_Eliz._ No! father, as you hope For mercy, no! _Crom._ Peace, simpleton. It was The voice of all this people. _Arth._ General, hear me: Thou hadst the power to save-- _Crom._ Ay! Master Walton, Thou thinkest so?-- _Arth._ I do!-- _Crom._ And dar'st to speak it? _Arth._ Dare! General Cromwell! [_Takes off his sword._] Here, look, is my sword, I'll never more bear arms with thee or thine. _Crom._ I do protest thou wilt not-- Take his sword; [_To an Officer._] I did not think to find this kite so tame. Good, honest Master Walton, tell me now What news from Langley, virtuous Master Walton? Nay, never look with that blank wonderment, Friend Arthur Walton-- [_ARTH. attempts to speak._] Tush, sir, not a word-- As the Lord liveth, thou shalt die the death-- Take him away. I hate his open brow More than a dozen dark-fac'd royalists In arms against us. _Arth._ What doth this mean?-- Frenzy Hath surely seized him-- _Crom._ No! the sense To know thee, hypocrite! _Flor._ O Arthur! Arthur! What has he done? [_Rushes to his arms._] Forgive me, dearest Arthur! Sir, he's not guilty-- [_To Cromwell._] _Crom._ Silence, woman! Take him Away! _Eliz._ My veins thrill! Parted?--No! No! No! Perish the mean thought-- Let me aid them, though I die; then o'er my quiet grave, my thought Doth sculpture them in prayer-- [_To Cromwell._] He is innocent, My father! Let him go--Do you not see They love each other?-- _Crom._ Art thou not ashamed? Thou wanton girl! _Arth._ My Florence! I am happy Since thou dost love me. I know nought of that With which he charges me-- _Flor._ I know thou dost not: Thou shalt not die! O man of blood, beware! [_To Cromwell._] If thou'rt deceived, repentance comes too late. Is that a traitor's look! Thou canst not quell it Back'd by an army. Thou hast bitter moments E'en now. The king-- _Crom._ I'll hear no more--remove him. [_A pause._] Yet I will give three days, if in that time Ye prove him innocent, 'tis well--If not, He dies the death! [_ARTHUR is seized; ELIZABETH clings to her Father, who looks on her with an expression of anger, which gradually softens into affection. Exeunt, on the one side, ARTHUR, L. with his Guards, on the other, CROMWELL, with his Family, &c., R._] _Enter WILLIAM and HOST, U.E.R._ _Will._ Come on, I tell thee they are all gone. Have I not liberty here? _Host._ Hem! Did'st thou notice how that young imp of a page flouted thee, when thou did'st civilly inquire the hour of the day? Thou wert welcome as a wet Sunday to his new feather. I doubt whether I myself will continue to know thee. _Will._ Is there no way to save him? If now it were the marriage of his heart something might occur; but I never yet heard of an accident on the road to a gallows. _Host._ Cheer up! cheer up! we must all die, young and old. I have had my trials. In these wars I have known very estimable men die that owed me money. There is your true trial now.