666 Theatrical Review. 



(This is no meeting, Wentworth ! Tears rise up 

 Too hot A thin mist is it blood ? enwraps 

 The face I loved so !) Then, shall the meeting be ! 

 Then then then I may kiss that hand, I know ! 



Strafford. (Walks calmly up to PYM and offers his. hand: 

 I have loved England too ; we'll meet then, Pym ! 

 As well to die ! Youth is the time our youth, 

 To think and to decide on a great course : 

 Age with its action follows ; but 'tis dreary 

 To have to alter one's whole life in age 

 The time past, the strength gone ! as well die now. 

 When we meet, Pym, Fd be set right not now ! 

 I'd die as I have lived too late to change ! 

 Best die. Then if there's any fault, it will 

 Be smothered up : much best ! You'll be too busy 

 With your hereafter, you will have achieved 

 Too many triumphs to be always dwelling 

 Upon my downfall, Pym ? Poor little Laud 

 May dream his dream out of a perfect church 

 In some blind corner ! And there's no one left 



(He glances on the KING.) 



I trust the king now wholly to you, Pym ! <***, 



And yet I know not ! What if with this weakness 

 And I shall not be there And he'll betray 

 His friends if he has any And he's false 

 And loves the queen, and 



Oh, my fate is nothing 

 Nothing ! But not that awful head not that ! 



Pym, save the king ! Pym, save him ! Stay you shall 



For you love England ! I, that am dying, think 



What I must see 'tis here all here ! My God! 



Let me but gasp out, in one word of fire, 



How Thou wifa plague him, satiating hell! 



What ? England that you love our land become 



A green and putrefying charnel, left 



Our children some of us have children, Pym 



Some who, without that, still must ever wear 



A darkened brow, an over-serious look, 



And never properly be young. 



No word ! 

 You will not say a word to me to him ! 



(Turning to CHARLES.) 

 Speak to him, as you spoke to me, that day ! 

 Nay, I will let you pray to him, my king, * 

 Pray to him ! He will kiss your feet, I know ! 



What if I curse you? Send a strong curse forth 

 Clothed from my heart, lapped round with horror, till 

 She's fit, with her white fate, to walk the world, 

 Scaring kind natures from your cause and you 

 Then to sit down with you, at the board-head, 

 The gathering for prayer 



Vane. O speak, Pym ! Speak ! 



Strafford. Creep up, and quietly follow each one home 

 You you you te a nestling care for each 

 To sleep with, hardly moaning in his dreams 

 She gnaws so quietly until he starts' 



