Scene I
WHITEHALL.
HOLLIS, CARLISLE.
HOLLIS.
Tell the King, then! Come in with me!
CARLISLE.
Not so! He must not hear 'till it succeeds!
HOLLIS.
Vain! Vain! No dream was half so vain—you'll rescue Strafford And outwit Pym! I cannot tell you . . . girl, The block pursues me—all the hideous show . . To-day . . . is it to-day? And all the while He's sure of the King's pardon . . think, I have To tell this man he is to die! The King May rend his hair, for me! I'll not see Strafford!
CARLISLE.
Only, if I succeed, remember——Charles
Has saved him! He would hardly value life
Unless his gift. My staunch friends wait! Go in— You must go in to Charles!
HOLLIS.
And all beside
Left Strafford long ago—the King has signed
The warrant for his death . . the Queen was sick
Of the eternal subject! For the Court,—
The Trial was amusing in its way
Only too much of it . . the Earl withdrew
In time! But you—fragile—alone—so young! Amid rude mercenaries—you devised A plan to save him! Even tho' it fails What shall reward you?
CARLISLE.
I may go, you think, To France with him? And you reward me, friend! Who lived with Strafford even from his youth Before he set his heart on state-affairs And they bent down that noble brow of his—— I have learned somewhat of his latter life And all the future I shall know—but, Hollis, I ought to make his youth my own as well! Tell me——when he is saved!
HOLLIS.
My gentle girl
He should know all—should love you—but 'tis vain!
CARLISLE.
No—no—too late now! Let him love the King! 'Tis the King's scheme! I have your word—remember!— We'll keep the old delusion up! But, hush! Hush! Each of us has work to do, beside! Go to the King! I hope—Hollis—I hope! Say nothing of my scheme! Hush, while we speak Think where He is! Now for my gallant friends! (Exit.)
HOLLIS.
Where He is! Calling wildly upon Charles——
Guessing his fate——pacing the prison-floor . . . Let the King tell him! I'll not look on Strafford! (Exit.)
Scene II
THE TOWER.
STRAFFORD sitting with his Children. They sing.
O bell' andare
Per barca in mare, Verso la sera Di Primavera!
WILLIAM.
(The boat's in the broad moonlight all this while)
Verso la sera
Di Primavera.
And the boat shoots from underneath the moon
Into the shadowy distance—only still
You hear the dipping oar,
Verso la sera . . .
And faint—and fainter—and then all's quite gone, Music and light and all, like a lost star.
ANNE.
But you should sleep, father: you were to sleep!
STRAFFORD.
I do sleep, dearest; or if not—you know
There's such a thing as . . .
WILLIAM.
You're too tired to sleep?
STRAFFORD.
It will come by and bye and all day long, In that old quiet house I told you of: We'll sleep safe there.
ANNE.
Why not in Ireland?
STRAFFORD.
Ah! Too many dreams!—That song's for Venice, William: You know how Venice looks upon the map . . . Isles that the mainland hardly can let go?
WILLIAM.
You've been to Venice, father?
STRAFFORD.
I was young then.
WILLIAM.
A city with no King; that's why I like
Even a song that comes from Venice!
STRAFFORD.
William!
WILLIAM.
Oh, I know why! Anne, do you love the King? But I'll see Venice for myself one day.
STRAFFORD.
See many lands, boy—England last of all,—
That way you'll love her best.
WILLIAM.
Why do men say
You sought to ruin her, then!
STRAFFORD.
Ah . . . they say that.
WILLIAM.
Why?
STRAFFORD.
I suppose they must have words to say. As you to sing.
ANNE.
But they make songs beside: Last night I heard one, in the street beneath, That named you . . . Oh, the names!
WILLIAM.
Don't mind her, father! They soon left off when I called out to them!
STRAFFORD.
We shall so soon be out of it, my boy! 'Tis not worth while: who heeds a foolish song?
WILLIAM.
Why, not the King!
STRAFFORD.
Well: it has been the fate
Of better men, and yet. . . . why not feel sure
That Time, who in the twilight comes to mend
All the fantastic Day's caprice—consign
Unto the ground once more the ignoble Term, And raise the Genius on his orb again— That Time will do me right?
ANNE.
(Shall we sing, William? He does not look thus when we sing.)
STRAFFORD.