How can I breathe and not wish England well,

-Who may not speak again; whose spirit yearns
For a cool night after this weary day :

-Who would not have my soul turn sicker yet

In a new task, more fatal, more august,
More full of England's utter weal or woe.

I thought, sir, could I find myself with you,
After this trial, alone, as man to man—

I might say something, warn you, pray you, save-
Mark me, King Charles, save-you!

But God must do it. Yet I warn you, sir—
(With Strafford's faded eyes yet full on me)
As you would have no deeper question moved
-"How long the Many must endure the One,"
Assure me, sir, if England give assent
To Strafford's death, you will not interfere !
Or――

Charles. God forsakes me. I am in a net
And cannot move. Let all be as you say!

Enter Lady CARLISLE,

Lady 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, sir,

Whom Strafford from his inmost soul . . .

[Seeing PVM.]

No fear for Strafford!

Well met!

All that's true and brave

On your own side shall help us: we are now

Stronger than ever.

Ha--what, sir, is this?

All is not well! What parchment have you there?

Pym. Sir, much is saved us both.

Lady Carlisle.

This Bill! Your lip

Whitens you could not read one line to me

Your voice would falter so!

Pym.

No recreant yet!

The great word went from England to my soul,

And I arose. The end is very near.

Lady Carlisle. I am to save him! All have shrunk

beside;

'T is only I am left. Heaven will make strong

The hand now as the heart. Then let both die!

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Whitehall.

HOLLIS, Lady CARLISLE.

Hollis. Tell the King then! Come in with me!

Lady Carlisle.

He must not hear till it succeeds.

Hollis.

Not so!

Succeed?

No dream was half so vain-you'd rescue Strafford
And outwit Pym! I cannot tell you . . . lady,
The block pursues me, and the hideous show.
To-day... is it to-day? And all the while
He's sure of the King's pardon. Think, I have
To tell this man he is to die. The King
May rend his hair, for me! I'll not see Strafford !
Lady Carlisle. Only, if I succeed, remember-

Charles

Has saved him. He would hardly value life

Unless his gift. My staunch friends wait. Go in-
You must go in to Charles!

Hollis.

Left Strafford long ago.

And all beside

The King has signed

The warrant for his death! the Queen was sick

Of the eternal subject. For the Court,—
The Trial was amusing in its way,

Only too much of it: the Earl withdrew

In time. But you, fragile, alone, so young
Amid rude mercenaries-you devise
A plan to save him! Even though it fails,
What shall reward you?

Lady Carlisle.

To France with him?

I may go, you think,
And you reward me, friend,

Who lived with Strafford even from his youth
Before he set his heart on state-affairs

And they bent down that noble brow of his.
I have learned somewhat of his latter life,
And all the future I shall know: but, Hollis,
I ought to make his youth my own as well.
Tell me, when he is saved!

Hollis.

My gentle friend,

He should know all and love you, but 't is vain!

Lady Carlisle. Love? no-too late now! Let him

love the King!

'Tis the King's scheme! I have your word, remember! We'll keep the old delusion up. But, quick!

Quick! Each of us has work to do, beside!

Go to the King! I hope-Hollis-I hope!

Say nothing of my scheme! Hush, while we speak Think where he is! Now for my gallant friends! Calling wildly upon Charles,

Hollis. Where he is?

Guessing his fate, pacing the prison-floor.

Let the King tell him! I'll not look on Strafford.

SCENE II.-The Tower.

STRAFFORD sitting with his Children. They sing.

O bell' andare

Per barca in mare,

Verso la sera

Di Primavera!

William. The boat's in the broad moonlight all this

while

Verso la sera

Di Primavera!

And the boat shoots from underneath the moon

Into the shadowy distance; only still

You hear the dipping oar

Verso la sera,

And faint, and fainter, and then all's quite gone,