.
Give it me!
There—signed—will that content you?—Do not speak!
You have betrayed me, Vane!—See—any day
(According to the tenour of that paper)
He bids your brother bring the Army up,
Strafford shall head it and take full revenge!
Seek Strafford! Let him have it, look, before
He rises to defend himself!
QUEEN.
In truth?
Clever of Hollis, now, to work a change
Like this! You were reluctant . . .
CHARLES.
Say, Carlisle
Your brother Percy brings the Army up—
Falls on the Parliament——(I'll think of you
My Hollis!)—say we plotted long . . . 'tis mine,
The scheme is mine, remember! Say I cursed
Vane's folly in your hearing! If that man
Does rise to do us shame, the fault shall lie
With you, Carlisle!
CARLISLE.
Nay, fear not me! but still
That's a bright moment, Sire, you throw away . . .
Oh, draw the veil and save him!
QUEEN.
Go, Carlisle!
CARLISLE (aside, and going).
I shall see Strafford—speak to him: my heart
Must never beat so, then!
And if I tell
The truth? What's gained by falsehood? There they stand
Whose trade it is—whose life it is! How vain
To gild such rottenness! Strafford shall know,
Thoroughly know them!
THE QUEEN (as she leaves the KING, &c.)
Trust to me! (To CARLISLE.) Carlisle,
You seem inclined, alone of all the Court,
To serve poor Strafford: this bold plan of yours
Merits much praise, and yet . . .
CARLISLE.
Time presses, Madam.
QUEEN.
Yet . . . may it not be something premature?
Strafford defends himself to-day—reserves
Some wondrous effort . . one may well suppose—
He'll say some overwhelming fact, Carlisle!
CARLISLE.
Aye, Hollis hints as much.
CHARLES.
Why linger then?
Haste with the scheme—my scheme—I shall be there
To watch his look! Tell him I watch his look!
QUEEN.
Stay, we'll precede you!
CARLISLE.
At your pleasure.
CHARLES.
Say . . .
Say . . Vane is hardly ever at Whitehall!
I shall be there, remember!
CARLISLE.
Doubt me not!
CHARLES.
On our return, Carlisle, we wait you here!
CARLISLE.
I'll bring his answer; Sire, I follow you. (Exeunt K. &c.)
Ah . . . but he would be very sad to find
The King so faithless, and I take away
All that he cares to live for: let it go——
'Tis the King's scheme!
My Strafford, I can save . . .
Nay, I have saved you—yet am scarce content,
Because my poor name will not cross your mind . . .
Strafford, how much I am unworthy you! (Exit.)
Scene II[edit]
A PASSAGE ADJOINING WESTMINSTER HALL.
Many groups of SPECTATORS of the Trial (which is visible from the back of the Stage)—OFFICERS of the Court, &c.
FIRST SPECTATOR.
More crowd than ever! . . . Not know Hampden, man?
That's he—by Pym—Pym that is speaking now!
No, truly—if you look so high you'll see
Little enough of either!
SECOND SPECTATOR.
Hush . . Pym's arm
Points like a prophet's rod!
THIRD SPECTATOR.
Ay—ay—we've heard
Some pretty speaking . . yet the Earl escapes!
FOURTH SPECTATOR.
I fear it: just a foolish word or two
About his children . . . and they see, forsooth,
Not England's Foe in Strafford—but the Man
Who, sick, half-blind . . .
SECOND SPECTATOR.
What's that Pym's saying now
That makes the curtains flutter . . look! A hand
Clutches them . . Ah! The King's hand!
FIFTH SPECTATOR.
I had thought
Pym was not near so tall! What said he, friend?
SECOND SPECTATOR.
"Nor is this way a novel way of blood" . . .
And the Earl turns as if to . . . look! look!
MANY SPECTATORS.
Heaven—
What ails him . . no—he rallies . . see—goes on
And Strafford smiles. Strange!
(Enter a PURITAN.)
THE PURITAN.
Haselrig.
MANY SPECTATORS.
Friend? Friend?
THE PURITAN.
Lost—utterly lost . . just when we looked for Pym
To make a stand against the ill effects
Of the Earl's speech! Is Haselrig without?
Pym's message is to him! (Exit.)
THIRD SPECTATOR.
Now, said I true?
Will the Earl leave them yet at fault or no?
FIRST SPECTATOR.
Never believe it, man! These notes of Vane's
Ruin the Earl!
FIFTH SPECTATOR.
A brave end . . not a whit
Less firm, less . . . Pym all over! Then the Trial
Is closed . . . no . . Strafford means to speak again!
AN OFFICER.
Stand back, there!
FIFTH SPECTATOR.
Why the Earl is coming hither!
Before the court breaks up! His brother, look,—
You'd say he deprecated some fierce act
In Strafford's mind just now!
AN OFFICER.
Stand back, I say!
SECOND SPECTATOR.
Who's the veiled woman that he talks with?
MANY SPECTATORS.
Hush—
The Earl! the Earl!
(Enter STRAFFORD, SLINGSBY and other Secretaries, HOLLIS,
CARLISLE, MAXWELL, BALFOUR, &c. STRAFFORD converses with CARLISLE.)
HOLLIS.
So near the end! Be patient—
Return!
STRAFFORD.
(To his Secretaries.) Here—anywhere—or—'tis freshest here . .
(To spend one's April here—the blossom-month!)
Set it down here!
(They arrange a table, papers &c.)
What, Pym to quail, to sink
Because I glance at him, yet . . .
Well, to end—
What's to be answered, Slingsby? Let us end!
(To CARLISLE.) Girl, I refuse his offer; whatsoe'er
It be! Too late! Tell me no word of him!
(To HOLLIS.) 'Tis something, Hollis, I assure you that—
To stand, sick as you are, some eighteen days
Fighting for life and fame against a pack
Of very curs, that lie thro' thick and thin,
Eat flesh and bread by wholesale, and can't say
"Strafford" if it would take my life!
CARLISLE.
Be kind
This once! Glance at the paper . . if you will
But glance at it . . .
STRAFFORD.
Already at my heels!
Pym's faulting bloodhounds scent the track again!
Peace, girl! Now, Slingsby!
(Messengers from Lane and other of STRAFFORD'S Counsel within the
Hall are coming and going during the Scene.)
STRAFFORD (setting himself to write and dictate).
I shall beat you, Hollis!
Do you know that? In spite of all your tricks—
In spite of Pym! Your Pym that shrank from me!
Eliot would have contrived it otherwise!
(To a Messenger.) In truth? This slip, tell Lane, contains as much
As I can call to mind about the matter.
(To HOLLIS.) Eliot would have disdained . . .
(Calling after the Messenger.) And Radcliffe, say—
The only person who could answer Pym—
Is safe in prison, just for that!
(Continuing to HOLLIS). Well—well—
It had not been recorded in that case,
I baffled you!
(To CARLISLE.) Nay, girl, why look so grieved?
All's gained without the King! You saw Pym quail?
. . . What shall I do when they acquit me, think you,
But tranquilly resume my task as though
Nothing had intervened since I proposed
To call that traitor to account! Such tricks,
Trust me, shall not be played a second time—
Even against old Laud, with his grey hair . . .
Your good work, Hollis!—And to make amends
You, Lucy, shall be there when I impeach
Pym and his fellows!
HOLLIS.
Wherefore not protest
Against our whole proceeding long ago?
Why feel indignant now? Why stand this while
Enduring patiently . . .
STRAFFORD.
(To CARLISLE.) Girl, I'll tell you—
You—and not Pym . . you, the slight graceful girl
Tall for a flowering lily—and not Charles . . .
Why I stood patient! I was fool enough
To see the will of England in Pym's will—
To dream that I had wronged her—and to wait
Her judgment,—when, behold, in place of it . . .
(To a Messenger who whispers.) Tell Lane to answer no such
question! Law . . .
I grapple with their Law! I'm here to try
My actions by their standard, not my own!
Their Law allowed that levy . . . what's the rest
To Pym, or Lane, or any but myself?
CARLISLE.
Then cast not thus your only chance away—
The King's so weak . . secure this chance! 'Twas Vane
—Vane, recollect, who furnished Pym the notes . . .
STRAFFORD.
Fit . . very fit . . those precious notes of Vane,
To close the Trial worthily! I feared
Some spice of nobleness might linger yet
To spoil the character of all the past!
It pleased me . . and (rising passionately) I will go back and say
As much—to them—to England! Follow me!
I have a word to say! There! my defence
Is done!
(To CARLISLE.) Stay . . why be proud? Why care to own
My gladness—my surprise? . . no—not surprise!
Oh, why insist upon the little pride
Of doing all myself and sparing him
The pain? Girl, say the triumph is my King's!
When Pym grew pale, and trembled, and sank down—
His image was before me . . . could I fail?
Girl, care not for the past—so indistinct—
Obscure—there's nothing to forgive in it
'Tis so forgotten! From this day begins
A new life, founded on a new belief
In Charles . . .
HOLLIS.
Pym comes . . tell Pym it is unfair!
Appeal to Pym! Hampden—and Vane! see, Strafford!
Say how unfair . . .
STRAFFORD.
To Pym? I would say nothing!
I would not look upon Pym's face again!
CARLISLE.
Stay . . let me have to think I pressed your hand!
(Exeunt STRAFFORD &c.)
(Enter HAMPDEN and VANE.)
VANE.
O Hampden, save that great misguided man!
Plead Strafford's cause with Pym—I have remarked
He moved no muscle when we all spoke loud
Against him . . . you had but to breathe—he turned
Those kind, large eyes upon you—kind to all
But Strafford . . whom I murder!
(Enter PYM (conversing with the Solicitor-General, St. JOHN),
the Managers of the Trial, FIENNES, RUDYARD, &c.)
RUDYARD.
Horrible!
Till now all hearts were with you . . . I withdraw
For one! Too horrible! Oh we mistake
Your purpose, Pym . . you cannot snatch away
The last spar from the drowning man!
FIENNES.
He talks
With St. John of it—see how quietly!
(To other PRESBYTERIANS.) You'll join us? Mind, we own he merits
death—
But this new course is monstrous! Vane, take heart!
This Bill of his Attainder shall not have
One true man's hand to it!
VANE.
But hear me, Pym!
Confront your Bill—your own Bill . . what is it?
You cannot catch the Earl on any charge . .
No man will say the Law has hold of him
On any charge . . and therefore you resolve
To take the general sense on his desert,—
As though no Law existed, and we met
To found one!—You refer to every man
To speak his thought upon this hideous mass
Of half-borne out assertions—dubious hints
Hereafter to be cleared—distortions—aye,
And wild inventions. Every man is saved
The task of fixing any single charge
On Strafford: he has but to see in him
The Enemy of England . . .
PYM.
A right scruple!
I have heard some called England's Enemy
With less consideration.
VANE.
Pity me!
Me—brought so low—who hoped to do so much
For England—her true servant—Pym, your friend . . .
Indeed you made me think I was your friend!
But I have murdered Strafford . . I have been
The instrument of this! who shall remove
That memory from me?
PYM.
I absolve you, Vane!
Take you no care for aught that you have done!
VANE.
Dear Hampden, not this Bill! Reject this Bill!
He staggers thro' the ordeal . . . let him go!
Strew no fresh fire before him! Plead for us
With Pym . . what God is he, to have no heart
Like ours, yet make us love him?
RUDYARD.
Hampden, plead
For us! When Strafford spoke your eyes were thick
With tears . . save him, dear Hampden!
HAMPDEN.
England speaks
Louder than Strafford! Who are we, to play
The generous pardoner at her expense—
Magnanimously waive advantages—
And if he conquer us. . . . applaud his skill?
VANE.
(To PYM.) He was your friend!
PYM.
I have heard that before.
FIENNES.
But England trusts you . . .
HAMPDEN.
Shame be his, who turns
The opportunity of serving her
She trusts him with, to his own mean account—
Who would look nobly frank at her expense!
FIENNES.
I never thought it could have come to this!
PYM (turning from St. JOHN).
But I have made myself familiar, Fiennes,
With that one thought—have walked, and sat, and slept,
That thought before me! I have done such things,
Being the chosen man that should destroy
This Strafford! You have taken up that thought
To play with—for a gentle stimulant—
To give a dignity to idler life
By the dim prospect of this deed to come . . .
But ever with the softening, sure belief,
That all would come some strange way right at last!
FIENNES.
Had we made out some weightier charge . . . .
PYM.
You say
That these are petty charges! Can we come
To the real charge at all? There he is safe!
In tyranny's strong hold! Apostasy
Is not a crime—Treachery not a crime!
The cheek burns, the blood tingles, when you name
Their names, but where's the power to take revenge
Upon them? We must make occasion serve:
The Oversight, pay for the Giant Sin
That mocks us!
RUDYARD.
But this unexampled course——
This Bill. . . .
PYM.
By this, we roll the clouds away
Of Precedent and Custom, and at once
Bid the great light which God has set in all,
The conscience of each bosom, shine upon
The guilt of Strafford: each shall lay his hand
Upon his breast, and say if this one man
Deserve to die, or no, by those he sought
First to undo.
FIENNES.
You, Vane——you answer him!
VANE.
Pym, you see farthest . . . I can only see
Strafford . . . I'd not pass over that pale corse
For all beyond!
RUDYARD and others.
Pym, you would look so great!
Forgive him! He would join us! now he finds
How false the King has been! The pardon, too,
Should be your own! Yourself should bear to Strafford
The pardon of the Commons!
PYM (starting).
Meet him? Strafford?
Have we to meet once more, then? Be it so!
And yet—the prophecy seemed half fulfilled
When, at the trial, as he gazed—my youth—
Our friendship—all old thoughts came back at once
And left me, for a time . . . .
VANE (aside to RUDYARD).
Moved, is he not?
PYM.
To-morrow we discuss the points of law
With Lane . . to-morrow!
VANE.
Time enough, dear Pym!
See, he relents! I knew he would relent!
PYM.
The next day, Haselrig, you introduce,
The Bill of his Attainder. (After a pause.) Pray for me!
Scene III[edit]
WHITEHALL.
The KING.
CHARLES.
Strafford, you are a Prince! Not to reward you
—Nothing does that—but only for a whim!
My noble servant!—To defend himself
Thus irresistibly . . withholding aught
That seemed to implicate us!
We have done
Less gallantly by Strafford! Well, the future
Must recompense the past.
She tarries long!
I understand you, Strafford, now!
The scheme—
Carlisle's mad scheme—he'll sanction it, I fear,
For love of me! 'Twas too precipitate:
Before the Army's fairly on its march,
He'll be at large: no matter . .
Well, Carlisle?
(Enter PYM.)
PYM.
Fear me not, Sire . . . my mission is to save,
This time!
CHARLES.
To break thus on me!—Unannounced . . .
PYM.
It is of Strafford I would speak.
CHARLES.
No more
Of Strafford! I have heard too much from you!
PYM.
I spoke, Sire, for the People: will you hear
A word upon my own account?
CHARLES.
Of Strafford?
(Aside.) So, turns the tide already? Have we tamed
The insolent brawler?—Strafford's brave defence
Is swift in its effect! (To PYM.) Lord Strafford, Sir,
Has spoken for himself!
PYM.
Sufficiently.
I would apprize you of the novel course
The people take: the Trial fails, . . .
CHARLES.
Yes—yes—
We are aware, Sir: for your part in it
Means shall be found to thank you.
PYM.
Pray you, read
This schedule! (as the KING reads it) I would learn from your own
mouth
—(It is a matter much concerning me)—
Whether, if two Estates of England shall concede
The death of Strafford, on the grounds set forth
Within that parchment, you, Sire, can resolve
To grant your full consent to it. That Bill
Is framed by me: if you determine, Sire,
That England's manifested will shall guide
Your judgment, ere another week that will
Shall manifest itself. If not,—I cast
Aside the measure.
CHARLES.
. . You can hinder, then,
The introduction of that Bill?
PYM.
I can.
CHARLES.
He is my friend, Sir: I have wronged him: mark you,
Had I not wronged him—this might be!—You think
Because you hate the Earl . . . (turn not away—
We know you hate him)—no one else could love
Strafford . . . but he has saved me—many times—
Think what he has endured . . proud too . . you feel
What he endured!—And, do you know one strange,
One frightful thing? We all have used that man
As though he had been ours . . with not a source
Of happy thoughts except in us . . and yet
Strafford has children, and a home as well,
Just as if we had never been! . . Ah Sir,
You are moved—you—a solitary man
Wed to your cause—to England if you will!
PYM.
Yes . . think, my soul . . to England! Draw not back!
CHARLES.
Prevent that Bill, Sir . . Oh, your course was fair
Till now! Why, in the end, 'tis I should sign
The warrant for his death! You have said much
That I shall ponder on; I never meant
Strafford should serve me any more: I take
The Commons' counsel: but this Bill is yours—
Not worthy of its leader . . care not, Sir,
For that, however! I will quite forget
You named it to me! You are satisfied?
PYM.
Listen to me, Sire! Eliot laid his hand,
Wasted and white, upon my forehead once;
Wentworth . . . he's gone now! . . has talked on, whole nights,
And I beside him; Hampden loves me; Sire,
How can I breathe and not wish England well—
And her King well?
CHARLES.
I thank you, Sir! You leave
That King his servant! Thanks, Sir!
PYM.
Let me speak
—Who may not speak again! whose spirit yearns
For a cool night after this weary day!
—Who would not have my heart turn sicker yet
In a new task, more fatal, more august
More full of England's utter weal or woe . . .
I thought, Sire, could I find myself with you—
After this Trial—alone—as man to man—
I might say something—warn you—pray you—save you—
Mark me, King Charles, save——you!
But God must do it. Yet I warn you, Sire—
(With Strafford's faded eyes yet full on me)
As you would have no deeper question moved
—"How long the Many shall endure the One" . . .
Assure me, Sire, if England shall assent
To Strafford's death, you will not interfere!
Or——
CHARLES.
God forsakes me—I am in a net . .
I cannot move! Let all be as you say!
(Enter CARLISLE.)
CARLISLE.
He loves you—looking beautiful with joy
Because you sent me! he would spare you all
The pain! he never dreamed you would forsake
Your servant in the evil day—nay, see
Your scheme returned! That generous heart of his!
He needs it not—or, needing it, disdains
A course that might endanger you—you, Sire,
Whom Strafford from his inmost soul . . .
(Seeing PYM.) No fear—
No fear for Strafford! all that's true and brave
On your own side shall help us! we are now
Stronger than ever!
Ha—what, Sire, is this?
All is not well! What parchment have you there?
(CHARLES drops it, and exit.)
PYM.
Sire, much is saved us both: farewell!
CARLISLE.
Stay—stay—
This cursed measure—you'll not dare—you mean
To frighten Charles! This Bill—look—
(As PYM reads it.)
Why, your lip
Whitens—you could not read one line to me
Your voice would falter so! It shakes you now—
And will you dare . . .
PYM.
No recreant yet to her!
The great word went from England to my soul,
And I arose! The end is very near! (Exit.)
CARLISLE.
I save him! All have shrunk from him beside—
'Tis only I am left! Heaven will make strong
The hand as the true heart! Then let me die! (Exit.)