SCENE I. _A House near Whitehall._ HAMPDEN, HOLLIS, _the_ younger

VANE, RUDYARD, FIENNES _and many of the Presbyterian Party:_ LOUDON _and other Scots Commissioners._

_Vane._ I say, if he be here--

_Rudyard._ (And he is here!)--

_Hollis._ For England's sake let every man be still Nor speak of him, so much as say his name, Till Pym rejoin us! Rudyard! Henry Vane! One rash conclusion may decide our course And with it England's fate--think--England's fate! Hampden, for England's sake they should be still!

_Vane._ You say so, Hollis? Well, I must be still. It is indeed too bitter that one man, Any one man's mere presence, should suspend England's combined endeavor: little need To name him!

_Rud._ For you are his brother, Hollis!

_Hampden._ Shame on you, Rudyard! time to tell him that When he forgets the Mother of us all.

_Rud._ Do I forget her?

_Hamp._ You talk idle hate Against her foe: is that so strange a thing? Is hating Wentworth all the help she needs?

_A Puritan._ The Philistine strode, cursing as he went: But David--five smooth pebbles from the brook Within his scrip ...

_Rud._ Be you as still as David!

_Fiennes._ Here 's Rudyard not ashamed to wag a tongue Stiff with ten years' disuse of Parliaments; Why, when the last sat, Wentworth sat with us!

_Rud._ Let 's hope for news of them now he returns-- He that was safe in Ireland, as we thought! --But I 'll abide Pym's coming.

_Vane._ Now, by Heaven, Then may be cool who can, silent who will-- Some have a gift that way! Wentworth is here, Here, and the King's safe closeted with him Ere this. And when I think on all that 's past Since that man left us, how his single arm Rolled the advancing good of England back And set the woeful past up in its place, Exalting Dagon where the Ark should be,-- How that man has made firm the fickle King (Hampden, I will speak out!)--in aught he feared To venture on before; taught tyranny Her dismal trade, the use of all her tools, To ply the scourge yet screw the gag so close That strangled agony bleeds mute to death-- How he turns Ireland to a private stage For training infant villanies, new ways Of wringing treasure out of tears and blood, Unheard oppressions nourished in the dark To try how much man's nature can endure --If he dies under it, what harm? if not, Why, one more trick is added to the rest Worth a king's knowing, and what Ireland bears England may learn to bear:--how all this while That man has set himself to one dear task, The bringing Charles to relish more and more Power, power without law, power and blood too --Can I be still?

_Hamp._ For that you should be still.

_Vane._ Oh Hampden, then and now! The year he left us, The People in full Parliament could wrest The Bill of Rights from the reluctant King; And now, he 'll find in an obscure small room A stealthy gathering of great-hearted men That take up England's cause: England is here!

_Hamp._ And who despairs of England?

_Rud._ That do I, If Wentworth comes to rule her. I am sick To think her wretched masters, Hamilton, The muckworm Cottington, the maniac Laud, May yet be longed-for back again. I say, I do despair.

_Vane._ And, Rudyard, I 'll say this-- Which all true men say after me, not loud But solemnly and as you 'd say a prayer! This King, who treads our England underfoot, Has just so much ... it may be fear or craft, As bids him pause at each fresh outrage; friends, He needs some sterner hand to grasp his own, Some voice to ask, "Why shrink? Am I not by?" Now, one whom England loved for serving her, Found in his heart to say, "I know where best The iron heel shall bruise her, for she leans Upon me when you trample." Witness, you! So Wentworth heartened Charles, so England fell. But inasmuch as life is hard to take From England ...

_Many Voices._ Go on, Vane! 'T is well said, Vane!

_Vane._ Who has not so forgotten Runnymede!--

_Voices._ 'T is well and bravely spoken, Vane! Go on!

_Vane._ There are some little signs of late she knows The ground no place for her. She glances round, Wentworth has dropped the hand, is gone his way On other service: what if she arise? No! the King beckons, and beside him stands The same bad man once more, with the same smile And the same gesture. Now shall England crouch, Or catch at us and rise?

_Voices._ The Renegade! Haman! Ahithophel!

_Hamp._ Gentlemen of the North, It was not thus the night your claims were urged, And we pronounced the League and Covenant, The cause of Scotland, England's cause as well: Vane there, sat motionless the whole night through.

_Vane._ Hampden!

_Fien._ Stay, Vane!

_Loudon._ Be just and patient, Vane!

_Vane._ Mind how you counsel patience, Loudon! you Have still a Parliament, and this your League To back it; you are free in Scotland still: While we are brothers, hope 's for England yet. But know you wherefore Wentworth comes? to quench This last of hopes? that he brings war with him? Know you the man's self? what he dares?

_Lou._ We know, All know--'t is nothing new.

_Vane._ And what 's new, then, In calling for his life? Why, Pym himself-- You must have heard--ere Wentworth dropped our cause He would see Pym first; there were many more Strong on the people's side and friends of his, Eliot that 's dead, Rudyard and Hampden here, But for these Wentworth cared not; only, Pym He would see--Pym and he were sworn, 't is said, To live and die together; so, they met At Greenwich. Wentworth, you are sure, was long, Specious enough, the devil's argument Lost nothing on his lips; he 'd have Pym own A patriot could not play a purer part Than follow in his track; they two combined Might put down England. Well, Pym heard him out; One glance--you know Pym's eye--one word was all: "You leave us, Wentworth! while your head is on, I 'll not leave you."

_Hamp._ Has he left Wentworth, then? Has England lost him? Will you let him speak, Or put your crude surmises in his mouth? Away with this! Will you have Pym or Vane?

_Voices._ Wait Pym's arrival! Pym shall speak.

_Hamp._ Meanwhile Let Loudon read the Parliament's report From Edinburgh: our last hope, as Vane says, Is in the stand it makes. Loudon!

_Vane._ No, no! Silent I can be: not indifferent!

_Hamp._ Then each keep silence, praying God to spare His anger, cast not England quite away In this her visitation!

_A Puritan._ Seven years long The Midianite drove Israel into dens And caves. Till God sent forth a mighty man, (PYM _enters._) Even Gideon!

_Pym._ Wentworth 's come: nor sickness, care, The ravaged body nor the ruined soul, More than the winds and waves that beat his ship, Could keep him from the King. He has not reached Whitehall: they 've hurried up a Council there To lose no time and find him work enough. Where 's Loudon? your Scots' Parliament ...

_Lou._ Holds firm: We were about to read reports.

_Pym._ The King Has just dissolved your Parliament.

_Lou. and other Scots._ Great God! An oath-breaker! Stand by us, England, then!

_Pym._ The King 's too sanguine; doubtless Wentworth 's here; But still some little form might be kept up.

_Hamp._ Now speak, Vane! Rudyard, you had much to say!

_Hol._ The rumor 's false, then ...

_Pym._ Ay, the Court gives out His own concerns have brought him back: I know 'T is the King calls him. Wentworth supersedes The tribe of Cottingtons and Hamiltons Whose part is played; there 's talk enough, by this,-- Merciful talk, the King thinks: time is now To turn the record's last and bloody leaf Which, chronicling a nation's great despair, Tells they were long rebellious, and their lord Indulgent, till, all kind expedients tried, He drew the sword on them and reigned in peace. Laud 's laying his religion on the Scots Was the last gentle entry: the new page Shall run, the King thinks, "Wentworth thrust it down At the sword's point."

_A Puritan._ I 'll do your bidding, Pym, England's and God's--one blow!

_Pym._ A goodly thing-- We all say, friends, it is a goodly thing To right that England. Heaven grows dark above: Let 's snatch one moment ere the thunder fall, To say how well the English spirit comes out Beneath it! All have done their best, indeed, From lion Eliot, that grand Englishman, To the least here: and who, the least one here, When she is saved (for her redemption dawns Dimly, most dimly, but it dawns--it dawns) Who 'd give at any price his hope away Of being named along with the Great Men? We would not--no, we would not give that up!

_Hamp._ And one name shall be dearer than all names, When children, yet unborn, are taught that name After their fathers',--taught what matchless man ...

_Pym._ ... Saved England? What if Wentworth's should be still That name?

_Rud. and others._ We have just said it, Pym! His death Saves her! We said it--there 's no way beside! I 'll do God's bidding, Pym! They struck down Joab And purged the land.

_Vane._ No villanous striking-down!

_Rud._ No, a calm vengeance: let the whole land rise And shout for it. No Feltons!

_Pym._ Rudyard, no! England rejects all Feltons; most of all Since Wentworth ... Hampden, say the trust again Of England in her servants--but I 'll think You know me, all of you. Then, I believe, Spite of the past, Wentworth rejoins you, friends!

_Vane and others._ Wentworth? Apostate! Judas! Double-dyed A traitor! Is it Pym, indeed ...

_Pym._ ... Who says Vane never knew that Wentworth, loved that man, Was used to stroll with him, arm locked in arm, Along the streets to see the people pass, And read in every island-countenance Fresh argument for God against the King,-- Never sat down, say, in the very house Where Eliot's brow grew broad with noble thoughts, (You 've joined us, Hampden--Hollis, you as well,) And then left talking over Gracchus's death ...

_Vane._ To frame, we know it well, the choicest clause In the Petition of Right: he framed such clause One month before he took at the King's hand His Northern Presidency, which that Bill Denounced.

_Pym._ Too true! Never more, never more Walked we together! Most alone I went. I have had friends--all here are fast my friends-- But I shall never quite forget that friend. And yet it could not but be real in him! You, Vane,--you, Rudyard, have no right to trust To Wentworth: but can no one hope with me? Hampden, will Wentworth dare shed English blood Like water?

_Hamp._ Ireland is Aceldama.

_Pym._ Will he turn Scotland to a hunting-ground To please the King, now that he knows the King? The People or the King? and that King, Charles!

_Hamp._ Pym, all here know you: you 'll not set your heart On any baseless dream. But say one deed Of Wentworth's, since he left us ... [_Shouting without._

_Vane._ There! he comes, And they shout for him! Wentworth 's at Whitehall, The King embracing him, now, as we speak, And he, to be his match in courtesies, Taking the whole war's risk upon himself, Now, while you tell us here how changed he is! Hear you?

_Pym._ And yet if 't is a dream, no more, That Wentworth chose their side, and brought the King To love it as though Laud had loved it first, And the Queen after; that he led their cause Calm to success, and kept it spotless through, So that our very eyes could look upon The travail of our souls, and close content That violence, which something mars even right Which sanctions it, had taken off no grace From its serene regard. Only a dream!

_Hamp._ We meet here to accomplish certain good By obvious means, and keep tradition up Of free assemblages, else obsolete, In this poor chamber: nor without effect Has friend met friend to counsel and confirm, As, listening to the beats of England's heart, We spoke its wants to Scotland's prompt reply By these her delegates. Remains alone That word grow deed, as with God's help it shall-- But with the devil's hindrance, who doubts too? Looked we or no that tyranny should turn Her engines of oppression to their use? Whereof, suppose the worst be Wentworth here-- Shall we break off the tactics which succeed In drawing out our formidablest foe, Let bickering and disunion take their place? Or count his presence as our conquest's proof, And keep the old arms at their steady play? Proceed to England's work! Fiennes, read the list!

_Fien._ Ship-money is refused or fiercely paid In every county, save the northern parts Where Wentworth's influence ... [_Shouting._

_Vane._ I, in England's name, Declare her work, this day, at end! Till now, Up to this moment, peaceful strife was best. We English had free leave to think; till now, We had a shadow of a Parliament In Scotland. But all 's changed: they change the first, They try brute-force for law, they, first of all ...

_Voices._ Good! Talk enough! The old true hearts with Vane!

_Vane._ Till we crush Wentworth for her, there 's no act Serves England!

_Voices._ Vane for England!

_Pym._ Pym should be Something to England. I seek Wentworth, friends.