Charles the First
Lines:1007Movement:Romanticism
SCENE 1:THE MASQUE OF THE INNS OF COURT. A PURSUIVANT:Place, for the Marshal of the Masque! FIRST CITIZEN:What thinkest thou of this quaint masque which turns,Like morning from the shadow of the night,The night to day, and London to a placeOf peace and joy? SECOND CITIZEN:And Hell to Heaven.Eight years are gone,And they seem hours, since in this populous streetI trod on grass made green by summer's rain,For the red plague kept state within that palaceWhere now that vanity reigns. In nine years moreThe roots will be refreshed with civil blood;And thank the mercy of insulted HeavenThat sin and wrongs wound, as an orphan's cry,The patience of the great Avenger's ear. A YOUTH:Yet, father, 'tis a happy sight to see,Beautiful, innocent, and unforbiddenBy God or man;--'tis like the bright processionOf skiey visions in a solemn dreamFrom which men wake as from a Paradise,And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life.If God be good, wherefore should this be evil?And if this be not evil, dost thou not drawUnseasonable poison from the flowersWhich bloom so rarely in this barren world?Oh, kill these bitter thoughts which make the presentDark as the future!-- ... When Avarice and Tyranny, vigilant Fear,And open-eyed Conspiracy lie sleepingAs on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughtsWaken to worship Him who giveth joysWith His own gift. SECOND CITIZEN:How young art thou in this old age of time!How green in this gray world? Canst thou discernThe signs of seasons, yet perceive no hintOf change in that stage-scene in which thou artNot a spectator but an actor? orArt thou a puppet moved by ?The day that dawns in fire will die in storms,Even though the noon be calm. My travel's done,--Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have foundMy inn of lasting rest; but thou must stillBe journeying on in this inclement air.Wrap thy old cloak about thy back;Nor leave the broad and plain and beaten road,Although no flowers smile on the trodden dust,For the violet paths of pleasure. This Charles the FirstRose like the equinoctial sun,...By vapours, through whose threatening ominous veilDarting his altered influence he has gainedThis height of noon--from which he must declineAmid the darkness of conflicting storms,To dank extinction and to latest night...There goesThe apostate Strafford; he whose titleswhispered aphorismsFrom Machiavel and Bacon: and, if JudasHad been as brazen and as bold as he-- FIRST CITIZEN:ThatIs the Archbishop. SECOND CITIZEN:Rather say the Pope:London will be soon his Rome: he walksAs if he trod upon the heads of men:He looks elate, drunken with blood and gold;--Beside him moves the Babylonian womanInvisibly, and with her as with his shadow,Mitred adulterer! he is joined in sin,Which turns Heaven's milk of mercy to revenge. THIRD CITIZEN [LIFTING UP HIS EYES]:Good Lord! rain it down upon him!...Amid her ladies walks the papist queen,As if her nice feet scorned our English earth.The Canaanitish Jezebel! I would beA dog if I might tear her with my teeth!There's old Sir Henry Vane, the Earl of Pembroke,Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry,And others who make base their English breedBy vile participation of their honoursWith papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates.When lawyers masque 'tis time for honest menTo strip the vizor from their purposes.A seasonable time for masquers this!When Englishmen and Protestants should sitdust on their dishonoured headsTo avert the wrath of Him whose scourge is feltFor the great sins which have drawn down from Heavenand foreign overthrow.The remnant of the martyred saints in RochefortHave been abandoned by their faithless alliesTo that idolatrous and adulterous torturerLewis of France,--the Palatinate is lost--[ENTER LEIGHTON (WHO HAS BEEN BRANDED IN THE FACE) AND BASTWICK.]Canst thou be--art thou? LEIGHTON:I WAS Leighton: whatI AM thou seest. And yet turn thine eyes,And with thy memory look on thy friend's mind,Which is unchanged, and where is written deepThe sentence of my judge. THIRD CITIZEN:Are these the marks with whichLaud thinks to improve the image of his MakerStamped on the face of man? Curses upon him,The impious tyrant! SECOND CITIZEN:It is said besidesThat lewd and papist drunkards may profaneThe Sabbath with theirAnd has permitted that most heathenish customOf dancing round a pole dressed up with wreathsOn May-day.A man who thus twice crucifies his GodMay well ... his brother.--In my mind, friend,The root of all this ill is prelacy.I would cut up the root. THIRD CITIZEN:And by what means? SECOND CITIZEN:Smiting each Bishop under the fifth rib. THIRD CITIZEN:You seem to know the vulnerable placeOf these same crocodiles. SECOND CITIZEN:I learnt it inEgyptian bondage, sir. Your worm of NileBetrays not with its flattering tears like they;For, when they cannot kill, they whine and weep.Nor is it half so greedy of men's bodiesAs they of soul and all; nor does it wallowIn slime as they in simony and liesAnd close lusts of the flesh. A MARSHALSMAN:Give place, give place!You torch-bearers, advance to the great gate,And then attend the Marshal of the MasqueInto the Royal presence. A LAW STUDENT:What thinkest thouOf this quaint show of ours, my aged friend?Even now we see the redness of the torchesInflame the night to the eastward, and the clarions to us on the wind's wave. It comes!And their sounds, floating hither round the pageant,Rouse up the astonished air. FIRST CITIZEN:I will not think but that our country's woundsMay yet be healed. The king is just and gracious,Though wicked counsels now pervert his will:These once cast off-- SECOND CITIZEN:As adders cast their skinsAnd keep their venom, so kings often change;Councils and counsellors hang on one another,Hiding the loathsomeLike the base patchwork of a leper's rags. THE YOUTH:Oh, still those dissonant thoughts!--List how the musicGrows on the enchanted air! And see, the torchesRestlessly flashing, and the crowd dividedLike waves before an admiral's prow! A MARSHALSMAN:Give placeTo the Marshal of the Masque! A PURSUIVANT:Room for the King! THE YOUTH:How glorious! See those thronging chariotsRolling, like painted clouds before the wind,Behind their solemn steeds: how some are shapedLike curved sea-shells dyed by the azure depthsOf Indian seas; some like the new-born moon;And some like cars in which the Romans climbed(Canopied by Victory's eagle-wings outspread)The Capitolian--See how gloriouslyThe mettled horses in the torchlight stirTheir gallant riders, while they check their pride,Like shapes of some diviner elementThan English air, and beings nobler thanThe envious and admiring multitude. SECOND CITIZEN:Ay, there they are--Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees,Monopolists, and stewards of this poor farm,On whose lean sheep sit the prophetic crows,Here is the pomp that strips the houseless orphan,Here is the pride that breaks the desolate heart.These are the lilies glorious as Solomon,Who toil not, neither do they spin,--unlessIt be the webs they catch poor rogues withal.Here is the surfeit which to them who earnThe niggard wages of the earth, scarce leavesThe tithe that will support them till they crawlBack to her cold hard bosom. Here is healthFollowed by grim disease, glory by shame,Waste by lame famine, wealth by squalid want,And England's sin by England's punishment.And, as the effect pursues the cause foregone,Lo, giving substance to my words, beholdAt once the sign and the thing signified--A troop of cripples, beggars, and lean outcasts,Horsed upon stumbling jades, carted with dung,Dragged for a day from cellars and low cabinsAnd rotten hiding-holes, to point the moralOf this presentment, and bring up the rearOf painted pomp with misery! THE YOUTH:'Tis butThe anti-masque, and serves as discords doIn sweetest music. Who would love May flowersIf they succeeded not to Winter's flaw;Or day unchanged by night; or joy itselfWithout the touch of sorrow? SECOND CITIZEN:I and thou- A MARSHALSMAN:Place, give place! SCENE 2:A CHAMBER IN WHITEHALL.ENTER THE KING, QUEEN, LAUD, LORD STRAFTORD,LORD COTTINGTON, AND OTHER LORDS; ARCHY;ALSO ST. JOHN, WITH SOME GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT. KING:Thanks, gentlemen. I heartily acceptThis token of your service: your gay masqueWas performed gallantly. And it shows wellWhen subjects twine such flowers ofWith the sharp thorns that deck the English crown.A gentle heart enjoys what it confers,Even as it suffers that which it inflicts,Though Justice guides the stroke.Accept my hearty thanks. QUEEN:And gentlemen,Call your poor Queen your debtor. Your quaint pageantRose on me like the figures of past years,Treading their still path back to infancy,More beautiful and mild as they draw nearerThe quiet cradle. I could have almost weptTo think I was in Paris, where these showsAre well devised--such as I was ere yetMy young heart shared a portion of the burthen,The careful weight, of this great monarchy.There, gentlemen, between the sovereign's pleasureAnd that which it regards, no clamour liftsIts proud interposition.In Paris ribald censurers dare not moveTheir poisonous tongues against these sinless sports;And HIS smileWarms those who bask in it, as ours would doIf ... Take my heart's thanks: add them, gentlemen,To those good words which, were he King of France,My royal lord would turn to golden deeds. ST. JOHN:Madam, the love of Englishmen can makeThe lightest favour of their lawful kingOutweigh a despot's.--We humbly take our leaves,Enriched by smiles which France can never buy. [EXEUNT ST. JOHN AND THE GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT.] KING:My Lord Archbishop,Mark you what spirit sits in St. John's eyes?Methinks it is too saucy for this presence. ARCHY:Yes, pray your Grace look: for, like an unsophisticated seeseverything upside down, you who are wise will discern the shadow of anidiot in lawn sleeves and a rochet setting springes to catch woodcocksin haymaking time. Poor Archy, whose owl-eyes are tempered to theerror of his age, and because he is a fool, and by special ordinanceof God forbidden ever to see himself as he is, sees now in that deepeye a blindfold devil sitting on the ball, and weighing words outbetween king and subjects. One scale is full of promises, and theother full of protestations: and then another devil creeps behind thefirst out of the dark windings pregnant lawyer's brain, andtakes the bandage from the other's eyes, and throws a sword into theleft-hand scale, for all the world like my Lord Essex's there. STRAFFORD:A rod in pickle for the Fool's back! ARCHY:Ay, and some are now smiling whose tears will make the brine; for theFool sees-- STRAFFORD:Insolent! You shall have your coat turned and be whipped out of thepalace for this. ARCHY:When all the fools are whipped, and all the Protestant writers, whilethe knaves are whipping the fools ever since a thief was set to catcha thief. If all turncoats were whipped out of palaces, poor Archywould be disgraced in good company. Let the knaves whip the fools, andall the fools laugh at it. wise and godly slit each other'snoses and ears (having no need of any sense of discernment in theircraft); and the knaves, to marshal them, join in a procession toBedlam, to entreat the madmen to omit their sublime Platoniccontemplations, and manage the state of England. Let all the honestmen who lie up at the prisons or the pillories, in custodyof the pursuivants of the High-Commission Court, marshal them. [ENTER SECRETARY LYTTELTON, WITH PAPERS.] KING [LOOKING OVER THE PAPERS]:These stiff ScotsHis Grace of Canterbury must take orderTo force under the Church's yoke.--You, Wentworth,Shall be myself in Ireland, and shall addYour wisdom, gentleness, and energy,To what in me were wanting.--My Lord Weston,Look that those merchants draw not without lossTheir bullion from the Tower; and, on the paymentOf shipmoney, take fullest compensationFor violation of our royal forests,Whose limits, from neglect, have been o'ergrownWith cottages and cornfields. The uttermostFarthing exact from those who claim exemptionFrom knighthood: that which once was a rewardShall thus be made a punishment, that subjectsMay know how majesty can wear at willThe rugged mood.--My Lord of Coventry,Lay my command upon the Courts belowThat bail be not accepted for the prisonersUnder the warrant of the Star Chamber.The people shall not find the stubbornnessOf Parliament a cheap or easy methodOf dealing with their rightful sovereign:And doubt not this, my Lord of Coventry,We will find time and place for fit rebuke.--My Lord of Canterbury. ARCHY:The fool is here. LAUD:I crave permission of your MajestyTo order that this insolent fellow beChastised: he mocks the sacred character,Scoffs at the state, and-- KING:What, my Archy?He mocks and mimics all he sees and hears,Yet with a quaint and graceful licence--PritheeFor this once do not as Prynne would, were hePrimate of England. With your Grace's leave,He lives in his own world; and, like a parrotHung in his gilded prison from the windowOf a queen's bower over the public way,Blasphemes with a bird's mind:--his words, like arrowsWhich know no aim beyond the archer's wit,Strike sometimes what eludes philosophy.--[TO ARCHY.]Go, sirrah, and repent of your offenceTen minutes in the rain; be it your penanceTo bring news how the world goes there.[EXIT ARCHY.]Poor Archy!He weaves about himself a world of mirthOut of the wreck of ours. LAUD:I take with patience, as my Master did,All scoffs permitted from above. KING:My lord,Pray overlook these papers. Archy's wordsHad wings, but these have talons. QUEEN:And the lionThat wears them must be tamed. My dearest lord,I see the new-born courage in your eyeArmed to strike dead the Spirit of the Time,Which spurs to rage the many-headed beast.Do thou persist: for, faint but in resolve,And it were better thou hadst still remainedThe slave of thine own slaves, who tear like cursThe fugitive, and flee from the pursuer;And Opportunity, that empty wolf,Flies at his throat who falls. Subdue thy actionsEven to the disposition of thy purpose,And be that tempered as the Ebro's steel;And banish weak-eyed Mercy to the weak,Whence she will greet thee with a gift of peaceAnd not betray thee with a traitor's kiss,As when she keeps the company of rebels,Who think that she is Fear. This do, lest weShould fall as from a glorious pinnacleIn a bright dream, and wake as from a dreamOut of our worshipped state. KING:Beloved friend,God is my witness that this weight of power,Which He sets me my earthly task to wieldUnder His law, is my delight and prideOnly because thou lovest that and me.For a king bears the office of a GodTo all the under world; and to his GodAlone he must deliver up his trust,Unshorn of its permitted attributes. now as the baser elementsHad mutinied against the golden sunThat kindles them to harmony, and quellsTheir self-destroying rapine. The wild millionStrike at the eye that guides them; like as humoursOf the distempered body that conspireAgainst the spirit of life throned in the heart,--And thus become the prey of one another,And last of death-- STRAFFORD:That which would be ambition in a subjectIs duty in a sovereign; for on him,As on a keystone, hangs the arch of life,Whose safety is its strength. Degree and form,And all that makes the age of reasoning manMore memorable than a beast's, depend on this--That Right should fence itself inviolablyWith Power; in which respect the state of EnglandFrom usurpation by the insolent commonsCries for reform.Get treason, and spare treasure. Fee with coinThe loudest murmurers; feed with jealousiesOpposing factions,--be thyself of none;And borrow gold of many, for those who lendWill serve thee till thou payest them; and thusKeep the fierce spirit of the hour at bay,Till time, and its coming generationsOf nights and days unborn, bring some one chance, ... Or war or pestilence or Nature's self,--By some distemperature or terrible sign,Be as an arbiter betwixt themselves.Nor let your MajestyDoubt here the peril of the unseen event.How did your brother Kings, coheritorsIn your high interest in the subject earth,Rise past such troubles to that height of powerWhere now they sit, and awfully sereneSmile on the trembling world? Such popular stormsPhilip the Second of Spain, this Lewis of France,And late the German head of many bodies,And every petty lord of Italy,Quelled or by arts or arms. Is England poorerOr feebler? or art thou who wield'st her powerTamer than they? or shall this island be-- by its inviolable waters--To the world present and the world to comeSole pattern of extinguished monarchy?Not if thou dost as I would have thee do. KING:Your words shall be my deeds:You speak the image of my thought. My friend(If Kings can have a friend, I call thee so),Beyond the large commission whichUnder the great seal of the realm, take this:And, for some obvious reasons, let there beNo seal on it, except my kingly wordAnd honour as I am a gentleman.Be--as thou art within my heart and mind--Another self, here and in Ireland:Do what thou judgest well, take amplest licence,And stick not even at questionable means.Hear me, Wentworth. My word is as a wallBetween thee and this world thine enemy--That hates thee, for thou lovest me. STRAFFORD:I ownNo friend but thee, no enemies but thine:Thy lightest thought is my eternal law.How weak, how short, is life to pay-- KING:Peace, peace.Thou ow'st me nothing yet.[TO LAUD.]My lord, what sayThose papers? LAUD:Your Majesty has ever interposed,In lenity towards your native soil,Between the heavy vengeance of the ChurchAnd Scotland. Mark the consequence of warmingThis brood of northern vipers in your bosom.The rabble, instructed no doubtBy London, Lindsay, Hume, and false Argyll(For the waves never menace heaven untilScourged by the wind's invisible tyranny),Have in the very temple of the LordDone outrage to His chosen ministers.They scorn the liturgy of the Holy Church,Refuse to obey her canons, and denyThe apostolic power with which the SpiritHas filled its elect vessels, even from himWho held the keys with power to loose and bind,To him who now pleads in this royal presence.--Let ample powers and new instructions beSent to the High Commissioners in Scotland.To death, imprisonment, and confiscation,Add torture, add the ruin of the kindredOf the offender, add the brand of infamy,Add mutilation: and if this suffice not,Unleash the sword and fire, that in their thirstThey may lick up that scum of schismatics.I laugh at those weak rebels who, desiringWhat we possess, still prate of Christian peace,As if those dreadful arbitrating messengersWhich play the part of God 'twixt right and wrong,Should be let loose against the innocent sleepOf templed cities and the smiling fields,For some poor argument of policyWhich touches our own profit or our pride(Where it indeed were Christian charityTo turn the cheek even to the smiter's hand):And, when our great Redeemer, when our God,When He who gave, accepted, and retainedHimself in propitiation of our sins,Is scorned in His immediate ministry,With hazard of the inestimable lossOf all the truth and discipline which isSalvation to the extremest generationOf men innumerable, they talk of peace!Such peace as Canaan found, let Scotland now:For, by that Christ who came to bring a sword,Not peace, upon the earth, and gave commandTo His disciples at the PassoverThat each should sell his robe and buy a sword,-Once strip that minister of naked wrath,And it shall never sleep in peace againTill Scotland bend or break. KING:My Lord Archbishop,Do what thou wilt and what thou canst in this.Thy earthly even as thy heavenly KingGives thee large power in his unquiet realm.But we want money, and my mind misgives meThat for so great an enterprise, as yet,We are unfurnished. STRAFFORD:Yet it may not longRest on our wills. COTTINGTON:The expensesOf gathering shipmoney, and of distrainingFor every petty rate (for we encounterA desperate opposition inch by inchIn every warehouse and on every farm),Have swallowed up the gross sum of the imposts;So that, though felt as a most grievous scourgeUpon the land, they stand us in small steadAs touches the receipt. STRAFFORD:'Tis a conclusionMost arithmetical: and thence you inferPerhaps the assembling of a parliament.Now, if a man should call his dearest enemiesT0 sit in licensed judgement on his life,His Majesty might wisely take that course.[ASIDE TO COTTINGTON.]It is enough to expect from these lean impostsThat they perform the office of a scourge,Without more profit.[ALOUD.]Fines and confiscations,And a forced loan from the refractory city,Will fill our coffers: and the golden loveOf loyal gentlemen and noble friendsFor the worshipped father of our common country,With contributions from the catholics,Will make Rebellion pale in our excess.Be these the expedients until time and wisdomShall frame a settled state of government. LAUD:And weak expedients they! Have we not drainedAll, till the ... which seemedA mine exhaustless? STRAFFORD:And the love which IS,If loyal hearts could turn their blood to gold. LAUD:Both now grow barren: and I speak it notAs loving parliaments, which, as they have beenIn the right hand of bold bad mighty kingsThe scourges of the bleeding Church, I hate.Methinks they scarcely can deserve our fear. STRAFFORD:Oh! my dear liege, take back the wealth thou gavest:With that, take all I held, but as in trustFor thee, of mine inheritance: leave me butThis unprovided body for thy service,And a mind dedicated to no careExcept thy safety:--but assemble notA parliament. Hundreds will bring, like me,Their fortunes, as they would their blood, before-- KING:No! thou who judgest them art but one. Alas!We should be too much out of love with Heaven,Did this vile world show many such as thee,Thou perfect, just, and honourable man!Never shall it be said that Charles of EnglandStripped those he loved for fear of those he scorns;Nor will he so much misbecome his throneAs to impoverish those who most adornAnd best defend it. That you urge, dear Strafford,Inclines me rather-- QUEEN:To a parliament?Is this thy firmness? and thou wilt presideOver a knot of ... censurers,To the unswearing of thy best resolves,And choose the worst, when the worst comes too soon?Plight not the worst before the worst must come.Oh, wilt thou smile whilst our ribald foes,Dressed in their own usurped authority,Sharpen their tongues on Henrietta's fame?It is enough! Thou lovest me no more![WEEPS.] KING:Oh, Henrietta! [THEY TALK APART.] COTTINGTON [TO LAUD]:Money we have none:And all the expedients of my Lord of StraffordWill scarcely meet the arrears. LAUD:Without delayAn army must be sent into the north;Followed by a Commission of the Church,With amplest power to quench in fire and blood,And tears and terror, and the pity of hell,The intenser wrath of Heresy. God will giveVictory; and victory over Scotland giveThe lion England tamed into our hands.That will lend power, and power bring gold. COTTINGTON:MeanwhileWe must begin first where your Grace leaves off.Gold must give power, or-- LAUD:I am not averseFrom the assembling of a parliament.Strong actions and smooth words might teach them soonThe lesson to obey. And are they notA bubble fashioned by the monarch's mouth,The birth of one light breath? If they serve no purpose,A word dissolves them. STRAFFORD:The engine of parliamentsMight be deferred until I can bring overThe Irish regiments: they will serve to assureThe issue of the war against the Scots.And, this game won--which if lost, all is lost--Gather these chosen leaders of the rebels,And call them, if you will, a parliament. KING:Oh, be our feet still tardy to shed blood.Guilty though it may be! I would still spareThe stubborn country of my birth, and wardFrom countenances which I loved in youthThe wrathful Church's lacerating hand.[TO LAUD.]Have you o'erlooked the other articles? [ENTER ARCHY.] LAUD:Hazlerig, Hampden, Pym, young Harry Vane,Cromwell, and other rebels of less note,Intend to sail with the next favouring windFor the Plantations. ARCHY:Where they think to foundA commonwealth like Gonzalo's in the play,Gynaecocoenic and pantisocratic. KING:What's that, sirrah? ARCHY:New devil's politics.Hell is the pattern of all commonwealths:Lucifer was the first republican.Will you hear Merlin's prophecy, how three'In one brainless skull, when the whitethorn is full,Shall sail round the world, and come back again:Shall sail round the world in a brainless skull,And come back again when the moon is at full:'--When, in spite of the Church,They will hear homilies of whatever lengthOr form they please. [COTTINGTON?]:So please your Majesty to sign this orderFor their detention. ARCHY:If your Majesty were tormented night and day by fever, gout,rheumatism, and stone, and asthma, etc., and you found these diseaseshad secretly entered into a conspiracy to abandon you, should youthink it necessary to lay an embargo on the port by which they meantto dispeople your unquiet kingdom of man? KING:If fear were made for kings, the Fool mocks wisely;But in this case--[WRITING]. Here, my lord, take the warrant,And see it duly executed forthwith.--That imp of malice and mockery shall be punished. [EXEUNT ALL BUT KING, QUEEN, AND ARCHY.] ARCHY:Ay, I am the physician of whom Plato prophesied, who was to be accusedby the confectioner before a jury of children, who found him guiltywithout waiting for the summing-up, and hanged him without benefit ofclergy. Thus Baby Charles, and the Twelfth-night Queen of Hearts, andthe overgrown schoolboy Cottington, and that little urchin Laud--whowould reduce a verdict of 'guilty, death,' by famine, if it wereimpregnable by composition--all impannelled against poor Archy forpresenting them bitter physic the last day of the holidays. QUEEN:Is the rain over, sirrah? KING:When it rainsAnd the sun shines, 'twill rain again to-morrow:And therefore never smile till you've done crying. ARCHY:But 'tis all over now: like the April anger of woman, the gentle skyhas wept itself serene. QUEEN:What news abroad? how looks the world this morning? ARCHY:Gloriously as a grave covered with virgin flowers. There's a rainbowin the sky. Let your Majesty look at it, for 'A rainbow in the morningIs the shepherd's warning;' and the flocks of which you are the pastor are scattered among themountain-tops, where every drop of water is a flake of snow, and thebreath of May pierces like a January blast. KING:The sheep have mistaken the wolf for their shepherd, my poor boy; andthe shepherd, the wolves for their watchdogs. QUEEN:But the rainbow was a good sign, Archy: it says that the waters of thedeluge are gone, and can return no more. ARCHY:Ay, the salt-water one: but that of tears and blood must yet comedown, and that of fire follow, if there be any truth in lies.--Therainbow hung over the city with all its shops,...and churches, fromnorth to south, like a bridge of congregated lightning pieced by themasonry of heaven--like a balance in which the angel that distributesthe coming hour was weighing that heavy one whose poise is now felt inthe lightest hearts, before it bows the proudest heads under themeanest feet. QUEEN:Who taught you this trash, sirrah? ARCHY:A torn leaf out of an old book trampled in the dirt.--But for therainbow. It moved as the sun moved, and...until the top of theTower...of a cloud through its left-hand tip, and Lambeth Palace lookas dark as a rock before the other. Methought I saw a crown figuredupon one tip, and a mitre on the other. So, as I had heard treasureswere found where the rainbow quenches its points upon the earth, I setoff, and at the Tower-- But I shall not tell your Majesty what I foundclose to the closet-window on which the rainbow had glimmered. KING:Speak: I will make my Fool my conscience. ARCHY:Then conscience is a fool.--I saw there a cat caught in a rat-trap. Iheard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that thevery mice were consulting on the manner of her death. QUEEN:Archy is shrewd and bitter. ARCHY:Like the season,So blow the winds.--But at the other end of the rainbow, where thegray rain was tempered along the grass and leaves by a tenderinterfusion of violet and gold in the meadows beyond Lambeth, whatthink you that I found instead of a mitre? KING:Vane's wits perhaps. ARCHY:Something as vain. I saw a gross vapour hovering in a stinking ditchover the carcass of a dead ass, some rotten rags, and brokendishes--the wrecks of what once administered to the stuffing-out andthe ornament of a worm of worms. His Grace of Canterbury expects toenter the New Jerusalem some Palm Sunday in triumph on the ghost ofthis ass. QUEEN:Enough, enough! Go desire Lady JaneShe place my lute, together with the musicMari received last week from Italy,In my boudoir, and-- [EXIT ARCHY.] KING:I'll go in. QUEEN:MY beloved lord,Have you not noted that the Fool of lateHas lost his careless mirth, and that his wordsSound like the echoes of our saddest fears?What can it mean? I should be loth to thinkSome factious slave had tutored him. KING:Oh, no!He is but Occasion's pupil. Partly 'tisThat our minds piece the vacant intervalsOf his wild words with their own fashioning,--As in the imagery of summer clouds,Or coals of the winter fire, idlers findThe perfect shadows of their teeming thoughts:And partly, that the terrors of the timeAre sown by wandering Rumour in all spirits;And in the lightest and the least, may bestBe seen the current of the coming wind. QUEEN:Your brain is overwrought with these deep thoughts.Come, I will sing to you; let us go tryThese airs from Italy; and, as we passThe gallery, we'll decide where that CorreggioShall hang--the Virgin MotherWith her child, born the King of heaven and earth,Whose reign is men's salvation. And you shall seeA cradled miniature of yourself asleep,Stamped on the heart by never-erring love;Liker than any Vandyke ever made,A pattern to the unborn age of thee,Over whose sweet beauty I have wept for joyA thousand times, and now should weep for sorrow,Did I not think that after we were deadOur fortunes would spring high in him, and thatThe cares we waste upon our heavy crownWould make it light and glorious as a wreathOf Heaven's beams for his dear innocent brow. KING:Dear Henrietta! SCENE 3:THE STAR CHAMBER.LAUD, JUXON, STRAFFORD, AND OTHERS, AS JUDGES.PRYNNE AS A PRISONER, AND THEN BASTWICK. LAUD:Bring forth the prisoner Bastwick: let the clerkRecite his sentence. CLERK:'That he pay five thousandPounds to the king, lose both his ears, be brandedWith red-hot iron on the cheek and forehead,And be imprisoned within Lancaster CastleDuring the pleasure of the Court.' LAUD:Prisoner,If you have aught to say wherefore this sentenceShould not be put into effect, now speak. JUXON:If you have aught to plead in mitigation,Speak. BASTWICK:Thus, my lords. If, like the prelates, IWere an invader of the royal powerA public scorner of the word of God,Profane, idolatrous, popish, superstitious,Impious in heart and in tyrannic act,Void of wit, honesty, and temperance;If Satan were my lord, as theirs,--our GodPattern of all I should avoid to do;Were I an enemy of my God and KingAnd of good men, as ye are;--I should meritYour fearful state and gilt prosperity,Which, when ye wake from the last sleep, shall turnTo cowls and robes of everlasting fire.But, as I am, I bid ye grudge me notThe only earthly favour ye can yield,Or I think worth acceptance at your hands,--Scorn, mutilation, and imprisonment.even as my Master did,Until Heaven's kingdom shall descend on earth,Or earth be like a shadow in the lightOf Heaven absorbed--some few tumultuous yearsWill pass, and leave no wreck of what opposesHis will whose will is power. LAUD:Officer, take the prisoner from the bar,And be his tongue slit for his insolence. BASTWICK:While this hand holds a pen-- LAUD:Be his hands-- JUXON:Stop!Forbear, my lord! The tongue, which now can speakNo terror, would interpret, being dumb,Heaven's thunder to our harm;...And hands, which now write only their own shame,With bleeding stumps might sign our blood away. LAUD:Much more such 'mercy' among men would be,Did all the ministers of Heaven's revengeFlinch thus from earthly retribution. ICould suffer what I would inflict.[EXIT BASTWICK GUARDED.]Bring upThe Lord Bishop of Lincoln.--[TO STRATFORD.]Know you notThat, in distraining for ten thousand poundsUpon his books and furniture at Lincoln,Were found these scandalous and seditious lettersSent from one Osbaldistone, who is fled?I speak it not as touching this poor person;But of the office which should make it holy,Were it as vile as it was ever spotless.Mark too, my lord, that this expression strikesHis Majesty, if I misinterpret not. [ENTER BISHOP WILLIAMS GUARDED.] STRAFFORD:'Twere politic and just that Williams tasteThe bitter fruit of his connection withThe schismatics. But you, my Lord Archbishop,Who owed your first promotion to his favour,Who grew beneath his smile-- LAUD:Would therefore begThe office of his judge from this High Court,--That it shall seem, even as it is, that I,In my assumption of this sacred robe,Have put aside all worldly preference,All sense of all distinction of all persons,All thoughts but of the service of the Church.--Bishop of Lincoln! WILLIAMS:Peace, proud hierarch!I know my sentence, and I own it just.Thou wilt repay me less than I deserve,In stretching to the utmost ... SCENE 4:HAMPDEN, PYM, CROMWELL, HIS DAUGHTER, AND YOUNG SIR HARRY VANE. HAMPDEN:England, farewell! thou, who hast been my cradle,Shalt never be my dungeon or my grave!I held what I inherited in theeAs pawn for that inheritance of freedomWhich thou hast sold for thy despoiler's smile:How can I call thee England, or my country?--Does the wind hold? VANE:The vanes sit steadyUpon the Abbey towers. The silver lightningsOf the evening star, spite of the city's smoke,Tell that the north wind reigns in the upper air.Mark too that flock of fleecy-winged cloudsSailing athwart St. Margaret's. HAMPDEN:Hail, fleet heraldOf tempest! that rude pilot who shall guideHearts free as his, to realms as pure as thee,Beyond the shot of tyranny,Beyond the webs of that swoln spider...Beyond the curses, calumnies, andOf atheist priests! ... And thouFair star, whose beam lies on the wide Atlantic,Athwart its zones of tempest and of calm,Bright as the path to a beloved homeOh, light us to the isles of the evening land!Like floating Edens cradled in the glimmerOf sunset, through the distant mist of yearsTouched by departing hope, they gleam! lone regions,Where Power's poor dupes and victims yet have neverPropitiated the savage fear of kingsWith purest blood of noblest hearts; whose dewIs yet unstained with tears of those who wakeTo weep each day the wrongs on which it dawns;Whose sacred silent air owns yet no echoOf formal blasphemies; nor impious ritesWrest man's free worship, from the God who loves,To the poor worm who envies us His love!Receive, thou young ... of Paradise.These exiles from the old and sinful world! ... This glorious clime, this firmament, whose lightsDart mitigated influence through their veilOf pale blue atmosphere; whose tears keep greenThe pavement of this moist all-feeding earth;This vaporous horizon, whose dim roundIs bastioned by the circumfluous sea,Repelling invasion from the sacred towers,Presses upon me like a dungeon's grate,A low dark roof, a damp and narrow wall.The boundless universeBecomes a cell too narrow for the soulThat owns no master; while the loathliest wardOf this wide prison, England, is a nestOf cradling peace built on the mountain tops,--To which the eagle spirits of the free,Which range through heaven and earth, and scorn the stormOf time, and gaze upon the light of truth,Return to brood on thoughts that cannot dieAnd cannot be repelled.Like eaglets floating in the heaven of time,They soar above their quarry, and shall stoopThrough palaces and temples thunderproof. SCENE 5: ARCHY:I'll go live under the ivy that overgrows the terrace, and count thetears shed on its old as the plays the song of 'A widow bird sate mourningUpon a wintry bough.'[SINGS]Heigho! the lark and the owl!One flies the morning, and one lulls the night:--Only the nightingale, poor fond soul,Sings like the fool through darkness and light. 'A widow bird sate mourning for her loveUpon a wintry bough;The frozen wind crept on above,The freezing stream below. There was no leaf upon the forest bare.No flower upon the ground,And little motion in the airExcept the mill-wheel's sound.'