If, in the hurry of intemp'rate zeal,

I have outgone the justice of the cause,

And, erring in judgment, fought in wrong,
Let this entreaty win thee to a pardon.

King. if to have my forgiveness makes thee clear, Thou art as white as virtue.

Fair. Glorious Charles !

But I will hasten to preserve his life,
And make my gratitude my thanks; farewell!
It is the common interest of mankind

To let him live, to shine out an example.

King. Who dresses in good fortune's gorgeous ermine,

Looks not so comely to a virtuous eye,

As he who clothes him in repentant black.
I tire your patience. Come, sir, lead the way;
Lighter than fancy does my bosom feel,

My thoughts are mercy, and my quiet conscience
Tranquility's still calm: no anxious fear

Beats in my pulse, or ruffles me with care:

If the bare hope of immortality

Knows peace like this, what must the full enjoyments

be?

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter FAIRFAX.

Fairfax.

WHY did I conquer-to repent of conquest ?
Who, though I fought for liberty alone,
Will yet acquit me of the guilt that follows?
Will future ages, when they read my page,
(Though Charles himself absolves me of the deed)
Spare me the name of regicide? Oh, no!

I shall be blacken'd with my party's crimes,
And damn'd with my full share, though innocent.
In vain then 'gainst oppression have I warr'd,
In vain for liberty uprear'd the sword;
Posterity's black curse shall brand my name,
And make me live in infamy for ever.

Now, valour, break thy sword! thy standard, victory!
Furl up thy ensigns, bold hostility,

And sink into inaction; since, alas!

One tainted heart, or one ambitious brain,
Can turn the current of the noblest purpose,
And spoil the trophies of an age's war.

But see where, to my wish, stern Cromwell comes;
Now urge him strongly for the life of Charles,
And, if entreaty fails, avow thy purpose.

Enter CROMWELL.

Crom. Fairfax in thought! My noble lord, good day.

Fair. To make it good, let Cromwell grant my

prayer,

So mercy and the sun shall shine together.

Crom. Stil on this paltry subiect! Fairfax, why, Why will you wrong entreaty by this cause? Fairfax is wise, and should not ask of Cromwell To grant what justice stops; yours are not years When childhood prattles, or when dotage mopes :Pardon the expression.

Fair. I forgive you all,

All you can think, but rigour to the king.

Crom. Pr'ythee no more: this mercy that you pray

for,

As ill becomes the tongue, as my severity;
Nay, worse. Would you obstruct the law
In its due office; nor permit the axe
To fall upon offenders, such as Charles?
Would you see tyranny again arise,

And spread in its foundation? Let us then
Seize on our general, liberty, who still
Has in the front of battle fought our cause,
And led us on to conquest; let us bind him
In the strong chains of rough prerogative,
And throw him helpless at the feet of Charles:
He will absolve us then, and praise our folly.

Fair. This is a sophistry too weak for reason: You would excuse the guilt of Charles's death, By showing me the opposite extreme;

But can you find no mean, no middle course,
Steering between the danger of the låst,
And horror of the first? I know you can.
Crom. It is not to be done: would Fairfax now,
When he has labour'd up the steep ascent,
And wasted time and spirits; would he now,
When but one step exalts him to the summit,
Where to his eye the fair horizon stretches,
And every prospect greatness can command;
Would he now stop, let go his fearful hold,
And tumble from the height?

Fair. I aim at none;

Damn'd be all greatness that depraves the heart,
Or calls one blush from honesty !-No more-
I shall grow warm to be thus trifled with:

Think better, Cromwell—I have given my promise
That Charles shall live.

Crom. A promise may be broke;

Nay, start not at it—'Tis an hourly practice;
The trader breaks it—yet is counted honest;
The courtier keeps it not-yet keeps his honour;
Husband and wife in marriage promise much,
Yet follow sep'rate pleasures, and are-virtuous.
The churchmen promise too, but wisely, they
To a long payment stretch the crafty bill,
And draw upon futurity. A promise!

'Tis the wise man's freedom, and the fool's restraint; "It is the ship in which the knave embarks, "Who rigs it with the tackle of his conscience, "And sails with every wind: regard it not." Fair. Can Cromwell think so basely as he speaks?

It is impossible; he does but try

How well fair speech becomes a vicious cause,
But, I hope, scorns it in the richest dress.
Yet hear me on-it is our interest speaks,
And bids us spare his life: while that continues,
No other title can annoy our cause,

And him we have secure; but grant him dead,
Another claim starts up, another king,

Out of our reach-This bloody deed perhaps
May rouse the princes of the continent

(Who think their persons struck at in this blow)
To shake the very safety of our cause.

Crom. When you consult our int'rest speak with freedom;.

It is the turn and point of all design.

But take this answer, Fairfax, in return;
Britain, the queen of isles, our fair possession,
Secur'd by nature, laughs at foreign force;
Her ships her bulwark, and the sea her dike,
Sees plenty in her lap, and braves the world.
Be therefore satisfy'd; for Charles must die.

Fair. Wilt thou be heard, though at thy utmost
need,

Who now art deaf to mercy and to prayer?