CECIL. I do so, Edith; and, upon that thought, I built the wall 'twixt Cromwell and my soul. {608} The king is dead—but not the race of kings; There is a second Charles! Oh, Edith, yet— Yet may our fates be joined! Beyond the seas Lives my lost honor—lie my only means To prove me guiltless of this last bad deed! Beyond the seas, oh, let our vows be plighted! Fly with thy Cecil!—quit these gloomy walls, These whited sepulchres, these hangman saints! Beyond the seas, oh! let me find my bride, Regain my honor, and record my love! EDITH. Alas! thou know'st not what thou say'st. The land Is lined with Cromwell's favorers. Not a step But his eye reads the whereabout. From hence Thou couldst not 'scape with life, nor I with honor! CECIL. Ah, Edith, rob not Heaven of every star! From home, and England, and ambition banished— Banish me not from _thee_! EDITH. What shall I say? How act—where turn? Thy lightest word hath been My law—my code of right; and now thou askest That which can never be. CECIL. Recall the word! There's but one ‘never’ for the tongue of Love, And that should be for parting—_never part_. Oh, learn no other ‘never.’ EDITH. Must thou leave me? Must thou leave England—thy old friends in arms— The cause of Freedom—thy brave spirit's hope? Must thou leave these? Is there no softer choice? CECIL. None other—none! EDITH. So honor bids thee act; So honor conquers love! And is there, then, No honor but for man? Bethink thee, Hubert, Could I, unblushing, leave my kinsman's home, The guardian of my childhood—the kind roof Where no harsh thought e'er entered? For whate'er Cromwell to others, he to me hath been A more than parent. In his rudest hour For me he wore no frown; no chilling word Bade me remember that I had no father! Shall I repay him thus:—desert his hearth In his most imminent hour; betroth my faith To one henceforth his foe; make my false home With those who call him traitor; plight my hand To him who wields a sword against his heart?— That heart which sheltered me!—oh, never, Hubert! If thou lov'st honor, love it then in Edith, And plead no more. (_enter Servant_) SERVANT. The General hath sent word That, just released from council, he awaits Sir Hubert Cecil at Whitehall. CECIL. I come! (_exit Servant_) So fare thee well!