_Went._ To tell Rudyard this, And Hampden this! _Pym._ Whose faces once were bright At my approach, now sad with doubt and fear, Because I hope in you--yes, Wentworth, you Who never mean to ruin England--you Who shake off, with God's help, an obscene dream In this Ezekiel chamber, where it crept Upon you first, and wake, yourself, your true And proper self, our Leader, England's Chief, And Hampden's friend! This is the proudest day! Come, Wentworth! Do not even see the King! The rough old room will seem itself again! We 'll both go in together: you 've not seen Hampden so long: come: and there 's Fiennes: you 'll have To know young Vane. This is the proudest day! [_The_ KING _enters._ WENTWORTH _lets fall_ PYM'S _hand._ _Charles._ Arrived, my lord?--This gentleman, we know Was your old friend. The Scots shall be informed What we determine for their happiness. [PYM _goes out._ You have made haste, my lord. _Went._ Sir, I am come ... _Cha._ To see an old familiar--nay, 't is well; Aid us with his experience: this Scots' League And Covenant spreads too far, and we have proofs That they intrigue with France: the Faction too, Whereof your friend there is the head and front, Abets them,--as he boasted, very like. _Went._ Sir, trust me! but for this once, trust me, sir! _Cha._ What can you mean? _Went._ That you should trust me, sir! Oh--not for my sake! but 't is sad, so sad That for distrusting me, you suffer--you Whom I would die to serve: sir, do you think That I would die to serve you? _Cha._ But rise, Wentworth! _Went._ What shall convince you? What does Savile do To prove him ... Ah, one can 't tear out one's heart And show it, how sincere a thing it is! _Cha._ Have I not trusted you? _Went._ Say aught but that! There is my comfort, mark you: all will be So different when you trust me--as you shall! It has not been your fault,--I was away, Mistook, maligned, how was the King to know? I am here, now--he means to trust me, now-- All will go on so well! _Cha._ Be sure I do-- I 've heard that I should trust you: as you came, Your friend, the Countess, told me ... _Went._ No,--hear nothing-- Be told nothing about me!--you 're not told Your right-hand serves you, or your children love you! _Cha._ You love me, Wentworth: rise! _Went._ I can speak now. I have no right to hide the truth. 'T is I Can save you: only I. Sir, what must be? _Cha._ Since Laud 's assured (the minutes are within) --Loath as I am to spill my subjects' blood ...