Part 1 (1/2)

Cromwell.

by Alfred B. Richards.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

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

_A Lane near a Village. Afternoon._

_Enter ARTHUR WALTON and WILLIAM, R.S.E._

_Arthur._ Give me your arm, my feet tread heavily; The sameness of this scene doth pierce my heart With thronging recollections of the past.

There is nought chang'd--and what a world of care, Of sorrow, pa.s.sion, pleasure have I known, Since but a natural part of this was I, Whose voice is now a discord to the sounds Once daily mellow'd in my youthful being.

Methinks I feel like one that long hath read A strange and chequer'd story, and doth rise, With a deep sigh to be _himself_ again.

_Will._ One would not think, Sir, how much blood had stain'd Old England, since we left her, finding thus All things so peaceful; but one thing I mark'd As we did skirt the village.

_Arth._ What was that?

_Will._ The king's face was defac'd--the sign o' the inn At jolly Master Gurton's--mind you not How sad it look'd? Yet 'neath it I've been gay, A time or two; 'tis not my fortune now: Those bright Italian skies have even marr'd My judgment of clear ale.

_Arth._ I'faith 'twill need A marvellous scant repair.

_Will._ One jovial day Of honest mud and wholesome English fog.

_Arth._ That sign! 'twas once the royal head of James; Some thirsty limner pa.s.sing made it Charles; I've heard it said 'twas e'en our good Queen Bess, By curious folk that trac'd her high starch'd ruff In the quaint faded back of antique chair, Her stomacher in Charles's shrivell'd vest-- Who in his turn is gone. Well, take this letter, See the old knight; but not a word to him.

Stay, I forgot, my little rosy cousin Should be a woman now; thus--full of wiles, Glancing behind the man that trusts her love To his best friend, and wanton with the girls She troops with, in such trifling, foolish sort, To turn the stomach of initiate man.

Fie! I care not to hear of her; yet ask If she be well. Commend me to my brother; Thou wilt not tarry--he will give thee gold, And haste to welcome me--go! At the inn We'll meet some two hours hence.

[_Exit R._]

_Will._ Hem! I doubt much About this welcoming.--Sad human Nature!

This brother was a careful, G.o.dly youth That kept accounts, and smiling pa.s.s'd a beggar, Saying, ”Good-morrow, friend,” yet never gave.

Where head doth early ripen, heart comes late-- Therefore, I say, I doubt this welcoming. [_Exeunt._]

SCENE II.

[_Last Cut._] [_2nd Grooves._]

_An Apartment in a Manor House._

_Enter BASIL WALTON and FLORENCE, R._

_Basil._ [_following Florence._] I'll break thy haughty spirit!

_Flor._ Will you, sir?-- 'Tis base, ungentle, and unmannerly, Because, forsooth, you covet my poor wealth, Which likes me not, as I care not for it, To persecute a helpless girl like me.

_Basil._ I will protect thee; but accept my love.