I am a wedded wife. There is no stain Of guilty wish. I ne'er thought to be his: No! no! False wretch, thou dost this moment. Hold, 'Tis past! Oh! would that I were far remov'd, Not seeing, hearing, knowing all their lore, Not feeling their young blest affection jar Through every fibre--thus! This is the day The king's fate is decided--If he die Arthur will hate us, hate my father, me, The regicide's pale daughter--thus to think Of the king's life! that was my only prayer Before; and now it fades on my cold lips, And startles me to hear it! [_MUSIC is heard within._] O my heart! It seems as though a thousand daggers' points Would not suffice to stab it, so it might Feel some release-- [_Falls on her knees._] My God! forsake me not! _As the music ends, enter the LADY CROMWELL; she approaches her daughter, and, bending over her, lifts her up._ _Lady Crom._ What is it, child?--I have now heard from Fairfax: He saith it will not be--Thy father is But stern unto the last-- He'll pray to God And God will aid him-- _Eliz._ But _His_ judgments, mother! Are awful. Did not Christ condemn the mind That is polluted with a guilty thought, As if 'twere done? _Lady Crom._ This weary thought of hers About the king hath turn'd her brain. Dear daughter, Rouse thee, he will not die! _Enter a Messenger, others of the family, the LADY FAIRFAX in deep mourning._ _Lady Fairf._ The king is sentenced. Death! [_Bell tolls._] _ELIZABETH, raising herself, falls back into her Mother's arms with a sudden scream. They carry her back._ _Enter ARTHUR and FLORENCE._ _Arth._ Then, madam, let us part--'tis better. _Flor._ Yes, I think so, sir. _Arth._ I cannot brook this treatment-- _Flor._ I do not wish you-- _Arth._ Heartless! _Flor._ Certainly, A heart is troublesome; it oft makes fools Of those that own it-- I should hate a man Made me ridiculous. _Arth._ Farewell! _Flor._ Farewell! [_FLORENCE runs to the LADY ELIZABETH._] _Arth._ [_Joining the group._] What is the matter? _One of the Domestics._ Sir, the king is sentenc'd To death; it is too much for her-- _Arth._ Alas! Is it even so?-- _Flor._ [_To Arthur._] Arthur! here, lend your aid To bear her hence--Elizabeth! 'Tis Florence-- [_He attempts to raise her._] _Eliz._ I tell you I can stand-- His arm? [_Aside._] Away! [_Aloud._] Sir, do not touch me, you ill-treat my friend! _Flor._ To think she heard, my folly-- Sir, I fancy [_To Arthur._] She will be better, if you are not here-- [_He bows and is about to retire._] _Enter CROMWELL and PEARSON followed by two or three officers._ _Crom._ Where be ye all?-- [_To an Officer._] These to your Colonel Pride-- [_Exit officer, L._] And thou to Rich; tell him to watch and fast, [_To another._] For I have need of him--[_Exit officer, L._] What coil is this?--[_To his Family._] My daughter ill! send a physician, quick: Pearson, look to it-- I am ill myself. 'Twas a sore trial, ye have heard of it-- The man must die--