[_Exeunt, R._]

SCENE V.

[_1st Cut._] [_3rd Grooves._]

_A Room in GURTON'S Alehouse. Night._

_Enter WILLIAM, with a letter in his hand, S.E.R._

_Will._ So now, a letter from my Master to his cousin, and then, of course, an answer to that. I had need go get myself fitted like Mercury, with wings at his heels. To be the lacquey of a man that hath quarrelled with his mistress! And to know the final issue all the time, that it is sure to be made up between them. And to hear him mutter "the last,"

between his teeth, while sealing it. He was to have journeyed this evening, too, but the General Cromwell, with a face very red and perturbed, and a nose as it were of lava; his wart being ignited like the pimple of a salamander, hath been desiring to see him instantly. There is something going to happen among them. Well, in these confused days, Since I'm of those that have got nought to lose, Perchance I may step in some richer shoes!

[_Exit, L._]

_Enter the HOST, partly undressed, in his sleep, with a candle in his hand. He walks carefully about the Room, and then exit, U.E.R.

On the other side, as he goes out, enter WYCKOFF and BASIL, S.E.L._

_Basil._ I thought I heard a noise.

_Wyck._ 'Tis an old house, and probably there is a Parliament of grey rats busy. I mind well aboard ship, as I did once visit the hold, where we had store of ingots and bales of wealthy goods, I saw them sitting. I ordered the long boat to be cast loose and got ready, but said nothing, except to a few; for I knew something would happen; and sure enough in three days was a leak--whew! I hear the bubbling of the water now in my head--here I am, you see----

_Basil._ And the rest?--

_Wyck._ Are there! [_Points downwards._]

In the long-boat we found a very old rat; a tough morsel; but we ate him, and drank sea-water. We were forced to throw the gold overboard! [_Looks around._] Is there nothing we can get to swig now?--

_Basil._ They are all abed.

_Wyck._ I hate the sound of snoring, when I am about at night. It puts one in mind of groans. Shall I rouse the host?--

_Basil._ No! no! to business--first to hide these papers.

_Wyck._ Ay! and about thy brother.

_Basil._ You see these letters addressed to me in his name by Sir Marmaduke Langdale, touching the rising in the North, I will place them under yon plank in the floor. 'Tis already loosened. Then, when he is accused to Cromwell, who hath strong doubts of him--I have seen to that; besides, I know him, he doth fear for the king, and will incense them all--I will have them found, and then--

_Wyck._ Why thou art Satan's trump-card! Mind I have been thy faithful tool, thy messenger, and love thee--thou mayest as well sign me the paper thou didst speak of--five hundred a year--I will then eschew dice and go live virtuously with a woman and repent my youthful misdeeds. I am not like thee, to sin when I have plenty.

_Basil._ Yes! yes! but come, a.s.sist--[_They lift up a plank, U.E.L., in the floor, and deposit papers; as they do so, enter HOST, still asleep, U.E.R. He goes to a cup-board, which he opens, and then pouring out a gla.s.s of spirits--drinks, and gives a kind of satisfied grunt._] Hold! we are seen. [_Draws a dagger._]

_Wyck._ [_Springing up._] The devil! where is my knife?--Hist! Do you not see?--he sleeps. I have seen this before. Did I not tell you of the girl?--I have heard them teaze him about this. [_To Basil._] Be quiet, fool! [_They watch the HOST; he takes a pitcher of water and pours into the flask he had been drinking from._] The d.a.m.ned old thief! I could have sworn it yesterday. He waters his strong drink. That's why I have not been so well here. I have a cursed cholic these three days, and missed the warm nip it should give my stomach. The poisonous old dog!

_Basil._ Are you sure?

_Wyck._ Look at his eyes. You shall see me flourish my blade before them, and he shall not wink. But don't touch him. [_He goes up to him and menaces him._] 'Tis all safe; he will go now. [_The HOST replaces the things, and goes slowly out, U.E.R. The clock strikes twelve._] Come, let us see where he puts his keys. [_They steal out after him._]

SCENE VI.

[_Last Grooves._]

_A large apartment dimly lighted. Tables with writing materials. A practicable door and stairs in L.F., practicable doors, R. and L.U.E.'S, chairs, &c._

_CROMWELL enters, R., very much agitated, followed by his daughter ELIZABETH. After pacing across and back, he stops short in the middle of the stage and speaks._

_Crom._ Have I not promis'd thee that I will save him, If he will save himself? [_To his daughter._]

_Eliz._ Thou hast, dear father.

And then, with blessings on thy righteous name, Rejecting all they offer thee, vain t.i.tles, And selfish, mean, dishonourable honours, Thou wilt return unto our natural home At Huntingdon, and I will read to thee, As I was wont. Thy hair then will not whiten So fast, and sometimes thou wilt have a smile Upon thy countenance, that grows so stern Of late, I hardly dare look up to thee, And call thee "dearest father"-- Shall it be?

Did the king speak thee fair?

_Crom._ [_Gloomily._] Too fair, too fair!

E'en to be honest fair. Our good John Milton Speaks bitter words. He saith Lord Strafford grac'd Right well the block, that put his trust in him.

What saith the Scripture of the faith of princes?

_Eliz._ 'Twas not the fault of Charles that Strafford died.

_Crom._ It was his fault to sign-- He should have died Himself first. Daughter! urge me not--I'll do What the Lord wills in this. Go! mind the household, Thou little Royalist.

_Eliz._ Nay! father, hear me--

_Crom._ Away, puss! Where are Richard and thy husband?

_Eliz._ I will not leave thee, 'till thou promisest--

_Crom._ As the Lord liveth, is it not enough To struggle with a royal hypocrite, To keep his feet from falling, 'mid dissension, On all sides, worse than chaos, liker h.e.l.l!

To be thus baited, by one's own pale household, Prating of what they may not understand?

Thy brother Richard with his heavy step, Ploughing his way from book-cas'd room to room, With eye as dull as huckster's three-day's fish, And just as silent; then thy mother with Her tearful and beseeching look, that moves Like a green widow in a mourning trance, The very picture of "G.o.d help us all;"

And thou, with sickly whining worse than they, Do ye think I shall do murder?

Why not go At once unto the foe, and there be spurn'd By Henrietta, that false Delilah?-- Or plot my death for loyalty? What is A father in your minds weigh'd with a king?

Yet what is "king" to you? ye were not bred To lick his moral sores in ecstasy, And bay like hounds before the royal gate On all the world beside--Go hence! go hence!

I would be left alone--

_Eliz._ O father, hold!

And pardon me for my distracted thought.

Thou knowest best, and I am wrong indeed: I did but pine to see thee more with us, To see thee happier--

_Crom._ My child, my child!

Mercy shall look with eyes like thine on me Though justice frown beside. [_Takes her hand._]

Look up, my child!

Ask what thou wilt except our country's shame.

[_Cromwell hands Elizabeth off, R., and remains looking after her._]

_Enter, R.D.U.E., MILTON, IRETON, BRADSHAW, MARTEN, HARRISON (who brings a saddle and places it upon the table), LILBURNE, ARTHUR WALTON, LUDLOW.