_Hol._ And all beside Left Stafford long ago. The King has signed The warrant for his death! the Queen was sick Of the eternal subject. For the Court,-- The Trial was amusing in its way, Only too much of it: the Earl withdrew In time. But you, fragile, alone, so young, Amid rude mercenaries--you devise A plan to save him! Even though it fails, What shall reward you! _Lady Car._ I may go, you think, To France with him? And you reward me, friend, Who lived with Strafford even from his youth Before he set his heart on state-affairs And they bent down that noble brow of his. I have learned somewhat of his latter life, And all the future I shall know: but, Hollis, I ought to make his youth my own as well. Tell me,--when he is saved! _Hol._ My gentle friend, He should know all and love you, but 't is vain! _Lady Car._ Love? no--too late now! Let him love the King! 'Tis the King's scheme! I have your word, remember! We 'll keep the old delusion up. But, quick! Quick! Each of us has work to do, beside! Go to the King! I hope--Hollis--I hope! Say nothing of my scheme! Hush, while we speak Think where he is! Now for my gallant friends! _Hol._ Where he is? Calling wildly upon Charles, Guessing his fate, pacing the prison-floor. Let the King tell him! I 'll not look on Strafford. SCENE II. _The Tower._ STRAFFORD _sitting with his_ Children. _They sing._ O bell' andare Per barca in mare, Verso la sera Di Primavera! [Music] _Andante._ O bell' an-da-re, Per bar-ca in ma-re, Ver-so la se-ra, Di pri-ma- ve-ra, O bell' an-da-re, _slentando e diminuendo._ O bell' an-da - - re. _William._ The boat 's in the broad moonlight all this while-- Verso la sera Di Primavera! And the boat shoots from underneath the moon Into the shadowy distance; only still You hear the dipping oar-- Verso la sera, And faint, and fainter, and then all 's quite gone, Music and light and all, like a lost star. _Anne._ But you should sleep, father: you were to sleep. _Straf._ I do sleep, Anne; or if not--you must know There 's such a thing as ... _Wil._ You 're too tired to sleep? _Straf._ It will come by-and-by and all day long, In that old quiet house I told you of: We sleep safe there. _Anne._ Why not in Ireland? _Straf._ No! Too many dreams!--That song 's for Venice, William: You know how Venice looks upon the map-- Isles that the mainland hardly can let go? _Wil._ You 've been to Venice, father? _Straf._ I was young, then. _Wil._ A city with no King; that 's why I like Even a song that comes from Venice. _Straf._ William?