Chapter 16

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

_Near the Tower. A Street in London._

_People are seen gazing from windows and balconies. Slow military music is heard behind the scenes. It gradually approaches U.E.L. Enter a procession of Soldiers, in the midst ARTHUR bare-headed. He looks up to a balcony, where FLORENCE is standing--she waves a handkerchief and throws it to him. He kisses it, and placing it in his bosom, smiles, then slowly exeunt, U.E.R._

_Enter BASIL hurriedly, L. FLORENCE comes from the door of the house to meet him. She is dressed in a white robe._

_Bas._ Well, madam, how is it! To live or die?

_Flor._ Oh! hasten, hasten. They are gone; you may Fall down, be stopp'd, give me the pardon--quick!

_Basil._ No! I think not. I'll take it. Think you of Your promise--will you keep it?

_Flor._ Yes! yes! if I live A month, I will be thine.

_Basil._ Tis well! I go: I am a little lame, but shall be there, I do protest, in time. They give some moments To stale device of prayer; as if they car'd For him they slay--What! anxious? So am I, That have so great a stake in this event, To save a brother and to gain a wife--

[_Kisses the tips of his fingers._]

A rivederci, as the Italian saith. [_Goes out, U.E.R._]

_Flor._ The hands of yonder clock do pierce my heart Like daggers till he comes. O God! forgive me, Let me but know him safe, and die of joy, Ere I have time to think upon the rest.

_Enter ELIZABETH, L., as if just risen. At the same time, WILLIAM and the HOST, accompanied by a Guard, pass by, from L. to U.E.R._

_Will._ This way, this way!

_Eliz._ Do you not hear the hollow bell still tolling? Hark!

_Flor._ There is no sound now--

_Eliz._ If my father said He should not die, it was to comfort me; Do not believe them, if they tell you so. Give me your arm unto the scaffold, girl.

[_Florence hesitates._]

Jealous?--Is this a time?--What!--

[_Two or three Attendants come in._]

Then I'll go Alone-- [_She takes one of her Attendants by the arm._]

_Flor._ Nay, dear Elizabeth! his life Is sav'd--

_Eliz._ Believe them not; wilt thou not come? Nay, then! [_Exit with Ladies, U.E.R._]

_Flor._ What means her passion? He comes not! My heart grows chill-- Would I might follow her. I promis'd not. Did I not see the pardon. O, this is dreadful!

_Re-enter BASIL, U.E.R._

_Distant shouting is heard._

_Basil._ Hear you there? He lives!

_Flor._ [_Falls on her knees._] O Heaven! I thank thy gracious mercy.

_Basil._ Now! Remember thou art pledged to be my bride.

_Flor._ Have I then sav'd his life, to torture him With base destruction of the thing he loves?

_Basil._ Give me thine hand.

_Flor._ No! no! There is a portal By which the trembling victim may escape From thy fierce tiger gripe--There is a way Unto the weak, and though a giant grasp, He shall but seize with eager cruel hand The white reflection other fluttering robe, Leaving her pure and undefil'd to Heaven-- Angels have whisper'd it to me--

_Basil._ Forsworn?--

_Flor._ Nay! traitor to thy God and king! My hand I've pledg'd thee ere a short month have elaps'd, And thou shalt claim it then, if then thou wilt.

_Basil._ What mean'st thou, maiden? There is a strange light In the sweet lustre of thy thrilling eye, There is a bright spot on thy velvet cheek; Thy throat of arched fall is now thrown back, As one had check'd a white Arabian steed; Thy nostril wide dilates, Sibylline, grand; Thy moist and crimson lip tempts wildly--come! For thou art beautiful, and thy light step Shall on the hills be glorious, when thou'rt given A help-mate unto Israel--

_Flor._ Never!

_Basil._ How?-- Hast thou not sworn?

_Flor._ There is a point where all That binds the struggling wretch to aught on earth, Be it a bond of hate and grief like mine, Or sweet communion of young hearts that love, Be it a sacrifice to infamy, or pride Of mothers in their offspring, or the work Of master-spirits' high philosophy, Doth rank with things that were--

_Basil._ Thou speakest riddles.

_Flor._ A colder hand than thine is on my heart, I am another's bride! A month must pass Ere thou can'st claim me. Was not that the bond?

_Basil._ In these brisk times, a month goes quickly by.

_Flor._ Within a week I'll wed, but not with thee. Pray, sir, go hence, you do distract my thoughts From my lov'd bridegroom.

_Basil._ Speak, whom mean'st thou?

_Flor._ Death. A thousand deaths, ere wed with thee. Dost hear? I am faint. Lo! thy cruel, eager gaze Grows grimly dark and indistinct. Pray Heaven I shall not see it any more. Farewell, I pardon thee.

_Basil._ Not so! May curses blight me, If I do lose thee thus. [_Seizes her._]

_Flor._ Help!

_Basil._ Wilt thou budge Thus from thy promise?--Nay then--

_Flor._ Help! O help!

_Enter ARTHUR, Soldiers, WILLIAM, HOST, &c., U.E.R. After them WYCKOFF, who stands at a little distance. Loud cries of "Pardon, a free pardon from the Protector."_

_Basil._ What does this mean? Look to your prisoner: seize him.

_An Officer._ [_Seizing Basil._] In the Protector's name, we do!

_Basil._ Away! Let go!

_An Officer._ [_Points to Arthur._] 'Twere best ask him for mercy. 'Tis For him to say--

_Will._ Ay, ask us, ask me!--Hanging is too good for you. You are found out, and [_points to the Host_] 'twas this blessed old fool that has undone you. Yes, you may look, but your hair will not curl any longer. Your plot is discovered. Noll knows all, and will only spare your life on condition of the colonies. [_During this time Florence and Arthur are locked in each other's arms._] Look there! There is happiness--there's fish-hooks and broken glass bottles and tin-tacks in your gullet. Stomach that. Tol de rol!

_Host._ While now they are here, I have a great mind to charge that Wyckoff with my little bill!

_Basil._ O guilt, guilt, guilt! Success ne'er lit yet on thy feeble brow, But ever mock'd thee with dissembling leer, Whilst at thy feet graves open, at thy heart Remorse points daggers, and thou walk'st the world, Blood on thine hand and fever in thine eye, Friendless, by that thou lovest scorn'd the most.

_Arthur._ [_To Florence._] Thou wilt live now?

_Flor._ I would have died for thee, Joy doth not kill! [_Points to BASIL._] O, order them to free him; He is thy brother, would have sav'd thee, though For a base guerdon; yet he would have sav'd thee.

_An Officer._ We cannot free him!

_Basil._ [_Points to Wyckoff._] Why not take him too?-- He is guiltier than I am.--

_Wyck._ [_Aloud._] Traitor! O Thou most pernicious traitor. [_Aside._] Damn him, coward! He will tell all, unless I stop it thus.

[_Draws his sword._]

This for the Commonwealth! [_Stabs BASIL._]

_Basil._ O, I am kill'd! Will ye see this?-- [_To Arthur._] Revenge me, some of you!

[_Falls into the Soldiers arms and is borne off, U.E.R._]

_Officer._ [_Points to WYCKOFF._] Seize him, ye have a warrant for his life. The scaffold were defil'd. Unto the gallows!

[_WYCKOFF is borne off struggling._]

_Wyck._ 'Twas for the state! O mercy! Arthur Walton! He would have slain you! Mercy! mercy--

_Arth._ [_Supporting Florence._] Heaven! How just and awful these thy punishments.

_Enter CROMWELL attended, L._

_Crom._ I did you wrong, yet eagerly excused The death I thought you merited.

_Arth._ My Lord, I owe no malice, and I wish you well, As you shall deal with England, whose sad shores I fain would quit awhile with her I love, After these heavy griefs.

_Crom._ And you will leave me? I would it were not so; for all around I am hemm'd in by doubters. Perfidy Makes mouths at me. Suspicion rears her head, Hissing upon my path. And my friends drop off, Leaving a sting behind! Stay! Arthur Walton, England doth bid thee stay!

_Arth._ I came here, when A king did threaten England's liberties, Her charter'd rights. He cannot threaten now. His power has pass'd to others. I am not Ambitious. If they use it well, 'tis well, And I am needed not--

_Crom._ [_Crosses to R._] Farewell, then, Sir; But not, I trust, for ever. Go, in peace, Amid the voices of the nations hear and note What they shall say of England and of Cromwell. Farewell, sweet lady, pray for her and me.

[_To FLORENCE._]

Come, I have business, both of you, farewell!

[_Exeunt all, but WILLIAM and HOST._]

_Host._ Confess now, I have done well in discovering these villanies.

_Will._ Ay, thou art an Eldorado of cunning.

_Host._ Herein you see the man of experience: I did not rush to tell it all directly.

_Will._ No, indeed, thou didst not, and had I not been there to extract the pearl of discovery from the jaw-bone of ignorance with the forceps of discernment, my Master by this time had been sped.

_Host._ Why, I was in the very nick of time. I am older than thou art.

_Will._ Thy experience did ever squint, and the obliquity of the mind grows worse with years. Yet I grant thee, as it hath happened, thou hast been equal to the occasion, which is true greatness, and that thou art great no one who looks at thee can deny. I am glad that Wyckoff hath at length paid his long reckoning.

_Host._ But he hath not, he hath not!

_Will._ Did you not see them take him?--

_Host._ Tis all very well to jest, but I have often seen, that when a poor man is defrauded, first there is no justice whatsoever, and again, if there be any, it is in this wise, that, while the wrong-doer suffers by the Law, the Law swallows up the simple desired thing, which is restitution. The Law takes the money, the Law disposes of the chattels, and finally, Jack Ketch, who is the Law's Ancient and most grim functionary, lays claim to the clothes. There was more real justice, friend Will, in the little finger of the Law of Moses, than in the whole right arm and sword of our boasted English trull, and you may throw her scales and blind-man's-buff frippery into the bargain.

_Will._ Stop, stop, thou art struck with an apoplexy of sense. Wisdom peeps through both thine eyes, like the unexpected apparition of a bed-ridden old woman at a garret window. Thou art the very owl of Minerva, and the little bill, that thou ever carriest with thee, is given thee for this purpose, to peck at man's frailty in the matter of repayment. Come, thou art in danger. I must have thee bled.

_Host._ I tell thee I have bled, as much as e'er a kettle-pated fellow of them all in these wars. I am defunct of nearly all my substance.

_Will._ Substance? Why there is scarcely a doorway thou canst pass through; and if one of Hell's gate-posts be not put back a foot or two, thou wilt be left, at thy latter end, like a huge undelivered parcel in the lumber-room of Charon.

_Host._ I know not any carrier of that name, but 'tis ill twitting a man, when he is in earnest, and did I not love thee, and were this not a day of rejoicing, thou shouldest drink no more out of mine own silver flagon.

_Will._ Nay, I meant not to offend thee. Come, we part soon. My master will pay thee thrice that thou hast lost by this captain.

_Host._ Pish! I care not for ten times the money. Thou understandest not the feelings of a tradesman.

_Will._ Come along, come along. The boat stays under the bridge. Mistress Barbara is already on board the ship, and swears that tar is the perfumery of Satan. Come, I may never see thee again, and although we shall not moisten our parting with tears, it would scarcely, methinks, be appropriate that we should say to each other "God be with you!" thirsting. [_Exeunt._]