# Strafford (Browning)/Act IV
## Scene I

WHITEHALL.
The KING, the QUEEN, HOLLIS, CARLISLE. (VANE, HOLLAND, SAVILE, in the back-ground.)
CARLISLE.
Answer them, Hollis, for his sake!—One word!
CHARLES.
(To HOLLIS.) You stand, silent and cold, as though I were Deceiving you—my friend, my playfellow Of other times! What wonder after all? Just so I dreamed my People loved me!
HOLLIS.
 Sire, It is yourself that you deceive, not me! You'll quit me comforted—your mind made up That since you've talked thus much and grieved thus much, All you can do for Strafford has been done.
QUEEN.
If you kill Strafford . . . come, we grant you leave, Suppose . . .
HOLLIS.
 I may withdraw, Sire?
CARLISLE.
 Hear them out! 'Tis the last chance for Strafford! Hear them out!
HOLLIS.
"If we kill Strafford"—on the eighteenth day Of Strafford's trial—We!
CHARLES.
 Pym, my good Hollis— Pym, I should say!
HOLLIS.
 Ah, true—Sire, pardon me! You witness our proceedings every day, But the screened gallery, I might have guessed, Admits of such a partial glimpse at us— Pym takes up all the room, shuts out the view! Still, on my honour, Sire, the rest of the place Is not unoccupied: the Commons sit —That's England; Ireland sends, and Scotland too, Their representatives: the Peers that judge Are easily distinguished; one remarks The People here and there . . . but the close curtain Must hide so much!
QUEEN.
 Acquaint your insolent crew, This day the curtain shall be dashed aside! It served a purpose!
HOLLIS.
 Think! This very day? Ere Strafford rises to defend himself?
CHARLES.
I will defend him, Sir! sanction the past— This day—it ever was my purpose! Rage At me, not Strafford! Oh I shall be paid By Strafford's look!
CARLISLE.
(To HOLLIS.) Nobly! Oh will he not Do nobly?
HOLLIS.
 Sire, you will do honestly; And, for that look, I too would be a king!
CHARLES (after a pause).
Only, to do this now—just when they seek To make me out a tyrant—one that's deaf To subjects' prayers,—shall I oppose them now? It seems their will the Trial should proceed . . . 'Tis palpably their will!
HOLLIS.
 You'll lose your throne: But it were no bright moment save for that! Strafford, your prime support, the sole roof-tree That props this quaking House of Privilege, (Floods come, winds beat, and see—the treacherous sand!) Doubtless if the mere putting forth an arm Could save him, you'd save Strafford!
CHARLES.
 And they mean Calmly to consummate this wrong! No hope? This ineffaceable wrong! No pity then?
HOLLIS.
No plague in store for perfidy?—Farewell! You summoned me . . . (To CARLISLE.) You, Lady, bade me come To save the Earl! I came, thank God for it, To learn how far such perfidy can go! . . . You dare to talk with me of saving him Who have just ruined Strafford!
CHARLES.
 I?
HOLLIS.
 See, now! Eighteen days long he throws, one after one, Our charges back: a blind moth-eaten law! —He'll break from us at last! And whom to thank? The Mouse that gnawed the Lion's net for him Got a good friend,—but he, the other Mouse, That looked on while the Lion freed himself—— Fared he so well, does any fable say?
CHARLES.
What can you mean?
HOLLIS.
 Pym never could have proved Strafford's design of bringing up the troops To force this kingdom to obedience: Vane— Your servant, Vane . . .
QUEEN.
 Well, Sir?
HOLLIS.
 . . Has proved it.
CHARLES.
 Vane?
HOLLIS.
This day! Did Vane deliver up or no Those notes which, furnished by his son to Pym, Have sealed . . .
CHARLES.
 Speak Vane! As I shall live, I know Nothing that Vane has done! What treason next? I wash my hands of it! Vane, speak the truth! —Ask Vane himself!
HOLLIS.
 I will not speak to Vane Who speak to Pym and Hampden every day!
QUEEN.
Speak to Vane's master then! Why should he wish For Strafford's death?
HOLLIS.
 Why? Strafford cannot turn As you sit there—bid you come forth and say If every hateful act were not set down In his commission?—Whether you contrived Or no that all the violence should seem His work, the gentle ways—your own, as if He counteracted your kind impulses While . . . but you know what he could say! And then Would he produce, mark you, a certain charge To set your own express commands aside, If need were, and be blameless! He'd say, then . . . .
CHARLES.
Hold!
HOLLIS.
 . . . . Say who bade him break the Parliament,— Find out some pretext to set up sword-law . . .
QUEEN.
Retire, Sir!
CHARLES.
 Vane—once more—what Vane dares do I know not . . . he is rash . . . a fool . . . I know Nothing of Vane!
HOLLIS.
 Well—I believe you; Sire Believe me, in return, that . . . (Turning to CARLISLE.) Gentle Lady, The few words I would say the stones might hear Sooner than these . . . I'll say them all to you, You, with the heart! The question, trust me, takes Another shape, to-day: 'tis not if Charles Or England shall succumb,—but which shall pay The forfeit, Strafford or his Master: Sire, You loved me once . . . think on my warning now! (Exit.)
CHARLES.
On you and on your warning both!—Carlisle! That paper!
QUEEN.
 But consider!
CHARLES.
 Give it me! There—signed—will that content you?—Do not speak! You have betrayed me, Vane!—See—any day (According to the tenour of that paper) He bids your brother bring the Army up, Strafford shall head it and take full revenge! Seek Strafford! Let him have it, look, before He rises to defend himself!
QUEEN.
 In truth? Clever of Hollis, now, to work a change Like this! You were reluctant . . .
CHARLES.
 Say, Carlisle Your brother Percy brings the Army up— Falls on the Parliament——(I'll think of you My Hollis!)—say we plotted long . . . 'tis mine, The scheme is mine, remember! Say I cursed Vane's folly in your hearing! If that man Does rise to do us shame, the fault shall lie With you, Carlisle!
CARLISLE.
 Nay, fear not me! but still That's a bright moment, Sire, you throw away . . . Oh, draw the veil and save him!
QUEEN.
 Go, Carlisle!
CARLISLE (aside, and going).
I shall see Strafford—speak to him: my heart Must never beat so, then!  And if I tell The truth? What's gained by falsehood? There they stand Whose trade it is—whose life it is! How vain To gild such rottenness! Strafford shall know, Thoroughly know them!
THE QUEEN (as she leaves the KING, &c.)
 Trust to me! (To CARLISLE.) Carlisle, You seem inclined, alone of all the Court, To serve poor Strafford: this bold plan of yours Merits much praise, and yet . . .
CARLISLE.
 Time presses, Madam.
QUEEN.
Yet . . . may it not be something premature? Strafford defends himself to-day—reserves Some wondrous effort . . one may well suppose— He'll say some overwhelming fact, Carlisle!
CARLISLE.
Aye, Hollis hints as much.
CHARLES.
 Why linger then? Haste with the scheme—my scheme—I shall be there To watch his look! Tell him I watch his look!
QUEEN.
Stay, we'll precede you!
CARLISLE.
 At your pleasure.
CHARLES.
 Say . . . Say . . Vane is hardly ever at Whitehall! I shall be there, remember!
CARLISLE.
 Doubt me not!
CHARLES.
On our return, Carlisle, we wait you here!
CARLISLE.
I'll bring his answer; Sire, I follow you. (Exeunt K. &c.) Ah . . . but he would be very sad to find The King so faithless, and I take away All that he cares to live for: let it go—— 'Tis the King's scheme!  My Strafford, I can save . . . Nay, I have saved you—yet am scarce content, Because my poor name will not cross your mind . . . Strafford, how much I am unworthy you! (Exit.)

## Scene II

A PASSAGE ADJOINING WESTMINSTER HALL.
Many groups of SPECTATORS of the Trial (which is visible from the back of the Stage)—OFFICERS of the Court, &c.
FIRST SPECTATOR.
More crowd than ever! . . . Not know Hampden, man? That's he—by Pym—Pym that is speaking now! No, truly—if you look so high you'll see Little enough of either!
SECOND SPECTATOR.
 Hush . . Pym's arm Points like a prophet's rod!
THIRD SPECTATOR.
 Ay—ay—we've heard Some pretty speaking . . yet the Earl escapes!
FOURTH SPECTATOR.
I fear it: just a foolish word or two About his children . . . and they see, forsooth, Not England's Foe in Strafford—but the Man Who, sick, half-blind . . .
SECOND SPECTATOR.
 What's that Pym's saying now That makes the curtains flutter . . look! A hand Clutches them . . Ah! The King's hand!
FIFTH SPECTATOR.
 I had thought Pym was not near so tall! What said he, friend?
SECOND SPECTATOR.
"Nor is this way a novel way of blood" . . . And the Earl turns as if to . . . look! look!
MANY SPECTATORS.
 Heaven— What ails him . . no—he rallies . . see—goes on And Strafford smiles. Strange!
(Enter a PURITAN.)
THE PURITAN.
 Haselrig.
MANY SPECTATORS.
 Friend? Friend?
THE PURITAN.
Lost—utterly lost . . just when we looked for Pym To make a stand against the ill effects Of the Earl's speech! Is Haselrig without? Pym's message is to him! (Exit.)
THIRD SPECTATOR.
 Now, said I true? Will the Earl leave them yet at fault or no?
FIRST SPECTATOR.
Never believe it, man! These notes of Vane's Ruin the Earl!
FIFTH SPECTATOR.
 A brave end . . not a whit Less firm, less . . . Pym all over! Then the Trial Is closed . . . no . . Strafford means to speak again!
AN OFFICER.
Stand back, there!
FIFTH SPECTATOR.
 Why the Earl is coming hither! Before the court breaks up! His brother, look,— You'd say he deprecated some fierce act In Strafford's mind just now!
AN OFFICER.
 Stand back, I say!
SECOND SPECTATOR.
Who's the veiled woman that he talks with?
MANY SPECTATORS.
 Hush— The Earl! the Earl!
 (Enter STRAFFORD, SLINGSBY and other Secretaries, HOLLIS, CARLISLE, MAXWELL, BALFOUR, &c. STRAFFORD converses with CARLISLE.)
HOLLIS.
 So near the end! Be patient— Return!
STRAFFORD.
(To his Secretaries.) Here—anywhere—or—'tis freshest here . . (To spend one's April here—the blossom-month!) Set it down here!  (They arrange a table, papers &c.)  What, Pym to quail, to sink Because I glance at him, yet . . .  Well, to end— What's to be answered, Slingsby? Let us end! (To CARLISLE.) Girl, I refuse his offer; whatsoe'er It be! Too late! Tell me no word of him! (To HOLLIS.) 'Tis something, Hollis, I assure you that— To stand, sick as you are, some eighteen days Fighting for life and fame against a pack Of very curs, that lie thro' thick and thin, Eat flesh and bread by wholesale, and can't say "Strafford" if it would take my life!
CARLISLE.
 Be kind This once! Glance at the paper . . if you will But glance at it . . .
STRAFFORD.
 Already at my heels! Pym's faulting bloodhounds scent the track again! Peace, girl! Now, Slingsby!
(Messengers from Lane and other of STRAFFORD'S Counsel within the Hall are coming and going during the Scene.)
STRAFFORD (setting himself to write and dictate).
 I shall beat you, Hollis! Do you know that? In spite of all your tricks— In spite of Pym! Your Pym that shrank from me! Eliot would have contrived it otherwise! (To a Messenger.) In truth? This slip, tell Lane, contains as much As I can call to mind about the matter. (To HOLLIS.) Eliot would have disdained . . . (Calling after the Messenger.) And Radcliffe, say— The only person who could answer Pym— Is safe in prison, just for that! (Continuing to HOLLIS). Well—well— It had not been recorded in that case, I baffled you! (To CARLISLE.) Nay, girl, why look so grieved? All's gained without the King! You saw Pym quail? . . . What shall I do when they acquit me, think you, But tranquilly resume my task as though Nothing had intervened since I proposed To call that traitor to account! Such tricks, Trust me, shall not be played a second time— Even against old Laud, with his grey hair . . . Your good work, Hollis!—And to make amends You, Lucy, shall be there when I impeach Pym and his fellows!
HOLLIS.
 Wherefore not protest Against our whole proceeding long ago? Why feel indignant now? Why stand this while Enduring patiently . . .
STRAFFORD.
(To CARLISLE.) Girl, I'll tell you— You—and not Pym . . you, the slight graceful girl Tall for a flowering lily—and not Charles . . . Why I stood patient! I was fool enough To see the will of England in Pym's will— To dream that I had wronged her—and to wait Her judgment,—when, behold, in place of it . . . (To a Messenger who whispers.) Tell Lane to answer no such  question! Law . . . I grapple with their Law! I'm here to try My actions by their standard, not my own! Their Law allowed that levy . . . what's the rest To Pym, or Lane, or any but myself?
CARLISLE.
Then cast not thus your only chance away— The King's so weak . . secure this chance! 'Twas Vane —Vane, recollect, who furnished Pym the notes . . .
STRAFFORD.
Fit . . very fit . . those precious notes of Vane, To close the Trial worthily! I feared Some spice of nobleness might linger yet To spoil the character of all the past! It pleased me . . and (rising passionately) I will go back and say As much—to them—to England! Follow me! I have a word to say! There! my defence Is done! (To CARLISLE.) Stay . . why be proud? Why care to own My gladness—my surprise? . . no—not surprise! Oh, why insist upon the little pride Of doing all myself and sparing him The pain? Girl, say the triumph is my King's! When Pym grew pale, and trembled, and sank down— His image was before me . . . could I fail? Girl, care not for the past—so indistinct— Obscure—there's nothing to forgive in it 'Tis so forgotten! From this day begins A new life, founded on a new belief In Charles . . .
HOLLIS.
 Pym comes . . tell Pym it is unfair! Appeal to Pym! Hampden—and Vane! see, Strafford! Say how unfair . . .
STRAFFORD.
 To Pym? I would say nothing! I would not look upon Pym's face again!
CARLISLE.
Stay . . let me have to think I pressed your hand!  (Exeunt STRAFFORD &c.)
(Enter HAMPDEN and VANE.)
VANE.
O Hampden, save that great misguided man! Plead Strafford's cause with Pym—I have remarked He moved no muscle when we all spoke loud Against him . . . you had but to breathe—he turned Those kind, large eyes upon you—kind to all But Strafford . . whom I murder!
 (Enter PYM (conversing with the Solicitor-General, St. JOHN), the Managers of the Trial, FIENNES, RUDYARD, &c.)
RUDYARD.
 Horrible! Till now all hearts were with you . . . I withdraw For one! Too horrible! Oh we mistake Your purpose, Pym . . you cannot snatch away The last spar from the drowning man!
FIENNES.
 He talks With St. John of it—see how quietly! (To other PRESBYTERIANS.) You'll join us? Mind, we own he merits  death— But this new course is monstrous! Vane, take heart! This Bill of his Attainder shall not have One true man's hand to it!
VANE.
 But hear me, Pym! Confront your Bill—your own Bill . . what is it? You cannot catch the Earl on any charge . . No man will say the Law has hold of him On any charge . . and therefore you resolve To take the general sense on his desert,— As though no Law existed, and we met To found one!—You refer to every man To speak his thought upon this hideous mass Of half-borne out assertions—dubious hints Hereafter to be cleared—distortions—aye, And wild inventions. Every man is saved The task of fixing any single charge On Strafford: he has but to see in him The Enemy of England . . .
PYM.
 A right scruple! I have heard some called England's Enemy With less consideration.
VANE.
 Pity me! Me—brought so low—who hoped to do so much For England—her true servant—Pym, your friend . . . Indeed you made me think I was your friend! But I have murdered Strafford . . I have been The instrument of this! who shall remove That memory from me?
PYM.
 I absolve you, Vane! Take you no care for aught that you have done!
VANE.
Dear Hampden, not this Bill! Reject this Bill! He staggers thro' the ordeal . . . let him go! Strew no fresh fire before him! Plead for us With Pym . . what God is he, to have no heart Like ours, yet make us love him?
RUDYARD.
 Hampden, plead For us! When Strafford spoke your eyes were thick With tears . . save him, dear Hampden!
HAMPDEN.
 England speaks Louder than Strafford! Who are we, to play The generous pardoner at her expense— Magnanimously waive advantages— And if he conquer us. . . . applaud his skill?
VANE.
(To PYM.) He was your friend!
PYM.
 I have heard that before.
FIENNES.
But England trusts you . . .
HAMPDEN.
 Shame be his, who turns The opportunity of serving her She trusts him with, to his own mean account— Who would look nobly frank at her expense!
FIENNES.
I never thought it could have come to this!
PYM (turning from St. JOHN).
But I have made myself familiar, Fiennes, With that one thought—have walked, and sat, and slept, That thought before me! I have done such things, Being the chosen man that should destroy This Strafford! You have taken up that thought To play with—for a gentle stimulant— To give a dignity to idler life By the dim prospect of this deed to come . . . But ever with the softening, sure belief, That all would come some strange way right at last!
FIENNES.
Had we made out some weightier charge . . . .
PYM.
 You say That these are petty charges! Can we come To the real charge at all? There he is safe! In tyranny's strong hold! Apostasy Is not a crime—Treachery not a crime! The cheek burns, the blood tingles, when you name Their names, but where's the power to take revenge Upon them? We must make occasion serve: The Oversight, pay for the Giant Sin That mocks us!
RUDYARD.
 But this unexampled course—— This Bill. . . .
PYM.
 By this, we roll the clouds away Of Precedent and Custom, and at once Bid the great light which God has set in all, The conscience of each bosom, shine upon The guilt of Strafford: each shall lay his hand Upon his breast, and say if this one man Deserve to die, or no, by those he sought First to undo.
FIENNES.
 You, Vane——you answer him!
VANE.
Pym, you see farthest . . . I can only see Strafford . . . I'd not pass over that pale corse For all beyond!
RUDYARD and others.
 Pym, you would look so great! Forgive him! He would join us! now he finds How false the King has been! The pardon, too, Should be your own! Yourself should bear to Strafford The pardon of the Commons!
PYM (starting).
 Meet him? Strafford? Have we to meet once more, then? Be it so! And yet—the prophecy seemed half fulfilled When, at the trial, as he gazed—my youth— Our friendship—all old thoughts came back at once And left me, for a time . . . .
VANE (aside to RUDYARD).
 Moved, is he not?
PYM.
To-morrow we discuss the points of law With Lane . . to-morrow!
VANE.
 Time enough, dear Pym! See, he relents! I knew he would relent!
PYM.
The next day, Haselrig, you introduce, The Bill of his Attainder. (After a pause.) Pray for me!

## Scene III

WHITEHALL.
The KING.
CHARLES.
Strafford, you are a Prince! Not to reward you —Nothing does that—but only for a whim! My noble servant!—To defend himself Thus irresistibly . . withholding aught That seemed to implicate us!  We have done Less gallantly by Strafford! Well, the future Must recompense the past.  She tarries long! I understand you, Strafford, now!  The scheme— Carlisle's mad scheme—he'll sanction it, I fear, For love of me! 'Twas too precipitate: Before the Army's fairly on its march, He'll be at large: no matter . .  Well, Carlisle?
(Enter PYM.)
PYM.
Fear me not, Sire . . . my mission is to save, This time!
CHARLES.
 To break thus on me!—Unannounced . . .
PYM.
It is of Strafford I would speak.
CHARLES.
 No more Of Strafford! I have heard too much from you!
PYM.
I spoke, Sire, for the People: will you hear A word upon my own account?
CHARLES.
 Of Strafford? (Aside.) So, turns the tide already? Have we tamed The insolent brawler?—Strafford's brave defence Is swift in its effect! (To PYM.) Lord Strafford, Sir, Has spoken for himself!
PYM.
 Sufficiently. I would apprize you of the novel course The people take: the Trial fails, . . .
CHARLES.
 Yes—yes— We are aware, Sir: for your part in it Means shall be found to thank you.
PYM.
 Pray you, read This schedule! (as the KING reads it) I would learn from your own  mouth —(It is a matter much concerning me)— Whether, if two Estates of England shall concede The death of Strafford, on the grounds set forth Within that parchment, you, Sire, can resolve To grant your full consent to it. That Bill Is framed by me: if you determine, Sire, That England's manifested will shall guide Your judgment, ere another week that will Shall manifest itself. If not,—I cast Aside the measure.
CHARLES.
 . . You can hinder, then, The introduction of that Bill?
PYM.
 I can.
CHARLES.
He is my friend, Sir: I have wronged him: mark you, Had I not wronged him—this might be!—You think Because you hate the Earl . . . (turn not away— We know you hate him)—no one else could love Strafford . . . but he has saved me—many times— Think what he has endured . . proud too . . you feel What he endured!—And, do you know one strange, One frightful thing? We all have used that man As though he had been ours . . with not a source Of happy thoughts except in us . . and yet Strafford has children, and a home as well, Just as if we had never been! . . Ah Sir, You are moved—you—a solitary man Wed to your cause—to England if you will!
PYM.
Yes . . think, my soul . . to England! Draw not back!
CHARLES.
Prevent that Bill, Sir . . Oh, your course was fair Till now! Why, in the end, 'tis I should sign The warrant for his death! You have said much That I shall ponder on; I never meant Strafford should serve me any more: I take The Commons' counsel: but this Bill is yours— Not worthy of its leader . . care not, Sir, For that, however! I will quite forget You named it to me! You are satisfied?
PYM.
Listen to me, Sire! Eliot laid his hand, Wasted and white, upon my forehead once; Wentworth . . . he's gone now! . . has talked on, whole nights, And I beside him; Hampden loves me; Sire, How can I breathe and not wish England well— And her King well?
CHARLES.
 I thank you, Sir! You leave That King his servant! Thanks, Sir!
PYM.
 Let me speak —Who may not speak again! whose spirit yearns For a cool night after this weary day! —Who would not have my heart turn sicker yet In a new task, more fatal, more august More full of England's utter weal or woe . . . I thought, Sire, could I find myself with you— After this Trial—alone—as man to man— I might say something—warn you—pray you—save you— Mark me, King Charles, save——you! But God must do it. Yet I warn you, Sire— (With Strafford's faded eyes yet full on me) As you would have no deeper question moved —"How long the Many shall endure the One" . . . Assure me, Sire, if England shall assent To Strafford's death, you will not interfere! Or——
CHARLES.
 God forsakes me—I am in a net . . I cannot move! Let all be as you say!
(Enter CARLISLE.)
CARLISLE.
He loves you—looking beautiful with joy Because you sent me! he would spare you all The pain! he never dreamed you would forsake Your servant in the evil day—nay, see Your scheme returned! That generous heart of his! He needs it not—or, needing it, disdains A course that might endanger you—you, Sire, Whom Strafford from his inmost soul . . .  (Seeing PYM.) No fear— No fear for Strafford! all that's true and brave On your own side shall help us! we are now Stronger than ever!  Ha—what, Sire, is this? All is not well! What parchment have you there?  (CHARLES drops it, and exit.)
PYM.
Sire, much is saved us both: farewell!
CARLISLE.
 Stay—stay— This cursed measure—you'll not dare—you mean To frighten Charles! This Bill—look—  (As PYM reads it.)  Why, your lip Whitens—you could not read one line to me Your voice would falter so! It shakes you now— And will you dare . . .
PYM.
 No recreant yet to her! The great word went from England to my soul, And I arose! The end is very near! (Exit.)
CARLISLE.
I save him! All have shrunk from him beside— 'Tis only I am left! Heaven will make strong The hand as the true heart! Then let me die! (Exit.)