Part 15 (2/2)

_Cromwell:_ Three days, then, sir. I brought Your Majesty this.

(He takes a miniature from his pouch.) It is newly drawn by Mr. Cooper. It is of a young man, Andrew Marvell, of whose verses Your Majesty would think well. He should do much. Cooper has drawn it well--it's very decisive in line, sir?

_Charles:_ Yes. A little heavy there in the nostril, perhaps, but good. Yes, very.

_Cromwell:_ I am told that Van Dyck admires him.

_Charles:_ I have heard him say so.

_Cromwell:_ It's generous of him--the methods are so different.

_Charles:_ Van Dyck draws marvellously in sanguine.

(He takes a drawing from the drawer in front of him and places it before Cromwell, on the case of papers.) That approaches any of the masters, I think.

_Cromwell:_ Good--yes. And yet Hans Holbein was incomparable--not so a.s.sertive--no, copious, and yet as complete, simpler. But--yes, there is great dignity here.

(He holds up the drawing in front of him, holding it against the folio case for firmness. CHARLES makes a movement, but instantly restrains himself. CROMWELL is about to replace the drawing and case on the table, when his glance falls on NEAL'S paper, which is lying in front of him.

He sees nothing, but a second glance arrests all his movement. After a moment he turns to look fixedly at the King. There is a silence; then:)

_Cromwell:_ What in the name of G.o.d is this?

(Striking the paper with his hand.)

_Charles:_ It is private to ourselves.

_Cromwell_ (rising): To ourselves? For our private pleasure we will destroy this country, and blast the people in it! Read it, Ireton.

(IRETON takes the paper and rises.)

_Charles_ (rising): These are notes for our own contemplation.

_Cromwell:_ Here are ten lines of the bitterest d.a.m.nation that ever came from the mind of treason.

(Taking the paper again.) The Scots to invade England. The King's arms to be raised again.

Presbytery to... Freedom to be destroyed--and diligently, at the King's pleasure. Word blaspheming word as we have spoken. Disastrous man!

_Ireton:_ How far has this gone?

_Charles:_ We are not before our judges.

_Cromwell:_ It will come. This iniquity means we know not what new bitterness of destruction. But know this, Charles Stuart, that, when we draw the sword again, it is the sword of judgment. Out there many call you the man of blood. I have laboured for you, have met them all in persuasion. I had prevailed. It is finished. Blood is upon us again, blood spilled for a perfidious king. The sword that we had put by for ever! My G.o.d, how I have feared it! Well, so be it. We go to the field again--but then, prepare you for the reckoning. It shall be to the uttermost.

_Charles:_ This argument is ended.

_Cromwell:_ All arguments are ended.

(He goes with IRETON, taking the paper.)

<script>