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_Eliz._ [_Throwing down the book._] The black print seems all red--I cannot read!
[_Points to the inner room._]
Mine eyes burn so--And they are happy there Together--'twas my work--and now I wish That seas convuls'd by tempests were between them; And an eternal veil of blackness girded The one from the other--each in separate light, But still apart! apart! O horror, why Doth their communion cast such hopeless gloom Upon me, more than all a father's guilt, A sovereign's woe?--O daughter of a traitor!
Traitoress! Thou lovest him thy friend doth love, And--he loves her! ay, that is it, he loves her.
[_Laughs hysterically._]
I am a wedded wife. There is no stain Of guilty wish. I ne'er thought to be his: No! no! False wretch, thou dost this moment. Hold, 'Tis past!
Oh! would that I were far remov'd, Not seeing, hearing, knowing all their lore, Not feeling their young blest affection jar Through every fibre--thus!
This is the day The king's fate is decided--If he die Arthur will hate us, hate my father, me, The regicide's pale daughter--thus to think Of the king's life! that was my only prayer Before; and now it fades on my cold lips, And startles me to hear it! [_MUSIC is heard within._]
O my heart!
It seems as though a thousand daggers' points Would not suffice to stab it, so it might Feel some release-- [_Falls on her knees._]
My G.o.d! forsake me not!
_As the music ends, enter the LADY CROMWELL; she approaches her daughter, and, bending over her, lifts her up._
_Lady Crom._ What is it, child?--I have now heard from Fairfax: He saith it will not be--Thy father is But stern unto the last-- He'll pray to G.o.d And G.o.d will aid him--
_Eliz._ But _His_ judgments, mother!
Are awful. Did not Christ condemn the mind That is polluted with a guilty thought, As if 'twere done?
_Lady Crom._ This weary thought of hers About the king hath turn'd her brain.
Dear daughter, Rouse thee, he will not die!
_Enter a Messenger, others of the family, the LADY FAIRFAX in deep mourning._
_Lady Fairf._ The king is sentenced.
Death! [_Bell tolls._]
_ELIZABETH, raising herself, falls back into her Mother's arms with a sudden scream. They carry her back._
_Enter ARTHUR and FLORENCE._
_Arth._ Then, madam, let us part--'tis better.
_Flor._ Yes, I think so, sir.
_Arth._ I cannot brook this treatment--
_Flor._ I do not wish you--
_Arth._ Heartless!
_Flor._ Certainly, A heart is troublesome; it oft makes fools Of those that own it-- I should hate a man Made me ridiculous.
_Arth._ Farewell!
_Flor._ Farewell!
[_FLORENCE runs to the LADY ELIZABETH._]
_Arth._ [_Joining the group._] What is the matter?
_One of the Domestics._ Sir, the king is sentenc'd To death; it is too much for her--
_Arth._ Alas!
Is it even so?--
_Flor._ [_To Arthur._] Arthur! here, lend your aid To bear her hence--Elizabeth! 'Tis Florence--
[_He attempts to raise her._]
_Eliz._ I tell you I can stand-- His arm? [_Aside._]
Away! [_Aloud._]
Sir, do not touch me, you ill-treat my friend!
_Flor._ To think she heard, my folly-- Sir, I fancy [_To Arthur._]
She will be better, if you are not here--
[_He bows and is about to retire._]
_Enter CROMWELL and PEARSON followed by two or three officers._
_Crom._ Where be ye all?-- [_To an Officer._] These to your Colonel Pride-- [_Exit officer, L._]
And thou to Rich; tell him to watch and fast, [_To another._]
For I have need of him--[_Exit officer, L._]
What coil is this?--[_To his Family._]
My daughter ill! send a physician, quick: Pearson, look to it-- I am ill myself.
'Twas a sore trial, ye have heard of it-- The man must die--
_Eliz._ No! father, as you hope For mercy, no!
_Crom._ Peace, simpleton. It was The voice of all this people.
_Arth._ General, hear me: Thou hadst the power to save--
_Crom._ Ay! Master Walton, Thou thinkest so?--
_Arth._ I do!--
_Crom._ And dar'st to speak it?
_Arth._ Dare! General Cromwell! [_Takes off his sword._]
Here, look, is my sword, I'll never more bear arms with thee or thine.
_Crom._ I do protest thou wilt not-- Take his sword; [_To an Officer._]
I did not think to find this kite so tame.
