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On my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master: Seek the king:

I have told him

What and how true thou art; he will advance thee: Some little memory of me will stir him

(I know his noble nature) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too :-go, Cromwell!
Crom. O my lord,

Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord!
The king shall have my service; but my prayers,
For ever and for ever, shall be yours!

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.-

Let's dry our eyes :-and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,

And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me must more be heard-say then I taught thee—
Say, Wolsey--that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour-
Found thee a way out of his wreck to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it!
Mark but my fall, and that which ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?

Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace

To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not :
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

Thy God's and truth's: then, if thou fall'st,

O Cromwell, thou fall'st a blessed martyr!

Lead me in;

There take an inventory of all I have;

To the last penny-'tis the king's :--my robe,

And my integrity to Heaven, are all

I dare now call mine own.-O Cromwell, Cromwell!

Had I but served my God, with half the zeal

I served my king, he would not, in mine age,

Have left me naked to mine enemies!

Crom. Good sir, have patience.

Wol. So I have.-Farewell

The hopes of Court! My hopes in Heaven do dwell!

VII.-SCENE FROM VENICE PRESERVED.-Otway.

[DUKE, seated, with Senators on each side. PIERRE, in chains; other Conspirators in chains, near him.]

Pier. You, my lords, and fathers

(As you are pleased to call yourselves) of Venice;
If you sit here to guide the course of justice,
Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs
That have so often laboured in your service?
Are these the wreaths of triumph you bestow

On those that bring you conquest home, and honours?
Duke. Go on: you shall be heard, sir.

Pier. Are these the trophies I have deserved for fighting
Your battles with confederated powers?

When winds and seas conspired to overthrow you,

And brought the fleets of Spain to your own harbours;
When you, great duke, shrunk trembling in your palace;
Stepped not I forth, and taught your loose Venetians
The task of honour, and the way to greatness?
Raised you from your capitulating fears

To stipulate the terms of sued-for peace?

-And this my recompense! If I'm a traitor,

Produce my charge; or show the wretch that's base
And brave enough to tell me that I am so!
Duke. Know you one Jaffier?

Pier. Yes, and know his virtue.—

His justice, truth, his general worth, and sufferings
From a hard father, taught me first to love him.
Duke. See him brought forth.

Enter JAFFIER (in chains).

Pier. My friend too bound! Nay, then,

Our fate has conquered us, and we must fall.

Why droops the man, whose welfare's so much mine

They're but one thing? These reverend tyrants, Jaffier,
Call us traitors. Art thou one, my brother?

Jaff. To thee I am the falsest, veriest slave,

That e'er betrayed a generous, trusting friend,

And gave up honour to be sure of ruin.

All our fair hopes, which morning was to have crowned,
Has this curs'd tongue o'erthrown.

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Duke. Say; will you make confession

Of your vile deeds, and trust the senate's mercy?

Pier. Curs'd be your senate, curs'd your constitution !

The curse of growing factions and divisions

Still vex your councils, shake your public safety,

And make the robes of government you wear
Hateful to you, as these vile chains to me!
Duke. Pardon, or death?

Pier. Death! honourable death!

Death's the best thing we ask, or you can give.
No shameful bonds, but honourable death!

Duke. Break up the council. Captain, guard your prisoners. Jaffier, you're free, the rest must wait for judgment.

[DUKE, Senators, Conspirators, and Officers, go out.]

Pier. Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me to my straw: It will not be the first time I've lodged hard

To do your Senate service.

Jaff. Hold one moment.

[Meeting PIERRE.]

Pier. Who's he disputes the judgment of the Senate? Presumptuous rebel! [Strikes JAFFIER.] On!

Jaff. Nay, nay, you stir not!

I must be heard! I must have leave to speak.
Thou hast disgraced me, Pierre, by a vile blow:
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?

But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me,
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries;
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,

And, as there dwells a god-like nature in thee,
Listen with mildness to my supplications.

Pier. What whining fool art thou? What holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely! Hence! I know thee not!
Jaff. Not know me, Pierre !

Pier. No, know thee not. What art thou?

Jaff. Jaffier, thy friend-thy once loved, valued friend!
Though now deservedly scorned, and used most hardly.
Pier. Thou Jaffier! thou, my once loved, valued friend?
Thou liest; the man so called my friend,

Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant,
Noble in mind, and in his person lovely,

Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart:

But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward,-
Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect--
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.
Pr'ythee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,
Like something baneful, that my nature's chilled at.

Jaff. I have not wronged thee; by these tears I have not.
Pier. Hast thou not wronged me? Dar'st thou call thyself
That once-loved, honest, valued friend of mine,

And swear thou hast not wronged me? Whence these chains?
Whence the vile death that I may meet this moment?

Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one?

Jaff. All's true; yet grant one thing, and I've done asking.
Pier. What's that?

Jaff. To take thy life, on such conditions

The council have proposed: thou and thy friends

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself

A villain, for the privilege to breathe!

And carry up and down this hated city

A discontented and repining spirit,

Burdensome to itself, a few years longer!—

To lose it, may be, at last, in a base quarrel

For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art!
No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,

And cannot part on better terms than now,
When only men like thee are fit to live in't.
Jaff. By all that's just-

Pier. Swear by some other power,

For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.
Jaff. Then by that doom I merit, I'll not leave thee
Till, to thyself at least, thou'rt reconciled,

However thy resentments deal with me.

Pier. Not leave me!

Jaff. No; thou shalt not force me from thee.
Use me reproachfully, and like a slave;
Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
On my poor head-I'll bear it all with patience,
Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty;
Till, wounded by my sufferings, thou relent.
And take me to thy arms with dear forgiveness.
Pier. Art thou not-

Jaff. What?

Pier. A traitor!
Jaff. Yes.

Peir. A villain !

Jaff. Granted.

Pier. A coward!--a most scandalous coward; Spiritless, void of honour; one who has sold

Thy everlasting fame, for shameless life!

Jaff. All, all, and more, much more; my faults are numberless. Pier. And wouldst thou have me live on terms like thine? Base as thou'rt false

Jaff. No; 'tis to me that's granted;

The safety of thy life was all I aimed at,

In recompense for faith and trust so broken.

Pier. I scorn it more, because preserved by thee;
And, as when first my foolish heart took pity
On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries,
Relieved thy wants, and raised thee from the state
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plunged thee,
To rank thee in my list of noble friends;

All I received in surety for thy truth,

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,

Given with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stolen:
So I restore it back to thee again,-

Swearing, by all those powers which thou hast violated,
Never, from this curs'd hour, to hold communion,
Friendship, or interest, with thee, though our years

Were to exceed those limited the world.

-Take it-farewell!--for now I owe thee nothing.

Jaff. Say thou wilt live, then?

Pier. For my life, dispose it

Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tired of.

Jaff. O Pierre !

Pier. No more!

Jaff. My eyes won't lose the sight of thee,

But languish after thine, and ache with gazing.

[Going. [Holding him.]

Pier. Leave me!--Nay, then, thus, thus I throw thee from me: And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee! [Throws him off:]

VIII.-RIENZI AND ANGELO.-Miss Mitford.

Rie. Son.

Methinks this high solemnity might well

Have claimed thy presence. A great ruler's heir
Should be familiar in the people's eyes;

Live on their tongues; take root within their hearts;
Win woman's smiles by honest courtesy,

And force man's tardier praise by bold desert:
So, when the chief shall die, the general love
May hail his successor.

If with thy bride.

But thou-where wast thou?

Ang. I have not seen her.-Tribune- ! Thou wav'st away the word with such a scorn As I poured poison in thine ear.-Already

Dost weary of the title?

Rie. Wherefore should I?
Ang. Thou art ambitious.
Rie. Granted.

Ang. And wouldst be

A king.

Rie. There thou mistak'st.-A king!-Fair son, Power dwelleth not in sound, and fame hath garlands Brighter than diadems. I might have been

Anointed, sceptred, crowned-have cast a blaze
Of glory round the old imperial wreath,
The laurel of the Cæsars: but I chose
To master kings, not be one; to direct

The royal puppets at my sovereign will,

And Rome-my Rome, decree!-Tribune! the Gracchi
Were called so.-Tribune! I will make that name
A word of fear to kings.

Ang. Rienzi!-Tribune !—

Hast thou forgotten, on this very spot

How thou didst shake the slumbering soul of Rome
With the brave sound of Freedom, till she rose,
And from her giant-limbs the shackles dropped,
Burst by one mighty throe? Hadst thou died then,
History had crowned thee with a glorious title—
Deliverer of thy country.

Rie. Well?

Ang. Alas!

When now thou fall'st, as fall thou must, 'twill be
The common tale of low ambition :-Tyrants

O'erthrown to form a wider tyranny;

Princes cast down, that thy obscurer house

May rise on nobler ruins.

Rie. Hast thou ended?

I fain would have mistaken thee-Hast done?

Ang. No; for, despite thy smothered wrath, the voice Of warning truth shall reach thee. Thou to-day

Hast, by thy frantic sacrilege, drawn on thee
The thunders of the church, the mortal feud
Of either emperor. Here, at home, the barons

Hate thee, and the people shun thee. See'st thou not,

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