Part 24 (1/2)

_Lady Crom._ Cease, cease! Indeed my heart is sad enough.

My daughter needs us.

_Flor._ O forgive me, Madam!

My grief seem'd thoughtless of another's woe, And I that love her so?--I'll go with you This instant, watch by her, and pray for all This most unhappy world. Come, let us seek her-- Haste! Will she know me, think you? Lean on me, You are fatigued with watching. I am strong.

[_Exeunt, U.E.R._]

_Enter CROMWELL alone, R._

_Crom._ How well he died, that liv'd not well--his words Strike cold here. Kings have died ere now, whose lives Were needless, hurtful to their people's good, But none so meek as this. O Cromwell! Cromwell!

Hast thou done well! O could an angel light The deepest corner of thy secret mind, And tell thee thou'rt not d.a.m.ned to h.e.l.l for this, The avenging act of horror--or that, inspir'd, Thou wert the minister of Heaven's decree, And that ambition drugg'd not thy design With soul-consuming poison! I, this I, Have done it--for what!--Which is't? To live and reign?

Or crown the smiling land with good? Well, both!

If I have sinn'd, it was at least for all.

The puny stripling calls not his love, l.u.s.t: The pa.s.sions that we have in us may blend With n.o.ble purpose and with high design; Else men who saw the world had gone astray Would only wish it better--and lie down, In vain regret to perish.-- How his head Roll'd on the platform with deep, hollow sound!

Methinks I hear it now, and through my brain It vibrates like the storm's accusing knell, Making the guilty quake. I am not guilty!

It was the nation's voice, the headsman's axe.

Why drums it then within my throbbing ear?-- I slew him not!

_Enter PEARSON, L._

_Pear._ My Lord! there is one here Would speak with you--

_Crom._ Admit him. Am I not The servant of this country, to see all That come to me?--

[_PEARSON goes out, and returns with BASIL. PEARSON retires, L._]

_Basil._ Health to the General!

_Crom._ Good Master Basil, welcome.

I am griev'd, Most griev'd in spirit for your brother; yet I must not pardon him. I have receiv'd Your protestation--

_Basil._ I have done much service, Good service to the state; I ask his life, Not liberty.

_Crom._ It cannot be, and yet I lov'd him well myself. It must not be, [_Pause._] Yet you have done good service. I am glad You do insist on it. I had not yielded To any other--but you have a right To ask this thing, and I am bound to grant it; I am glad it comes from you, his brother, here--

[_Signs a paper and hands it to BASIL._]

What will you do with him?

_Basil._ I fear, my Lord, There is such treason prov'd--the colonies--

_Crom._ Nay! Let him where he will; but not to stay In England for his head--he dies, if found here Two days hence--

_Basil._ Thanks, my Lord, it shall be seen to.

A brother's thanks--farewell-- [_He goes out, L._]

_Crom._ How different is The aspect of these brethren, most unlike The soul of each to his face--The brow of Arthur So open and so clear, and yet a traitor.

Indeed, methinks the countenance, which oft Is the mask fitted to the character Of gross and eager sensualists, is but A lying index to the subtle souls Of villains more acute.

Come hither, Pearson!