Chapter 4

[_2nd Grooves._]

_A large Barn with folding doors. In it a number of Cavaliers drinking at various rude tables. Some women are interspersed among them. Many are playing at dice, &c. Their arms are piled in a corner._

_1st Cav._ [_Sings_]

Noll's red nose, In a bumper here goes To Beelzebub his own master; With the pikes at his flank Of our foremost rank, And the devil to find him plaster, Fairfax and Harrison, On them our malison. But drink and sing A health to the KING-- Gentlemen! steady, Fill, now be ready.

_All._ He _shall_ have his own again!

[_Shouting and huzzaing._]

_A Cav._ A _toast_! gentlemen. "Noll's nose a-fire, and the devil's youngest daughter to baste it with aqua-vitae!"

_All._ Ha! ha!

_A Cav._ Would that Goring's moonrakers might come across the snuffling organ and cut it off. We would have it by way of _pavillon_. Thou, Frank Howard! shouldst carry it as senior cornet. Thou wouldst be like curly-headed David with the spoils of the Philistine drum-major Goliah. Led on by its light we'd march direct to Whitehall, our trumpets sending dismay to the virtue of the starched coifs of the round rosy rogues of London.

_A Cav._ [_Arranging his love-lock._] Plague on't, I don't think their virtue would tremble at the chance.

_Anoth. Cav._ Lord! what rumpling of sober dimities! Poor little plump partridges, they cannot help their forced puritanism.--But all women are for king and cavalier in their hearts.

[_Two Cavaliers advance with angry gestures to the front of the stage._]

_1st Cav._ I tell thee, Wilmington! 'twas I she did regard.

_2nd Cav._ And I tell thee that thou thinkest wrong. I know she loves me.

_1st Cav._ Did she tell thee so?

_2nd Cav._ This kerchief was hers.

_1st Cav._ Bah! Thou didst steal it from thy mother, boy! Go home and return it to her.

_2nd Cav._ Ha!

_3rd Cav._ Who is this piece of goods--she at the White Dragon?

_1st Cav._ Nay, a mercer's daughter. Wouldst like the address? She entertaineth well.

_2nd Cav._ How! 'Tis false!

_1st Cav._ I met her yestereen, and she said thou shouldst have been a canting Psalmsinger. Thou art so innocent a youth.

_2nd Cav._ Hell's fire! I'll not bear this. I tell thee she waved her hand to me from her lattice, and dropped this kerchief.

_1st Cav._ And to me she gave her garter when I left her.

_2nd Cav._ To hang thyself? Nay, thou liest!

_1st Cav._ [_Strikes him down._] Take that, thou fool!

[_He rises, they draw. Closing in of the Cavaliers near, confusion._]

_3rd Cav._ Hold, gentlemen! 'Tis a mere wanton! I believe these wenches are dowered by old Noll to set our young hot-bloods by the ears. Hold! 'Tis not worth!

[_They continue tonight. The 2nd Cavalier is wounded._]

_A Cavalier, richly dressed, who has entered, L., in the meanwhile, and made inquiring gestures._

_Cav._ For _whose_ sake? O shame! shame! The King-- The Queen needs all your blood, and ye must shed it In shameless broils like these! Thus the dear blood that should, if spilt it be, Dye our white spotless cause with its rich crimson, Must now for every muslin thing that spites Her prentice-lover, making fools of you. And O ye others, loyal gentlemen! I weep indeed for England and our King, To see ye all, in this the perilous gasp Of hardy enterprize, yourselves forget, Like Circe's brutish swine. I tell ye now, While ye are lost in drunken quarrelling, Cromwell is near.

_3rd or 4th Cav._ The King shall have his own. Lillibullero!

_Cav._ I say, thee General Cromwell Is on the road with some four hundred men, And will surprise us. [_Confused movement to arm._]

_1st Cav._ [_Who has continued to drink._] Ha! What does it concern thee with thy preaching? Dost thou want ought here? [_Touching his sword-hilt._] I care not for thee or Noll. Would he were here, and a matter of four thousand to back him. [_Draws._] Sa! sa! canst fight as well as talk? Wilt take up the bilbo? Come, adopt the weapon of him I have sliced. Come, be nimble, sir, jig. I would fain go visit the haulage of my fancy.

[_A confused noise without._]

_Cav._ Too late! O gentlemen! here, Willsden, is thy sword. Varley, arouse thee! The enemy! Away, women! Come, gentlemen--this table--a barricade, so-- [_1st Cavalier stands in his way._] Off, fool! [_Hurls him aside._]

_A tremendous explosion; the wide doors behind are burst in by a petard; the barn falls, and discovers a view of York. Enter CROMWELL with IRONSIDES through the break._

_Crom._ Yield, sons of Belial!

_Cav._ O Charles, my king! 'Tis time to die, ere see thy cause thus lost!

[_Throws himself on the pikemen._]

Here, cavaliers! a blow, one blow, 'tis Noll The butcher, brewer Noll, that in your songs Ye send to hell so often. Send him now, If ye be men, not cowards. What! at loss!

[_1st Cavalier staggers against him as he parries two or three pikemen, and he receives a mortal stroke, and falls. During this the other cavaliers are struck down or disarmed._]

Alas! I might have reach'd him, but betray'd By our own rotten conduct, die--Oh, had I words Now could I prophesy--destruction--Charles! My king! [_Dies._]

_Crom._ There _is_ no king save one, and He Is with us! [_Points to 1st Cavalier._] Yon poor wretch--what saith he? Nay! Strike not his mouth.

_1st Cav._ I defy thee, Satan! I'll back my rapier, an' thou wilt fight, Brewer! Curse on thy muddy veins, thou hast no honourable desperation in thee. Come, if thou beest a man, give up thy odds. What, ho! Excalibur!

[_Makes a rush to get at CROMWELL_]

_Crom._ It seemeth that The ungodly fret. Go, place him in the stocks. I charge ye harm him not-- But give him ale, Wine, and a scurvy song-book--Such as he Do make us triumph. Fie, fie, Cornet Dean! Well, stop his mouth, an't please ye; come, away! [_Trumpets sound._] This is a gift of God, see burial Unto the dead--now on to Marston Moor.

[_Exeunt U.E.R._]

[_Enter WILLIAM, U.E.L._]

_Will._ So my master hath at last turned roundhead with a vengeance, and therefore I, to whom the rogue is necessary, am here, on the brink of nowhere. To think that so much merit may be quenched by the mechanical art of a base gunner, who hath no fear in his actions; for I take it that a discreet reverence for the body we live in, which the vulgar term fear, shows the best proof of the value of the individual. Egad! life here is as cheap as the grass on an empty common, where there is no democracy of goose to hiss at the kingly shadow of a single ass in God's sunshine. My master hath not done well; for he must have known that I could not leave him without a moral guide and companion--to die, too, with the sin of my unpaid wages on his conscience. Well, pray heaven, there come soon a partition of the crown jewels amongst us, after which I will withdraw this right arm from a cause I cannot approve; but to cherish principles one should not lack means; therefore, [_taking the feather from his cap and throwing it down_] lie thou there, carnal device! and I will go look for a barber and be despoiled, like a topsy-turvy Samson, not to lose strength, but to gain it. I thank heaven that our camp did yesterday fall in dry places, for there were many of these sour-visaged soldiers called me Jonah, and I did well to escape ducking in a horse-pond. Soft, here be some of them coming. Yestere'en I committed sacrilege in a knapsack, and stole a small Bible from amid great plunder for my salvation. Now will I feign to read it, and I doubt not the sin will be pardoned, for self-preservation is the second law of nature, as I have generally observed fornication to be the first!

_Enter a party of Soldiers, R._

[_Looking up._] These be some of Oliver's Ironsides; every one of whom is, as David, a man of war and a prophet; truly they are more earnest and sober than the others.

_1st Troop._ To-morrow we shall sup in York.

_Will._ [Aside.] How the man of war identifies himself with the remnant of those that shall sup.

_2nd Troop._ Not so--for this morning, when a surrender was demanded, they would have hanged our messenger. That raging Beelzebub, Rupert, in expected hourly to the relief. [_Distant firing._] There! there! he is come.

_1st Troop._ What say the generals?

_2nd Troop._ Our own Cromwell is very prompt; but the rest chafe much, and the Scots are sore backsliders.

_3rd Troop._ I would we might be led on and the trumpets sounded, that the walls of yon Jericho might fall about their ears, and deliver them into our hands alive.

_Will._ Worthy martialist! may I speak?

_1st Troop._ Ay so?

_Will._ Is the King there in person?

_2nd Troop._ Surely not; he is in that city of abomination, Oxford.

[_Here CROMWELL enters, U.E.R., with his face covered._]

_Will._ Is it not true that ye did ask them that guard the city to yield it in the King's name?

_2nd Troop._ I heard the message: it was so worded.

_Will._ 'Tis an excellent contradiction, to fight for and against. If ye should meet the King now in battle, would you fire on him with your pistols, or cleave him with your swords?

_1st Troop._ Nay!

_Crom._ [_Discovering himself._] But I say, yea!

_Will._ [Without seeing CROMWELL.] What, in his own name, kill him for himself, for his own sake, as it were? I would fain argue that with your general--[_sees CROMWELL._]--another time. Farewell, worthy sirs!

_Crom._ Stay, thou base knave! I'll have thee whipped without The army of the saints. Hearken ye all! Charles Stuart I would gladly smite to death: Not as a king, but as a man that fights Against the honour, conscience of the king, And the true rights of all his loving subjects. Is any here the muscles of whose arm Grow slack to think he may meet such an one In arms to-morrow? Let him home to-day, God and his country have no need of him.

_Soldiers._ A Cromwell! Cromwell! Lead on, we'll slay the king.

_Crom._ I did but say If ye should meet him, ye would not turn back.

_Soldiers._ No! No!

_Crom._ Nor slur the onset?

_Soldiers._ No!

_Crom._ Nor spare A courtier for his likeness to the King?

_Soldiers._ No! No!

_Crom._ Why then ye are mine own, [_observing the soldiers._] My brave and trusty Ironsides! See here Are some right honest faces I have known From childhood, and they'll follow me to death, If needed.--Let the paltry Scot go hence, And even Fairfax rein his charger back-- We'll on unto the breach. The Lord Himself Will ride in thunder with our mail-clad host: The proudest head that ever wore a crown Shall not withstand us.--Strike! and spare not! Ho! Down with the curs'd of God!

_Soldiers._ A Cromwell! Cromwell! Let us come on!

_Crom._ The sun that stood in Heaven, Until his beams grew red with two days' blood Of slaughtered Canaan, shall see them flee like chaff before us--

_Soldiers._ Joshua! cry aloud, A Joshua!--

_Crom._ These gay Philistine lords That fight for Dagon, will ye fly them, or Hurl them and Dagon down?--

_Soldiers._ A Samson! Samson!

[_Distant cannon heard. Cheering from the Soldiers._]

_Will._ [_Aside._] Here's gory enthusiasm! Now whilst every man is ready to preach individually on his own account, and the whole collectively are about to sing a psalm, I will endeavour to steal away unperceived, lest any of them, imagining himself somewhere between Deuteronomy and Kings, should take it upon himself to proclaim that I come from Gibeon, and so--

_Crom._ [_To William._] Hither! sirrah! It is well I know the master that thou servest, or else thy back had paid the license of thy speech. Tell him I would speak with him two hours hence in his own quarters. [_Exit William, U.E.L._] Good friend, [_to a soldier_] I am thirsty in the flesh. Get me, I prithee, a cup of thine ale. [_Soldier goes out._] [_To another soldier._] Give me thy pipe, Ruxton! is it right Trinidado?--[_To them all._] Think ye now, the generals fare better than ye do--I mean now, Desborough or Rossiter, or our brave Ireton?

_A Soldier._ Ay! do they. But just now we saw a store of good things carried into Desborough's tent. Lo! there goes Jepherson and Fight-the-good-Fight Egerton this instant to feast on the fat things of the earth. [_Here the soldier gives him a cup of ale._]

_Crom._ [_Pausing ere he drinks._] What is thy name, friend?

_A Soldier._ [_Near._] Born-again Rumford.

_Crom._ A babe, I do protest, a babe of grace. See you not, he cannot speak himself. [_Drinks, and throws the remainder over Born-again Rumford's beard. Returns the cup and prepares his pipe._] Now, Born-again! I think thou art baptized again! [_The soldiers laugh._] So there is feasting and gluttony amongst our captains. Hearken ye, I shall call a conference straightway. When the generals be come, which they will do with sore grumbling, then do ye fall to and spare not! I will stand between you and the fierce wrath of them that be spoiled. Three rolls on the kettledrum shall be the signal. See that ye leave nothing. [_Going, L._]

[_As he goes he strikes his pipe on the back of the corslet of one of the soldiers; so that the ashes fall on his neck._]

_Sol._ Now may the devil!

_Crom._ Ho! swearest thou?--fy! fy! for shame, Orderly officer! set Hezekiah Sin-Despise down in thy book five shillings for an oath. Truly Sin-Despise is no fitting name for thee, but rather 'Overcome-by-Sin.' Come, as I did tempt thy railing, I will pay thy fine. [_Gives him money._] Tush! grin not so, man. I thought my Ironsides were proof against fire as well as steel. [_Exit, L._]

_Shouts of the Soldiers._ Live, Cromwell! live, our worthy general!

[_WILLIAM re-enters and joins the Soldiers. Exeunt, B._]

_Enter ARTHUR reading a letter, U.E.L._

"----and so, cousin, I am very miserable, and if you have this influence with the General Cromwell, whose fair daughter I do so well remember, get me a home with her; for, alas! I can stay no longer here. And yet my father? But to wed with one that I despise, it is impossible, and all things are prepared, I look to you alone for rescue. Farewell. _Florence._"

I will! I will "Postscript. I hear you are engaged in these dreadful wars. Pray heaven! you have chosen aright; for I know not. But peril not your life more than becomes true valour; for I have heard you are dear to many. Adieu!" _I_ dear to many?--let's see, there is my faithful serving-man--poor fellow, he likes not this life, and doth assume an amusing kind of fear, but I do believe thinking more of me than himself. Well then; I had a dog; but he was lost the night of our passage, when but for his inveterate barking, for which I beat him, I had surely been drowned in the cabin, where I slept, when the vessel was stranded--he loved me; but for more--I know them not.

O dearest Florence! were I lov'd indeed by thee, There were indeed a bright star in the sky, To guide my shatter'd bark of destiny! [_Retires, U.R._]

_Enter CROMWELL, IRETON, DESBOROUGH, and others, U.E.L., ARTHUR joins them._

_Crom._ Thus, gentlemen, the reports being ended, I would but detain you a short while in prayer.

_Des._ Nay! as I said before, we are fatigued, and the body needs refreshment.

_Ire._ [Apart to Cromwell.] How the pampered boar frets!

_Crom._ [_To Desborough._] Will you to my tent?--I can give you a soldier's fare, with a soldier's welcome, a crust and cup of ale, and we can discourse what remains.

_An Officer._ Indeed we are engaged; but if the General Cromwell would honour us--

_Crom._ I thank you, I have supped ere you have dined.

[_Drum rolls. A loud shout of merriment and clatter is heard._]

_Des._ What is that--in my tent too!

[_Looking off, R. WILLIAM comes forward, R._]

By Heaven! rank mutiny. I'll have them shot.

_Will._ Nay! worthy sir, knock out the priming of your wrath from the matchlock of your vengeance, and abide till to-morrow, when you shall see many a stout fellow and gormandizer to boot levelled. [_To Cromwell._] Great Sir! they complain that the wine is thin.

_Crom._ Go purchase some strong waters. [_Gives him money._] I must not have my fellows' stomachs unsettled. Here, thou graceless knave.

_Will._ An't please you, we had no time for grace; but we return thanks to you, under Heaven.

_Des._ This then is your work, General Cromwell! Call you this discipline?

_Crom._ [_To the Soldiers as they enter, R._] Go hence, you rascals.

[_Soldiers entering with whooping and shouts._]

Sound bugles! fall in! quick march!

[_The Soldiers march round and fall in a line in perfect order, WILLIAM bringing up the rear, shouldering a bone._]

_Ire._ [_To Arthur Walton._] See you now the bent of this? How he doth make them his own? I tell you that the day will come, this host shall follow him alone, ay! and perchance England--

_Crom._ [_To Desborough, who has remained apart, indignant._] Come, Desborough! if thou hast digested thine indignation--[_Taking Desborough's arm, kindly._]

_Ire._ As he will never his dinner.

_Crom._ Thou wilt unto my tent, where is store of wholesome food.

_Enter HARRISON, L., hurriedly._

_Har._ I fear they will not sally forth; our host Meanwhile will melt away. Despondency Sits heavy on my soul.

[_Firing is heard from the town._]

_Ire._ If they abide In York, we'd best draw off. [_Exit ARTHUR, L._]

_Crom._ But Rupert! Rupert! Wilt he not fight--The fiery-headed fool Will rush out on us from yon fenced town, And then--Whom have we here?

[_An Orderly hastens in._]

_Ord._ The earl doth bid you Prepare for instant action; Rupert and Newcastle Are forth outside the gates.

_Crom._ Said I not so?-- Their hearts are hardened by the Lord of hosts. [_Musketry in the distance._] [_To an officer entering._] Did you not hear me when I said "Bring up the fascines?" How shall we cross the ditch? Do you not heed? Quick, man!

_Offi._ Even as Balaam said to Balak, Lo! I will but speak what the Lord hath put in my mouth. [_Turning to the Soldiers._] Wherefore, I say, O brethren, be ye as they the Lord set apart to Gideon--

_Crom._ [_Striking him with his pistol butt._] Take that, thou babbling fool! this is no fitting time to preach. Ho! Jepherson. Bring up the facines.

_Enter ARTHUR, L., to CROMWELL._

_Arth._ Fairfax is beaten, and our right wing scattered.

_Crom._ Hist! dismay not these. Doth Rupert follow them?

_Arth._ He doth fight fiercely.

_Crow._ Then will I meet him. Victor to victor, we will close together. Ho! forward!

[_Another Officer enters._]

_Offi._ The musketry of Belial hath mowed our ranks, and the sons of Zeruiah--

_Crom._ Tush, tell me not of Zeruiah, or, by the Eternal, I will smite thee! Speak in English.

_Offi._ The Scotch are in disorder. Lucas, and Porter, and the malignant Goring are playing havoc with them. Newcastle, with his white coats, is winning on us at the pike's point.

_Crom._ That's what is done. What is to do? What says the General?

_Offi._ That you charge Rupert.

_Crom._ Why did you not speak sooner? I am dead To hear you drawl thus. Righteous Lambert, on! Bring up the regiments. Tell brave Frizell, He shall see sport anon--

[_A Soldier gives him his morion._]

I will not wear it! I cannot see around--

[_A heavy discharge of cannon heard without._]

Ho! Desborough,

Here is a dinner for thee. See thou carve it Right well. On! on! a Cromwell for a Rupert!

_Soldiers._ The Lord and Cromwell!

_Crom._ Nay, not thus: shout rather "God and his people! England! Liberty!"

[_Exeunt L._]

[_Different parties of wounded Soldiers enter U.E.L; some being assisted, and others staggering; the scene becomes dark and obscured with clouds of smoke. Several Soldiers fall down._]

[_Enter WILLIAM, R., meeting a wounded Trooper, L._]

_Troop._ How goes the day? Why art thou not with the saints, that are now fighting?

_Will._ I was about to fight; but they waited not for me. It is all over now. The king hath no more chance than a butterfly three days at sea amongst a covey of Mother Carey's chickens. I would pursue, but lack spurs and a horse, or you should not find me here; [_Aside._] or within ten miles of it.

_Troop._ Get me some water, friend!

_Will._ Ah! you would have watered me in a pond two days since; but here--this is better than water.

[_The Soldier takes a flask from him._]

_Troop._ I think thou saidst that the malignants were smitten. Praised be the Lord! Yet I would I had not seen my father's white hairs amid yon accursed red coats. I parried a stroke from him that must have jarred the old man's arm.

[_Falls back exhausted._]

_Will._ An' this be not a lesson! I have no father that is a malignant, and could therefore only undergo simple murder. However, [_touching the hilt of his sword_] rest thou there! in Mercy's hallowed name--nay more, as rashness is animal, so a due timidity is soul, which is mind, and I have a great mind to run away, and mind being soul, I think I have a greater soul than Alexander.

[_A loud discharge of cannon, L._]

Now if it were not for that, this foolish brute, my body, might rush off in that direction, but it don't, for a great mind prevents it, therefore--

[_Stage more dark. He runs off in an opposite direction to the shot, R. More wounded enter and fall down, U.E.L._]

_Enter an Old Man in the King's uniform, of red coats, L._

_Old Man._ I thought the day was ours. The headlong Rupert Swept all before him, like the wind that bends The thin and unkind corn, his men were numb With slaying, and their chargers straddling, blown With undue speed, as they had hunted that Which could not turn again--e'en thus was Rupert, When round to meet his squadrons came a host Like whirlwind to the wind. There was a moment that the blood-surge roll'd Hither and thither, while you saw in the air Ten thousand bright blades, and as many eyes Of flame flashed terribly. Then Rupert stay'd His hot hand in amazement, And all his blood-stain'd chivalry grew pale: The hunters, chang'd to quarry, fled amain, I saw the prince's jet-black, favourite barb Thrown on her haunches; then away, away, Her speed did bear him safe. Then there came one, A grisly man, with head all bare and grey, That shouted, "Smite and scatter, spare not, ho! Ye chosen of the Lord!" and they did smite, As on the anvil; till the plumed helms Of all our best bent down. Alas! alas! That I should see this day---

[_Looks about and finds his son._]

What's this, my son! Wounded? my disobedient child? I thought of him But now in charging, as I met a foe That beat my sword-arm down--had he been there I had not suffer'd--nay, what colours these? _Against_ the king?--he is my son; I'll bear Him off, and win him to his king and me.

[_Takes him up, several cross the stage flying. Musketry from L. to R. A shot strikes the Old Man, who falls. Several officers and soldiers enter fighting with swords and firearms._]

_CROMWELL enters pursuing, L. to R._

_Crom._ Strike home! spare none! The father with the son, That fights for tyranny. [To a Trooper.] Give me thy sword! Mine own is hack'd with slaying-- Where is Rupert? The haughty Rupert now?-- Where is this king, That tempts the God of battles?--Are they gone, That cost these precious lives?

[_Here the sun breaks out in splendour and lights up the battle-ground behind._]

"Let God arise, And let his enemies be scattered!"

END OF ACT II.