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?

Hampden.

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!
Hampden. And who despairs of England?
Rudyard.

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 thisWhich 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 Runnymead !-
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.

Haman! Ahithophel !
Hampden.

The Renegade !

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!

Fiennes.

Loudon.

Stay, Vane!

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?

Loudon.

All know—'t is nothing new.

Vane.

We know,

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."

Hampden.

Has England lost him?

Has he left Wentworth, then?

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.
Hampden.

Let Loudon read the Parliament's report

From Edinburgh: our last hope, as Vane says,

Is in the stand it makes. Loudon !

Vane.

Silent I can be: not indifferent!

No, no:

Meanwhile

Hampden. Then each keep silence, praying God to

spare

His anger, cast not England quite away

In this her visitation!

Pym.

PYM enters.

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.

Loudon.

We were about to read reports.

Holds firm: