Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

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Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series Page 256

by Robert Browning


  On Strafford: he has but to see in him

  The Enemy of England . . .

  PYM.

  A right scruple!

  I have heard some called England’s Enemy

  With less consideration.

  VANE.

  Pity me!

  Me — brought so low — who hoped to do so much

  For England — her true servant — Pym, your friend . . .

  Indeed you made me think I was your friend!

  But I have murdered Strafford . . I have been

  The instrument of this! who shall remove

  That memory from me?

  PYM.

  I absolve you, Vane!

  Take you no care for aught that you have done!

  VANE.

  Dear Hampden, not this Bill! Reject this Bill!

  He staggers thro’ the ordeal . . . let him go!

  Strew no fresh fire before him! Plead for us

  With Pym . . what God is he, to have no heart

  Like ours, yet make us love him?

  RUDYARD.

  Hampden, plead

  For us! When Strafford spoke your eyes were thick

  With tears . . save him, dear Hampden!

  HAMPDEN.

  England speaks

  Louder than Strafford! Who are we, to play

  The generous pardoner at her expense —

  Magnanimously waive advantages —

  And if he conquer us. . . . applaud his skill?

  VANE.

  (To PYM.) He was your friend!

  PYM.

  I have heard that before.

  FIENNES.

  But England trusts you . . .

  HAMPDEN.

  Shame be his, who turns

  The opportunity of serving her

  She trusts him with, to his own mean account —

  Who would look nobly frank at her expense!

  FIENNES.

  I never thought it could have come to this!

  PYM (turning from St. JOHN).

  But I have made myself familiar, Fiennes,

  With that one thought — have walked, and sat, and slept,

  That thought before me! I have done such things,

  Being the chosen man that should destroy

  This Strafford! You have taken up that thought

  To play with — for a gentle stimulant —

  To give a dignity to idler life

  By the dim prospect of this deed to come . . .

  But ever with the softening, sure belief,

  That all would come some strange way right at last!

  FIENNES.

  Had we made out some weightier charge . . . .

  PYM.

  You say

  That these are petty charges! Can we come

  To the real charge at all? There he is safe!

  In tyranny’s strong hold! Apostasy

  Is not a crime — Treachery not a crime!

  The cheek burns, the blood tingles, when you name

  Their names, but where’s the power to take revenge

  Upon them? We must make occasion serve:

  The Oversight, pay for the Giant Sin

  That mocks us!

  RUDYARD.

  But this unexampled course — —

  This Bill. . . .

  PYM.

  By this, we roll the clouds away

  Of Precedent and Custom, and at once

  Bid the great light which God has set in all,

  The conscience of each bosom, shine upon

  The guilt of Strafford: each shall lay his hand

  Upon his breast, and say if this one man

  Deserve to die, or no, by those he sought

  First to undo.

  FIENNES.

  You, Vane — — you answer him!

  VANE.

  Pym, you see farthest . . . I can only see

  Strafford . . . I’d not pass over that pale corse

  For all beyond!

  RUDYARD and others.

  Pym, you would look so great!

  Forgive him! He would join us! now he finds

  How false the King has been! The pardon, too,

  Should be your own! Yourself should bear to Strafford

  The pardon of the Commons!

  PYM (starting).

  Meet him? Strafford?

  Have we to meet once more, then? Be it so!

  And yet — the prophecy seemed half fulfilled

  When, at the trial, as he gazed — my youth —

  Our friendship — all old thoughts came back at once

  And left me, for a time . . . .

  VANE (aside to RUDYARD).

  Moved, is he not?

  PYM.

  To-morrow we discuss the points of law

  With Lane . . to-morrow!

  VANE.

  Time enough, dear Pym!

  See, he relents! I knew he would relent!

  PYM.

  The next day, Haselrig, you introduce,

  The Bill of his Attainder. (After a pause.) Pray for me!

  Scene III. WHITEHALL.

  The KING.

  CHARLES.

  Strafford, you are a Prince! Not to reward you

  — Nothing does that — but only for a whim!

  My noble servant! — To defend himself

  Thus irresistibly . . withholding aught

  That seemed to implicate us!

  We have done

  Less gallantly by Strafford! Well, the future

  Must recompense the past.

  She tarries long!

  I understand you, Strafford, now!

  The scheme —

  Carlisle’s mad scheme — he’ll sanction it, I fear,

  For love of me! ‘Twas too precipitate:

  Before the Army’s fairly on its march,

  He’ll be at large: no matter . .

  Well, Carlisle?

  (Enter PYM.)

  PYM.

  Fear me not, Sire . . . my mission is to save,

  This time!

  CHARLES.

  To break thus on me! — Unannounced . . .

  PYM.

  It is of Strafford I would speak.

  CHARLES.

  No more

  Of Strafford! I have heard too much from you!

  PYM.

  I spoke, Sire, for the People: will you hear

  A word upon my own account?

  CHARLES.

  Of Strafford?

  (Aside.) So, turns the tide already? Have we tamed

  The insolent brawler? — Strafford’s brave defence

  Is swift in its effect! (To PYM.) Lord Strafford, Sir,

  Has spoken for himself!

  PYM.

  Sufficiently.

  I would apprize you of the novel course

  The people take: the Trial fails, . . .

  CHARLES.

  Yes — yes —

  We are aware, Sir: for your part in it

  Means shall be found to thank you.

  PYM.

  Pray you, read

  This schedule! (as the KING reads it) I would learn from your own

  mouth

  — (It is a matter much concerning me) —

  Whether, if two Estates of England shall concede

  The death of Strafford, on the grounds set forth

  Within that parchment, you, Sire, can resolve

  To grant your full consent to it. That Bill

  Is framed by me: if you determine, Sire,

  That England’s manifested will shall guide

  Your judgment, ere another week that will

  Shall manifest itself. If not, — I cast

  Aside the measure.

  CHARLES.

  . . You can hinder, then,

  The introduction of that Bill?

  PYM.

  I can.

  CHARLES.

  He is my friend, Sir: I have wronged him: mark you,

  Had I not wronged him — this might be! — You thi
nk

  Because you hate the Earl . . . (turn not away —

  We know you hate him) — no one else could love

  Strafford . . . but he has saved me — many times —

  Think what he has endured . . proud too . . you feel

  What he endured! — And, do you know one strange,

  One frightful thing? We all have used that man

  As though he had been ours . . with not a source

  Of happy thoughts except in us . . and yet

  Strafford has children, and a home as well,

  Just as if we had never been! . . Ah Sir,

  You are moved — you — a solitary man

  Wed to your cause — to England if you will!

  PYM.

  Yes . . think, my soul . . to England! Draw not back!

  CHARLES.

  Prevent that Bill, Sir . . Oh, your course was fair

  Till now! Why, in the end, ‘tis I should sign

  The warrant for his death! You have said much

  That I shall ponder on; I never meant

  Strafford should serve me any more: I take

  The Commons’ counsel: but this Bill is yours —

  Not worthy of its leader . . care not, Sir,

  For that, however! I will quite forget

  You named it to me! You are satisfied?

  PYM.

  Listen to me, Sire! Eliot laid his hand,

  Wasted and white, upon my forehead once;

  Wentworth . . . he’s gone now! . . has talked on, whole nights,

  And I beside him; Hampden loves me; Sire,

  How can I breathe and not wish England well —

  And her King well?

  CHARLES.

  I thank you, Sir! You leave

  That King his servant! Thanks, Sir!

  PYM.

  Let me speak

  — Who may not speak again! whose spirit yearns

  For a cool night after this weary day!

  — Who would not have my heart turn sicker yet

  In a new task, more fatal, more august

  More full of England’s utter weal or woe . . .

  I thought, Sire, could I find myself with you —

  After this Trial — alone — as man to man —

  I might say something — warn you — pray you — save you —

  Mark me, King Charles, save — — you!

  But God must do it. Yet I warn you, Sire —

  (With Strafford’s faded eyes yet full on me)

  As you would have no deeper question moved

  — ”How long the Many shall endure the One” . . .

  Assure me, Sire, if England shall assent

  To Strafford’s death, you will not interfere!

  Or — —

  CHARLES.

  God forsakes me — I am in a net . .

  I cannot move! Let all be as you say!

  (Enter CARLISLE.)

  CARLISLE.

  He loves you — looking beautiful with joy

  Because you sent me! he would spare you all

  The pain! he never dreamed you would forsake

  Your servant in the evil day — nay, see

  Your scheme returned! That generous heart of his!

  He needs it not — or, needing it, disdains

  A course that might endanger you — you, Sire,

  Whom Strafford from his inmost soul . . .

  (Seeing PYM.) No fear —

  No fear for Strafford! all that’s true and brave

  On your own side shall help us! we are now

  Stronger than ever!

  Ha — what, Sire, is this?

  All is not well! What parchment have you there?

  (CHARLES drops it, and exit.)

  PYM.

  Sire, much is saved us both: farewell!

  CARLISLE.

  Stay — stay —

  This cursed measure — you’ll not dare — you mean

  To frighten Charles! This Bill — look —

  (As PYM reads it.)

  Why, your lip

  Whitens — you could not read one line to me

  Your voice would falter so! It shakes you now —

  And will you dare . . .

  PYM.

  No recreant yet to her!

  The great word went from England to my soul,

  And I arose! The end is very near! (Exit.)

  CARLISLE.

  I save him! All have shrunk from him beside —

  ‘Tis only I am left! Heaven will make strong

  The hand as the true heart! Then let me die! (Exit.)

  ACT V

  Scene I. WHITEHALL.

  HOLLIS, CARLISLE.

  HOLLIS.

  Tell the King, then! Come in with me!

  CARLISLE.

  Not so!

  He must not hear ‘till it succeeds!

  HOLLIS.

  Vain! Vain!

  No dream was half so vain — you’ll rescue Strafford

  And outwit Pym! I cannot tell you . . . girl,

  The block pursues me — all the hideous show . .

  To-day . . . is it to-day? And all the while

  He’s sure of the King’s pardon . . think, I have

  To tell this man he is to die!

  The King

  May rend his hair, for me! I’ll not see Strafford!

  CARLISLE.

  Only, if I succeed, remember — — Charles

  Has saved him! He would hardly value life

  Unless his gift.

  My staunch friends wait! Go in —

  You must go in to Charles!

  HOLLIS.

  And all beside

  Left Strafford long ago — the King has signed

  The warrant for his death . . the Queen was sick

  Of the eternal subject! For the Court, —

  The Trial was amusing in its way

  Only too much of it . . the Earl withdrew

  In time! But you — fragile — alone — so young!

  Amid rude mercenaries — you devised

  A plan to save him! Even tho’ it fails

  What shall reward you?

  CARLISLE.

  I may go, you think,

  To France with him? And you reward me, friend!

  Who lived with Strafford even from his youth

  Before he set his heart on state-affairs

  And they bent down that noble brow of his — —

  I have learned somewhat of his latter life

  And all the future I shall know — but, Hollis,

  I ought to make his youth my own as well!

  Tell me — — when he is saved!

  HOLLIS.

  My gentle girl

  He should know all — should love you — but ‘tis vain!

  CARLISLE.

  No — no — too late now! Let him love the King!

  ‘Tis the King’s scheme! I have your word — remember! —

  We’ll keep the old delusion up! But, hush!

  Hush! Each of us has work to do, beside!

  Go to the King! I hope — Hollis — I hope!

  Say nothing of my scheme! Hush, while we speak

  Think where He is! Now for my gallant friends! (Exit.)

  HOLLIS.

  Where He is! Calling wildly upon Charles — —

  Guessing his fate — — pacing the prison-floor . . .

  Let the King tell him! I’ll not look on Strafford! (Exit.)

  Scene II. THE TOWER.

  STRAFFORD sitting with his Children. They sing.

  O bell’ andare

  Per barca in mare,

  Verso la sera

  Di Primavera!

  WILLIAM.

  (The boat’s in the broad moonlight all this while)

  Verso la sera

  Di Primavera.

  And the boat shoots from underneath the moon

  Into the shadowy distance — only still

  You hear the dipping oar,

  Verso la sera . . .
/>
  And faint — and fainter — and then all’s quite gone,

  Music and light and all, like a lost star.

  ANNE.

  But you should sleep, father: you were to sleep!

  STRAFFORD.

  I do sleep, dearest; or if not — you know

  There’s such a thing as . . .

  WILLIAM.

  You’re too tired to sleep?

  STRAFFORD.

  It will come by and bye and all day long,

  In that old quiet house I told you of:

  We’ll sleep safe there.

  ANNE.

  Why not in Ireland?

  STRAFFORD.

  Ah!

  Too many dreams! — That song’s for Venice, William:

  You know how Venice looks upon the map . . .

  Isles that the mainland hardly can let go?

  WILLIAM.

  You’ve been to Venice, father?

  STRAFFORD.

  I was young then.

  WILLIAM.

  A city with no King; that’s why I like

  Even a song that comes from Venice!

  STRAFFORD.

  William!

  WILLIAM.

  Oh, I know why! Anne, do you love the King?

  But I’ll see Venice for myself one day.

  STRAFFORD.

  See many lands, boy — England last of all, —

  That way you’ll love her best.

  WILLIAM.

  Why do men say

  You sought to ruin her, then!

  STRAFFORD.

  Ah . . . they say that.

  WILLIAM.

  Why?

  STRAFFORD.

  I suppose they must have words to say.

  As you to sing.

  ANNE.

  But they make songs beside:

  Last night I heard one, in the street beneath,

  That named you . . . Oh, the names!

  WILLIAM.

  Don’t mind her, father!

  They soon left off when I called out to them!

  STRAFFORD.

  We shall so soon be out of it, my boy!

  ‘Tis not worth while: who heeds a foolish song?

  WILLIAM.

  Why, not the King!

  STRAFFORD.

  Well: it has been the fate

  Of better men, and yet. . . . why not feel sure

  That Time, who in the twilight comes to mend

  All the fantastic Day’s caprice — consign

  Unto the ground once more the ignoble Term,

  And raise the Genius on his orb again —

  That Time will do me right?

  ANNE.

  (Shall we sing, William?

  He does not look thus when we sing.)

  STRAFFORD.

  For Ireland, —

  Something is done . . too little, but enough

  To show what might have been: —

  WILLIAM.

  (I have no heart

  To sing now! Anne, how very sad he looks!

  Oh I so hate the King for all he says!)

  STRAFFORD.

  Forsook them! What, the common songs will run

  That I forsook the People? Nothing more?

 

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