ACT I

Scene I. A House near Whitehall. Hampden, Hollis, the younger Vane, Rudyard, Fiennes and many of the Presbyterian Party: Loudon and other Scots Commissioners. Vane. I say, if he be here— Rudyard. (And he is here!)— Hollis. For England's sake let every man be still Nor speak of him, so much as say his name, Till Pym rejoin us! Rudyard! Henry Vane! One rash conclusion may decide our course And with it England's fate—think—England's fate! Hampden, for England's sake they should be still! Vane. You say so, Hollis? Well, I must be still. It is indeed too bitter that one man, Any one man's mere presence, should suspend England's combined endeavor: little need To name him! Rud. For you are his brother, Hollis! Hampden. Shame on you, Rudyard! time to tell him that When he forgets the Mother of us all. Rud. Do I forget her? Hamp. You talk idle hate Against her foe: is that so strange a thing? Is hating Wentworth all the help she needs? A Puritan. The Philistine strode, cursing as he went: But David—five smooth pebbles from the brook Within his scrip ... Rud. Be you as still as David! Fiennes. Here 's Rudyard not ashamed to wag a tongue Stiff with ten years' disuse of Parliaments; Why, when the last sat, Wentworth sat with us! Rud. Let 's hope for news of them now he returns— He that was safe in Ireland, as we thought! —But I 'll abide Pym's coming. Vane. Now, by Heaven, Then may be cool who can, silent who will— Some have a gift that way! Wentworth is here, Here, and the King's safe closeted with him Ere this. And when I think on all that 's past Since that man left us, how his single arm Rolled the advancing good of England back And set the woeful past up in its place, Exalting Dagon where the Ark should be,— How that man has made firm the fickle King (Hampden, I will speak out!)—in aught he feared To venture on before; taught tyranny Her dismal trade, the use of all her tools, To ply the scourge yet screw the gag so close That strangled agony bleeds mute to death— How he turns Ireland to a private stage For training infant villanies, new ways Of wringing treasure out of tears and blood, Unheard oppressions nourished in the dark To try how much man's nature can endure —If he dies under it, what harm? if not, Why, one more trick is added to the rest Worth a king's knowing, and what Ireland bears England may learn to bear:—how all this while That man has set himself to one dear task, The bringing Charles to relish more and more Power, power without law, power and blood too —Can I be still? Hamp. For that you should be still. Vane. Oh Hampden, then and now! The year he left us, The People in full Parliament could wrest The Bill of Rights from the reluctant King; And now, he 'll find in an obscure small room A stealthy gathering of great-hearted men That take up England's cause: England is here! Hamp. And who despairs of England? Rud. That do I, If Wentworth comes to rule her. I am sick To think her wretched masters, Hamilton, The muckworm Cottington, the maniac Laud, May yet be longed-for back again. I say, I do despair. Vane. And, Rudyard, I 'll say this— Which all true men say after me, not loud But solemnly and as you 'd say a prayer! This King, who treads our England underfoot, Has just so much ... it may be fear or craft, As bids him pause at each fresh outrage; friends, He needs some sterner hand to grasp his own, Some voice to ask, "Why shrink? Am I not by?" Now, one whom England loved for serving her, Found in his heart to say, "I know where best The iron heel shall bruise her, for she leans Upon me when you trample." Witness, you! So Wentworth heartened Charles, so England fell. But inasmuch as life is hard to take From England ... Many Voices. Go on, Vane! 'T is well said, Vane! Vane. Who has not so forgotten Runnymede!— Voices. 'T is well and bravely spoken, Vane! Go on! Vane. There are some little signs of late she knows The ground no place for her. She glances round, Wentworth has dropped the hand, is gone his way On other service: what if she arise? No! the King beckons, and beside him stands The same bad man once more, with the same smile And the same gesture. Now shall England crouch, Or catch at us and rise? Voices. The Renegade! Haman! Ahithophel! Hamp. Gentlemen of the North, It was not thus the night your claims were urged, And we pronounced the League and Covenant, The cause of Scotland, England's cause as well: Vane there, sat motionless the whole night through. Vane. Hampden! Fien. Stay, Vane! Loudon. Be just and patient, Vane! Vane. Mind how you counsel patience, Loudon! you Have still a Parliament, and this your League To back it; you are free in Scotland still: While we are brothers, hope 's for England yet. But know you wherefore Wentworth comes? to quench This last of hopes? that he brings war with him? Know you the man's self? what he dares? Lou. We know, All know—'t is nothing new. Vane. And what 's new, then, In calling for his life? Why, Pym himself— You must have heard—ere Wentworth dropped our cause He would see Pym first; there were many more Strong on the people's side and friends of his, Eliot that 's dead, Rudyard and Hampden here, But for these Wentworth cared not; only, Pym He would see—Pym and he were sworn, 't is said, To live and die together; so, they met At Greenwich. Wentworth, you are sure, was long, Specious enough, the devil's argument Lost nothing on his lips; he 'd have Pym own A patriot could not play a purer part Than follow in his track; they two combined Might put down England. Well, Pym heard him out; One glance—you know Pym's eye—one word was all: "You leave us, Wentworth! while your head is on, I 'll not leave you." Hamp. Has he left Wentworth, then? Has England lost him? Will you let him speak, Or put your crude surmises in his mouth? Away with this! Will you have Pym or Vane? Voices. Wait Pym's arrival! Pym shall speak. Hamp. Meanwhile Let Loudon read the Parliament's report From Edinburgh: our last hope, as Vane says, Is in the stand it makes. Loudon! Vane. No, no! Silent I can be: not indifferent! Hamp. Then each keep silence, praying God to spare His anger, cast not England quite away In this her visitation! A Puritan. Seven years long The Midianite drove Israel into dens And caves. Till God sent forth a mighty man, (Pym enters.) Even Gideon! Pym. Wentworth 's come: nor sickness, care, The ravaged body nor the ruined soul, More than the winds and waves that beat his ship, Could keep him from the King. He has not reached Whitehall: they 've hurried up a Council there To lose no time and find him work enough. Where 's Loudon? your Scots' Parliament ... Lou. Holds firm: We were about to read reports. Pym. The King Has just dissolved your Parliament. Lou. and other Scots. Great God! An oath-breaker! Stand by us, England, then! Pym. The King 's too sanguine; doubtless Wentworth 's here; But still some little form might be kept up. Hamp. Now speak, Vane! Rudyard, you had much to say! Hol. The rumor 's false, then ... Pym. Ay, the Court gives out His own concerns have brought him back: I know 'T is the King calls him. Wentworth supersedes The tribe of Cottingtons and Hamiltons Whose part is played; there 's talk enough, by this,— Merciful talk, the King thinks: time is now To turn the record's last and bloody leaf Which, chronicling a nation's great despair, Tells they were long rebellious, and their lord Indulgent, till, all kind expedients tried, He drew the sword on them and reigned in peace. Laud 's laying his religion on the Scots Was the last gentle entry: the new page Shall run, the King thinks, "Wentworth thrust it down At the sword's point." A Puritan. I 'll do your bidding, Pym, England's and God's—one blow! Pym. A goodly thing— We all say, friends, it is a goodly thing To right that England. Heaven grows dark above: Let 's snatch one moment ere the thunder fall, To say how well the English spirit comes out Beneath it! All have done their best, indeed, From lion Eliot, that grand Englishman, To the least here: and who, the least one here, When she is saved (for her redemption dawns Dimly, most dimly, but it dawns—it dawns) Who 'd give at any price his hope away Of being named along with the Great Men? We would not—no, we would not give that up! Hamp. And one name shall be dearer than all names, When children, yet unborn, are taught that name After their fathers',—taught what matchless man ... Pym. ... Saved England? What if Wentworth's should be still That name? Rud. and others. We have just said it, Pym! His death Saves her! We said it—there 's no way beside! I 'll do God's bidding, Pym! They struck down Joab And purged the land. Vane. No villanous striking-down! Rud. No, a calm vengeance: let the whole land rise And shout for it. No Feltons! Pym. Rudyard, no! England rejects all Feltons; most of all Since Wentworth ... Hampden, say the trust again Of England in her servants—but I 'll think You know me, all of you. Then, I believe, Spite of the past, Wentworth rejoins you, friends! Vane and others. Wentworth? Apostate! Judas! Double-dyed A traitor! Is it Pym, indeed ... Pym. ... Who says Vane never knew that Wentworth, loved that man, Was used to stroll with him, arm locked in arm, Along the streets to see the people pass, And read in every island-countenance Fresh argument for God against the King,— Never sat down, say, in the very house Where Eliot's brow grew broad with noble thoughts, (You 've joined us, Hampden—Hollis, you as well,) And then left talking over Gracchus's death ... Vane. To frame, we know it well, the choicest clause In the Petition of Right: he framed such clause One month before he took at the King's hand His Northern Presidency, which that Bill Denounced. Pym. Too true! Never more, never more Walked we together! Most alone I went. I have had friends—all here are fast my friends— But I shall never quite forget that friend. And yet it could not but be real in him! You, Vane,—you, Rudyard, have no right to trust To Wentworth: but can no one hope with me? Hampden, will Wentworth dare shed English blood Like water? Hamp. Ireland is Aceldama. Pym. Will he turn Scotland to a hunting-ground To please the King, now that he knows the King? The People or the King? and that King, Charles! Hamp. Pym, all here know you: you 'll not set your heart On any baseless dream. But say one deed Of Wentworth's, since he left us ... [Shouting without. Vane. There! he comes, And they shout for him! Wentworth 's at Whitehall, The King embracing him, now, as we speak, And he, to be his match in courtesies, Taking the whole war's risk upon himself, Now, while you tell us here how changed he is! Hear you? Pym. And yet if 't is a dream, no more, That Wentworth chose their side, and brought the King To love it as though Laud had loved it first, And the Queen after; that he led their cause Calm to success, and kept it spotless through, So that our very eyes could look upon The travail of our souls, and close content That violence, which something mars even right Which sanctions it, had taken off no grace From its serene regard. Only a dream! Hamp. We meet here to accomplish certain good By obvious means, and keep tradition up Of free assemblages, else obsolete, In this poor chamber: nor without effect Has friend met friend to counsel and confirm, As, listening to the beats of England's heart, We spoke its wants to Scotland's prompt reply By these her delegates. Remains alone That word grow deed, as with God's help it shall— But with the devil's hindrance, who doubts too? Looked we or no that tyranny should turn Her engines of oppression to their use? Whereof, suppose the worst be Wentworth here— Shall we break off the tactics which succeed In drawing out our formidablest foe, Let bickering and disunion take their place? Or count his presence as our conquest's proof, And keep the old arms at their steady play? Proceed to England's work! Fiennes, read the list! Fien. Ship-money is refused or fiercely paid In every county, save the northern parts Where Wentworth's influence ... [Shouting. Vane. I, in England's name, Declare her work, this day, at end! Till now, Up to this moment, peaceful strife was best. We English had free leave to think; till now, We had a shadow of a Parliament In Scotland. But all 's changed: they change the first, They try brute-force for law, they, first of all ... Voices. Good! Talk enough! The old true hearts with Vane! Vane. Till we crush Wentworth for her, there 's no act Serves England! Voices. Vane for England! Pym. Pym should be Something to England. I seek Wentworth, friends.

Lady Carlisle and Wentworth. Wentworth. And the King? Lady Carlisle. Wentworth, lean on me! Sit then! I 'll tell you all; this horrible fatigue Will kill you. Went. No;—or, Lucy, just your arm; I 'll not sit till I 've cleared this up with him: After that, rest. The King? Lady Car. Confides in you. Went. Why? or, why now?—They have kind throats, the knaves! Shout for me—they! Lady Car. You come so strangely soon: Yet we took measures to keep off the crowd— Did they shout for you? Went. Wherefore should they not? Does the King take such measures for himself? Beside, there 's such a dearth of malcontents, You say! Lady Car. I said but few dared carp at you. Went. At me? at us, I hope! The King and I! He 's surely not disposed to let me bear The fame away from him of these late deeds In Ireland? I am yet his instrument Be it for well or ill? He trusts me, too! Lady Car. The King, dear Wentworth, purposes, I said, To grant you, in the face of all the Court ... Went. All the Court! Evermore the Court about us! Savile and Holland, Hamilton and Vane About us,—then the King: will grant me—what? That he for once put these aside and say— "Tell me your whole mind, Wentworth!" Lady Car. You professed You would be calm. Went. Lucy, and I am calm! How else shall I do all I come to do, Broken, as you may see, body and mind, How shall I serve the King? Time wastes meanwhile, You have not told me half. His footstep! No, Quick, then, before I meet him,—I am calm— Why does the King distrust me? Lady Car. He does not Distrust you. Went. Lucy, you can help me; you Have even seemed to care for me: one word! Is it the Queen? Lady Car. No, not the Queen: the party That poisons the Queen's ear, Savile and Holland. Went. I know, I know: old Vane, too, he 's one too? Go on—and he 's made Secretary. Well? Or leave them out and go straight to the charge; The charge! Lady Car. Oh, there 's no charge, no precise charge; Only they sneer, make light of—one may say, Nibble at what you do. Went. I know! but, Lucy, I reckoned on you from the first!—Go on! —Was sure could I once see this gentle friend When I arrived, she 'd throw an hour away To help her ... what am I? Lady Car. You thought of me, Dear Wentworth? Went. But go on! The party here! Lady Car. They do not think your Irish government Of that surpassing value ... Went. The one thing Of value! The one service that the crown May count on! All that keeps these very Vanes In power, to vex me—not that they do vex, Only it might vex some to hear that service Decried, the sole support that 's left the King! Lady Car. So the Archbishop says. Went. Ah? well, perhaps The only hand held up in my defence May be old Laud's! These Hollands then, these Saviles Nibble? They nibble?—that 's the very word! Lady Car. Your profit in the Customs, Bristol says, Exceeds the due proportion: while the tax ... Went. Enough! 't is too unworthy,—I am not So patient as I thought! What 's Pym about? Lady Car. Pym? Went. Pym and the People. Lady Car. Oh, the Faction! Extinct—of no account: there 'll never be Another Parliament. Went. Tell Savile that! You may know—(ay, you do—the creatures here Never forget!) that in my earliest life I was not ... much that I am now! The King May take my word on points concerning Pym Before Lord Savile's, Lucy, or if not, I bid them ruin their wise selves, not me, These Vanes and Hollands! I 'll not be their tool Who might be Pym's friend yet. But there 's the King! Where is he? Lady Car. Just apprised that you arrive. Went. And why not here to meet me? I was told He sent for me, nay, longed for me. Lady Car. Because,— He is now ... I think a Council 's sitting now About this Scots affair. Went. A Council sits? They have not taken a decided course Without me in the matter? Lady Car. I should say ... Went. The war? They cannot have agreed to that? Not the Scots' war?—without consulting me— Me, that am here to show how rash it is, How easy to dispense with?—Ah, you too Against me! well,—the King may take his time. —Forget it, Lucy! Cares make peevish: mine Weigh me (but 't is a secret) to my grave. Lady Car. For life or death I am your own, dear friend! [Goes out. Went. Heartless! but all are heartless here. Go now, Forsake the People! I did not forsake The People: they shall know it, when the King Will trust me!—who trusts all beside at once, While I have not spoke Vane and Savile fair, And am not trusted: have but saved the throne: Have not picked up the Queen's glove prettily, And am not trusted. But he 'll see me now. Weston is dead: the Queen's half English now— More English: one decisive word will brush These insects from ... the step I know so well! The King! But now, to tell him ... no—to ask What 's in me he distrusts:—or, best begin By proving that this frightful Scots affair Is just what I foretold. So much to say, And the flesh fails, now, and the time is come, And one false step no way to be repaired. You were avenged, Pym, could you look on me. (Pym enters.) Went. I little thought of you just then. Pym. No? I Think always of you, Wentworth. Went. The old voice! I wait the King, sir. Pym. True—you look so pale! A Council sits within; when that breaks up He 'll see you. Went. Sir, I thank you. Pym. Oh, thank Laud! You know when Laud once gets on Church affairs The case is desperate: he 'll not be long To-day: he only means to prove, to-day, We English all are mad to have a hand In butchering the Scots for serving God After their fathers' fashion: only that! Went. Sir, keep your jests for those who relish them! (Does he enjoy their confidence?) 'T is kind To tell me what the Council does. Pym. You grudge That I should know it had resolved on war Before you came? no need: you shall have all The credit, trust me! Went. Have the Council dared— They have not dared ... that is—I know you not. Farewell, sir: times are changed. Pym. —Since we two met At Greenwich? Yes: poor patriots though we be, You cut a figure, makes some slight return For your exploits in Ireland! Changed indeed, Could our friend Eliot look from out his grave! Ah, Wentworth, one thing for acquaintance' sake, Just to decide a question; have you, now, Felt your old self since you forsook us? Went. Sir! Pym. Spare me the gesture! you misapprehend. Think not I mean the advantage is with me. I was about to say that, for my part, I never quite held up my head since then— Was quite myself since then: for first, you see, I lost all credit after that event With those who recollect how sure I was Wentworth would outdo Eliot on our side. Forgive me: Savile, old Vane, Holland here, Eschew plain-speaking: 't is a trick I keep. Went. How, when, where, Savile, Vane, and Holland speak, Plainly or otherwise, would have my scorn, All of my scorn, sir ... Pym. ... Did not my poor thoughts Claim somewhat? Went. Keep your thoughts! believe the King Mistrusts me for their prattle, all these Vanes And Saviles! make your mind up, o' God's love, That I am discontented with the King! Pym. Why, you may be: I should be, that I know, Were I like you. Went. Like me? Pym. I care not much For titles: our friend Eliot died no lord, Hampden 's no lord, and Savile is a lord; But you care, since you sold your soul for one. I can 't think, therefore, your soul's purchaser Did well to laugh you to such utter scorn When you twice prayed so humbly for its price, The thirty silver pieces ... I should say, The Earldom you expected, still expect, And may. Your letters were the movingest! Console yourself: I 've borne him prayers just now From Scotland not to be oppressed by Laud, Words moving in their way: he 'll pay, be sure, As much attention as to those you sent. Went. False, sir! Who showed them you? Suppose it so, The King did very well ... nay, I was glad When it was shown me: I refused, the first! John Pym, you were my friend—forbear me once! Pym. Oh, Wentworth, ancient brother of my soul, That all should come to this! Went. Leave me! Pym. My friend, Why should I leave you? Went. To tell Rudyard this, And Hampden this! Pym. Whose faces once were bright At my approach, now sad with doubt and fear, Because I hope in you—yes, Wentworth, you Who never mean to ruin England—you Who shake off, with God's help, an obscene dream In this Ezekiel chamber, where it crept Upon you first, and wake, yourself, your true And proper self, our Leader, England's Chief, And Hampden's friend! This is the proudest day! Come, Wentworth! Do not even see the King! The rough old room will seem itself again! We 'll both go in together: you 've not seen Hampden so long: come: and there 's Fiennes: you 'll have To know young Vane. This is the proudest day! [The King enters. Wentworth lets fall Pym's hand. Charles. Arrived, my lord?—This gentleman, we know Was your old friend. The Scots shall be informed What we determine for their happiness. [Pym goes out. You have made haste, my lord. Went. Sir, I am come ... Cha. To see an old familiar—nay, 't is well; Aid us with his experience: this Scots' League And Covenant spreads too far, and we have proofs That they intrigue with France: the Faction too, Whereof your friend there is the head and front, Abets them,—as he boasted, very like. Went. Sir, trust me! but for this once, trust me, sir! Cha. What can you mean? Went. That you should trust me, sir! Oh—not for my sake! but 't is sad, so sad That for distrusting me, you suffer—you Whom I would die to serve: sir, do you think That I would die to serve you? Cha. But rise, Wentworth! Went. What shall convince you? What does Savile do To prove him ... Ah, one can 't tear out one's heart And show it, how sincere a thing it is! Cha. Have I not trusted you? Went. Say aught but that! There is my comfort, mark you: all will be So different when you trust me—as you shall! It has not been your fault,—I was away, Mistook, maligned, how was the King to know? I am here, now—he means to trust me, now— All will go on so well! Cha. Be sure I do— I 've heard that I should trust you: as you came, Your friend, the Countess, told me ... Went. No,—hear nothing— Be told nothing about me!—you 're not told Your right-hand serves you, or your children love you! Cha. You love me, Wentworth: rise! Went. I can speak now. I have no right to hide the truth. 'T is I Can save you: only I. Sir, what must be? Cha. Since Laud 's assured (the minutes are within) —Loath as I am to spill my subjects' blood ... Went. That is, he 'll have a war: what 's done is done! Cha. They have intrigued with France; that 's clear to Laud. Went. Has Laud suggested any way to meet The war's expense? Cha. He 'd not decide so far Until you joined us. Went. Most considerate! He 's certain they intrigue with France, these Scots? The People would be with us. Cha. Pym should know. Went. The People for us—were the People for us! Sir, a great thought comes to reward your trust: Summon a Parliament! in Ireland first, Then, here. Cha. In truth? Went. That saves us! that puts off The war, gives time to right their grievances— To talk with Pym. I know the Faction—Laud So styles it—tutors Scotland: all their plans Suppose no Parliament: in calling one You take them by surprise. Produce the proofs Of Scotland's treason; then bid England help: Even Pym will not refuse. Cha. You would begin With Ireland? Went. Take no care for that: that 's sure To prosper. Cha. You shall rule me. You were best Return at once: but take this ere you go! Now, do I trust you? You 're an Earl: my Friend Of Friends: yes, while ... You hear me not! Went. Say it all o'er again—but once again: The first was for the music: once again! Cha. Strafford, my friend, there may have been reports, Vain rumors. Henceforth touching Strafford is To touch the apple of my sight: why gaze So earnestly? Went. I am grown young again, And foolish. What was it we spoke of? Cha. Ireland, The Parliament,— Went. I may go when I will? —Now? Cha. Are you tired so soon of us? Went. My King! But you will not so utterly abhor A Parliament? I 'd serve you any way. Cha. You said just now this was the only way. Went. Sir, I will serve you! Cha. Strafford, spare yourself: You are so sick, they tell me. Went. 'T is my soul That 's well and prospers now. This Parliament— We 'll summon it, the English one—I 'll care For everything. You shall not need them much. Cha. If they prove restive ... Went. I shall be with you. Cha. Ere they assemble? Went. I will come, or else Deposit this infirm humanity I' the dust. My whole heart stays with you, my King! [As Wentworth goes out, the Queen enters. Cha. That man must love me. Queen. Is it over then? Why, he looks yellower than ever! Well, At least we shall not hear eternally Of service—services: he 's paid at least. Cha. Not done with: he engages to surpass All yet performed in Ireland. Queen. I had thought Nothing beyond was ever to be done. The war, Charles—will he raise supplies enough? Cha. We 've hit on an expedient; he ... that is, I have advised ... we have decided on The calling—in Ireland—of a Parliament. Queen. O truly! You agree to that? Is that The first-fruit of his counsel? But I guessed As much. Cha. This is too idle, Henriette! I should know best. He will strain every nerve, And once a precedent established ... Queen. Notice How sure he is of a long term of favor! He 'll see the next, and the next after that; No end to Parliaments! Cha. Well, it is done. He talks it smoothly, doubtless. If, indeed, The Commons here ... Queen. Here! you will summon them Here? Would I were in France again to see A King! Cha. But, Henriette ... Queen. Oh, the Scots see clear! Why should they bear your rule? Cha. But listen, sweet! Queen. Let Wentworth listen—you confide in him! Cha. I do not, love,—I do not so confide! The Parliament shall never trouble us! ... Nay, hear me! I have schemes, such schemes: we 'll buy The leaders off: without that, Wentworth's counsel Had ne'er prevailed on me. Perhaps I call it To have excuse for breaking it forever, And whose will then the blame be? See you not? Come, dearest!—look, the little fairy, now, That cannot reach my shoulder! Dearest, come!