Cromwell Part 3

_Host._ Wilt thou be quiet; I see no jest.

_Will._ Nay, I'll be bound not. Sa! Sa!

_Host._ Laugh an thou likest; but put up thy toasting-iron.

_Will._ Well, thou hast reason for thanksgiving.

But I think thy wife was right, if the poor gentleman's thrust was drunken, 'twas a compliment to thy wine. A scurvy rogue to ask for his money when he was poor, and thy wine did affect him.

_Host._ But to speak seriously, good Will, what bringeth thee here? Who is thy master! Can I a.s.sist thee in anything?

_Will._ Well, I pity thee, and will say no more. My master is young Arthur Walton. He hath returned.

He gave up the fortune to his brother Basil.

_Host._ I thought he was settled abroad.

_Will._ No! no! He is here, and now he wanteth a.s.sistance from his brother; for we are in some present straits, and this Basil will have nought to say to him. What I shall want of thee is information of the family; and mayhap thy daughter will have to see Mistress Florence for us with a message.

[_Enter TAPSTER and two or three Roundhead Soldiers, L._]

_Tap._ Master, master! here be soldiers quartered on us.

_Will._ The Philistines be upon thee!

_Host._ O Lord!----be praised. See directly and water the double ale--Tell my daughter to lock up the Trinidado tobaccos--Haste!

[_Enter IRETON, HARRISON, and Soldiers, L.U.E._]

_Ire._ [_Reading Papers._] Give us to drink, good measure; for the flesh is thirsty. That we have shall be paid. Who is that fellow [_points to William_] with his sword drawn?

_Har._ Ha! a malignant.--Smite him!

_Sold._ Lo! he shall die.

_Host._ Hold! hold! 'tis an innocent youth. He did but draw his weapon to defy the evil one. He is strong in prayer. [_To William aside._] Speak quickly, an thou lovest thyself--something from Tobit, or the Psalmody.

_Har._ Thou hearest--Sin-Despise! touch not the youth. Lo, I myself have wrestled with the powers of darkness. [_To William._] In what shape cometh he?

_Will._ With horns, an't please you, [_Aside._] very like Master Newborn there.

_Har._ [_To himself._] With me 'tis different. In the curtain'd night, A Form comes shrieking on me, With such an edg'd and preternatural cry 'T would stir the blood of cl.u.s.tering bats from sleep, Tear their hook'd wings from out the mildew'd eaves, And drive them circling forth-- I tell ye that I fight with him until The sweat like blood puts out my burning eyes.

Call you this dreaming?

_Will._ [_Aside to the Host._] Dost think the gentleman eats suppers?

_Ire._ A plague upon his d.a.m.n'd repentant fancies!

_Har._ [_Still to himself._] 'Twas on the heath, As he did gripe and hold it from his breast, He cut my blade with fifty pallid fingers, On his knees, crying out He had at home an old and doating father; And yet I slew him!

There was a ribbon round his neck That caught in the hilt of my sword.

A stripling, and so long a dying? Why 'Tis most unnatural!

_Host._ [_Aside to William._] I would not have his conscience to be vintner to the Parliament.

_Will._ [_To Host._] Nor I, for my master to be a fat-witted Duke, and I his chief serving-man.

_Ire._ Here we need counsel, and he raves of dreams And devils. Yet, 'tis true, he fights as if He were possess'd by them.

Come, Harrison!

Will you not hear how fortune dawns upon us?--

_Har._ Ay! indeed-- Excuse me, Ireton, I was something absent; I think my health of late is shatter'd much.

Sometimes I talk aloud. Did I not speak But now of Joab in the Bible, And how he did slay Abner?-- Thou know'st I read the Scripture very oft.

_A Trooper._ Ay! he goes to bed with it under his pillow, lest the evil one should prevail. Desborough told him of it.

_Har._ Heard you of Falkland's death?

_Ire._ At Newbury?-- I did. On either side, in this sad war The good and n.o.ble seem the ripest fruit, And so fall first.

_Har._ Thus let them perish, all That strive against the Lord.

Is Cromwell nigh?--

_Ire._ He will be here anon.

_Har._ [_To himself._] The mighty men Of Israel slew _all_. It was a sin To spare the child in the womb.

I am a fool To s.h.i.+ver thus to think that night must come.

The lion trembles at the sun's eclipse, But, not for murder of the innocent lamb.

Who walks across my grave?--

_Ire._ Come, let us go: I cannot pray or wrestle in the spirit; But let us talk of earthly fights and toils.

I love fat quarters in a Bishopric As well as any preacher of us all.

_Har._ Come, men, to quarters-- In four hours' time we march To join Lord Ess.e.x--see your girths are slack'd, Your pistols prim'd, your beasts fed, and your souls Watching for grace, the word is "Kill and slay"-- 'Twere best all eat, for I will fast and pray.

[_Exeunt HARRISON and IRETON, R.S.E._]

_A Soldier._ [_To William._] I say, wilt thou discourse?

_2nd Sold._ Give him a text.

_3rd Sold._ He lacketh speech--He is a dumb Amalekite.

_1st Sold._ I will even awaken him with a p.r.i.c.k of my sword.

_Host._ Nay! he is strong in the word. [_To William._]

Preach something, if thou beest wise.

_Will._ What the devil!--

_3rd Sold._ Ay! uplift thy voice against Beelzebub.