_Straf._ [setting himself to write and dictate.] I shall beat you, Hollis! Do you know that? In spite of St. John's tricks, In spite of Pym--your Pym who shrank from me! Eliot would have contrived it otherwise. [_To a_ Messenger.] In truth? This slip, tell Lane, contains as much As I can call to mind about the matter. Eliot would have disdained ... [_Calling after the_ Messenger.] And Radcliffe, say, The only person who could answer Pym, Is safe in prison, just for that. Well, well! It had not been recorded in that case, I baffled you. [_To_ Lady CARLISLE.] Nay, child, why look so grieved? All 's gained without the King! You saw Pym quail? What shall I do when they acquit me, think you, But tranquilly resume my task as though Nothing had intervened since I proposed To call that traitor to account! Such tricks, Trust me, shall not be played a second time, Not even against Laud, with his gray hair-- Your good work, Hollis! Peace! To make amends, You, Lucy, shall be here when I impeach Pym and his fellows. _Hol._ Wherefore not protest Against our whole proceeding, long ago? Why feel indignant now? Why stand this while Enduring patiently? _Straf._ Child, I 'll tell you-- You, and not Pym--you, the slight graceful girl Tall for a flowering lily, and not Hollis-- Why I stood patient! I was fool enough To see the will of England in Pym's will; To fear, myself had wronged her, and to wait Her judgment: when, behold, in place of it ... [_To a_ Messenger _who whispers._] Tell Lane to answer no such question! Law,-- I grapple with their law! I 'm here to try My actions by their standard, not my own! Their law allowed that levy: what 's the rest To Pym, or Lane, any but God and me? _Lady Car._ The King 's so weak! Secure this chance! 'T was Vane, Never forget, who furnished Pym the notes ... _Straf._ Fit,--very fit, those precious notes of Vane, To close the Trial worthily! I feared Some spice of nobleness might linger yet And spoil the character of all the past. Vane eased me ... and I will go back and say As much--to Pym, to England! Follow me, I have a word to say! There, my defence Is done! Stay! why be proud? Why care to own My gladness, my surprise?--Nay, not surprise! Wherefore insist upon the little pride Of doing all myself, and sparing him The pain? Child, say the triumph is my King's! When Pym grew pale, and trembled, and sank down, One image was before me: could I fail? Child, care not for the past, so indistinct, Obscure--there 's nothing to forgive in it, 'T is so forgotten! From this day begins A new life, founded on a new belief In Charles.