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SCENE II.--_Whitehall._
_+Lady+ CARLISLE and WENTWORTH_
_Wentworth._ And the King?
_Lady Carlisle._ Wentworth, lean on me! Sit then!
I'll tell you all; this horrible fatigue Will kill you.
_Wentworth._ No;--or, Lucy, just your arm; I'll not sit till I've cleared this up with him: After that, rest. The King?
_Lady Carlisle._ Confides in you.
_Wentworth._ Why? or, why now?--They have kind throats, the knaves!
Shout for me--they!
_Lady Carlisle._ You come so strangely soon: Yet we took measures to keep off the crowd-- Did they shout for you?
_Wentworth._ Wherefore should they not?
Does the King take such measures for himself?
Besides, there's such a dearth of malcontents, You say!
_Lady Carlisle._ I said but few dared carp at you.
_Wentworth._ At me? at us, I hope! The King and I!
He's surely not disposed to let me bear The fame away from him of these late deeds In Ireland? I am yet his instrument Be it for well or ill? He trusts me too!
_Lady Carlisle._ The King, dear Wentworth, purposes, I said, To grant you, in the face of all the Court....
_Wentworth._ All the Court! Evermore the Court about us!
Savile and Holland, Hamilton and Vane About us,--then the King will grant me--what?
That he for once put these aside and say-- "Tell me your whole mind, Wentworth!"
_Lady Carlisle._ You professed You would be calm.
_Wentworth._ Lucy, and I am calm!
How else shall I do all I come to do, Broken, as you may see, body and mind, How shall I serve the King? Time wastes meanwhile, You have not told me half. His footstep! No.
Quick, then, before I meet him,--I am calm-- Why does the King distrust me?
_Lady Carlisle._ He does not Distrust you.
_Wentworth._ Lucy, you can help me; you Have even seemed to care for me: one word!
Is it the Queen?
_Lady Carlisle._ No, not the Queen: the party That poisons the Queen's ear, Savile and Holland.
_Wentworth._ I know, I know: old Vane, too, he's one too?
Go on--and he's made Secretary. Well?
Or leave them out and go straight to the charge-- The charge!
_Lady Carlisle._ Oh, there's no charge, no precise charge; Only they sneer, make light of--one may say, Nibble at what you do.
_Wentworth._ I know! but, Lucy, I reckoned on you from the first!--Go on!
--Was sure could I once see this gentle friend When I arrived, she'd throw an hour away To help her ... what am I?
_Lady Carlisle._ You thought of me, Dear Wentworth?
_Wentworth._ But go on! The party here!
_Lady Carlisle._ They do not think your Irish government Of that surpa.s.sing value....
_Wentworth._ The one thing Of value! The one service that the crown May count on! All that keeps these very Vanes In power, to vex me--not that they do vex, Only it might vex some to hear that service Decried, the sole support that's left the King!
_Lady Carlisle._ So the Archbishop says.
_Wentworth._ Ah? well, perhaps The only hand held up in my defence May be old Laud's! These Hollands then, these Saviles Nibble? They nibble?--that's the very word!
_Lady Carlisle._ Your profit in the Customs, Bristol says, Exceeds the due proportion: while the tax....
_Wentworth._ Enough! 'tis too unworthy,--I am not So patient as I thought. What's Pym about?
_Lady Carlisle._ Pym?
_Wentworth._ Pym and the People.
_Lady Carlisle._ O, the Faction!
Extinct--of no account: there'll never be Another Parliament.
_Wentworth._ Tell Savile that!
You may know--(ay, you do--the creatures here Never forget!) that in my earliest life I was not ... much that I am now! The King May take my word on points concerning Pym Before Lord Savile's, Lucy, or if not, I bid them ruin their wise selves, not me, These Vanes and Hollands! I'll not be their tool Who might be Pym's friend yet.
But there's the King!
Where is he?
_Lady Carlisle._ Just apprised that you arrive.
_Wentworth._ And why not here to meet me? I was told He sent for me, nay, longed for me.
_Lady Carlisle._ Because,-- He is now ... I think a Council's sitting now About this Scots affair.
_Wentworth._ A Council sits?
They have not taken a decided course Without me in the matter?
_Lady Carlisle._ I should say....
_Wentworth._ The war? They cannot have agreed to that?
Not the Scots' war?--without consulting me-- Me, that am here to show how rash it is, How easy to dispense with?--Ah, you too Against me! well,--the King may take his time.
--Forget it, Lucy! Cares make peevish: mine Weigh me (but 'tis a secret) to my grave.
_Lady Carlisle._ For life or death I am your own, dear friend!
