_Hamp._ You may grow one day A steadfast light to England, Henry Vane! _Rud._ Meantime, by flashes I make shift to see Strafford revived our Parliaments; before, War was but talked of; there 's an army, now: Still, we 've a Parliament! Poor Ireland bears Another wrench (she dies the hardest death!)-- Why, speak of it in Parliament! and lo, 'T is spoken, so console yourselves! _Fien._ The jest! We clamored, I suppose, thus long, to win The privilege of laying on our backs A sorer burden than the King dares lay. _Rud._ Mark now: we meet at length, complaints pour in From every county, all the land cries out On loans and levies, curses ship-money, Calls vengeance on the Star Chamber; we lend An ear. "Ay, lend them all the ears you have!" Puts in the King; "my subjects, as you find, Are fretful, and conceive great things of you. Just listen to them, friends; you 'll sanction me The measures they most wince at, make them yours, Instead of mine, I know: and, to begin, They say my levies pinch them,--raise me straight Twelve subsidies!" _Fien._ All England cannot furnish Twelve subsidies! _Hol._ But Strafford, just returned From Ireland--what has he to do with that? How could he speak his mind? He left before The Parliament assembled. Pym, who knows Strafford ... _Rud._ Would I were sure we know ourselves! What is for good, what, bad--who friend, who foe! _Hol._ Do you count Parliaments no gain? _Rud._ A gain? While the King's creatures overbalance us? --There 's going on, beside, among ourselves A quiet, slow, but most effectual course Of buying over, sapping, leavening The lump till all is leaven. Glanville's gone. I 'll put a case; had not the Court declared That no sum short of just twelve subsidies Will be accepted by the King--our House, I say, would have consented to that offer To let us buy off ship-money! _Hol._ Most like, If, say, six subsidies will buy it off, The House ... _Rud._ Will grant them! Hampden, do you hear? Congratulate with me! the King's the king, And gains his point at last--our own assent To that detested tax! All 's over, then There 's no more taking refuge in this room, Protesting, "Let the King do what he will, We, England, are no party to our shame: Our day will come!" Congratulate with me! (PYM _enters._) _Vane._ Pym, Strafford called this Parliament, you say, But we 'll not have our Parliaments like those In Ireland, Pym! _Rud._ Let him stand forth, your friend! One doubtful act hides far too many sins; It can be stretched no more, and, to my mind, Begins to drop from those it covered.