Scene II.—Whitehall.

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.

Wentworth. No;—or, Lucy, just your arm;
I'll not sit till I've cleared this up with him:
After that, rest. The King?

Lady Carlisle. Confides in you.

Wentworth. Why? or, why now?—They have kind throats, the knaves!
Shout for me—they!

Lady Carlisle. You come so strangely soon:
Yet we took measures to keep off the crowd—
Did they shout for you?

Wentworth. Wherefore should they not?
Does the King take such measures for himself?
117Besides, there's such a dearth of malcontents,
You say!

Lady Carlisle. I said but few dared carp at you.

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. The King, dear Wentworth, purposes, I said,
To grant you, in the face of all the Court....

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. You professed
You would be calm.

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. He does not
Distrust you.

Wentworth. Lucy, you can help me; you
Have even seemed to care for me: one word!
Is it the Queen?

Lady Carlisle. No, not the Queen: the party
That poisons the Queen's ear, Savile and Holland.

Wentworth. I know, I know: old Vane, too, he's one too?
118Go on—and he's made Secretary. Well?
Or leave them out and go straight to the charge—
The charge!

Lady Carlisle. Oh, there's no charge, no precise charge;
Only they sneer, make light of—one may say,
Nibble at what you do.

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. You thought of me,
Dear Wentworth?

Wentworth. But go on! The party here!

Lady Carlisle. They do not think your Irish government
Of that surpassing value....

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. So the Archbishop says.

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. Your profit in the Customs, Bristol says,
Exceeds the due proportion: while the tax....

Wentworth. Enough! 'tis too unworthy,—I am not
So patient as I thought. What's Pym about?

Lady Carlisle. Pym?

Wentworth. Pym and the People.

Lady Carlisle. O, the Faction!
119Extinct—of no account: there'll never be
Another Parliament.

Wentworth. 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 Carlisle. Just apprised that you arrive.

Wentworth. And why not here to meet me? I was told
He sent for me, nay, longed for me.

Lady Carlisle. Because,—
He is now ... I think a Council's sitting now
About this Scots affair.

Wentworth. A Council sits?
They have not taken a decided course
Without me in the matter?

Lady Carlisle. I should say....

Wentworth. 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 'tis a secret) to my grave.

Lady Carlisle. For life or death I am your own, dear friend!

[Goes out.

Wentworth. Heartless! but all are heartless here. Go now,
Forsake the People!
120 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.

Wentworth. I little thought of you just then.

Pym. No? I
Think always of you, Wentworth.

Wentworth. 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.

Wentworth. 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!

121 Wentworth. Sir, keep your jests for those who relish them!
(Does he enjoy their confidence?) 'Tis 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!

Wentworth. 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?

Wentworth. 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: 'tis a trick I keep.

Wentworth. 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
122 Claim somewhat?

Wentworth. 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.

Wentworth. 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.

Wentworth. 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!

Wentworth. Leave me!

Pym. My friend,
Why should I leave you?

Wentworth. To tell Rudyard this,
123And 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.

Wentworth. Sir, I am come....

Charles. To see an old familiar—nay, 'tis 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.

Wentworth. Sir, trust me! but for this once, trust me, sir!

Charles. What can you mean?

Wentworth. That you should trust me, sir!
124Oh—not for my sake! but 'tis 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?

Charles. But rise, Wentworth!

Wentworth. 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!

Charles. Have I not trusted you?

Wentworth. 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!

Charles. Be sure I do—
I've heard that I should trust you: as you came,
Your friend, the Countess, told me....

Wentworth. No,—hear nothing—
Be told nothing about me!—you're not told
Your right-hand serves you, or your children love you!

Charles. You love me, Wentworth: rise!

Wentworth. I can speak now.
I have no right to hide the truth. 'Tis I
Can save you: only I. Sir, what must be?

Charles. Since Laud's assured (the minutes are within)
—Loath as I am to spill my subjects' blood....

Wentworth. That is, he'll have a war: what's done is done!

Charles. They have intrigued with France; that's clear to Laud.

Wentworth. Has Laud suggested any way to meet
The war's expense?

125 Charles. He'd not decide so far
Until you joined us.

Wentworth. Most considerate!
He's certain they intrigue with France, these Scots?
The People would be with us.

Charles. Pym should know.

Wentworth. 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.

Charles. In truth?

Wentworth. 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.

Charles. You would begin
With Ireland?

Wentworth. Take no care for that: that's sure
To prosper.

Charles. 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!

Wentworth. Say it all o'er again—but once again:
The first was for the music: once again!

Charles. 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?

Wentworth. I am grown young again,
126And foolish. What was it we spoke of?

Charles. Ireland,
The Parliament,—

Wentworth. I may go when I will?
—Now?

Charles. Are you tired so soon of us?

Wentworth. My King!
But you will not so utterly abhor
A Parliament? I'd serve you any way.

Charles. You said just now this was the only way.

Wentworth. Sir, I will serve you.

Charles. Strafford, spare yourself:
You are so sick, they tell me.

Wentworth. 'Tis 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.

Charles. If they prove restive....

Wentworth. I shall be with you.

Charles. Ere they assemble?

Wentworth. 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.

Charles. 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.

Charles. 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?

127 Charles. 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.

Charles. 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!

Charles. 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!

Charles. But, Henriette....

Queen. Oh, the Scots see clear!
Why should they bear your rule?

Charles. But listen, sweet!

Queen. Let Wentworth listen—you confide in him!

Charles. 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 for ever,
And whose will then the blame be? See you not?
Come, dearest!—look, the little fairy, now,
That cannot reach my shoulder! Dearest, come!

That you would say I did advise the war;
And if, through your own weakness, or what's worse,
These Scots, with God to help them, drive me back,
You will not step between the raging People
And me, to say....
 I knew it! from the first
I knew it! Never was so cold a heart!
Remember that I said it—that I never
Believed you for a moment!
 —And, you loved me?
You thought your perfidy profoundly hid
Because I could not share the whisperings
With Vane, with Savile? What, the face was masked?
I had the heart to see, sir! Face of flesh,
But heart of stone—of smooth cold frightful stone!
Ay, call them! Shall I call for you? The Scots
Goaded to madness? Or the English—Pym—
Shall I call Pym, your subject? Oh, you think
I'll leave them in the dark about it all?
They shall not know you? Hampden, Pym shall not?

Pym, Hampden, Vane, etc., enter.

[Dropping on his knee.] Thus favored with your gracious countenance
What shall a rebel League avail against
Your servant, utterly and ever yours?
So, gentlemen, the King's not even left
The privilege of bidding me farewell
133Who haste to save the People—that you style
Your People—from the mercies of the Scots
And France their friend?
[To Charles.]  Pym's grave grey eyes are fixed
Upon you, sir!
 Your pleasure, gentlemen?

Hampden. The King dissolved us—'tis the King we seek
And not Lord Strafford.

Strafford. —Strafford, guilty too
Of counselling the measure. [To Charles.] (Hush ... you know—
You have forgotten—sir, I counselled it)
A heinous matter, truly! But the King
Will yet see cause to thank me for a course
Which now, perchance ... (Sir, tell them so!)—he blames.
Well, choose some fitter time to make your charge:
I shall be with the Scots, you understand?
Then yelp at me!
 Meanwhile, your Majesty
Binds me, by this fresh token of your trust....

[Under the pretence of an earnest farewell, Strafford conducts Charles to the door, in such a manner as to hide his agitation from the rest: as the King disappears, they turn as by one impulse to Pym, who has not changed his original posture of surprise.

Hampden. Leave we this arrogant strong wicked man!

Vane and others. Hence, Pym! Come out of this unworthy place
To our old room again! He's gone.

[Strafford, just about to follow the King, looks back.

Pym. Not gone!
[To Strafford.] Keep tryst! the old appointment's made anew:
134Forget not we shall meet again!

Strafford. So be it!
And if an army follows me?

Vane. His friends
Will entertain your army!

Pym. I'll not say
You have misreckoned, Strafford: time shows.
 Perish
Body and spirit! Fool to feign a doubt,
Pretend the scrupulous and nice reserve
Of one whose prowess shall achieve the feat!
What share have I in it? Do I affect
To see no dismal sign above your head
When God suspends his ruinous thunder there?
Strafford is doomed. Touch him no one of you!

[Pym, Hampden, etc., go out.

Strafford. Pym, we shall meet again!

Lady Carlisle enters.

 You here, child?

Lady Carlisle. Hush—
I know it all: hush, Strafford!

Strafford. Ah? you know?
Well. I shall make a sorry soldier, Lucy!
All knights begin their enterprise, we read,
135Under the best of auspices; 'tis morn,
The Lady girds his sword upon the Youth
(He's always very young)—the trumpets sound,
Cups pledge him, and, why, the King blesses him—
You need not turn a page of the romance
To learn the Dreadful Giant's fate. Indeed,
We've the fair Lady here; but she apart,—
A poor man, rarely having handled lance,
And rather old, weary, and far from sure
His Squires are not the Giant's friends. All's one:
Let us go forth!

Lady Carlisle. Go forth?

Strafford. What matters it?
We shall die gloriously—as the book says.

Lady Carlisle. To Scotland? Not to Scotland?

Strafford. Am I sick
Like your good brother, brave Northumberland?
Beside, these walls seem falling on me.

Lady Carlisle. Strafford,
The wind that saps these walls can undermine
Your camp in Scotland, too. Whence creeps the wind?
Have you no eyes except for Pym? Look here!
A breed of silken creatures lurk and thrive
In your contempt. You'll vanquish Pym? Old Vane
Can vanquish you. And Vane you think to fly?
Rush on the Scots! Do nobly! Vane's slight sneer
Shall test success, adjust the praise, suggest
The faint result: Vane's sneer shall reach you there.
—You do not listen!

Strafford. Oh,—I give that up!
There's fate in it: I give all here quite up.
Care not what old Vane does or Holland does
Against me! 'Tis so idle to withstand!
In no case tell me what they do!

Lady Carlisle. But, Strafford....

136Strafford. I want a little strife, beside; real strife;
This petty palace-warfare does me harm:
I shall feel better, fairly out of it.

Lady Carlisle. Why do you smile?

Strafford. I got to fear them, child!
I could have torn his throat at first, old Vane's,
As he leered at me on his stealthy way
To the Queen's closet. Lord, one loses heart!
I often found it on my lips to say
"Do not traduce me to her!"

Lady Carlisle. But the King....

Strafford. The King stood there, 'tis not so long ago,
—There; and the whisper, Lucy, "Be my friend
Of friends!"—My King! I would have....

Lady Carlisle. ... Died for him?

Strafford. Sworn him true, Lucy: I can die for him.

Lady Carlisle. But go not, Strafford! But you must renounce
This project on the Scots! Die, wherefore die?
Charles never loved you.

Strafford. And he never will.
He's not of those who care the more for men
That they're unfortunate.

Lady Carlisle. Then wherefore die
For such a master?

Strafford. You that told me first
How good he was—when I must leave true friends
To find a truer friend!—that drew me here
From Ireland,—"I had but to show myself
And Charles would spurn Vane, Savile, and the rest"—
You, child, to ask me this?

Lady Carlisle. (If he have set
His heart abidingly on Charles!)
 Then, friend,
I shall not see you any more.137

Strafford. Yes, Lucy.
There's one man here I have to meet.

Lady Carlisle. (The King!
What way to save him from the King?
 My soul—
That lent from its own store the charmed disguise
Which clothes the King—he shall behold my soul!)
Strafford,—I shall speak best if you'll not gaze
Upon me: I had never thought, indeed,
To speak, but you would perish too, so sure!
Could you but know what 'tis to bear, my friend,
One image stamped within you, turning blank
The else imperial brilliance of your mind,—
A weakness, but most precious,—like a flaw
I' the diamond, which should shape forth some sweet face
Yet to create, and meanwhile treasured there
Lest nature lose her gracious thought for ever!

Strafford. When could it be? no! Yet ... was it the day
We waited in the anteroom, till Holland
Should leave the presence-chamber?

Lady Carlisle. What?

Strafford. —That I
Described to you my love for Charles?

Lady Carlisle. (Ah, no—
One must not lure him from a love like that!
Oh, let him love the King and die! 'Tis past.
I shall not serve him worse for that one brief
And passionate hope, silent for ever now!)
And you are really bound for Scotland then?
I wish you well: you must be very sure
Of the King's faith, for Pym and all his crew
Will not be idle—setting Vane aside!

Strafford. If Pym is busy,—you may write of Pym.

138Lady Carlisle. What need, since there's your King to take your part?
He may endure Vane's counsel; but for Pym—
Think you he'll suffer Pym to....

Strafford. Child, your hair
Is glossier than the Queen's!

Lady Carlisle. Is that to ask
A curl of me?

Strafford. Scotland——the weary way!

Lady Carlisle. Stay, let me fasten it.
 —A rival's, Strafford?

Strafford [showing the George]. He hung it there: twine yours around it, child!

Lady Carlisle. No—no—another time—I trifle so!
And there's a masque on foot. Farewell. The Court
Is dull; do something to enliven us
In Scotland: we expect it at your hands.

Strafford. I shall not fail in Scotland.

Lady Carlisle. Prosper—if
You'll think of me sometimes!

Strafford. How think of him
And not of you? of you, the lingering streak
(A golden one) in my good fortune's eve.

Lady Carlisle. Strafford.... Well, when the eve has its last streak
The night has its first star.

[She goes out.

Strafford. That voice of hers—
You'd think she had a heart sometimes! His voice
Is soft too.
 Only God can save him now.
Be Thou about his bed, about his path!
His path! Where's England's path? Diverging wide,
And not to join again the track my foot
139Must follow—whither? All that forlorn way
Among the tombs! Far—far—till.... What, they do
Then join again, these paths? For, huge in the dusk,
There's—Pym to face!
 Why then, I have a foe
To close with, and a fight to fight at last
Worthy my soul! What, do they beard the King,
And shall the King want Strafford at his need?
Am I not here?
 Not in the market-place,
Pressed on by the rough artisans, so proud
To catch a glance from Wentworth! They lie down
Hungry yet smile "Why, it must end some day:
Is he not watching for our sake?" Not there!
But in Whitehall, the whited sepulchre,
The....
 Curse nothing to-night! Only one name
They'll curse in all those streets to-night. Whose fault?
Did I make kings? set up, the first, a man
To represent the multitude, receive
All love in right of them—supplant them so,
Until you love the man and not the king——
The man with the mild voice and mournful eyes
Which send me forth.
 —To breast the bloody sea
That sweeps before me: with one star for guide.
Night has its first, supreme, forsaken star.