The Modern British Drama: Tragedies

KING CHARLES I.

HAVARD.

PROLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY A FRIEND.

In former times, when wit was no offence,
And men submitted to be pleased with sense-
Then was the stage fair virtue's fav'rite school,
Scourge of the knave, and mirror of the fool.
Here oft the villain's conscious blush would rise,
And fools become, by viewing folly, wise.
Our bard, as then, despises song and dance,
The notes of Italy, and jigs of France:
With home distress he nobly hopes to move,
And fire each bosom with its country's love-
So much a Briton-that he scorns to roam
To foreign climes, to fetch his hero home-
Conscious that in these scenes is clearly shewn
Britain can boast true heroes of her own.
Murder avowed by law he boldly paints,

Heroes and patriots, hypocrites and saints;
Rebellion fighting for the public good,
And treason smiling in a monarch's blood.
Party, be dumb- -in each pathetic scene,
Our muse, to-night, asserts an honest mean;
Shows you a prince triumphant o'er his fate,
Glorious in death, as in misfortunes great;
By nature virtuous, though misled by slaves,
By tools of power, by sycophants and knaves,
When Charles submits to faction's deadly blow,
What loyal heart but shares the monarch's woe?
Nor less Maria's grief, ye gentle fair,

Claims the sad tribute of a tender tear.
From British scenes to-night we hope applause,
And Britons sure will aid a British cause.

And though the lords refus❜d to join the bill,
Yet they proceed without them. Lawless man!
Whither, at last, will thy impieties,
Thy daring insolence extend, when kings
Feel from a subject-hand the scourge of pow'r?
Where may an injur'd monarch hope for safety,
If he not find it in his people's hearts?

Rich. Oh, Naseby, Naseby, what a deadly stroke

Was thy ill-fated field to royalty!
On thy success depended monarchy;
The fate of rebels and the fate of kings
Hung on thy battle: but thou, faithless too,
Conspir'd with faction to o'erthrow us all,
And bring to sight these more than bloody times.
Jux. To-morrow does the black tribunal sit
When majesty is cited to appear

Before his tyrant subjects. Oh, preposterous!
Is't not as bad as if these rebel hands

Should from their seats tear forth their ruling eyes,

Whose watch directs the body's use and safety?
Rich. It cannot be! 'Tis not in cruelty
To think of spilling royal blood. Mercy, sure,
And the pretended justice of their cause,
Will save them from the weight of so much guilt.
Jux. What added guilt can that black bosom
feel,

That has shook off allegiance to its king?
Whole seas of common and of noble blood
Will not suffice; the banquet must be crown'd,
And the brain heated with the blood of kings.
But see where Cromwell comes! upon his brow
Dissimulation stamp'd. If I can judge

By lineament and feature, that man's heart
Can both contrive and execute the worst
And the most daring actions yet conceiv'd.
Ambitious, bloody, resolute and wise,
He ne'er betrays his meaning till he acts,
And ne'er looks out but with the eye of purpose.
His head so cool, that it appears the top

Of Alpine hill, clad with slow-wasting snow;
His execution rapid as the force
Of falling waters thund'ring down its base.
Let us avoid him; for my conscious soul
Fears him in wonder, and in praise condemns him.
[Exeunt.

Enter CROMWELL.

Crom. Now through the maze of gloomy policy Has fire-eyed faction worked her way to light, And deck'd ambition in the robe of power. Our fears in Charles's safety are remov'd, And but one blow remains to fix our stateThe lopping off his head. No more the royal

tree

Shall, from legitimacy's root, presume

To sprout forth tyrant branches. Commonwealths

Own no hereditary right, unless our worth | Shine equal to our birth. Wherefore, at once, Down with nobility-the commons rule! Avaunt prerogative and lineal title, And be the right superior merit.

Enter FAIRFAX.

Fair. I was to seek you, sir; some lab'ring doubts,

Which, in the uncertainty of these strange times,
Call for the ray of clearness, make me press
(Perhaps unseasonably) to your ear.
You will forgive the impatience of a man
Who labours to be right by your example.
Crom. Good Fairfax, spare me; I am ill at
words,

And utter badly where I mean respect:
Uncouth my answers are to truth and plainness;
But to a compliment I ne'er could speak:
Yet could you look into my secret mind,
There my soul speaks to Fairfax as to one
Book'd in the fairest page of my esteem,
And written on my heart-But to your doubts.
Fair. You may remember, sir, when first my

sword,

My fortune, life, and still, yet more-my honour,
Were all engag'd to fight the cause of justice;
You thought, with me, the wrongs to be redress'd
Were the attempts upon the subjects' right,
The unregarded laws, and bold design
To stretch prerogative to boundless rule.
Design full fair and noble! and th' event
Has crown'd our utmost wishes. England owns
No arbitrary sway; the king's adherents
Are all dispers'd, or the remains so few,
They are not worth a fear; the king himself
In close confinement. Now, let reason judge,
And blend discretion with success.
Let us be just-but let us stop at justice,
Nor by too hasty zeal o'ershoot the mark.
The Roman spirits, savage as they were,

When they determin'd to abolish kings,
Shed not the blood of Tarquin, but expell'd him;
And shall we, owners of the Christian law,
Where mercy shines the foremost attribute,
Be harder to appease ? If not more mild,.
Let us not be more cruel than barbarians.
Charles grasped, we own, at arbitrary sway,
And would have been a tyrant-for which crime
The kingdoms he was born to we have seiz'd.
But let us not despoil him of his life.
Crowns, as the gift of men, men may resume;
But life, the gift of Heaven, let Heaven dispose of.
Crom. Well have you weigh'd each growing
circumstance,

And held discretion in the nicest scale.
Our fears remov'd, the subjects' rights restor❜d,
What have we more to do, than to sit down,
And each enjoy the vineyard of his toil?
'Tis true-but yet some clamours are abroad;
Petitions daily crowd the parliament,
That loudly call for justice on the king,
Imputing to his charge the guilt of murders,
The desolation that has bared the land,
And swept the crops of plenty from our fields.
Fair. What, shall the rabble judge-those ser-
vile curs,

Who, as they eat in plenty, snarl sedition?
Are these to be regarded?

Crom. You mistake me.

'Tis not their outcries only; but, indeed,
Those who see farther, and with better judgment,
Fear, while he lives, his friends will never die;
But, by some foreign force or home design,
May some time shake the safety of the state.
Besides, they speak of an approv'd good maxim,
Remove the cause, and the effect will cease.
Oh, worthy Fairfax, thou art wise and valiant!
I have seen thee watch occasion, till advantage
Came smiling to thy arms, and crown'd thy pa-

tience:

And then, in fight, I have beheld thy sword

Outfly the pace of pestilential air,

And kill in multitudes.

Fair. Good sir, forbear.

And what the world may yet expect of Fairfax.
The diamond, merit, in the quarry hid,
Being unknown, unseen, attracts no eyes;
But, digg'd up by the lab'rer's curiosity,
And polished by the hand of gratitude,
It shines the ornament of human life.
Think therefore what you are, and what this
juncture:

The fairest lock of fortune is display'd,
And should be seiz'd on by the bold and worthy.
Fair. You talk in clouds above my purpose

quite;

Which was but to enforce the cause of mercy,
And show how much is gain'd by stopping here;
To tell you what my conscience makes opinion,
And strengthen that opinion by your voice.

Crom. 'Tis true indeed-I had forgot myself;
But whither was I hurried in my zeal?
E'en I can descant on a pleasing theme:
Can you forgive me? though 'tis hard indeed:
Exalted virtue can with ease forgive

A caluminy, but not a praise.-No more.
Heav'n can witness for me, with what true accord
My thoughts meet yours! how willing I would
stop

The arm of violence, and make the law,
Stern as she is, assume a face of smiles.
The death of Charles is far from my design-
And yet the general outcry is for justice:
He has been much to blame, you know he has;
And (but I soften those unruly thoughts)
Were I to speak the dictates of my heart,
I could not find a punishment too great,
To fall upon the man, who should, like Charles,
Forget all right, and waste with lavish hand
The rich revenue of his people's love.

Fair. Dearly he suffers for misguided steps,
And knows that misery he meant to give;
He feels the bondage he design'd for us,
And by the want of freedom counts its value.
Crom. I pity him; and would the commons
think with me,

He were as safe as Cromwell; and, brave Fair-
fax,

Crom. Blush not to hear a truth, when Crom- We will endeavour it; and may that power,

well speaks it:

My uncouth manner, ill at varnishing,
Beggars my will, and dresses praise uncomely.
Methinks I see thee in the rage of battle,
When Naseby's field confess'd thy victor arm,
And thy decision was the fate of kings.
Methinks I view thee in the bustling ranks,
Where danger was the nearest-(for you brought
it)

Unhelm'd, encounter armies, and despise
The safety that the meanest soldier wore ;
And when a private man, with bold assertion,
Challeng'd a conquest which your arm had gain'd,
And was reprov'd; methinks, I hear you say,
I have enough of glory, let him own it.
Fair. Whither does all this tend? I pray for-

bear

I never fought in hopes to have it told:
The man whose actions speak, expects no answer.
Crom. I do but barely tell thee what thou art,

VOL. II.

The public safety makes it requisite,
But they attend your orders ere they move.
Fair. The public safety! Say what new alarm,
What danger so awakes security,

That in her fright she thus lays hold of caution?
Ire. The safety of the commons, of yourself,
Of the high court of justice; who to-morrow
Against a tyrant proves the people's power,
And brings offending majesty to justice:
This may excite his yet remaining friends,
Arm❜d with despair, to some attempt of danger.
Who can be too secure? The man whose pillow
Prevention guards, may sleep in ease and safety.
Fair. To bring offending majesty to justice?

Ire. To the scaffold.
Fair. Ha!

Ire. Why do you start?

Fair. Your zeal too much transports you. Ireton, farewell-and let me gain belief, When I affirm this moral to thy ear:Conscience than empire more content can bring, And to be just, is to be more than king. [Exit.

Enter CROMWELL.

Crom. It is enough, good kinsman, let him go,
And
yet
I could well wish that he was ours-
But 'tis no matter-You began to warm,
And the good cause sat burning on thy cheek;
Thou hast a well-turn'd tongue: but list thee,
Ireton,

Hear my design (for still my heart is thine)---
The commons most are ours: the weeder's care
Has, from the garden of our enterprize,
Thrown out the rubbish that disgrac'd the soil,
And now our growth looks timely. This you saw,
When by my means a hundred doubted members
Were by the army seiz'd upon their entrance,

SCENE I.

Enter FAIRFAX.

And since expell'd the house. Independency Roots itself fast; while presbytery force Withers unseen. Would Fairfax had been ours!

Ire. I cannot see that his adherence to us Could prosper much our cause, or his defection Make us decline one moment from our purpose. Crom. You mistake, Ireton: Fairfax stands the first

In interest with the very men I hate : Therefore his joint endeavour would be found The easiest means to bring my point to bear; Besides, he stands the fairest in the love

Of our whole party. Were we link'd together, The army too were ours; and their keen swords Are powerful arguments. We shall thrive, how

I have to do with men, upon whose tempers
I know to work--Those who love piety,
I with the vehemence of prayer encounter,
And through the spirit practise on their passions.
Those who are crafty, I subdue with fraud,
And wile them to my purpose. To the bloody
I promise slaughters, deaths, and executions:
Gold gains the covetous; and praise the proud.
There is another sort--but they are easy;
Your honest men, who never wear distrust;
For honesty's the jaundice of the mind,
That makes us think our neighbours like our.
selves :

Let us together. Ireton, here it lies;
When fools believe, wise men are sure to rise.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

Fair. Oh, glory! how deceitful is thy view! Such are thy charms, that o'er th' uncertain way Of vice or faction, thou, to hide the danger, Dost to the outward eye show fair appearance; Which, when the follower steps on, down he sinks,

And then too late looks backward on the path Of long neglected virtue.

Enter Lady FAIRFAX.

Lady Fair. My dearest Fairfax, call not this intrusion;

Long has obedience combated with love,

And boast a conquest which your foes ne'er could.

If (as I long have thought) the king be wrong'd,
Seek to redress, and not lament his fortunes.
I am a woman, not design'd'for war;
Yet could this hand (weak as you think its grasp,)
Nerv'd by my heart's companion, resolution,
Display the royal banner in the field,

And shame the strength of manhood in this

cause.

Forgive this warmth: I ne'er till now, my lord, Gave you unask'd my thoughts; but I perceive Your heart is wounded, and I came to heal it; To offer you the balm of wholesome counsel, And temper my persuasion with my love.

Fair. Thou hast been more than I could hope in woman;

Thy beauty thy least excellence. Thou appearest Like a fair tree, the glory of the plain,

The root thy honour, and the trunk thy friendship,

(That stands the rudest blast of cold adversity), From whence branch out a thousand different boughs;

Candour, humility, and angel truth,
And every leaf a virtue. True, my love,
While I conceived our liberties in danger,
I fought in their defence; but cannot bear
This bold design upon the life of Charles.
We took up arms to keep the law entire,
Not to defend its open violation.

Lady Fair. I know thy honest heart, it hates a wrong:

'Twas principle, not party, urged thee on
To fight their cause: but Cromwell's specious
wiles

Pervert the justice of thy fair designs,
And make thy virtue pander to his will.

Fair. Cromwell has art--but still I think him honest:

Yet in our late discourse his speech, methought,
Appear'd disjointed; and he wav'd the theme
I spoke about the safety of the king.
At parting too, his words betray'd a purpose
Beyond the limits of a commonwealth;
And talk'd of highest honours-but I hope
That my suspicions wrong him.

Lady Fair. No, my lord;

Rather increase them; keep them still alive
To arm against his black designs: discretion,
At the surmise of danger, wakes incessant;
Nor drops the eyelid till she sleeps in safety.
Enter a Servant.

Serv. The duke of Richmond and a reverend bishop

Desire to see you.

Fair. Wait upon them hither;

I guess at their desires, and would to Heaven My power could grant them what my wish confirms!

Lady Fair. And wherefore not, my lord? The army yours,

Who can dispute your will? Command them hither,

And be their threats the safety of the king. Fair. Betray my trust! Thou canst not mean such baseness.

Should I (which much I doubt, for Cromwell's faction

Equals my power, and more, among the soldiers) Make them revolt, what would my conscience say?

'Twould be a mountain crime, a molehill good. The whiteness of my fair design to Charles, Spread o'er the visage of the means that gave it, Like thinnest lawn upon an Æthiop face, Would cover, not conceal, the blackness. No, my love,

Virtue and baseness never meet together.

Enter Bishop JuXON and Duke of RICHMOND. Jux. A mournful errand, good my lord of

Fairfax,

To see the widow's and the orphan's sorrows;
Complaint had been my language, care my bed,
And contemplation my uneasy pillow.
Now by your hopes of mercy plead this cause;
Know it a labour that will pay itself,
E'en in this world-and when you mount above,
You will behold it of so vast a value,
It will outweigh th' offences of your life.

Fair. Without this jatercession, good my lord,
I had done all within my feeble power;
Yet think what outcries din the parliament,
How many zealots call aloud for justice!
Then think what you may hope, and what not
fear.

Lady Fair. No matter, Fairfax, 'tis a virtuous

« Previous Continue »

Books