EDITH. (_passionately_) Farewell!—and is that all? And part we thus forever? Not unkindly? Thou dost not love me less? Oh, say so, Hubert! Turn not away; give me once more thine hand. We loved each other from our childhood, Hubert; We grew together; thou wert as my brother, Till that name grew a dearer. I should seem More cold—more distant; but I cannot. All Pride, strength, reserve, desert me at this hour! My heart will break! Tell me thou lov'st me still! CECIL. Still, Edith, still! EDITH. I'm answered—bless thee, Hubert! One word! one parting word! For my sake, dearest, Rein thy swift temper when thou speakest to Cromwell. A word may chafe him from his steady mood In these wild moments; and behind his wrath There gleams the headsman's axe. Vex him not, Hubert! CECIL. Fear not! This meeting hath unmanned my soul, Swallowed up all the fierceness of my nature As in a gulf! and he—this man of blood— He hath been kind to thee! Nay fear not, Edith! (_exit Cecil_) EDITH. He's gone! O God support me! I have done That which became thy creature. Give me strength! A mountain crushes down this feeble heart; Oh, give me strength to bear it, gentle Heaven! (_exit_) SCENE V—A Room at Whitehall; (the same as in Scene I) Enter Cromwell, Ireton, and Martin. CROMWELL. So be it, then! At Windsor, in the vaults Of his long line, let Charles's ashes sleep. To Hubert and to Mildmay we consign The funeral cares; be they with reverence paid. Whoever of the mourners of the dead, The friends and whilom followers would assist In the grave rite, to them be licence given To grace the funeral with their faithful wo. We spurn not the dead lion. MARTIN. Nobly said. Wouldst thou I have these orders straight conveyed To the king's friends? CROMWELL. Forthwith good Martin. (_exit Martin_) So With those sad ashes rest our country's griefs. Henry, no phœnix from them must spring forth; No second Charles! Within the self-same vault That shrouds that harmless dust we must inter Kingly ambition; and upon that day Proclaim it treason to declare a king In the King's son! The crown hath passed away From Saul, and from the godless house of Saul. IRETON. The Parliament is fearful, and contains In its scant remnant many who would halt Betwixt the deed and that for which 'twas done. CROMWELL. They must be seen to, Henry! Seek me out This eve at eight; we must confer alone. Strong meat is not for babes! But of this youth, This haughty Cecil! Thou hast seen him then? Is he, in truth, so hot? IRETON. By my sword, yea! That which I told thee of his speech fell short Of its rash madness.