_Pym._ 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 ... _Lou._ Holds firm: We were about to read reports. _Pym._ The King Has just dissolved your Parliament. _Lou. and other Scots._ Great God! An oath-breaker! Stand by us, England, then! _Pym._ The King 's too sanguine; doubtless Wentworth 's here; But still some little form might be kept up. _Hamp._ Now speak, Vane! Rudyard, you had much to say! _Hol._ The rumor 's false, then ... _Pym._ Ay, the Court gives out His own concerns have brought him back: I know 'T is the King calls him. Wentworth supersedes The tribe of Cottingtons and Hamiltons Whose part is played; there 's talk enough, by this,-- Merciful talk, the King thinks: time is now To turn the record's last and bloody leaf Which, chronicling a nation's great despair, Tells they were long rebellious, and their lord Indulgent, till, all kind expedients tried, He drew the sword on them and reigned in peace. Laud 's laying his religion on the Scots Was the last gentle entry: the new page Shall run, the King thinks, "Wentworth thrust it down At the sword's point." _A Puritan._ I 'll do your bidding, Pym, England's and God's--one blow! _Pym._ A goodly thing-- We all say, friends, it is a goodly thing To right that England. Heaven grows dark above: Let 's snatch one moment ere the thunder fall, To say how well the English spirit comes out Beneath it! All have done their best, indeed, From lion Eliot, that grand Englishman, To the least here: and who, the least one here, When she is saved (for her redemption dawns Dimly, most dimly, but it dawns--it dawns) Who 'd give at any price his hope away Of being named along with the Great Men? We would not--no, we would not give that up! _Hamp._ And one name shall be dearer than all names, When children, yet unborn, are taught that name After their fathers',--taught what matchless man ... _Pym._ ... Saved England? What if Wentworth's should be still That name? _Rud. and others._ We have just said it, Pym! His death Saves her! We said it--there 's no way beside! I 'll do God's bidding, Pym! They struck down Joab And purged the land. _Vane._ No villanous striking-down! _Rud._ No, a calm vengeance: let the whole land rise And shout for it. No Feltons!