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Shall blend her name with mine. For thee, Rienzi, Rest on my bosom; let thy beating heart
Tremble! a tyrant's rule is brief.

Lie upon mine; so shall the mutual pang
(Exeunt Alberti, Angelo, &c. Be stilled. Oh! that thy father's soul could bear
Rie. (rises and advances.) They are gone, This grief for thee, my sweet one! Oh, forgive-
And my heart's lightened; how the traitor stood Cla. Forgive thee what? 'Tis so the headsman
Looking me down with his proud eye, disdaining

speaks Fair mercy-making of the hideous block

To his poor victim, ere he strikes. Do fathers | An altar-of unnatural ghastly death

Make widows of their children? send them down A god. He hath his will; and I-my heart To the cold grave heart-broken? Tell me not Is tranquil.

Of fathers, I have none! All else that breathes Cla. (withoul.) Father! Father!

Hath known that natural love. The wolf is kind Rie.

Guard the door! (Looking out. To her vile cubs; the little wren hath care | Be sure ye give not way.

For each small youngling of her brood ; and thouCla. (without.) Father!

The word that widowed, orphaned me? Henceforth Rie.

My home shall be his grave; and yet thou canst notHer looks! her tears!


(Rushing into Rienzi's arms.

Rie. Ay!
Enter Claudia, hastily.

Dost call me father, once again my Claudia ?
Who dares to stop me? Father!

Mine own sweet child!
(Rushes into the arms of Rienzi.


Oh, father, pardon him! Rie. I bade ye guard the entrance.

Oh, pardon! pardon! 'Tis my life I ask Cla.

Against me! In his. Our lives, dear father! Ye must have men and gates of steel to bar


Ho, Camillo! Claudia from her dear father. Where is he?

Where loiters he?

(Enter Camilla They said that he was with you-he-thou knowist

Camillo, take my ring;
Whom I would say. I heard ye loud. I thought

Fly to the captain of the guard, Alberti ;
I heard ye; but, perchance, the dizzying throb Bid him release Lord Angelo.
Of my poor temples—Where is he? I see


Now bless thee
No corse—an' he were dead-Oh, no, no, no! Bless thee, my father!
Thou couldst not, wouldst not! Say he lives.


Fly, Camillo, fly! Rie.

As yet | Why loiterest thou ? He lives.


The ring Cla. Oh! blessings on thy heart, dear father! (Rienzi gives the ring to CamilloExil Camillo. Blessings on thy kind heart! When shall I see him? Cla.

Give me the ring. Is he in prison? Fear hath made we weak,

Whose speed may match with mine? Let me be first And wordless as a child. Oh! send for him. To speak those gracious words of pardon. Thou hast pardoned him; didst thou not say but now

No! Thou hadst pardoned him?

That were no place for thee.

I should see nought Cla. Oh, thou hast! thou hast!

But him! whilst old Camillo-Oh, I hear This is the dalliance thou wast wont to hold

His weary footfall still! I should have been When I have craved some girlish boon—a bird, In Angelo's arms ere now. (Bell sound s.) Hark, A flower, a moonlight walk; but now I ask thee

hark, the bell ! Lile, more than life. Thou hast pardoned him? Rie. It is the bell that thou so oft hast heard Rie.

My Claudia! Summoning the band of liberty—the bell Cla. Ay! I am thine own Claudia, whose first word That pealed its loud triumphant note, and raised Was father! These are the same hands that clung Its mighty voice with such a mastery Around thy knecs, a toitering babe; the lips

Of glorious power, as if the spirit of sound That, ere they had learnt speech, would smile, and That dwells in the viewless wind, and walks the

seek To meet thee with an infant's kiss; the eyes of the chased sea, and rules the thunder cloud Thou hast called so like my mother's; eyes that never That shrouded him in that small orb, to spread Gazed on thee, but with looks of love. Oh, pardon! Tidings of freedom to the nations. Now Nay, father, speak not yet; thy brows are knit It tells of present peril. Into a sternness. Prythee, speak not yet!


Say, of death. Rie.

This traitor- Oh, father, every stroke thrills through my veins, Cla. Call him as thou wilt, but pardon;

Swaying the inmost pulses of my heart Oh, pardon!

(Kneels. As swings the deep vibration. 'Tis the knellRie. He defies me.


My child, Cla. See, I kneel,

Have I not said that he shall live? And he shall kneel, shall kiss thy feet; wilt pardon ? Cla.

Then stop Rie. Mine own dear Claudia.

That bell. The dismal note beats on me, father, Cla.


As from a thousand echoes; mixed with groans, Rie.

Raise thee up; And shrieks, and moanings in the air. Dost hear them?



My lon

Dost hear, again? Be those screams real, father?

Enter Camillo.
Or of the gibbering concerts that salute
The newly mad?

Rie. Ay, I know thou wast too late. Bring aid. Rie.

See, see!
Be calmer, sweet. I heard
A sbriek—a woman's shriek. Calm thee, my child.

Her lips are colouring fast—she is not dead.

Bring aid.
Enter Lady Colonna.

Cam. My lord, Savelli, with a power

Gathering in every street, comes on; the guards Lady C. He's dead. He's dead!

Flee, and the people hear the bell, nor flock Rie.

It is her husband, Claudia; To aid or rescue.
Stephen Colonna.

Lady C. Now, revenge, revenge!
Lady C.
Murderer, 't is my son,

Savelli! Murderer, when next we meet,
(Claudia sinks at her father's feet. Thou shalt give blood for blood.

(Esil My husband died in honoured fight; for him


She lives! Aid, aid! I weep not.

Her pulses beat again. Go, call her maids; Rie. Angelo is pardoned, Claudia.

Speed thee, Camillo!

(Exit Camilla Lady C. He is dead. I saw the axe, fearfully

How shall I endure bright,

The unspoken curses of her eye? how bear Wave o'er his neck with an edgy shine that cut

Her voice? My child, my child! my beautifulMy burning eye-balls ; saw the butcher stroke,

Whom I so loved; whoin I have murdered! Claudis, And the hot blood gush like a fountain high,

Mine own beloved child! She would have girea From out the veins; and then I heard a voice

Her life for mine. Would I were dead ! Cry pardon! heard a shout that chorused pardon!

Re-enler Camillo, with Ladies and Attendants, who rePardon! to that disjoined corse! Oh, deep

cover and bear off Claudia, from her father, And horrible mockery! So the fiends shall chaunt Round thy tormented soul, and pardon, pardon,

Сат. Ring through the depths of hell.

Rie. Camillo, when I'm gone, be faithful to herRie.

Claudia, my sweet one,

Be very faithful. Save her, shield her, better Look up speak to me! Writhe not thus, my Claudia, Than I, that was her father. She'll not trouble thee Shivering about my feet.

Long. good Camillo; the sure poison, gries,

Rankles in those young veins. Yet cherish herLady C. Claudia Colonna!

She loved thee. They say that grief is proud; but I will own thee.

Cam. Now, my fair daughter, rouse thee—help me curse

My dear master-thou, thyself, Him who hath slain thy husband.

Rie. My business is to die. Watch o'er my child: Rie.

Woman, fiend,

And, soon as I am dead, conduct her safely Thou kill'st my child-avaunt!

To the small nunnery of the Ursulines,

Her pious steps so often sought. Away! Lady C.

When I have said Mine errand. Think'st thou I came here to crush Yon feeble worm? Thou hast done that! She loved in that poor broken heart. Oh, blessings on thee.

She will not curse me dead-she'll pray for me, him,

My child-mine own sweet child!
Fair, faithful wretch, and thou—Why I could laugh
At such a vengeance! Thy keen axe, that hewed

Enter Alberti.
My column to the earth, struck down the weed

That crept around its base.

Comes on apace.
Claudia! she moves! Rie.

Summon the people.
She is not dead.


They, too, Lady C. Dead! Why, the dead are blessed, Advance against thee. And she is blasted. Dead! the dead lie down


And for such I left In peace, and she shall piñe a living ghost

The assured condition of my lowlinessAbout thee, with pale looks and patient love, The laughing days, the peaceful nights, the joys And bitter gusts of anguish, that shall cross

Of a small quiet home; for such I risked The gentle spirit, when poor Angelo

Thy peace, my daughter. Abjeat, crouching slares' A widow's and a childless mother's curse

False, fickle, treacherous, perjured slaves!, how come Rest on thy head, Rienzi! Live, till Rome

they ? Hurl thee from thy proud seat; live but prove

How led, how armed, how number'd ? The ecstasy of scorn, the fierce contempt


They sweep ai. That wait the tyrant fallen; then die, borne down A thickening cloud, as locusts, when they light By mighty justice! die as a wild beast

On the green banks of Nile. The furious mother Before the hunters! die, and leave a name

Leads them, and claims revenge, in her fierce prayer Portentous, bloody, brief--a meteor name,

And frantic imprecations. Obscurely bad, or madly bright! My curse


"Tis the fiend Rest on thy head, Rienzi.

That speediest answers to the daring call Rie.

Help, there! help, Camillo! Of his mad worshippers. So be it.

(Eri Camille

My lord, Sarelli

Alb. Some mix with their shouts the name Rie. Oh, that grim Death would give him back Or mighty Liberty.

To Claudia! But the cold, cold grave-why come ye? Rie. Oh, had I laid

Second Cit. For vengeance, perjured tyrant-for All earthly passion, pride, and pomp, and power,

thy blood And high ambition, and hot lust of rule,

For liberty. Like sacrificial fruits, upon the altar

Rie. For liberly! Go seek Of Liberty, divinest Liberty

Earth's loftiest heights, and ocean's deepest caves, Then-but the dream that filled my soul was vast

Go where the sea-snake and the eagle dwell, As is his whose mad ambition thinned the ranks

'Midst mighty elements where nature is, Of the Seraphim, and peopled hell. These slaves !

And man is not, and ye may see afar, Base crawling reptiles--may the curse of chains

Impalpable as a rainbow on the clouds, Cling to them ever. Seek the court, Alberti

The glorious vision! Liberty! I dream'd Dismiss the guard-unbar the gates. I'll seek

Of such a goddess once; dream'd that you slaves The people.

Were Romans, such as ruled the world, and I Alb. Singly ?

Their Tribune. Vain and idle dream! Take back Rie. Singly, sir. (Exeunt Alberti and Rienzi. The symbol and the power. • What seek ye more? SCENE II.

First Cil. Tyrant! thy life!

Come on. Why pause ye, cowards ?
Before the Gates of the Capitol.

I am unarmed. My breast is bare. Why pause ye ? Enter Lady Colonna, Savelli, Soldiers, and Citizens.

Enter Claudia, through the Gate in the centre of the Lady C. Come on! Why loiter ye? Ye that

FlalRushes forward to Rienzi. have sons, Ye that have known a mother's love, come on;


Father! A woman leads to vengeance.

Sav. Oh, save her! First Cil.

Say, to justice.


Drag her from my neck, Sav. Look, look, the gates are barred. The Tribune If ye be men! Save her! She never harmed

A worm. My Claudia, bless thee! bless thee! Now! To stand a desperate siege. Bring axes, sirs,

now! And fire. Consume the palace! hew the doors! (Rienzi falls, pierced by many spears, and the people Bring torches!

divide, leaving Claudia stretched on her father's i Lady C. Ay, with mine own hand I'll light body. The accurst and murderous den; thy funeral pyre,

Sav, Ay, that thrust pierced to the heart; he dies My Angelo,

Even whilst I speak. Sav. Bring torches! hew the gates!


Citizens. Down with the tyrant-drag him forth-
Rienzi! [The gates are opened-Rienzi appears.

Lady C.

Alas! poor child! Rie. Who calls upon Rienzi? Citizens,

Sav. She bleeds, I fear to death. Go bear her in, What seek


And treat the corse with reverence; for surely, Lady C.

Give me back Though stained with much ambition, he was one My son.

of the earth's great spirits.


ye of



gather not merely an accurate outline of this great

event, but those minule and apparently trilling touches Of the 'Tragedy, considered as a literary produce which might serve to realize the scene, and supply, tion, I shall say little: that is before the reader, and by a vivid impression of the people and the time, the must speak for itself. No one can be more conscious usual sources of dramatic attraction, the interest of than I arn of its numerous defects, and still more nu story and suspense, from which I was cut off by the merous deficiencies; but great as those faults may nature of my subject. be, they are not the result of negligence or careless Many of these allusions, those for instance to the ness. It would be the worst of all pedantries, female papers concealed in the stuffing of the saddle, — to pedantry, were I to enumerate the very many con- the sowing of the melon-seeds,—10 Charles's constant temporary writers, the Histories, Memoirs, Narra- perusal of Shakspeare whilst in prison, so prettily re. tives, and State Papers, the Roundhead Sermons and corded by Milton, and to the falling of the head of Cavalier Ballads from which I have endeavoured to the king's staff in the trial scene,--are mentioned by

the best writers, and will be immediately recognized the manner in which I believe him to have loiled by all who are any ways conversant with the histo- and quieted his own conscience : but if I had under ries of the time.

taken to portray these remarkable men at any orber The anecdote of Lord Broghill (afterwards Earl of part of their career, it is certain that my drawing Orrery), which really happened at a subsequent pe- of Charles would have been much less amiable, and riod, is less generally known. He was in London on

that of Cromwell much more so. a mission from Charles the Second during the early

part of the Protectorate, when Cromwell discovered, confronted, converted, and employed him much in the manner that I have related.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. The materials of the scene of signing the warrant, |(in which I believe that I have given, from the mark. CHARLES THE FIRST, King of England. ing of Marten's cheek to the guiding of Ingoldsby's DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, his Son, a boy of seven years hand, a very faithful version of what actually occur old. red,) are chiefly taken from the Defences in the Lord Fairfax, General of the Parliamentary Army. Trials of the Regicides. It is certain that the Judges, LORD SALISBURY,

Commissioners sent by the Par. after the condemnation, were panic-struck at their Lord Say,

own act ;. and that but for an extraordinary exertion Sir Harry VANE, S liament lo treat with the King. of his singular power over the minds of all with Lord PRESIDENT wbom he came in contact, Cromwell would never BRADSHAW, have succeeded in obtaining the signatures of the OLIVER CROMWELL, Commissioners of the High Court of Justice to an


Judges appointed by the Cominstrument essential to the completion of this great Harrison,

mons to try the King. national crime, and to the purposes of his own am

DOWNES, bition.

MARTEN, I am not aware of having in any material point de TICHBURNE, parted from the truth of History, except in shortening Cook, Solicitor to the Commons. the trial, in bringing the Queen to England, and in Pride, an Officer in the Parliamentary Army. assigning to Henrietta the interruption of the sen

HACKER, Colonel of the Guard. tence, which was actually occasioned by Lady Fair. Sir Thomas HERBERT, a Gentleman attending on the fax; deviations, which were vitally necessary to the

king. effect of the drama. I have some doubts also whether HAMMOND, Governor of the Isle of Wight. Cromwell did really get rid of Fairfax by dismissing

SENTINEL him and Harrison to "seek the Lord together.”

Servant, belonging to Cromwell. Hume tells the story confidently; but Hume, al- | Bishop, Commissioners, Judges, Officers, Soldiers, fc. though the most delightful, is by no means the most

HENRIETTA Maria, Queen of England, accurate of historians; and the manner in which we

PRINCESS ELIZABETH, a Girl of Twelre. are, by the casual mention of contemporary writers,

LADY FAIRFAX. as well as by the evidence on the different trials, enabled to account for almost every instant of Cromwell's time during that eventful morning, goes far in Scene. — London, except during the latter part of the my mind to disprove the circumstance. But the inci

First Act, when it is laid in the Isle of Wight. dent is highly dramatic, and so strictly in keeping

with the characters of all parties, that I have no scruple in assuming it as a fact. The thing might have happened, if it did not; and that is excuse CHARLES THE FIRST. enough for the dramatist, although not for the historian.

1 One word more, and I have done. In attempting


1 to delineate the characters of Charles and Cromwell,

SCENE I. especially Cromwell, on the success or failure of which the Play must stand or fall, I have to entreat

An Apartment in Whitehall. the reader to bear in mind—or I shall seem unjust Enter Treton, Harrison, and Pride, 10 Downes and to the memory of a great man— that the point of

Marlen. time which this Tragedy embraces was precisely that in which the King appeared to the most advan.

Downes. Welcome to London, Ireton! dearly wel tage, "for nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it," and the future Protector to the least. To fair Whitehall! Harrison! Pride! Where loiters Never throughout his splendid history were the che. The valiant General ? quered motives and impulses of Cromwell so deci. Ireton.

He alighted with us dedly evil; never was he so fierce, so cruel, so crafty, Three hours agone. 80 deceitful, so borne along by a low personal am Marten.

What, three hours here, and still bition, a mere lust of rule, as at that moment. I have In harness! Know ye not your coat of mail endeavoured in the concluding soliloquy to depict is out of date? Go, doff your armour quick,





Provide ye civil suits, grave civil suits,

His haughty prelates, his ill councillors,
Sad reverend civil suits.

The popish mummery of his chapel ?
What mean'st thou ?


Seek Not yet; but he hath promised. Meaning of Harry Marten! Tush! Where farries Crom.

Promised! Oh,
The pious Cromwell ?

The King hath promised!
He is busied still


Well ? Disposing the tired soldiery.


And ye believe? Disbanding

Dow. Would'st have us doubters? Will be his business soon. The lubbard people


In good sooth, not I! And the smug citizens, are grown aweary

Believe who can! yet ere ye set him free, of this rough war. Ye must learn gentler trades, Look to the stussing of his saddle, search If ye would thrive. Peace is the cry, my masters; The waste leaves of his prayer-book, lest ye find Peace and the King!

Some vow to Henrietta, some shrewd protest, Dow.

The Newport treaty speeds; Some antedated scroll to throw the shadow So far is sure.

Of a plain lie before his words. Search! search! Harrison. But we bring victory

It is a prudent King, that casts about him To the good cause. Cromwell hath passed careering To rid him of his enemies. Search, I say. From hold to hold, sweeping as with a besom

Dow. Why, Cromwell, thou art bitter. The foul malignants from the land. The North


Heaven forefend! Is ours from sea to sea.

I liked Charles Stuart well. I am of the fools Dov. "T is a brave leader;

Whom habit counts amidst her slaves; that love, But peace is ever the best victory.

For old acquaintance sake, each long-known pest

And close familiar evil. I liked him well;
Enler Cromwell.

The better that his proud disgracious speech
Mar. In good time comes the General. Valiant Seemed 10 my plain and downright simpleness

As honest as mine own. Ye all remember Thy praise was on our lips.

What friends we were at Holmby. Harrison, Cromwell.

Not mine! not mine! And e'en my loving kinsman, deemed I waxed
Praise to the Lord of Hosts, whose mighty shield Faint in the cause. But rightly it is written
Bucklered us in the battle ; whose right arm

In the one Holy Book, Put not thy trust
Strengthened us when we smote! Praise to the Lord! In Princes.
For his poor instruments, the meanest soldier

Ire. Yet is he in Carisbrooke
Doth his great duty; we no more. My masters, A present danger. Round yon prison isle
Have ye no news astir ? News, the prime staple Lurk spies and plots and treasons. Every breeze
of yonder tatiling city?

Comes pregnant with quick rumours; every ear Mar. Ay; the worst

Is bent to listen; every eye is turned Is that the Commons grow from day to day

On those grey walls. More doubtful of the army, more possessed


I grant ye. But astir, By canting presbyters.

Free as the breeze to traverse sea and land, Ire.

Name not the Commons, Creep in our councils, sweep across our camps, A jealous crew, whose envious hate descends Were the King harmless then? Yet thou art right; 'Twixt every pause of fear on us, their loathed, He's dangerous in Carisbrooke. Despised defenders. Were there but one head


Dismiss him; To the whole army. they would turn to truth Send him abroad uokinged; or drive him forth An elder tyrant's wish, and chop it off.

As Amaziah. Despots who prate of liberty :

Crom. (aside.) Ha! And they slew him! Har.

Worse! worse!

Mar. What, send him to seek succour in each court, A godless yet intolerant crew, who rear

From papal Rome 10 savage Muscovy,
O'er the down-fallen Church that blacker idol,

Till he shall burst on us in triumph, heading
A conscience-fettering Presbytery.


Europe's great armament. They shall be quelled. Power, howsoever called,


Wert thou a soldier, is still the subtlest snare the Tempter weaves

And in this cause, thou would'st cry welcome, Marten, For man's frail sinful soul. Save me from power!

To such an armament? Grant me to follow still, a lowly soldier


With His great help.
In the great cause! The Commons shall be quelled. Crom. Ay, with His help and in this canse, if union
Whal other news?

Dwelt in the land. But this is idle talk.
The best is that the King

The King is dangerous; dangerous on the throne, And the Commissioners draw near a godly

Dangerous in prison, dangerous abroad. And salutary peace. The King hath bent

At home and everywhere. Yet this is idle. His will in a wise humbleness; and now

We must abide the Commons' treaty. Crom. I joy to hear thee say 80. What! the Lord Har

Wherefore Hath turned his heart, and he hath yielded up Lists not the army the strong hand of power

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