_Other Voices._ Good! Let him avow himself! No fitter time! We wait thus long for you. _Rud._ Perhaps, too long! Since nothing but the madness of the Court, In thus unmasking its designs at once, Has saved us from betraying England. Stay-- This Parliament is Strafford's: let us vote Our list of Grievances too black by far To suffer talk of subsidies: or best, That ship-money 's disposed of long ago By England: any vote that 's broad enough: And then let Strafford, for the love of it, Support his Parliament! _Vane._ And vote as well No war to be with Scotland! Hear you, Pym? We 'll vote, no war! No part nor lot in it For England! _Many Voices._ Vote, no war! Stop the new levies! No Bishops' war! At once! When next we meet! _Pym._ Much more when next we meet! Friends, which of you Since first the course of Strafford was in doubt, Has fallen the most away in soul from me? _Vane._ I sat apart, even now under God's eye, Pondering the words that should denounce you, Pym, In presence of us all, as one at league With England's enemy. _Pym._ You are a good And gallant spirit, Henry. Take my hand And say you pardon me for all the pain Till now! Strafford is wholly ours. _Many Voices._ Sure? sure? _Pym._ Most sure: for Charles dissolves the Parliament While I speak here. --And I must speak, friends, now! Strafford is ours. The King detects the change, Casts Strafford off forever, and resumes His ancient path: no Parliament for us, No Strafford for the King! Come, all of you, To bid the King farewell, predict success To his Scots' expedition, and receive Strafford, our comrade now. The next will be Indeed a Parliament! _Vane._ Forgive me, Pym! _Voices._ This looks like truth: Strafford can have, indeed, No choice. _Pym._ Friends, follow me! He 's with the King. Come, Hampden, and come, Rudyard, and come, Vane! This is no sullen day for England, sirs! Strafford shall tell you! _Voices._ To Whitehall then! Come! SCENE II. _Whitehall._ CHARLES _and_ STRAFFORD. _Cha._ Strafford! _Strafford._ Is it a dream? my papers, here-- Thus, as I left them, all the plans you found So happy--(look! the track you pressed my hand For pointing out)--and in this very room, Over these very plans, you tell me, sir, With the same face, too--tell me just one thing That ruins them! How 's this? What may this mean? Sir, who has done this? _Cha._ Strafford, who but I? You bade me put the rest away: indeed You are alone.