Cromwell Part 12

[_Falls back exhausted._]

_Will._ An' this be not a lesson! I have no father that is a malignant, and could therefore only undergo simple murder. However, [_touching the hilt of his sword_] rest thou there! in Mercy's hallowed name--nay more, as rashness is animal, so a due timidity is soul, which is mind, and I have a great mind to run away, and mind being soul, I think I have a greater soul than Alexander.

[_A loud discharge of cannon, L._]

Now if it were not for that, this foolish brute, my body, might rush off in that direction, but it don't, for a great mind prevents it, therefore--

[_Stage more dark. He runs off in an opposite direction to the shot, R. More wounded enter and fall down, U.E.L._]

_Enter an Old Man in the King's uniform, of red coats, L._

_Old Man._ I thought the day was ours. The headlong Rupert Swept all before him, like the wind that bends The thin and unkind corn, his men were numb With slaying, and their chargers straddling, blown With undue speed, as they had hunted that Which could not turn again--e'en thus was Rupert, When round to meet his squadrons came a host Like whirlwind to the wind.

There was a moment that the blood-surge roll'd Hither and thither, while you saw in the air Ten thousand bright blades, and as many eyes Of flame flashed terribly. Then Rupert stay'd His hot hand in amazement, And all his blood-stain'd chivalry grew pale: The hunters, chang'd to quarry, fled amain, I saw the prince's jet-black, favourite barb Thrown on her haunches; then away, away, Her speed did bear him safe. Then there came one, A grisly man, with head all bare and grey, That shouted, "Smite and scatter, spare not, ho!

Ye chosen of the Lord!" and they did smite, As on the anvil; till the plumed helms Of all our best bent down. Alas! alas!

That I should see this day---

[_Looks about and finds his son._]

What's this, my son!

Wounded? my disobedient child?

I thought of him But now in charging, as I met a foe That beat my sword-arm down--had he been there I had not suffer'd--nay, what colours these?

_Against_ the king?--he is my son; I'll bear Him off, and win him to his king and me.

[_Takes him up, several cross the stage flying.

Musketry from L. to R. A shot strikes the Old Man, who falls. Several officers and soldiers enter fighting with swords and firearms._]

_CROMWELL enters pursuing, L. to R._

_Crom._ Strike home! spare none! The father with the son, That fights for tyranny. [To a Trooper.] Give me thy sword!

Mine own is hack'd with slaying-- Where is Rupert?

The haughty Rupert now?-- Where is this king, That tempts the G.o.d of battles?--Are they gone, That cost these precious lives?

[_Here the sun breaks out in splendour and lights up the battle-ground behind._]

"Let G.o.d arise, And let his enemies be scattered!"

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE, I.

[_1st Grooves._]

_An apartment in Cromwell's house._

_Enter CROMWELL, ARTHUR, the LADY ELIZABETH, L._

_Crom._ To have a home, that is no fitting home, Is worse than the sad orphan's part, who gathers His lean crumbs from the world's wide eager table, And pares the flint-stones borne in stranger b.r.e.a.s.t.s, To eke him out against the cruel winds--

[_Crosses to his daughter._]

Thou say'st she was thy playmate-- Come, thou hast Mov'd the stern soldier to thy woman's will.

Go, sir! [To Arthur.] and fetch this Florence from her roof.

There should be no such scandal done in England, As the loud insult of a marriage forc'd Before G.o.d's altar.

_Arth._ If they do oppose?

_Crom._ Thy brother is a worker in my hands, Leave him to me; the old man loves his wealth Too well. I say, go quickly, and return With speed direct--I'd have thee near me, [_Aside._] for Thy n.o.ble confidence that dares to speak The first-fruits of thy mind,-- I have regard [_Aloud._]

For thee, young man, see that you keep it warm As now--but mind, no swords, as ye are brothers-- Not e'en reproach.--Sweet heart, when foolish mercy [_To his daughter._]

Doth beg an idle tale from thy dear lips, Perchance thou'lt seek thy father--until then, All good be with thee! [_Crosses to R._]

Sir! I will direct [_To Arthur._]

A present escort for you.

[_Exit CROMWELL, R._]

_Arth._ Lady! deem My heart coin'd into words to thank you nothing For payment of this service.

_Eliz._ Sympathy Is just as often born of happiness, As bitter suffering of the world's contempt.

Within the magic circle of a home, Happy and loved as mine is, The heart is touched with pity's gentle wand To do her lightest bidding-- But in this, There is no kind emotion worth the name; For I would see my school-fellow and friend To talk old nothings, something still to us, And look beneath the lashes of her eyes, To learn her plaint against the selfish world, And read her trust in Heaven-- Is she fair As childhood promised ?--[_Looking archly at Arthur._]

Do you know, I think You love her more than cousinship demands?

_Arth._ Nay! she is worthy of all love.

_Eliz._ Well, well, sir!

I shall know when I see you both together.

_Exeunt ELIZABETH, R., ARTHUR, L._

SCENE II.

[_1st Cut._] [_2nd Grooves._]

_A Hall in a Manor House.--Discovered SIR SIMON, in an easy chair, supported by servants, BASIL and FLORENCE attending._

_Sir Sim._ I am thy father. Would'st kill me, girl?

O dear! I saw Master Stacker, the court physician that was, to-day. [Coughs.] Oh, I am very ill.

_Flor._ Dear father! what said he?

_Sir Sim._ That I have a disease of the heart. Now I don't agree with him. There he is mistaken. Why I might die instantly with a disease of the heart.