King. No more, my queen! that were to risk thy

safety,

And make me more unhappy in thy danger:

Farewell.

Queen. O, yet a little longer!

Each moment now is worth an age before.
Thou never-resting time! 'tis only now

I count thy value. O, my dearest lord!

Who could believe, when first we met in love,
That we should know a parting worse than death?
Do not go yet.

King. Heaven knows I would not go

But dire necessity must be obey'd:

And see where he appears in his worst form.
Keep in thy tears, my love, lest he suspect-
And teach thy heart to say farewell at once.

Enter Colonel TOMLINSON.

Tom. My lord, I have orders to attend your Majesty to Westminster.

King. A moment spent in private,

And I am ready.

Do not droop, my queen!

Exert the strongest vigour of thy soul,

Call up thy piety, thy awful virtue,

Thy resolution, and thy sex's pride,

[Exit Toml.

And take their friendly counsel; they will soon
Determine you to think of Charles, as one
Beyond the power of faction in this world,
And ready for another-Fare thee well;

I have this compliment to pay thy worth,

That now I leave thee with more tender thoughts
Than first I met thy love-this tear—adieu !

Now, sir, lead on.

[To Col. Toml, entering.

Queen. O stay, my dearest lord!

[Exeunt King and Col. Toml.

Let me assure thee of my faith and love-
Witness thou awful Ruler of the world,
How much I feel in parting-how my heart
Labours to break to prove its constancy;
How my affection still has call'd thee dear;
Never unkind, till in this parting moment.
What do I say? Alas! my Charles is gone-
Fancy presented him before my eyes,

And my tears wrong'd my sight-he's gone for ever.
Lady Fair. Good madam, think your safety calls

upon you;

Your very sorrows are not here secure;

Though you neglect your own, yet think his ease,
The ease of Charles, depends upon your flight;
I have provided every proper means,
They wait your will.-

Queen. Kind lady, I will go

But oh, be just to nature, and to pity,

And own 'tis hard-I thank your friendly tears,
They speak my meaning—but I weary you.
The wretch who feels misfortunes will complain,
And I have wondrous reason-O, my Charles!
Since I must go, may every adverse star

Dart on my wand'ring head, and leave thy sky

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Deck'd with propitious planets only 1-May thy life, Clear as thy innocence, adorn the world,

And be the theme of wonder!-O my heart! [Exeunt.

Enter Marquis of LINDSEY, meeting the Duke of RICHMOND.

Lind. Saw you the king pass by?

Rich. I did, my lord:

As to his coronation, not his trial:

Such was his look-such awful majesty
Beam'd out on every side, and struck the gazer.
No mark of sorrow furrow'd up his face,
Nor stopp'd his smiles to his saluting friends;
Clear as his conscience was his visage seen,
The emblem of his heart. As I approach'd,
Richmond, said he, commend me to my friends;
Say, though my power is gone, my wishes reach them,
And every prayer that rises, breathes their welfare.
'Tis not in faction to subdue the spirit,

Or break the noble mind: his speaking eyes
Repeated his commands, and pierc'd my heart:
E'en the base rabble-licens'd to insult,
Struck with the dignity of kingly awe,

Forgot their hire, and rose from praise to wonder. Lind. Will you not follow, sir? 't were worth re. mark,

How he deports himself.

Rich. O fear not Charles:

Let him encounter with a host of kings,

And he shall stand the shock without a terror:
Will he then shrink beneath a subject-brow,

Though wrinkled with rebellion-No, good Lindsey,
The lion cannot lose his kingly nature,

The sun its heat, nor Charles his noble firmness;
Perhaps, indeed, his generous heart may feel,
Not for himself, but for his tyrant judges;
He may lament deprav'd humanity,
And blush to be mistaken in his people.
See, what a mournful visage Fairfax wears,
The sun of pleasantry eclips'd by thought:
Now judgment combats inadvertency,

And makes him curse success-but thus 'tis ever
When courage wildly starts out by itself,

Nor asks consideration's friendly aid;

Confusion joins him; then he wanders through
The thicket doubt, the maze perplexity,

And finds at last repentance.

Enter FAIRFAX.

Fair. Now the scene

Of bloodiest purpose is on foot, and acting;

Now murder mounts the bench, array'd like justice, And points the sword at Charles- -ill-fated man!

Ha! who are those? the friends of Cromwell's faction?

No, they are with their huntsmen on the scent

Of royal blood, uncoupled for destruction.

If sorrow blinds me not-the duke of Richmond. Rich. Good sir, how fare you?

Fair. Wondrous ill, my lord.

Could I but tell you what I feel—yet live,
You would conclude me danger-proof-O, sir!

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Reflection shows me the vast tract I 've pass'd,
And stern impossibility denies

One step return—yet (be my witness Heav'n)
This dreadful day was never in my wish.

Rich. We do not think it was. But, gentle lord,
Think of some means to ward this fatal blow,
And save the king. Would you but go, my lord,
Your struggle might-

Fair. Alas! what can I do?

Was ever army routed by one man ?

I have an army there to combat with.

Should I go there in order for prevention,
Failing, my presence would be made consent,
And I still more unhappy. O the change!
This is the curse of independent power,
For presbytery never meant it. Yet, my lords,
You shall not say, that Fairfax only talks ;
He will approve his honesty by deeds;
Somewhat he will attempt to save his honour,

And clear it to the view of future times.

Rich. We do not doubt your will, nor yet your

power.

My lord, farewell.

[Exeunt Rich. and Lind.

Fair. My powerl- -say, what is power?
The vain extent of title and of land;

The barbarous impulse to the insulting wretch,
To use his fellow-creature like a slave;
The woman's idol, and the man's misfortune,
As it too often robs him of humanity.

This is the worst degree-behold the best,

F