_Straf._ I stay: the King himself shall see me here. Your tablets, fellow! [_To_ MAINWARING.] Give that to the King! Yes, Maxwell, for the next half-hour, let be! Nay, you shall take my sword! [MAXWELL _advances to take it._ Or, no--not that! Their blood, perhaps, may wipe out all thus far All up to that--not that! Why, friend, you see When the King lays your head beneath my foot It will not pay for that. Go, all of you! _Max._ I dare, my lord, to disobey: none stir! _Straf._ This gentle Maxwell!--Do not touch him, Bryan! [_To the_ Presbyterians.] Whichever cur of you will carry this Escapes his fellow's fate. None saves his life? None? [_Cries from within of_ "STRAFFORD!" Slingsby, I 've loved you at least: make haste! Stab me! I have not time to tell you why. You then, my Bryan! Mainwaring, you then! Is it because I spoke so hastily At Allerton? The King had vexed me. [_To the_ Presbyterians.] You! --Not even you? If I live over this, The King is sure to have your heads, you know! But what if I can't live this minute through? Pym, who is there with his pursuing smile! [_Louder cries of_ "STRAFFORD!" The King! I troubled him, stood in the way Of his negotiations, was the one Great obstacle to peace, the Enemy Of Scotland: and he sent for me, from York, My safety guaranteed--having prepared A Parliament--I see! And at Whitehall The Queen was whispering with Vane--I see The trap! [_Tearing off the George._ I tread a gewgaw underfoot, And cast a memory from me. One stroke, now! [_His own_ Adherents _disarm him. Renewed cries of_ "STRAFFORD!" England! I see thy arm in this and yield. Pray you now--Pym awaits me--pray you now! [STRAFFORD _reaches the doors: they open wide._ HAMPDEN _and a crowd discovered, and, at the bar,_ PYM _standing apart. As_ STRAFFORD _kneels, the scene shuts._ * * * * * ACT IV SCENE I. _Whitehall._ _The_ KING, _the_ QUEEN, HOLLIS, Lady CARLISLE. (VANE, HOLLAND, SAVILE, _in the background._) _Lady Car._ Answer them, Hollis, for his sake! One word! _Cha._ [_To_ HOLLIS.] You stand, silent and cold, as though I were Deceiving you--my friend, my playfellow Of other times. What wonder after all? Just so, I dreamed my People loved me. _Hol._ Sir, It is yourself that you deceive, not me. You 'll quit me comforted, your mind made up That, since you 've talked thus much and grieved thus much, All you can do for Strafford has been done. _Queen._ If you kill Strafford--(come, we grant you leave. Suppose)-- _Hol._ I may withdraw, sir?