Part 18 (1/2)

_Arth._ Then kill not Charles, For Charles the Second, reigns in England then.

_Crom._ Hum, perchance--

_Arth._ _He_ hath done us no offence, Ye would not slay him, if ye had him here.

I tell ye, banish Charles, this present man, And none shall question, whilst his feeble race And name shall dwindle hence, as shall arise The fair proportions of our Commonwealth On the decay of kings, not on the death Of one weak monarch.-- What! doth any here Wish that himself be king?

_Crom._ He raves!

_Vane._ Nay! listen!

He hath much reason.

_Crom._ [_Throws a cus.h.i.+on at Ludlow._] Ho! there regicide!

Have at thee! [_Confusion._]

_Arth._ [ Vainly attempts to speak.] Gentlemen, I say then--Hear!

[_MILTON and others commence leaving. LUDLOW pursues CROMWELL, who finally runs down stairs, pursued by the former._]

_Arth._ [_To Milton._] Nay! nay! my friend.

_Milt._ Another time.

This is not seemly.

_Har._ Surely, doth the Lord Need us elsewhere. Who holdeth forth below?

[_They all go but Arthur._]

_Re-enter CROMWELL from the stairs._

_Crom._ I do protest that I am out of breath-- Yet I commend thy reasoning.

_Arth._ But, my Lord.--

_Crom._ That rascal, Ludlow!

_Arth._ Will the trial be?

_Crom._ 'Twould justify us much.

_Arth._ But if he die--

_Crom._ [_In a hurried tone and walking off._]

It is not thy affair, or mine--Why now-- Let's talk anon, I'm tir'd. Hast thou seen My daughter Frances?--fares she well to-day?

Give me thine arm--I do admire thy reasons.

You see, these angry fanatics boil over; 'Twill simmer down anon--The king must live.

And yet he hath done much--wrought evil work, And so--