Theatrical Review. 663 



descend to such base re finings, such girlish lamentations ? As respects 

 the impetuosity of his temper some attempt has been made to portray 

 this feature ; but who, that reads the following extract from Act iii. 

 Scene 3, which exhibits Wentworth's conduct after his trial, will 

 say that it is aught else than " passion torn to tatters o'erdoing Ter- 

 magant out-heroding Herod ?" 



(The doors open, and STRAFFORD in the- greatest disorder, and amid cries from 

 within of " Void the House/' staggers out. When he reaches the front of 

 the stage, silence.) 



Strafford. Impeach me ! Pym ! I never struck, I think. 

 The felon on that calm insulting mouth 

 When it proclaimed Pym's mouth proclaimed me God ! 

 Was it a word, only a word that held 

 The outrageous blood back on my heart which beats ! 

 Which beats ! Some one word " Traitor," did he say, 

 Bending that eye, brimful of bitter fire, 

 Upon me ? 



Maxwell. (Advancing.) In the Commons' name, their servant 

 Demands Lord Strafford's sword. 



Strafford. What did you say ? 



Maxwell. The Commons bid me ask your Lordship's sword. 



STRAFFORD (suddenly recovering, and looking round, draws it, and 



turns to his followers). 

 Let us go forth follow me, gentlemen 

 Draw your swords too cut any down that bar us ! 

 On the King's service ! Maxwell, clear the way ! 



(The PRESBYTERIANS prepare to dispute his passage. f< 



Strafford. Ha true ! That is, -you mistake me, utterly 

 I will stay the king himself shall see me here 

 Here I will stay, Mainwaring ! First of all, 

 (To MAXWELL.) Your tablets, fellow ! (He writes on them.) 

 (To MAINWARING.) Give that to the king ! 



Yes, Maxwell, for the next half-hour, I will 

 I will remain your prisoner, I will ! 

 Nay, you shall take my sword ! (MAXWELL advances to take it.) 



No 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 his head beneath my foot 

 It will not pay for that ! Go, all of you ! . 



Maxwell. I grieve, my lord, to disobey : none stir. 



Strafford. This gentle Maxwell ! Do not touch him, Bryan i 

 (To the PRESBYTERIAN.) Whichever cur of you will carry this 

 I'll save him from the fate of all the rest 

 I'll have him made a peer I'll none will go ? 

 None? 



(Cries from within of " STRAFFORD.") 



(To his FOLLOWERS.) Slingsby, I've loved you at least my friend. 

 Stab me ! I have net time to tell you why. 

 You then, dear Bryan ! You Mainwaring, then ! 

 Ah, that's because I spoke so hastily 

 At Allerton the king had vexed me. 



(To the PRESBYTERIANS.) You 

 Miscreants you then that I'll exterminate ! 



