M&^'^ .'•;<. Author .^ title A.< -^Z Imprint IS— 17373-2 "T-., ■,./■ .-•■,;.;<- 'X' ,'■'>■■■"■- ■ ^^ V'' -If'., 3^'i. m?^^ GREATER THAN KING OLIVER CROMWELL. (After Portrait by .Sir Peter I,ely.) GREATER THAN KING, A ROMANTIC PLAY IN FOUR ACTS^BY HENRY RAEDER '.'. '.'. '.'. '.', A AS PRESENTED AT THE DEARBORN THEATRE, CHICAGO, MARCH 17 TO APRIL 13, 1901 :: :: L- - THE LIBRARY OF CON6RES8, Two CoPiM Reonvto APR. 10 1901 COPYRIOMT OtTRY CLASS^ XXa N*. COPY 8. Copyrighted 1901. All rights reserved. Performances for- bidden and right of presentation > reserved. A PAGE OF THE PROGRAM. DEARBORN THEATRE W, W, TILLOTSON, MMnagtr, THIRD SEASON Dearborn Stock Company. Beginning Sunday, March 17, 1901, GREATER THAN KING cA ^Rpmantic J^tay in Four cActs, by HENRY %AEDER CAST OF CHARACTERS. Sir John Maynard, A Royalist. ...C has. W. Terris Richard Maynard, His Son Edward Mackay Father Ambrose, A Jesuit Hugh Ford Duncan, A Follower of Cromwell... Gardner Crane Exodus Treat, Cromwell's Secretary, Wm. H. Evarts Morris, Servant to John Maynard Wm. Dii^i^s Peter, Servant at Barbara's Inn... Harry O. Stubbs Lord Richmond W. H. Engi^ish John, Servant to Richard Maynard, James A, RusSEiyi* Servant to Cromwell Knox I. Giffin IvADY Cromwei.1., Cromwell's Wife. Madge Gordon Ewzabeth CromweIvI., Her Daughter, Mamie Ryan Lady Ci^aire Grace Reai.s Anne, Sir John Maynard 's Daughter Nannette Francis Barbara, Keeper of the Inn Louise Rial, Courtiers, Ladies, Serv^ts, Soldiers, Etc. SAMUEI^ M. FORREST, Stagre Director. Scenery by BUSS & SHEPPARD. Dearborn Theatre Orchestra under the direction of Mr. Geo. Kalbitz. GREATER THAN KING. AC T I. Scene: The hall of the country seat of Sir John May- nard. A door on each side of stage in front; fire- place at center-back; to the right of same large window, and to the left of same main entrance. Table with chairs at right side of stage; large arm- chair at left side of stage ; sideboard and other fur- niture. Time: Late afternoon, July 2, 1644. \^As curtain rises no one is on stage ; a light thunder shower is blowing up, which slams one of the casement windows. Morris, an old servant, stooping^ enters hall from Left arid goes to windozvs and closes them. As he turns, a youug lady, the daughter of the house, e?tters from Right.~\ Anne : \_A sweet young girl about seventeen years old, oj delicate form and refined features.~\ I thought I heard a noise; did you hear it Morris? Morris : It was only the casement blowing to my lady ; a sudden storm has come up, and surely we need the rain. It has been a very dry s,QSiSon^\_goi7ig to the fire-place and then^ thinking for a moment^ though I have known drier. Anne : \_At window watching the storm; the rain beats against the window ; low., distant thunder is heard.^ How the rain beats down ; have you had word from the village to-day Morris? lo Greater TJian Ki7ig. Morris : \_Comes to front of stage with poker and tongs ^ with which he gesticulate s.'\ Yes, my lady; they do say that the siege of York has been lifted ; that the Earl of Leven has fled and Prince Rupert is in hot pursuit. There will be great fighting soon. The Parliament soldiers will have their fill when Prince Rupert once gets at them ; but there be those who say that Lord Fairfax and Lord Leven be mighty powerful, and a man called Oliver Crom- well, a canting wretch, has been drilling his men with guns and prayers until they know not whether they be soldiers or preachers, but Lord! 'Twill do them no good, for Pve seen the king's men, and a finer lot afoot and ahorse never marched through the country, and 1 have seen many soldiers in my time — but one should not be too certain — Anne: \_Who has been busy at table. ^ But have you no real news Morris? Have you not heard from. Richard? Morris: Not a word. There be those who think that might should not make right, and that' the ancient charter of King John has been violated by King Charles, and that the Parliament will not bide with it. Anne: \_Throughout pays little attentioji to Morris' talk, but appears absorbed, nervous and anxious ] I know naught of these things; but this war, what suffer- ing it will bring ! [ Goes to window and opens same.'] Morris: I have a cousin who be in London and hears much talk in the coffee-houses about the Roundheads and Hampden and Cromwell and others, but I think the king be right, for^he is put in authority by Almighty (jod , and it certainly would seem — Anne: {^Interrupting Morris' endless talk. She has been at the windozv listening, has opened the window and Act I. ir the distant boom of camion is heard. The rain has~ almost ceased.~\ Morris, Morris, listen! I hear a strange sound, it certainly is not thunder. Morris: [Goes to window very excitedly.^ It be cannon, I know it, I heard it afore. Listen ! it sounds as from Long Marston. Sir Maynard: [Enters from Right and goes to win- dow. He is a Tnan sixty years of age, and though som,ewhat querulous of soldierly bearing7\ Do you. hear that? It's the sound of cannon, a battle is on. Oh, were I but a score years younger, I would be in the thick of it! But Richard will uphold the ancient valor of our house; we are a fighting family and he is a strong and eager lad. Listen! The firing is becoming heavier. Ah, a curse on these stiffened joints. [Sits in arm-chair Left. Morris goes to win- doiv and during following stands listening^ Anne: [Standing near her father. A^ But think father of the dead and wounded, the homes that will be desolate, and Richard, Richard, my brother. Oh, I cannot bear to think of it! [Breaks doivn crying.^ Sir Maynard: Be quiet child, a man may fight many battles without serious hurt. Your grandfather fought in Flanders and lived to sit beside his fire- side, his age fourscore and more, to often tell about it and I your father have seen men fall and lived to regret this cursed weakness. At the worst death on the battlefield is better than to slowly rot at home. Anne: Oh, but the horror of this war! Englishmen face Englishmen, brother against brother, father against son. Sir Maynard: There was no other way. They would make a slave of a king with their palaver- ings, so King Charles raised his standard and loyal 12 Greater Than Kin men flocked to it as they always must. [Anne has gone to window.] Anne: I hear the firing still. Oh, the suspense is un- bearable I Go Morris, send to the village and see whether there is any news. Morris: \^At window. '\ Someone is entering at the gate — it is Father Ambrose. Sir Maynard: \Going to window.'] Go, fetch him Morris; he may bear news, though it cannot be much as yet. \Mqrris goes out maiji entrance.] The storm is clearing and the sun is setting in a blood-red sky. Look, Anne, how the poplars stand against it like grim sentinels. Anne: How fresh and balmy the air is after the shower. Oh, how can men kill each other! \Only an occasional sound of cannon is now heard. Anne kneels at chair Left.] Oh, Virgin Mary, Mother of God ! Save my brother, save him and I will burn thee many candles. \She is interrupted by en- trance of Morris with Father Ambrose at main entrance. An?ie rises, then kneels for benediction.] Sir Maynard: Ah! Father Ambrose, what news, what news? \^Morris exits at mai?i entrance^ Ambrose: Peace be with you! A man just from Long Marston says the armies face each other at the moor. It was not expected that the fight would be on to- day, but the neighboring people are deserting their homes in wild panic for fear of the victors, be they who they may. The siege of York is raised, the Roundheads are in full retreat. Ah, 'tis but reckless folly to risk all upon the fortunes of battle. \^Goes back to fireplace. ] Sir Maynard: [ Stan di?ig at table.] There can be no risk, and how else would you put down this re- bellion? Act I. 13 Ambrose: \_Leavi71g fireplace. '\ I would strike at the leaders of it. I would have the chief traitors re- moved ; that man Cromwell would be the first to go. Anne : Oh ! You mean that you would have them assassinated ? Act I.— Father Ambroj5E and Anne. Ambrose: Do not use such strong words, my dear lady. \_A7me goes to window.'\ Sir Maynard: \^Crossi?ig to Left.~\ Murder is murder whatever you call it, and breeds murder. Would you make us a nation of cut-throats? 14 Greater TJian King. Ambrose: On the contrary 'tis you who would plunge the whole nation into bloody conflict, to burn, to ravage, to kill. I would have a few men executed, peace is restored and thousands of lives are saved. Sir Maynard: And who would remove the leaders? Who would be their executioner? Ambrose : Every public man has his enemy, some man who thirsts to avenge a private wrong, fancied or real, and values his life at naught in comparison. Find 'that man and there is your executioner. Sir Maynard: But why select so obscure a person as Cromwell as the one to be removed? Ambrose: \^Back of table. ^ Because he of all men will be heard from. I have studied him. He possesses uncouth strength coupled with cunning, a singular combination of pious fanaticism and common sense. He is by far the most powerful man of his party — the Puritan party — therefore would I strike him down. [Goes to windoiv, stands listeniiig.^ Anne: \^To Ambrose.^ I do not understand about the quarrels and charges between king and parliament, but I love Richard — [goi?ig to her father^ father, we have always been playmates, and were never parted until Richard went to London to become a soldier. 'Twould break my heart should harm be- fall him. SiK Maynard: [Taking Anne's hands in his. ^ Yes, yes, I know. Anne: H.i is but a youth of nineteen and to think of him in danger, father, it is more than I can bear. [Crying.^ SiH Maynard: Be quiet, child, or you'll make a soft hearted old fool of me. [// is growing dark grad- ually. ] Act I. 15 Anne: Oh, how long will it be before we know? Sir Maynard: No one can tell, but I venture that the traitors are in full flight now. Anne: But to wait and wait without news, how can I bear it! Ambrose: \^At wiiidow.^ Someone is riding up the road in hot haste. \^An?ie and Sir May?iard ru?i to window and all look out.'\ Sir Maynard: Who is it, Anne, who is it? Your young eyes should recognize him. Anne : 'Tis too dark. He is crossing the bridge at the lodge now. Ambrose: He rides fast, a bearer of good news. Sir Maynard: Now he is hidden by the poplars, he will be here immediately. Morris : \^E?iters quickly at main e?itra?ice, all go to hint excitedly.^ Richard's man John is coming up the road waving his hat. Ah, he brings good news of victory, I warrant ye. But we must not be too certain of it. I have known of instances — [Noise outside. Enter John at Tnaiii entrance ^ followed by sev- eral servants, male and female. Other servants e7iter at other doors. He is dusty and disheveled a?id out of breath. He sits in chair placed for him at center of stage by Ambrose. All surround him, but at first he ca?mot speak. A servant lights ca?idles. ] Sir Maynard: The news, man, the news. Ambrose : Speal^, man, speak. Anne: Richard, is he well? Jokn : [Nods head and gasps.^ A drink, a drink. [Morris rushes to sideboard, fills a mug and hafids it to John. ^ 1 6 Greater TJiaii Ki7ig. Anne : And now for the love of God speak, man ! Richard is alive and well? John : Ha, ha, how they ran, the canting hypocrites. They scattered and we among them. Annk: [^Interrupti?ig.'] But Richard, Richard. John: Is safe, at least he was when I last saw him. Ride for home, John, he said and carry the glorious news. Ah, it was rare sport to see the churls bite the dust. Sir Maynard: And my son in the thick of it, no doubt. John: \^Rises.'\ Such fighting I never saw before. We had but to rush among them and they in panic made slight resistance. Sir Maynard: Richard was no laggard, I warrant you. John: 'Twas all over in a few minutes. Victory as- sured, I came on as fast as I could, but at the South- ern creek the bridge was down so I went beyond by the ford, else had 1 been here before. Sir Maynard: Morris, Morris, pour out the ale, we'll drink to the king's health and perdition to the Roundheads. \_To A?me, taki7ig]ier to the door Right.'] Anne, my girl, you must be tired, go to your room now child and rest. Anne: I will go father, but call me at once should there be more news of Richard. \_Exits Right. Ale is brought and distributed^ Sir Maynard: I drink to the king. King Charles! May he be victorious over his enemies and reign long over his loyal subjects. Ambrose: And I to the confusion of parliament and of those who prate of their rights and privileges, and ActL 17 above all perdition to that man Cromwell. \^All drink. Noise is heard outside^ Sir MayxVard: What is that ? \^All listeii. Enter Richard at main entrance in dilapidated condition, his whole appearajice speaking of despair. His sword falls from his hand; Father Ambrose places it on table. RicJiard is a youth of nhieteefi with smooth face and red hair ; he wears the dress of a cavalier officer.'] All: Richard! [Richard sifiks i7ito chair, Ce?Lter.~\ Sir Maynard: Speak, speak, what has happened? Richard: I fought to the last; I tried to stop . the flight. 'Twas of no use. Sir Maynard: \_T2crnifig to serz'ants.] Leave us, all of you. \_Serva?its exit at differ e?it doors. Sir May- nard turns to Richard^ Now speak boy, in God's name speak, how and why came you here ? Richard: [Rises supporting himself on chair.] I came by the rear gate and the garden ; they were pursu- ing me, but I managed to elude them. Sir Maynard: Pursuing ! Elude ! A fugitive ! John told us of a victory. Richard: I know, I know, that was at first. We rode at them and scattered them. It seemed like hunting the hares to see them run for cover. Ambrose: And you gave chase ? Richard: Aye, that we did with a right goodwill; and Prince Rupert, he was here and there and everywhere and his life-guards with him. Sir Maynard: [Impatiently^ We have heard all that, but what then, what then.? Ambrose; Sir, let him tell it his own way. 1 8 Greater Than King. Anne: \_E7 iters Right. Embraces Richard.^ Oh Rich- ard, Richard, you are safe. Thank God, thank God! Sir Maynard: [Taking her aivay from Richarcf\ Be still child, he brings bad news. Ambrose: Go on Richard, you but try our patience. Richard: We swept across the field and the enemy's hosts scattered as before a storm. Sir Maynard: But you have once told all that, and then — Richard: But when we returned from the mad pur- suit we found the field in possession of the enemy. Cromwell's men held it, and Cromwell himself at the head of his men shouting: "Truth and peace" and "upon them, upon them," and we with the cry "God and the king" flung our horse at their ranks. But they, great God, had captured and turned our own guns upon us. [He tunis toward- back of s' age despairingly. Ambrose replaces chair at table.'] SrR Maynard: Yes, yes, but what then, what then — Richard: [Fiir/ii/tg.'] Rupert's guards fought like mad men, but they might as well have flung them- selves against walls of stone. For there stood Crom- well's soldiers and would not budge and our men fell before their fire, and then on they came, like a tidal wave, and pushed us before them. We rallied again and again, but still on they came. We gathered for a final blow and our hor^e swept forward, growing in power as they threw themselves upon the foe. 'Twas all in vain, we could not shake their iron front and then — then — Sir Maynard: Well, well — Richard: All fled. [ Tlmm 's himself in chair at table.] Ambrose. [Back of table.] Boy, you are mad I Didn't John just bring the news of victory.^ Act I. , 19 SirMaynard: Fled? And you with them? A curse on such cowardice. Oh, that a son of mine should turn his back upon the enemy and live to tell it! Anne : {^Runmng to Sir May/iard.'] Oh father, father, Richard fought bravely. Sir Maynard: A stain upon our house; the king de- feated and a Maynard who fought for him lives to tell the story ! Ambrose: Be reasonable Sir, the boy has but won his spurs. He lives to do battle again for his king. Morris: \_Entcrs hastily at 7nai?i entrance.'] Troopers are coming through the garden gate. I fear they be enemies. Anne: Oh, Richard they are pursuing you, you must hide quickly. Sir Maynard: [His entire manner changed^ Yes boy, quickly to the chamber under the tov/er. Richard: No father, I will meet them here. I will show you that I am no coward. Sir Maynard: My boy, my boy forgive me; 'twas but the irritation of the moment, the sudden dis- appointment that caused my hasty speech. Resist- ance would be folly. Anne: Oh I beg you, I beg you, Richard, lose not a moment! [ Sir Maynard and Anne are forcing Rich- ard toivard door Left.'] Sir Maynard: Begone my boy; I know thou art brave; your country will need strong arms like thine. Make haste. Richard: But I cannot leave you all unprotected. Ambrose: They will not harm us alone. But you here, their vengeance will fall on us alb 20 Greater Than King. Sir Maynard: {^Noise is heard outside^ Quick Rich- ard, they are coming. [Richard exits in haste Left followed by Morris. The servants enter again, badly frightened, and cower to Right of stage 7\ Sir Maynard: {Taking Anne toward door RigJit7\ Go to your room Anne. Anne: No father, no; my place is here at your side. \_Lotid 7ioise heard oictside. Duncan a?id four soldiers enter viole?itly at ntaiji entrance. Diuican is a man about forty -five years old, a rough sergeant of Crom- weWs horse ; he and his men show in their appearance the struggle of battle they have passed through.'^ First Soldier: Never fear, we will find him. Second Soldier : Here they all ar^i. Duncan: \To Sir Maynard, tructdently . ] Sir! Sir Maynard: Sir to you, and who are you? Duncan : We be of Cromwell's horse— a fugitive from Marston is hiding here, a damned Papist Deliver him to us. Sir Maynard: If he be here, take him. Duncan : By Jehovah we will, and if we have to smoke him out. -Ambrose: [Facing Duncan.^ We are in your power, we have made no resistance, we are peaceable — Duncan: Be still, servant of anti-Christ, or I'll tear out thy smooth tongue for thee. Where is the man? \_Going to door Right and of>cni?ig it violoitly, then returning, sees sword on table ^ Ah! here - his sword — he is in the house. Speak, sir, is he here? Sir Maynard: You have just said so. Duncan: [Crossing to his soldiers.'] Then deliver him to us, or l^y all that is holy I will — Act I. 21 Sir Maynard : [Defiantly.'] You will, you knave, what will you? You dare to threaten me and I — Anne: \_G0i71g to her father. 1 Father, father, don't anger them. Ambrose : I beg of you men — Duncan : [Drawi?i,g his pistol.'] If it were not for thy white locks I'd — Sir Maynard: Enough of this. {Looking at Dun- can^ It seems to me you are the soldier once in my regiment whom I did severely chastise for dis- graceful conduct. Duncan : Yes, I am that man ; I still bear the scars of— Anne: \_Clinging to Sir May?iard.] Father, father, what are you doing? Remember we are in their power. Sir Maynard: [^To D?{ficafi.] Go now, leave this place before you disgrace it. Duncan: \_l7i ferocious a?iger.] Seize him. We'll set- tle the old score now. Seize him men. \_Sir May- 7iard stands betzveen his people and Dnncan. He lias lost all appearance of zveakness or age and stands be- fore the soldiers a grand old ma?i.] Sir Maynard: Stand back! [ Du7ican , as soldiers hesi- tate, roughly pushes A7ine aside. The soldiers the7i seize Sir May/iard. Anne: \_To Du7ica?i.] Oh, spare him ! spare him! Duncan: And now my fine bird with ruffled feathers, we will know where that traitor son of yours is, or by the eternal God your life shall answer for his. \^A7i7ie throzvs herself i7i front of Du7ica7i, is roughly throzv7i doiv7i by hi7n ajul falls fa.inti/ig to the floor. The soldiers lead out Sir Maynard, followed by Dun- 2 2 Greater Than King, can and then by all the servants, frightened and zvhispering.'] Ambrose: {^Raising Anne's head.'] Poor girl, poor girl — they cannot mean to kill him! Morris ! Morris ! Help— your mistress! \_Morris enters from Left.] Here Morris, take care of your mistress. {^Ambrose exits qidckly. Morris kneels and holds A?tne's head on his lap.] Morris: My poor, poor lady; come, come they have gone. They will not hurt you. Oh, that I should live to see this. Richard: \_Entering quickly.] Have they gone? \_Sees Morris a ?id Anne.] Anne, they have killed her? Morris: No, no it is only a swoon. Richard: Thank God. [Richard and Morris place Anne in ann-chair, Richard looking aboiit^ Where is my father ? Morris: I don't know. I was out. When I came back Father Ambrose was hera with her ladyship. He left a moment ago. \^One shot is Jieard^ Richard goes to windozu. ] " Richard: What was that ? {They listen. Father A/nbrose enters. Richard sees him.] Speak man, where is my father ? [Ambrose is silent.] Where is he ? I must to him. Am R hose: [Raising his hands ] No, no. Richard: Would you have me leave him at the mercy of those ruffians ? [Struggles zvith Ambrose who shakes him off.] Amhrose: ♦ Stop. It is too late. Richard: Too late — They have Act I. 23 Ambrose : Yes, he would not betray you and then God pity you my son. Richard: \_Strugglwgbeiween tears and anger, no hero- ics and boyish zvithal.'] I'll after thenri. I'll have their cowardly lives. Oh, had I but known I would rather have died than Oh father, my father — I'll follow them and strike down the murderous cut- throats. \_Taking sivord fro?n table. '\ Ambrose: 'Twere useless, they are five to one. Richard: I would sell my life dearly. Ambrose: No my son, you must not do this, 'twould serve no end. Richard: What would you have me do ? Ambrose: Let your vengeance fall on him who com- mands these cut- throats. \_The?i impressively but not tJieatric ally. ^^ Strike down Cromwell. end of act I. ACT II. Time: Ten years later. A day in snmmer. 5cene: Court of a Country Inn near Huntingdon. Inn on Right, stable on Left of stage, hedge at rear with opening center; view of country beyond. [^As curtain rises there is heard the noise of a quarrel inside of inn. Then^ suddenly .^ a drunken ?nan is shot out from the ?nain door of the inn as if f red from a catapult. Barbara appears in main door of inn. Barbara is a wofnan cast in a large mould., strong., capable and warm-hearted Peter^ a loutish serv- ing man., enters from rear and stands sheepishly looking at the man who was ejected.~\ Barbara: Out with thee for a drunken vagabond, and don't thee show thy face within these walls again. Home to thy good woman and children to whom thou'rt a lasting disgrace. Now be gone. \^Ma?i. exits. To Peter :^ Be spry Peter. \_She is arrang- ing tables, one Right and one Left and placing chair s.'\ Peter: It is always "Be spry," and ^'Here Peter" and "There Peter." Barbara: What be thee muttering to thyself? Peter: I be saying how fine the weather be for the harvest. Barbara: It sounded more like thee were grumbling as usual. Peter: {Walking about 7^ And it is up early and it is up late, and would ye expect a man to be soft man- 26 Greater Than King. nered and say : " By your leave lady," and " It please you lady," and me the only man about the house since master died. Barbara: Now stop thy everlasting talk and get thy work done. Thou art but the fraction of a man, if it be manly to do one's work honestly and well and without grumbling. Peter: Well, well, better a master I say than a mis- tress who knows not what a man's work be. Barbara: Go to the stable and make ready for the traveler's horse; there's man's work for thee. {^Bar- bara takes Peter by ear and leads him toward stable. Peter sloivly goes into stable. As he passes out E iza- betlis head is seen above the hedge at rear.'] Elizabeth: \_A slender girl of eighteen, fidl of life and spirits^ a thorough madcap with a soul capable of deep feeling.] Pst. [Hides behind hedge.] Barbara: [^Looks about and sees nothi?ig.] What might that be? Elizabeth: Pst. [Hides agai7i.] Barbara : Ah ! It surely can be only Bet, the little minx. \_Aloud.] A plague on people that go around bothering honest folk with their pranks in- stead of staying at home and playing with their dolls, the hussies. Elizabeth: [Enters from reaf^ laughing a7id running to Barbara.] Oh, thou wicked, scolding, dear old nursie. I will stay at home and play with my dollies and never come to see such a cross old nursie again. [Peter enters, looks on open-?nouthed.] Barbara : [Trying to seize Elizabeth^ who evades her, she rims after her and finally catches her.] Ah, now I have you. Act II. 27 jjg m jy*' ■'/ ''.' ■ -i ' -""^^^^^^^^H ^^^Bi^l Wm: ^^taJ^ Act II. — Petrr and Elizabeth. Peter : Haw, haw. Barbara: What be thee doing there, lazybones, be- gone or I will — \^T]ireatens Peter ^ Elizabeth: Don't be hard on Peter, he is my-sweet- heart and is going to take me to the Fair. Art thou not, Peter? Peter: Haw, haw. Barbara : A nice figure he would cut, such a fine gen- tleman. \_Seizes a broom and chases Peter who runs off at back.'] [^Barbara mops forehead with apro7i.'\ 28 Greater Than King. Elizabeth: \^LaiLghs.'\ Now, nursie dear, thou hast got so warm ; we musn't lose our tempers; it isn't good for us. Barbara: Sit down, you naughty child. \^F7ishes Eliza- beth into chair at table Left.~\ Stop teaing one who is too good to you by far. And now tell me what new mischief you have been put to. Elizabeth: [Rises, with animation.] I have had such a wild ride on Hector; and coming here we took to the long meadow and Hector, full of life from his long rest, flew like the wind. Barbara: I tremble when I think of your riding. I fear an accident some day. Does your mother ap- prove of this? Elizabeth: Oh, mother is always away in Lon- don; she is too busy with foreign ambassadors to think of me and so I can run away to my dear old Barbara. {Takes Barbara's face between her hands ^ Barbara : Now, away with you and your compliments. Elizabeth: My father and mother and others will be here in about an hour. They rest here on their way to London. I begged my father to let me go also but he would not listen. Barbara: And a wise man he; you arc better off at home at Huntingdon. Elizabeth: I think I like it best there myself. Barbara: Well, if the great Cromwell, as the folks call your father now, be coming with his train, we must make ready for they will want refreshment. {Peter is seen standing back of hedge looking up the road^ Elizabeth: I'll help thee, nursie. Barbara: No, no; 'tis no work for a lady. Act 11. 29 Elizabeth : If thou talk'st to me thus, never will I come to see thee again. Peter : Someone be coming down the road. Elizabeth: Quick, now, an apron and we'll be ready in a trice. [Takes apron from Barbara. Barbara chases ker.^ Barbara: Give me back my apron. Elizabeth: No — no — no — [Bot/i go to rear. Eliza- beth sta7ids 071 beiicli close to hedge. ] Barbara: Who might it be? It be too early for the great folks. Elizabeth: A gentleman and a lady riding close to- gether. Barbara: Do you know them? Elizabeth: No, the gentleman is young and hand- some and the lady is resting against his shoulder, who'd blame her! [^Jumps down from bench and comes forward^ Barbara : Go, Peter, hold the horses and help the guests alight. {Turning to Elizabeth.^ Now dearie you must away before you are seen. Elizabeth: No, I am not going; they will think me the bar-maid, and I do want to see the young lady — and the young gentleman, too, for that matter. Barbara: I beg of you dear lady, go. Elizabeth: No. [ Stamping foot. ] Barbara: Elizabeth! Elizabeth: No. [ Stamping foot. ] Barbara: Dear Betty, please go. Elizabeth: It is no use, nursie, I am going to stay. Thou canst take the young lady into the house and 30 Greater TJian Khig. serve her, I shall wait here on the young gentleman, he's to my liking. Barbara: You are too hearlstrong for me; I trust no harm may come of it; a young lady to be masquer- ading as a bar-maid can bring no good, I vow. {^Enter Richard supporting Attnip. Richard looks fully ten years older, he zvears mustache and small chin beard. He is jnuch weather-browned. Anne is ma- turer and looks very tired. Elizabeth stands at hedge looking i?ite7ifly at Richard ] Anne: I am so tired, so tired, Richard, I can go no farther. Richard: Dear Anne, thou shalt go no farther; ah, here is the hostess. \_To Barbara.'] We have come far and her ladyship needs rest; will you show us to a room that she may lie down while you prepare re- freshment. \_Peter enters, sta?tds stupidly stari?ig.'] Barbara: Poor, dear lady, a little rest and then a* good meal will make her strong again. This way, sir. \_Goes toivard main door of i/in.'] Anne: Thank you, good woman; and thank thee, dear Richard. I am much trouble to thee. Richard: Thou art very tired, lean firmly on me, remember thou dost not weigh more than a feather's weight and — {fChey enter main door of i?in ivith Barbara. ] Elizabeth : [ To Peter.] Peter, I am the serving-maid, do you understand ? Peter: [ Stupidly puzzled- ] No, your ladyship, I can - not say I do. Elizabeth : VV'ell, I am going to play the maid, and if one asks you who I be, you say, "That's Bet, the serving maid" Do you understand now? Act IL 31 Peter: \^Doiibtfully.'\ Yes. Elizabeth: What do you understand? Peter: If anybody asks, I am to say you be playing that you be Bet, the serving maid. Elizabeth: Oh, you stupid. \_Shaki?ig Peter.'] You are to say I be the serving-maid. Peter: But you ben't. Haw-haw. Elizabeth: \_Imitati?ig Peter.'] I know I ben't, but is good Peter so honest that he can't tell a little lie for my sake? Peter: Ah, your ladyship wants to deceive the gen- tleman to believe that you be really the maid. Haw- haw. Elizabeth: What are you laughing at, you fool? Peter: He must be a stupid who could take you for a common wench. Haw-haw. Elizabeth: \^Iniitati?ig Peter.] Haw haw ; I will see to that, only don't you betray me. Peter : No, your ladyship. \^Richard is seen entei'ing f:om main door of inn.] Eiizabeth: [ Seeing Richard. ] Hush. Richard: \_To Peter.] Here, my man, bring me a mug of ale and be quick about it. {^Peter is going., t!ien stops and remains watching the scene.] E L I z A B E T H : [ Stepping for-xard zvith a courtesy. ] I w i 1 1 serve you sir and you are willing. Richard: {Without looking at Jier.] Then be quick about it lass I am main thirsty. Elizabeth: {About to answer angrily, co?itrols her- self.] If your lordship will but bide patiently a moment I will quickly bring the ale. {As she passes Peter, he is grinning, and she slaps his cheeky 32 Greater Tlian King. Take that, you ogling idiot. \_Exits side door of if I? I. ] Richard : \_Hears the slap and tur7is.'\ She has a quick temper and a quicker hand, your sweetheart. Peter: She be no sweetheart of mine. Act II.— Klizabeth and Richard. Richard: Are the lasses in Huntingdon all as quick to strike as this one? Petkr: I know not, your worship. 1 he better schooled in cattle than in women folk. S^Exits into stable as Elizabeth enters.'] Elizahhtii: [Setting dozen /nag of ale.] There be your ale fresh and cool from the keg, sir. Act II. 33 Richard : \^Dnnks, then looks at Elizabeth in surprise^ By jove ! Elizabeth: What sir? [^ With a bobbing courtesy,'] Richard : Thou art surely, a comely lass to be waiting on travelers. Art thou from this neighborhood? Elizabeth: Yes, sir. \^Courtesies.] Richard: Come here lass. Elizabeth : What would your lordship want of a poor lass. Richard: Come here, I would not hurt thee. Elizabeth: [Bridling.'] And surely I could well take care of myself. Richard: H'm — independent as well as comely, I see. Come here. Elizabeth: Oh, I fear you not sir; a lass can tell a gentleman if she be a maid at an inn. Richard: If by gentleman you mean a man with fine manners you mistake me. I am but country bred and a soldier, and would cut a poor figure among the great dandies of the court. Elizabeth : I know nothing of courts. I meant a man with a kind, honest heart. Richard: \_Rising.] You are a flatterer, a courtier yourself in petticoats. Elizabeth: What might that be ? Richard: One | who would seek favor by praising. Elizabeth: {^Bridling.] And pray my grand sir, why should I court your favor ? Richard: [Surprised .] This is not the language of a bar-maid. 34 Greater Than King. Elizabeth: \^Re collecting herself^ bobbing up and down in embarrassment.'\ Oh sir, I read that in a book. I — 1 — mean the mistress I did serve read it to me and I be mighty fond of the fine sound of the words. Richard: {^Observing her.'\ There are no serving maids like thee in Yorkshire, it may be otherwise in Huntingdon. \^Sits at table and drinks^ Tell me, lass, hast thou ever seen Cromwell? {^Eliza- beth smiles to herself. '\ He has a house not far from here, I am told. Elizabeth: It is but five miles from here as the crow flies. Yes, often have I seen him. Richard: And what sort of man might he be? Elizabeth : 'Twould ill become a silly maid to speak of so great a man as he. Richard: A mouse may look at a king. Elizabeth: But he be no king nor I a mouse. Richard: But they say he may be king soon. Elizabeth: Be he king or no king he be a noble man; some call him stern and heartless, but the poor country folk among whom he did come and go know the depth of his piety and the kindness of his heart. Richard: \_Rising.'\ A man must have good in him to find so brave a champion. Elizabeth: \\Vilh feeling, forgetting herself'\ I would that I were a man ; then would I follow him wherever he led — \^Rccalling Jicrsclf^ But your mug is empty sir, I would fill it for you? Richard: {^Embraces Elizabcth7\ No, I would rather chat with thee than drink. Act 11. ' 35 Elizabeth: {^Forcibly disengages herself and runs be- hind table.~\ What can so great a gentleman find in a poor country lass? Richard: Beauty, for instance, and a ready wit far above her station. Elizabeth: You be the courtier now. Richard: Far from it, I am telling but the truth. Elizabeth: And do courtiers never tell the truth? Richard: They have been known to in a crisis. Elizabeth: In a what, sir? \_Richard tries to kiss Elizabeth but fails to reach her across tabled Richard: Oh, never mind. I would know more from thee. I hear Cromwell has several daughters. Dost thou know them also ? {^Leaning over table ^ Elizabeth : [S7nili?ig to herself] I have met all but one. They say he be main fond of her. Richard: No doubt he indulges her and she is but a pert saucy hoyden. Elizabeth: Sir! \_Angrily moving away from Rich- ard., then recollecting herself.] And doesn't your lordship favor pert saucy hoydens? Richard: \_Rises — seriously.] I would have a woman gentle, of a sober mind and to bear herself with womanly dignity. Elizabeth: \_Sighs.] Ah! Richard: Why, lass, what art thee sighing for? Elizabeth: I be thinking that your lordship be picturing the lady who came with you. Richard: Ah, Anne. \_S its at table Left.] Elizabeth : Anne — such a '=sweet name. How lov- ingly you speak it sir. 36 • Greater Than Kuig. Richard: I have always loved her. Elizabeth : Oh ! {^As ifhurtP\ Richard: Dear sister. Elizabeth: \^Qinckly.'\ Be she your sister? Richard: Yes, and a better comrade never lived. Elizabeth: Oh, I be so glad, Richard: \_Rises.'\ Glad — what is it to you? \Looks at her curiously .'\ Elizabeth: [^Recovering.'] Oh, so fine a gentleman deserves so fair a sister. Richard: I was vsondering. Elizabeth: What? Richard: [Rises.] If the maids be so fair and witty, what might the ladies be in Huntingdon. Elizabeth: Oh, we bar-maids be the ladies in Hunt- ingdon, and the ladies be but mad hoydens. \_E?iter Barbara from main door of inn.] Richard: [Bowing with mock courtesy.] For the present, good day my pretty bar-maid. I will to my sister. [Exits main door of inn ^ Barbara : [To Elizabeth, who is following Richard with her eyes.] Elizabeth! Elizabeth: [Does not reply but is looking after Rich- ard.] Barbara: [Going to Elizabeth.] Oh my dear sweet lady, how could you be so bold ? Elizabeth: [Still looking after RichardT] 1 swear he is the handsomest, bravest gentleman I ever set eyes on. Bah HAH a : Why he be but a stranger to you. Act IT. 37 Elizabeth : \^Seriously as if to herself. ^^ He is good and generous, sincere and honest. Barbara : Tut lassie, you have known him but a half hour. Elizabeth: I seem to have known him many years, for he has ever lived in my fancy. Ah, \_sighs'\ I fear I be destined to be a maid my life long. \^Goes to Barbara, who takes her in her arms.~\ Be good to me dear nursie, be good to me. Act II. — Elizabeth and Barbara. 38 Greater Tha?i King. Barbara: My own sweet child. Elizabeth: He said he would naught of hoydens. I would be sober minded, gentle and bear myself with womanly dignity. Oh nursie dear, dost think such a one as he could stoop to such a frivolous maid as me? Barbara: Why, my own child, what nonsense you do talk. He be not worthy of so fair a maid as you. Barbara : [Takes Elizabeth to side door of infi as Am- brose appears at rear, disguised as a poor traveling scholar.~\ Go in now lassie, and rest awhile. {^Eliz- abeth exits side door of imi.~\ Ambrose: \_Comes forward. '] I have traveled far and am dusty and tired. Bring me food and drink, good woman. Barbara : I will serve you in a moment, sir. \^As^ Bar- bara exits side door, Richard comes out of iini, main door. ] Ambrose : [ Who has recognized Richard. ] Good day to you, sir. Richard: \_Pre occupied, looking for Elizabeth.^ Good day. Ambrose: I would a word with you, sir. \_E/iter Bar- bara at side door of inn, places ale and plate on table and exits.l Richard: I have no words to spare. Ambrose: Indeed a poor gentleman, though he be but indifferently courteous. Richard: I owe you no courtesy, sir. And if I be poor, 'tis no one's business. Ambrose: I judge you from the North liy your surly manner. Act 11. 39^ Richard: And if I be from the North, what is it to you? Would'st pick a quarrel with me {starts to draw szvord^hut I see you are unarmed; if you don't curb your tonge, still would I have to teach yea • manners. Ambrose: IQmetfy.'] Richard. Richard: [Starts,'] Ambrose: If I knew not your face I would know you by your impetuous manner. Richard : \_Wko has been looking closely at Ambrose.'] I do not know you, though I vow I have heard your voice often. Ambrose : Many years ago there was a priest called Ambrose. Richard: Ambrose! [Recognizes him.] Yes, Fath- er Ambrose. Ambrose: [Richard bows 7] [Ambsose hold ha?tds up in benedictio7t.] Hush, don't speak so loud; I am. now Edward Munro. Richard: Well I remember you. Father Ambrose. But 'tis ten years since I have seen you, and in this disguise I never would have known you. Ambrose: We have met but once since the night your father was murdered. Richard: That night and your words " Strike at Crom- well" have ever been uppermost in my mind. I have sought Cromwell everywhere. I have fought him in the open field and in ambush ; though I have seen him from afar among his men, the chances of war have never brought us face to face. Ever act- ive, I have worried his soldiers on the march or in the field. Around me I gathered a company of fight- ers — fearless, rough, profane men, but fighters all. 40 Greater Than King. Dick Maynard's wild horse they were called and they carried terror to the hearts of the enemy. I have slept in the open field, the hard earth my bed and the broad heaven the only roof over me. I ral- lied resistance to the last. If all had stood by the king's cause as we, he would now be on his throne. Treachery and cowardice brought the end at last. Ambrose : And whither are you bound ? Richard: There was nothing left but to surrender or flee the country and join the king, with him to re- turn when the day of his return should come. All northern ports were closed to us and watched by the protector's spies, the only way leading to escape for me was the boldest way, to travel openly to the south with my sister, and here we are. But Father, what have you done these years? Ambrose : Fought as you have but with different weap- ons ; though I confess with hardly more success. But now we are on the eve of great things. Let Oliver Cromwell make his peace with God, for his days, nay his hours, are numbered. Richard : You mean that he is to be assassinated. Ambrose : Ah, how like your father. The same word, the same fallacy. \WitJi earnest ciriphasis^ You carry on war and kill the enemy's soldiers and inno- cent people alike and no dog barks. You lie in am- bush and fire upon the unsuspecting enemy and no dog barks. You rob the country-side of all its prov- ender and women and children starve to death, and no dog barks. It is war, an exercise of the manly art of war. But when we, taking like yourselves our lives in our hands, would remove the man who caused that evil called war, and by his death would spare the anguish of thousands, then we are assas- sins, forsooth. Act 11. 41 Richard: I never could sustain an argument and ven- ture you are right. I have done but this, to seek the enemy and to strike him when and where I found him. I could not shoot a man behind his back, even were he Oliver "Cromwell himself, whom I owe a burden of hatred. Ambrose: Under what name are you traveling? Richard: My own; its good enough, and besides it is the only safe one for me. I could not maintain anoth- er's name successfully for ten minutes. Besides, my name is not an uncommon one. Ambrose: But fear you not Cromwell's spies? They are everywhere. Richard : I fear them not, for they are sure to look for me, not as Richard Maynard, but under an as- sumed name and disguise, and while they search for me as someone traveling by night and hiding by day in unexpected places, I travel as myself in broad daylight without disguise the straight road to my goal. Ambrose: There is wisdom in your argument; few, though, would have the bravery to successfully fol- low it. But join us in our work. Courage such as yours would be of great service to our cause. Richard: I fear I would be but a clumsy tool in your hands. Better for me to go abroad and to return with the king the day he will come home to fight for his own. \_iIorns are heard out side. ~\ Ambrose : We had better not be seen talking together. [Richard enters main door of inn quickly, slowly follozved by Ambrose, as enter Cromwell, Lady Cromzvell, Lady Claire, Duncan, soldiers, gentle- men and ladies in Cromwell's train at rear. 42 Greater Than King. Cromwell is fifty-four years old — a man of massive head and frame cast in large mould. He has a wart over right eye, full lips, dark grey eyes full of ten- derness or fierceness. Rich, dark-brown locks fall flowing belozv his collar band. Slight mustache and slight tuft on chin. In manner he is somewhat rough and is possessed of a grim humor. Lady Cromwell, a matronly looking zvoman about fifty years old. Lady Claire, a handsome zvoman of the zvorld, tzventy-five years old. Duncan, grown older, still a man of soldierly bear- ing. From side door of inn, enter Elizabeth and Bar- bara. Elizabeth runs to Cromwell.'] Cromwell: My dear Elizabeth. [Greets her affection- ately. Elizabeth greets her mother and Lady Claire. Ah, Barbara, thou art growing very portly. Let us all enter and see what refreshment is prepared for us. [All exit into inn except Elizabeth, who also detains her father. A guard is seen passing at back now and then.] Elizabeth : Father, I have not had thee a moment to myself for many days. Cromwell: Then sit with me awhile. [Leads her to seat Left, Cromwell sits in chair and Elizabeth on arm of same.] Tell me how dost thou spend thy time during thy mother's and my absences ? I would be assured that thou hast not forgotten thy house- wifely work nor neglected thy religious duties. Elizabeth : I have tried hard to be a good and dutiful daughter. [After a moment.'] Oh father, the world is very beautiful. Cromwell: But what moves my lassie to speak of that now ? Act 11. 43^ Act II. — CromweIvIv and Bwzabeth. Elizabeth : Yesterday I was up with the sun and im the garden. The dew was on the leaves and the blades of grass. The air was as fresh as the morn- ing and filled with a faint, sweet odor like the breath of flowers. I walked down among the beds, then I strayed beyond the wall into the fields, not heeding my wet skirt and shoes, but feeling only the sweet- ness of the morn. Father I was a happy, happy child. I felt no sorrow and yet no exceeding joy. Father, it seems so long, so long ago, that yester- day. 44 Greater Than King. Cromwell: What has crossed thy spirit child? Isn't thy world the same to-day as it was yesterday? Elizabeth : [Standing behind Cromwell's chair, her arms about his neck.] I know not what it is, father. [After awhile.] Hast thou ever been in love, father ? Cromwell : What a strange question, lassie. Did I not love thy mother as I love her still, but God forbid that I place any human affection above the love we all owe Him. Elizabeth: [Hardly heeding zvhat her father says.] Father, I mean hast thou been so in love that all else seemed as naught? Hast thou loved with thy heart and soul, and has the world seemed one moment filled with joyful music and then grown unutterably sad? Cromwell: [As if to himself — sadly.] I once did love like that and lost. Which went like a dagger to my heart. Indeed it did. [Recovering himself.] But my own sweet Bess, why speak of this now? Has some cavalier, in passing, ruthlessly stolen my las- sie's heart? Elizabeth : No, no father, it's but a fancy. Cromwell: But fancies found themselves on facts sometimes. What weighs upon thy mind ? Tell me. [Elizabeth stands in front of her father, who holds both Jicr hands in his.] Elizabeth : I hardly know. Father, others may call thee stern, but thou wert ever kind and good to me, beyond my poor deserts. •Cromwell: I have always loved thee dearly, my own Bess, with deepest love this side idolatry. I would ever stand between thee and harm that might befall. But give me thy full confidence, child, what hast thou to confess? Act IL 45, Elizabeth : Nothing, father, really nothing I tell thee. I must perchance be in a silly mood, my dear old daddy. Cromwell: But a time will come, lass, when thou wilt leave thy old daddy. \Rises,'\ Elizabeth: Father, I would stay with fhee always, as. long as thou wouldst have me with thee, for I may never love better than I love thee. Cromwell : Be not rash in thy promises, child. I know well thy fondness for a rough old soldier, but it is- the will of God, thou shalt some day leave thy father and mother and cleave unto thy husband. Elizabeth : Let us not speak of it now, I must away to Huntingdon. Cromwell: Good bye, dear child, and God protect thee always. \Kisses her tenderly. '\ Remember thy father is ever thy best friend. Let nothing shake thee in this. Elizabeth: \Calls^ Peter, Peter. Take my horse to- the outer gate. Peter: [Voice heard.] Yes, me lady. [To Cromwell, naturally.] Good bye, father. [Exits at back. Cromwell stands thoughtfully as Lady Cromwell and Lady Claire enter. ] Cromwell: [Turns and meets Lady Cromwell with Lady Claire.] Lady Cromwell : Oliver, I have not told thee that Lady Claire comes highly commended by our friend be- yond the sea. Lady Montaigne, and is well versed in the manners of the French Court. [Sits at table- Left. Lady Claire bozvs deeply. Cromzvell scru- tinises her closely.] - 46 Greater Than King. Cromwell: It pleases me to know you the friend of Lady Montaigne, though I surmise you bring but an ill opinion of ourselves from a Court where our enemies are welcome, and hesitate not to credit us with many atrocities. Lady Claire \ It were a person of evil mind or bad judg- ment who could tarry in your Excellency's presence without feeling that naught but slanderous tongue could impute ignoble or cruel deed to your Excel- lency. {Bows deeply.'] 'Cromwell: [Looking half pleased by Lady Claire's speech.] You overestimate our humble merit. Whatever I have done for my fellow-countrymen has been by the Grace of God and through His power alone, and is due to no humble merit of mine. But pray tell me what news have you as to the doings of our enemies. Be they as active as ever? Lady Claire: The fame of your Excellency's triumphs has sapped their enthusiasm and they desire but to live their lives in peace. "Cromwell : A blessed relief to us , for which we are devoutly thankful. [Grimly.] However we shall be careful to double our vigilance. It were as natural for the wolf to lie down beside the fold as for Charles Stewart to content himself in peace. But of your- self let us speak. Are you a French woman ? I can hardly think so, you speak our language so well. -Lady Claire : I am of English parentage, but born and bred in France. At home we always spoke English. I have lived much in Paris and trust what I have learned at the Court may make me humbly useful to your Excellency's charming wife. [Turns to Lady Cromwell. Ambrose enters qidetly main door of inn; takes seat at table Right.] Act IL 47 Lady Cromwell: \Rising.'\ We are already very fond of Lady Claire who has taught us some matters of ceremony. Cromwell: I would not scorn due ceremony; it is the proper clothing of those who rule. But, wife, what heard you of our daughter Barbara. YFhey go hack and talk as Lady Claire turns to right and speaks quietly to Ambrose. A look of recognition passes between them. Ambrose rises.] Lady Claire: You are a scholar, I see; whence travel you.^ Ambrose : I am but recently from Oxford and on my way to a wealthy squire's who would have me tutor of his son ; but I am. weary of travel and poor. Lady Claire: I would gladly assist you, but have not the means. Cromwell: Let us now to dinner. Will you join us, Lady Claire? Lady Claire : I feel slightly indisposed and would not eat. The fresh air may revive me. I shall await your Excellencies here. [Courtesies. Cromwell and Lady Cromwell exit into main door of inn.] Ambrose: [Quickly.] Why did you risk coming to England? It is folly. Lady Claire : Do not quarrel with me now, I came for love of you. This chance offered, I hoped to meet you, and if not, I would at least be nearer to you. I have been deeply unhappy. I know my love is sin before the Church, but I care not. Ambrose: [Gently.] I am but a hunted wanderer, our love can bring no good to either of us. Lady Claire: [Puts both hands on Ambrose's shoul- der.] Give up this mad pursuit; what profits it — go back to France with me. 4S Greater Than King. Ambrose: [Gently puts down Lady Claire's hands.] You know my aims, my ambitions; I have often told you. Lady Claire : Yes, yes, you would place on England's throne a roistering blade of a king. What is he to you? Ambrose: I care not for the king; he is but an instru- ment in our hands. I am a soldier of the Churchy the only true mother Church, to w^hich I humbly give my thoughts, my energies, yes my life. I would strangle this damnable heresy that has seized upon this age and country. Lady Claire : [ Viewing him with a peculiar smile. ] Are you so sure you are right? Ambrose : Right ! Why I could prove it to you by [Stopping himself.'] 'Twere useless to quote authori- ties to you — you are but a woman. Lady Claire: Yes, I'm but a woman and would not understand that is the phrase. [Sits at table Right.] Ambrose: And I confess I don't understand you, but then no man has ever understood the workings of a woman's mind. Lady Claire : Nonsense ; you men have in your wisdom set up an image and called it woman, and there it stands as unlike woman as the image carved by savage hand is unlike man. [Rises.] Ambrose : But the great fathers of the Church wrote Lady Claire : [Snapping fingers.] A fig for your great fathers. Women are simple, if you men but knew it. Some day a man will understand woman, and then this talk about their complex nature will become as old rubbish. Ambrose: [Gently taking her hands.] Let us not speak of this now, Claire ; we have but a few moments. Act II. 49 Lady Claire: \Piits arms about his neck.] Readily, it's nothing to me. But to be near you is much ; to aid you in danger, to help you if seized upon. Wc women love men best when they need us most. Ambrose: Dear Claire. [A look of earnest love passes between them. Ambrose releases himself and stands holding Lady Claire's hands. After a pause, thought- fully.] Perhaps you could help us in the cause. Lady Claire: [Sadly.] I would help your cause, if it be to aid you dear, tho' I think it folly. Ambrose : Then should we fail to-day, I would have you bring me information as to Cromwell's movements ; you shall know where to reach me. L cannot trust Maynard to do this. Lady Claire : You mean this Maynard would not play the spy, but I [Voices are heard in inn approach- ing — quickly?^ You shall have, dear, what you ask. [Quietly in louder voice.] Here, may this help you on your journey. [Enter Cromwell and Duncan from main door of inn. Ambrose exits Left. ] Cromwell: Will you join Lady Cromwell, Lady Claire? She desires some slight service of you. [Lady Claire exits at main door of inn.] Cromwell: [Sits at table Left.] I have had no oppor- tunity to question you alone, Duncan, as to your re- port. I have read anxiety in your face. Speak. Duncan : Your Excellency, a plot, a Popish plot, a damnable plot. Cromwell : Confine yourself to facts. I would you ex- ercised more godliness in your conversation. Duncan : Forgive, your Excellency, the ardor of a de- voted follower. 50 Greater Than King. Cromwell: The story, the story. Duncan : A conspiracy to trap your Excellency, to seize upon your person on your way from Whitehall to Hampton Court. Cromwell : I understand, and therefore we crossed at Putney. Duncan : While the carriage came the other way, fol- lowed by horse at some distance, to trap the con- spirators, and may they all be hanged, the sons of Belial. ■ Cromwell: Go on. Duncan : Several men were secured, Girard, Vowel and other prisoners, but the arch conspirator, the Jesuit priest, Ambrose, escaped. A priest, a devilish, Pop- ish priest, a serpent of a serpent's brood, may God curse him and his like. Too much leniency is shown them. The sword is too good for the sons- of the evil one. They should all hang. There will be no peace in the land until trees bear such fruit. Cromwell: \Rises — zc/Z/z spirit.] Man, curb thyself. They are all God's creatures. Curse them not for not subscribing to the tenets of thy creed. There has been too much of this persecution for opinion's sake. Let every man come to God in his own manner of worship, but if he be honest, let that suffice. Duncan : This be dangerous heresy. Cromwell: Enough, be silent, man. See that the per- sons of the conspirators are well secured. Duncan : [Exits at back, grumbling. Ambrose enters Left, points out Cromwell to soldier on guard, then makes sign of cross over him and exits.] Cromwell: [Sits at tabic Right.] It is all most diffi- cult, most difficult. The i)ath is beset with thorns; ActIL 5 . it is infinitely harder to deal with overzealous friends than with the open enemy. This Duncan will be of great trouble some day. But I have not sought these things ; truly I have been called unto them by the Lord. \Prays.\ God grant me to find the way.. [Richard enters and remains on steps, main door of inn.] We are all in Thy hands. God [The soldier fires and misses Cronizvell. Crom- zvell, unarmed, rises slowly and then faces the sol- dier. Soldier draws sword and starts tozvard Crom- zvell, hut is intercepted by Richard, zvho holds him off at the point of his szvord. The troopers enter hur^ riedly zvith Diincan and seize upon the soldier. En- ter Barbara, Lady Cromzvell, Lady Claire, Anne and others. Anne goes to Richard.] Cromwell : Handle him not roughly. For his attempt upon my life he shall answer to the Courts. For being so bad a shot, he shall forthwith be discharged the service. [To Richard.] Sir, I am greatly in- debted to you and thank you from the depth of my heart. God has indeed wonderfully preserved me. What is your name, Sir? Richard: Maynard is my name, and I travel with my sister, whom you see here. And who are you, Sir, who faced death so coolly? Cromwell: I am Oliver Cromwell. Richard : Oliver Cromwell ! Cromwell: Why do you start, Sir, at the name? [Am- brose enters.] Richard: [Confused.] Pardon, Sir — the unexpected- ness — your fame Cromwell: Fame! I value it but little. I would rather have the love of honest men than great renown. I like you. Sir, would you enter my service? I would find honorable business for vou to do. Greater Tha/i Ki/io. Richard : I enter Cromwell's service, why [Starts back. Duncan steps between Cromwell and Rich- ard. Ambrose touches Richard on sleeve. Richard turns. ] Duncan : I would warn your Excellency against the engagement of a stranger. I fear he be an emissary of the enemy, a worshiper of Rome. [While Crom- well is talking with Duncan, Ambrose has intimated to Richard by pantomime that he must accept. Rich- ard looks puzzled.] Cromwell: Rest you quiet man. You would scent treason in every wind that blows. Though he be an enemy, I judge him from the sincerity of his countenance, no traitor. [Duncan retires. To Rich- ard.'] Sir, would you accept of service with me? Richard: [Hesitating at first.] I I and it please your Excellency, I accept. Cromwell: It pleases me well. Sir, and if I judge you right, you will render honest service. I have learned to read men's characters. I have been and am in constant great danger from those who desire to de- stroy me, but to you, Sir, would I willingly trust my life. [CronnvcU takes Richard's hand as curtain descends.] m ACT III. Scene: A room in the Palace, Whitehall. At back Left large leaded glass window ; at back Right wide main entrance ; at front Left and Right doors ; large work- ing table at Right front ; small table at Left ; other furniture. Time: Three days later. [Exodus Treat, Cromivell's Secretary, is busy at desk zvith papers. He is rather a small man, middle-aged, zvith an exceedingly self- important air, a "dry as dust" scrivener. As he ar- ranges papers, he mutters to himself about his zvork.] Tre.\t : Aly, my, my. what a muddle, and were it not for Exodus Treat, why the whole Commonwealth would be soon going to the dogs. For not only have 1 to write out all dispatches of most serious import, adorned with erudite phrase, and transpose them into most courtly French, but I, Exodus Treat, must see that no paper, aye, not so much as a bit of a torn corner, be lost, for if such a one be lost or mis- placed, why it might involve us in a war with his Spanish Majesty or some other foreign potentate; but there be no danger, for Exodus Treat watches carefully and nothing can escape his vigilance. My system of arrangement places the possibility of mis- laying or losing aught, beyond peradventure. Cromweel: [Entering from door Right.] Have you news this morning, Master Treat? Tki:at : Indeed, your Excellency ; dispatches from Ad- miral r»lake. He has i)uiiished the pirates of Tu- nis, burning their ships. Act III. 55 Cromwell: Good news indeed, they shall consider us; I would make an English citizen as respected throughout the world as ever a Roman has been. Place the dispatches in my study, I shall read them with care. [Enter Richard Maynard from main en- trance. ] Richard : Your Excellency, good day. Cromwell : Good day, sir. Have you delivered the letters summoning Lord Richmond and others to our presence? Richard : They have been all delivered as by your or- der. Treat: [Backing and bowing.^ I will retire, your Excellency, to carefully pen your letter. [Exits door Right.] Richard: [Looking after Treat.] A most busy man, deep in your confidence. Is it safe, your Excellency, to trust so much to one who might easily betray? Cromwell: What! Treason in Master Treat? No, No ! To him the manner of his work is alone of im- port. Why he would argue beyond patience as to a quill, the exact weight, when it should be plucked, the phase of the moon, from what part of the anat- omy of the goose it should be taken, how to cut it, the quality of knife to be used, the method and di- rection of the cut. Ha ! Ha ! He knows naught of what he writes; I have tested him. Once did' I have him to write an order for his own execution, which, when carefully penned, he handed me for my signature, without dreaming of its import to himself. [Laughs grimly. Treat enters from door Right. Shouts are heard outside. Treat goes to zvindow and looks out.] Treat : Your Excellency, the crowd is gathering out- side ; they are cheering your Excellency, they de- 56 Greater Than Ki?ig. sire to welcome you on your return. Ah, the crowd increases. Cromwell: Don't let that disturb you, Master Treat, for a much larger crowd would gather if 'twere to see me hanged. [Laughs grimly. Goes to zvindow, showing himself. Shouts are heard. Enter ser- vant at main entrance.] Servant: The lords and ladies are in waiting, your Excellency. Cromwell: Admit them. [Servant exits; enter Lord Richmond, Lady Claire, courtiers and ladies; all bow.] Welcome home, Lord Richmond, and wel- come to you all, my lords and ladies. I have sum- moned you to be present at this occasion on which we first greet our valued friend, Lord Richmond, who has but returned from foreign travels. [Turn- ing to Lord Richmond.] Your Lordship has trav- eled far and learned the ways of other countries, which knowledge should prove of great value to our- selves in our relations with these governments, a fact weighing much in your favor, my Lord Rich- mond. Richmond : What knowledge I have gained lies at your service, your Excellency, and I trust may be of use to your Excellency. Cromwell: Your Lordship has been of certain service to this Commonwealth and this I weigh greatly in your favor. Richmond: I have tried to serve to the utmost of my humble ability ; few men have engaged further than I have done, your Excellency. Cromwell: You have been at Paris ^ but I vow you have not sought intercourse with Charles Stewart, though much tempted. And this would make you dear to us, mv Lord. Act HI. 57 Richmond : I could not so far forget my duty as to court secret counsel with a Stewart, your Excel- lency. Cromwell : And for your discretion, your truth and honor, the Commonwealth should claim your ser- vices in high position, my Lord. Richmond : I would ever serve your Excellency faith- fully. Cromwell: {^Going close to Richmond and looking him straight in the eye.'] When you saw Charles Stew- art, who put out the candles? Richmond: [Stammers and does not reply.] Cromwell : And what did Charles Stewart say to you. Did he not give you a letter? Richmond: No, no, your Excellency. Cromwell: [Tears Richmond's hat from his hands.] You served me faithfully, you traitor! Here is the proof of your guilt. [Takes letter out of lining of hat.] This, a letter from Charles Stewart, in the lining of your hat. Well, what now of your truth, your honesty, your faithfulness? [In a towering passion, throws hat at Richmond's feet.] You come here with sweet words on your lips and per- fidy in your heart, but this let me say : If this plot- ting against the peace of this Commonwealth and against my life, placed as I am by Almighty God to bring content to this distracted country, do not cease, then will I exterminate this Charles Stewart and his kin, root and branch, to the remotest mem- ber even. Let them flee to the uttermost confines of this earth [Goes back and stands in main en- trance, zvavivg to guard.] Guard! \Eiiter Guard, preceded by CromzvcU.] Take this man to the tower. [Richmond gives his sword to officer of guard and 5S Greater TJian Ki/ig. is led out. Cromwell turns to others.] My Lords and Ladies, may you pardon my violence ; I cannot stomach a traitor and a breaker of promises. [Goes back and talks with lords and ladies, who form groups and talk at hack. ] Lady Claire: [Comes forzvard and says to Richard.] This arrest is most serious. Father Ambrose must know of it at once. Will you find him and advise him? Richard: Rest assured, my lady, I will. [They go back to others. Cromzvell comes forward.] Treat: [Enters from door Right. To Cromwell.^ These are the letters prepared and signed by your Excellency this morning. [Cromwell takes letters. Treat busies himself at table. ^ Cromwell: [To Richard.] In these few days which you have spent in my service, I have shown you much confidence by entrusting you with most im- portant messages. This which I hand you now should reach the address within the hour. Will you deliver it? [Gives one of letters to Richard.] Richard : Your Excellency may depend on me. [Exits at main entrance.] Cromwell: \To Treat.] These other letters. Master Treat, have delivered by the regular court messen- gers. Treat: I shi\ll see to it at once, your Excellency. [Ex- its Right. Enter Lady Cronizcell and Elizabeth from Left. Elii^abeth goes to Cromwell, Lady Cromzvell joins the others.] Elizai'.etii : Good day, father. Cromwell: [Turning and caressing Elizabeth.] But my Bess, I thought thou couldst not leave thy flower beds and thy poultry. What brings thee to London ? Act HI. 59' Elizabeth : Fm no longer content with the pleasures of our country home. I hardly know myself ; I am. sadly distraught. Father, I would like once to at- tend a reception to all the great folk, of which one occurs to-morrow night. Cromwell: Child, I would thy thoughts were on god- lier things. When thou art older thou wilt have time enough for frivolities. Elizabeth : [Holding both of CromzveWs hands.'] Father, let me remain for this and I will not tease thee more. Cromwell : It cannot be. Elizabeth : Thou wouldst not send me home like this ?- Why, I would break my heart a crying of it. Cromwell : If thy heart be so set upon it, child, thou mayst remain this time. Elizabeth : Dear, dear daddie. [Embraces Cromwell,, then joins Lady Cromwell and others.] Cromwell : Again I have the pleasure of your lady- ship's countenance. Lady Claire: [Courtesies.] They say in France — I would not tell what they do say — for 'tis not true. Your Excellency is graciousness itself. If a poor- weak woman could wield the power, even your Ex- cellency's enemies would do but honor to your Excellency. Cromwell: I am but a soldier bred in the field, rough and hard as the ground that often has been my bed,, but I trust I do not lack seeing the true virtue that lies in grace of person and manner, though, for the life I have led, they lie not within my power to- imitate. 6o Greater TJian King. Lady Claire: The truly great do not imitate; they themselves are an example for others to follow. Cromwell : Your country cultivates the art of flattery, Lady Claire. Lady Claire : If truth be flattery, then am I the most accomplished of flatterers. \Courtesies.'\ Cromwell: \^Smiling.'\ A truce, a truce, lady, I am no match for you in this verbal fencing. Would you oblige me with your friend. Lady Montaigne's, address ? I desire to communicate with her. Lady Claire: Certainly. She lives in the Rue de la Paix, near the border of the Seine. Cromwell: I am' but an ill French scholar; please write it down for me. Lady Claire. Lady Claire: With pleasure, your Excellency. [Writes address and hands same to Cromwell.^ Lady Claire : Will your Excellency drive out to-night ? The day is passing beautiful. Cromwell: [On guard.] I have planned a short rest from my labors. Lady Claire : I trust that your Excellency will be not content with but a few hours of rest. Cromwell: I shall leave at six o'clock and shall return at eight; these two hours are more than I have spared from business for some time. Lady Claire : We have already taken up too much of your Excellency's time. [Turning to Lady Crom- well, who is coming to7^'ards them.] Is your ladyship going now? Lady Cromwell: Yes, we will retire. Good day, Oliver. Elizabeth : A good day to you, father. Act III. 6i Lady Claire : Good day, your Excellency. Cromwell: Good day, Lady Claire. \To others.] Good day, my lords and ladies. [All bow and exit but Cromwell, Lady Claire last. Cromwell strikes bell handle of sword — in deep thought.] A comely woman, a comely woman. [Glances at ad- dress he holds in his hand and sits at table Right.] This bit of paper may prove of value to us. I fear my Lady Claire is traveling a dangerous road. I wonder what her motive be. Men conspire for the love of power ; women for the love of some man. We must find the man. Treat: [Enters from Right.]- Your Excellency did ring? Cromwell : I shall not drive out to-night. Not a word of this to anyone. Let the guard be doubled. Treat : It shall be ordered, your Excellency. [Exits main entrance and returns soon and busies himself at table Right.] Duncan: [Enters at main entrance.] A word with your Excellency. Cromwell: [Sits at table Left.] What, another con- spiracy, Duncan? Duncan : It is not of conspiracies I would speak, but of the soldiers. They murmur and say you make peace with the enemies of the Lord, who placed into your hands the sword of Gideon ; that you treat with patience even the Jews and the Popish soldiers led by the priests of Baal ; that no longer must one be a true believer to rise in the service, but that men of indifferent faith take rank above the faith- ful. Cromwell: You know my views, Duncan; why bring these tales to me? •62 Greater TIudi King: Duncan : Because the army has placed you where you are. Because to it you owe all you possess. I fear if I carry not to the faithful a promise that from their number alone shall officers be appointed, they will soon be in open revolt. Cromwell: \Rising.\ I know that next to God I owe these faithful men that I am here , but I am not an- . swerable to them alone, but to all Englishmen, and fear not these idle threats. This be understood now as before, in choosing men take no notice of their opinion if they be willing to serve faithfully, that satisfies. Bear, Duncan, with those of different minds from yourself. \Crosses to table Right.'} Duncan : Oliver Cromwell, I have warned thee and I say to thee now, the wrath of the Lord will be upon those who are unfaithful to his word , and there will be a day of reckoning, when the ground shall tremble and the houses shall fall, and there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth, but the Lord will know his own and take care of them. Oliver Crom- well, I warn thee. Be not among those who shall fall beneath the wrath of the Almighty. Cromwell: [Sternly.] I have treated you with ex- ceeding patience, Duncan. You and your violent opinions. Much has been forgiven for past service's sake, but understand, no more will I listen to words such as these. Have you aught else to say? Duncan : There is unusual activity among those that be the friends of the Pretender. The hated Amal- ekite king. Cromwell: Watch the palace well to-night. Duncan: It shall be done. [Exits mam entrance.] Cromwell: [To Treat.] I shall to my study. Do not call me unless on serious occasion. Act III. 63 Treat: Yes, your Excellency. [Cromwell exits Right.] Elizabeth : [Enters at main entrance a moment after her father has left.] Father! Treat: [Bozving profoundly.] Your ladyship, his Ex- cellency has this moment left and desires not to be disturbed. Elizabeth : Master Treat, are you left all alone ? Treat : As you see ; and call myself happy of the occa- sion to speak to your ladyship. [Bows.] Eliza BETH: [ Wt/k mock courtesy. ] I most fear to be left with so gay a gallant ; and what would you say to me, Master Treat? Treat : I would express the sentiments of a man who sincerely admires your ladyship and would say that your ladyship is the finest flower that blossoms — that blossoms — that blossoms — Elizabeth : How often do I blossom. Master Treat ? Or am I one of those perennial flowers that blos- som and blossom on forever? Treat : I fear I ventured foolishly on speech. But if you should dictate them to me, I would most beau- tifully inscribe on parchment your virtues with all the flourishes known to the art. Elizabeth : A pretty speech indeed, and an excellent notion. Master Treat. If the ladies be their own gallants, many a one would be done justice who now receives but scant notice. For instance to myself I would say : Mistress Bess. [Imitating motion of writing in the air; Treat does the same.] Thy brow is like — like — unto Juno's. Thine eyes are penetrating like — like — Apollo's [thinking] ; but he was a man — never mind, a man may have fine eyes. Thy nose is as if moulded by — by — Praxitiles. Thy mouth is — well, of course thy mouth is Cupid's Bow, and thus would 64 Greater Than King. I give fair praise and show my learning. [Elisa- beth courtesies. Treat laughs and goes to table.] But Master Treat, where is the newly-attached soldier of whose good looks I have heard much? I doubt me, but he be an indifferent appearing man or a coxcomb. Treat : Nay, your ladyship. He may be handsome or not, that I have not noticed, but a true gentleman he is, if Exodus Treat knows one. A fiery temper, indeed, but a gentleman. Elizabeth : Where is that paragon now, Master Treat,, for paragon he must be to win so eloquent a cham- pion. Treat : He bears some message for his Excellency but should soon be here. Elizabeth : I am curious to meet him. What is his name? Treat: Richard Maynard. Elizabeth : Ah, you must present me to him. Treat: [Stammers, confused.] What, I? Your fath- er — why — Elizabeth : My father said he would not be disturbed ; and my father's daughter would not wait. [It be- gins to grow dusk.] Treat: [Protesting.] But — your ladyship. Elizabeth : And then you must leave me alone with him. Treat: I dare not, I dare not. Elizabeth : You shall leave as soon as you have pre- sented him. I will take the consequences. Treat: [Walking back and forth.] But, oh deart* Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall I do? I cannot but obey. Act III. 65 Richard : [Enters hastily at main entrance.'] Here I am, Master Treat, and a devil of a time I have had finding the man. [Seeing Elizabeth, who has re- tired into the shadow and half turns her hack. ] Oh I I see you are not alone, Master Treat. Pardon my abrupt entrance and speech. [Goes to table Right.'] Elizabeth: [To Treat, who does not know what tO' do.] . Present me. Treat: Mr. Maynard, I would present to you his Ex- cellency's daughter, Lady Elizabeth. [Richard bows and goes to window. Treat looks at Elizabeth, who motions him to go.] Now I must — I really must leave you — you will pardon me [Starts to exit Right.] Elizabeth : Must you then go, Master Treat ? I would gladly have had further speech with you. [Treat returns.] Treat : Oh, your ladyship, I could . [She makes vio- lent sign to him. He starts again.] No, I must go ; I have to go ; I cannot stay ; no, I must go. Elizabeth : I am very sorry the necessities of your business rob me of your instructive company. [Treat returns again; Elizabeth motions him to go- and keeps turning him around as she urges him to- wards the door; he exits Right. It has grozvn quite dark in the room.] Richard: [Coming toward Elizabeth.] I would swear that I had heard your voice before , were I not so sure that it is impossible Elizabeth : And I were a man, I would swear and loudly swear that I had heard your voice before,, and in truth I am certain I have and vow I have. Richard: [Puzzled.] In years I have been unaccus- tomed to a lady's voice ; and this one is fresh in 66 Greater TJiaii Ki?ig, my memory. Nay, to tell the truth it haunts me. [Thinking.] No, no, it cannot be. [Servant brings in lamp and sets it on table Left. Elizabeth remains in shadozv.] Elizabeth : What cannot be ? Richard: [To himself.] No, no. 'Twere impossible. Elizabeth : You try my patience, sir ; you seem to prefer your own discourse to mine. [Sits at table Right.] IRiCHARD : Pardon me, lady. I had a foolish notion that in your voice I heard again the voice of a serving maid I had speech with a few days since at an inn. Elizabeth : And though she was a serving- maid her voice haunts you? Hichard: She was no ordinary wench, but of some su- perior mould. I know^ not what unhappy fate placed -Richard, Treat and Ei^izabeth. Act III, 67 her in such lowly position, but as her memory comes to me, I see not a serving -maid of a country tavern, but a sweet girl of natural wit and delicate grace. Elizabeth : I would surmise the country maid kept the cavalier's heart. Richard: And what would make you think that? Elizabeth : \Rising.'\ Faith, and have not you your- self but told me so? {Imitating him.'] Her voice haunts your memory. She is a sweet girl of nat- ural wit and so much more and forsooth another should not guess? [Goes to table Left.] Richard: [Thoughtfully.] What strange resemblance in your voices. Elizabeth : [Standing Left of table in light of lamp and looking at him.] And see you no other resem- blance ? Richard: [Looking startled.] Why, you — you are — Elizabeth : Elizabeth, Cromwell's daughter, or Bet, the serving-maid, the hoyden, at your service. Sir, [Courtesies.] Richard: You, Cromwell's daughter! My God ! [Con- trols himself.] But why did you assume the guise of a serving-maid? Elizabeth : To while away a summer afternoon. An idle fancy. Are you displeased to see me changed? Richard: I know not what to say. Forgive a soldier, a courtier would have thought of twenty pretty things to say. Elizabeth: And the soldier cannot think of one? Richard: How could I have been so blind? I was ashamed of my low fancy, as I thought it, but now [Hesitates.] 68 Greater Than King;- i> Elizabeth : But now- Richard: But now, I am proud of it, for though my reason was befooled, my heart was not deceived by your disguise. Elizabeth : You need envy courtier's speech no longer; you have done even better. Richard : Then is the truth better, for this be the truth. Never before fancied I a maid and now my soul is filled with the counterfeit of one. Ah, dear, dear lady, thou art \Goes impetuously towards her.] Elizabeth : [Startled by his ardent manner, retires, courtesyiiig.] Elizabeth Cromwell. Richard : Cromwell's daughter — oh, I had forgotten — Cromwell's daughter. Why, of the daughters of all men, should you have been his daughter? It were better far had you been the poor serving-maid and not his daughter — not his daughter. Elizabeth: [Startled by his violence, but proudly.] What dishonor clings to my father's name? I am an honest man's child and am proud of it. Richard: [Recovering himself.] You misunderstand my meaning, I do assure you. How could one placed so low as I dare look with love upon the daughter of the highest in England? Elizabeth : I myself am but country bred, as you have said you were. Richard: But still the daughter of the ruler of Great Britain. I dare not. Elizabeth : I had held a better opinion of a soldier's courage. [IVith enthusiasm.] If I were a man, I would have been a soldier. Oh, to storm the ene- my's camp at the head of brave followers — swinging sword on high, to feel the joy and hear the shouts Act III. 69 of victory, to return home crowned with glory — often have I Hved it in my dreams. A soldier's life for me ! Richard: [Earnestly.'] But it is not at all like that. Elizabeth : Not like that ! Well, what is it like then ? Richard: [With serious feeling.^ It is giving up all that graces life and brutalizing all better instincts ; it means endless marches through bi*oiling heat, rain, or . frost and snow; it means sickness without one to care for you ; it means burning villages, outrage, starvation, thirst, and in battle a murderous intent after the desire to run away has been fought down. It means lying deserted, perhaps, and wounded, suffering agonies of thirst and exposed to the ma- rauders who infest the battle-field. It is not a pretty picture, but a true one of a soldier's life. Elizabeth: [Thought fully and tears in her voice. ^ I did not understand. My father would never speak of it to me. Richard : You have a tender heart, dear lady, and if the true devotion of [Stopping himself. \ 'Twere a fool's paradise — and yet as I look on you, I could almost forget all — all. [Goes towar'd her.'\ Servant : [Enters main entrance, interrupting.'} A man named Perkins desires to see you, sir. His message requires haste, he says. Richard: Tell him I Elizabeth: [Going toward door Left.] I shall retire, I can no longer delay. Fare you well, Sir, and re- member, "Faint heart" [Courtesies and exits Left.] Richard: [To servant.] Admit the man. [Servant exits. Pacing back and forth.] My God, I love his daughter. The daughter of the man whom I 70 Greater Than King. fought to destroy. What shall I do? I cannot strike at him with the love of his daughter within my heart, nor can I give myself to her hating the father. Oh, had I but not accepted this position, all this would have been spared me. {Throws him- self in chair Left, buries face in hands. Enter Am- brose in citizens attire; he touches Richard on shoulder. Richard starts and rises.] Ambrose: Are we unobserved here? Can I speak freely ? Richard : Yes. Ambrose : I have come at great risk to myself, as Lord Richmond has been seized, his papers which give important information as to our movements will fall into Cromwell's hands. The king's friends are closely watched, the net is drawn tighter every day. Neither can you hope to remain unrecognized more than a few days at the utmost. Wildhorse Dick's flight will be reported and you will be traced here. Some unforeseen accident may even expose you any moment. So far not one has conceived your bold act as possible. Richard: No doubt you are right. I should not have come here. Ambrose: We have but one chance now. If we fail, we must leave England to wait until a time of quiet has made the police and spies careless and less vigi- lant. Richard: What do you propose? Ambrose: We are well informed that after Cromwell's return from a ride, the guard that followed him re- turns to barracks and there is a brief time before the relief arrives. During this period the palace is almost unguarded. We shall ascertain the time of his return from one of his trips, which it is his cus- Act III. 7r torn to undertake on certain days, this being one of them. Bo you follow me? Richard: Yes, go on. Ambrose: A carriage shall be waiting near the rear en- trance. A few trusty men will enter the palace,, seize upon the Protector's person and take him away. The plan is certain of success, but someone inside the palace must admit us at the rear postern,, the only entrance that we can use unnoticed. Richard: And have you found someone? Ambrose: Yes, you must do it. Richard: I? And if you seize Cromwell and he re- sists desperately, what then? Ambrose: Then we will [Shrugging his shoul- ders.] He can only blame himself and perhaps it were best that way. Richard: And Cromwell secured, what follows then? Ambrose: Relays are posted to carry the news to the coast, and thence to the king in France. A rising is. prepared in the southern shores. Charles will be pro- claimed, and Cromwell once out of the way there- will be no organized resistance. Sh ! Anne: [Entering main entrance.] A letter, Richard, I was to place in your hands in confidence for de- livery. Richard: [Looks at address.] It is for you. Father. [To Anne, in low tone.] Do you not recognize; Father Ambrose? Anne: [Kneels and receives benediction; rises.] I did not in this garb. I trust that you are not venturing into danger, Richard. Richard: Fear not, dear Anne, you do not understand these matters. 72 Greater Than King. Anne: I understand this much, that Cromwell and his kin have been exceeding kind to us and I would not see harm come to them. I like not these plots, little as I know of them. Richard: Have you forgotten our father's violent death, and what I undertook that night to do? Anne: I could never forget that night. 'Twas an aw- ful misfortune of war, a murder done, perhaps to avenge a private grudge. I have thought much about it and hold Cromwell blameless. Ambrose: \Who has been reading letter.] Your ten- der heart, daughter, inclines you to mercy; but you must leave these matters to men, to persons of ripe judgment. Anne: Willingly would I do so. Richard, dear broth- er, be not rash. I am very anxious for thee and have been these years, when thou hast ever been in danger. Good-night, Father. [Kneels for bcvie- diction; rises.] Good-night, dear brother. Richard: Good-night, my own dear sister. [Anne exits main entrance.] Ambrose: This letter from Lady Claire gives the in- formation desired, and supplies the link in the chain. Eight o'clock to-night is the appointed hour for Cromwell's return. As soon as he has entered his apartment you must admit us. Richard : I like not this work of night. Find someone else to do it. Ambrose: Impossible, would you hesitate now after seeking for all these years to destroy this man? If you fail us the opportunity is lost. If nothing else move you, I demand that you do this, demand it by your loyalty to the king. Act III. 73 Richard: Never was man placed in position more dif- ficult. Ambrose: What has come over you, Richard. I fail to comprehend the change, but I must destroy this let- ter at once. I may be searched when going out. [Goes to table Left. Is about to burn letter when Treat enters from Right with lighted candelabrum and sets it on table Right. Ambrose hides letter under book on table Left. Treat goes to table Right, look- ing over papers.'] Ambrose: I must away now. The letter is hidden un- der the book on the table. Make sure you destroy it — the life and honor of a woman depend upon it. Remember, we depend on you. By all that is dear and sacred to you, I entreat you do not fail us in this hour. [Exits main entrance. Richard is about to take letter from under book.] Treat : There is one more letter to dispatch, and as he would not trust an ordinary messenger, his Excel- lency desires you to deliver same with his compli- ments. [Hands Richard letter and sits at table Right.] Richard: I will deliver it with all haste. [Makes sec- ond attempt to take letter when Duncan enters main entrance. Richard exits main entrance.'] Duncan: Where is his Excellency? I would speak to him. Treat: His Excellency has issued strict orders that he be not disturbed. Duncan : I am sure this night will be full of strange events. I have reports that a move will be made by the conspirators and orders have just been issued that all passing the guard shall be searched, leaving or entering the palace. 74 Greater Than King. Treat: Ah, Duncan, what a deal you know. Duncan : This is all due to Oliver Cromwell's damnable leniency, or the conspirators would have fled the country or graced a halter ere this. He is no longer our God-inspired leader, nor a friend to godly men. Treat: I may not listen to such talk about his Excel- lency. Duncan : Remember this. Master Treat : Though I talk freely, I do my soldier's duty. I am on guard to- n i g h t. \^Exits main entrance. ] Treat: Well, well, my work is finished and not with undue haste, nor have I lingered over it more than care demanded. I will now to rest. \Goes to table Left, takes lamp and exits Right. The room is al- most quite dark. Richard enters cautiously main entrance, looks about and listens at door, takes lighted candelabrum, goes to table Left, looking for letter.'] Duncan : [Enters quietly at main entrance and stands watching Richard. As Richard is about to thrust the letter in flame of candle , Duncan aims pistol and says, ''Drop that!''] Richard: [Starts.] The life and honor of a woman depend upon it. [Thrusts letter in Uame, and holds it steadily. Duncan fires. Richard falls back into chair. Duncan takes letter from his hand. Enter quickly Cromzvell, Elisabeth, Treat (zuith lamp) and guard. Richard recovers himself and slowly rises, holding his hand to arm zvhere he is zvounded.] Cromwell: What means this? Speak, Richard. Duncan : Well may your Excellency ask. I warned you against this man, you cannot gainsay that. Look at him, there he stands. Look at him, sir, the traitor. Act in. 75 Act III. — E1.1ZABKTH Taking Lktter from Duncan. Here the proof of his damnable guilt, taken from his hand as he was about to destroy it. Cromwell: Give me the letter. [Is about to take letter from Duncan when Elizabeth steps betzveen and takes it.] Cromwell: Elizabeth, my daughter, what means this? Elizabeth: [In a low voice, eyes lowered.] Father, this letter is mine. 'Twas sent by me that Richard might come to meet me here. Cromwell: Elizabeth, my daughter, a traitor Elizabeth: No, father, not that [Cromwell looks long into Elizabeth's eyes, she into his and then lozvers hers. Cromwell holds out his hand for the letter, which Elizabeth slowly gives him. All are zvatching Cromwell as he looks at letter, especially Duncan.'] Cromwell: [His face showing to audience that he recognizes writing.] This is a matter of private 76 Greater Than Kivg. import entirely. [Turning to Richard.] Informa- 'tion has reached me, however, that you, Richard Maynard, are not free from suspicion as a plotter against the state^ therefore I decree that you be banished this country, and if found within this Commonwealth after four days from this, a price be on your head, and anyone may take your life without let or hindrance. Go, sir. [Turns to ta- ble. Richard goes and in passing stops before Elisa- beth as if to speak to her. She draws herself up and looks at him disdainfully. Richard drops his head in shame and exits slowly.'] 'Cromwell: Leave me, all of you, except you my daughter. [Seats himself at table Right. After all are gone Elizabeth goes slowly to Cromwell.] Elizabeth: Father, what T said to you was false — I lied to save his life — yes, I lied, father. [Falls at CromwelVs feet.'\ I could not help it; something stronger than all else drove me to it. Father, fath- er, I lied because I loved him. Oh, father, forgive me. [Her arms on CromwelVs lap and head on her arms she cries and talks hysterically.'] Cromwell: [Stroking her hair.] My poor Bess, poor Bess, I understand. Elizabeth : Father — father, forgive me — forgive me. [Sobbing.] Cromwell : Ask forgiveness, child, of neither man nor woman. Pray God forgive us both. ACT IV. Scene : The garden front of Cromwell's house at Hunt- ingdon. The house stands across stage at rear. Rustic table, with chairs, at Left and large rustic bench at Right. Time: Eight days later; late in the afternoon. [At rise of curtain Treat is seated at table, taking notes.] Cromwell: [Dictating, and walking up and dozim.] To the keeper of the Tower, London, These : Sir : Your report I have received as to the capture of cer- tain conspirators. I also note that the disguised Jesuit priest, Ambrose, made good his escape. This matter I will see thoroughly investigated and shall demand strict accounting for. As to the other pris- oners recently taken, see that they be strictly watched. [Signs letter.'} Servant: [Entering from house.] Colonel Pendleton has but just arrived and desires speech with your Excellency. Cromwell: I will see him here now. [Servant exits into house. Cromwell to Treat.] Have you report from the secret police answering my inquiries as tO' Captain Duncan? Treat: An investigation has been made; here is the report. [Hands Cromwell paper.] Cromwell: [Reading.] H'm, h'm — a wild soldier — H'm, h'm — killed Sir John Maynard of Yorkshire — I will read this carefully. [Places letter in breast of coat. Enter Colonel Pendleton.] ■yS Greater Tliaii Kmg. Cromwell: Ah, Colonel Pendleton, what news from the North? Pendleton : Good news, your Excellency. The last resistance has been crushed. Peace is established throughout the land. Cromwell: At last! God be thanked! And the lead- er, Wildhorse Dick, has been captured? Pendleton : [Hesitatingly.] Your Excellency, Captain Richard Maynard escaped to the South. 'Cromwell: Escaped! [Violently.] Sir, I shall de- mand good reason for this. Did I not furnish you troopers in plenty? Yea, even more than you asked for, and you bragged that not one man should escape you — an empty boast indeed. Why am I not better served ? To let the leader himself pass even through our own country. What — [Stopping in his speech and thinking.] Captain Dick Maynard — Richard iMaynard — a singular coincidence of names — it could not be — and yet the very boldness of it. [To Pen- dleton.] This man called Wildhorse Dick ; describe him. Pendleton : A man of good height and figure, most easily recognized by his hair, the color of which is — Cromwell: [Quickly.'] Red. Pendleton : Yes, your Excellency. Cromwell: Tis the very man ! Ha — ha. Traveling dis- guised under his own name ! Ha — ha. The man fooled us well. He is to my liking. I could love the lad. [To Pendleton.] Leave us now and await further orders. [Pendleton bon's and exits into house. Cromzi'cll to Treat.] Know you aught as to Richard IMaynard? ruKAT: He was last seen entering Epping Forest. Act IV, 79 Cromwell: Did you bid Lady Claire to meet me here, Master Treat ? Treat: Yes, your Excellency; she will be here within the hour. [Treat gathers up papers and goes into house. Enter Elisabeth from house.'] Cromwell: My daughter, thou lookest ill. Hast thou not rested well? [Both sit on bench Right.'] Elizabeth : Father, I am very, very tired. I rest not well; my sleep is troubled. Cromwell : Child, hast thou not laid thy burden be- fore thy God? He alone can comfort thee and grant thee peace. Elizabeth : Indeed, father, that have I tried to do ; most earnestly tried. [Pause. '\ To love a man without faith in him, it makes me deeply ashamed. Then at times I doubt the evidence of my senses and ask myself, *'Art thou sure that he be false, that he be a traitor?" And then, father, I would still have faith in him, and thus between love and faith and distrust and shame I waver. Cromwell: [Taking Elizabeth in his arms.] Let me assure thee, child, that in this, thy great trial, I would hold thee fast to my bosom. Weep, my daughter, resist not thy tears. I can offer naught but my most loving sympathy. I know not how nor why it was, but when thou wert s'till a babe and couldst not talk, and I entered the room, thou wouldst hold out thy tiny arms to me and crow lustily, and as a little toddler thou didst Hke best to walk with thy daddy in the country lanes and whilst my thoughts were on great things, thy childish prattle would follow me like unconscious music. Thou didst not fear the sternness of thy father's face, which kept off thy brothers and sisters, God knows I love them well, but through the rough shell, as if by subtle magic, So Greater TJiav Kijig. thy innocent eyes did look into my heart and thou didst nestle there content. Thus always hast thou been a dear companion to me, my tender, sweet, lit- tle Bess, and in the somber moods which oft op- press me, thy silent sympathy has brought me com- fort. I would not have thee suffer thus, dear child, my poor, poor Bess. Elizabeth : Father, I feel that I am but a wicked girl to thus distress thee ; I shall be brave, fear not. For am I not thy daughter and 'twere strange indeed had I not given to me a small part of thy great courage. Father, I will be brave. [Enter Anne from house.'] Cromwell : Anne is coming ; I leave you in her gentle care. Go thou and walk with her in the garden. [To Anne.] Good morning, Anne. Anne : Good morning, your Excellency. Cromwell: Within the hour I shall back to London^ but first I must to the river to see our tenant there. [To Anne.] Mind you, tend her well. [Elizabeth and Anne exit Right.] Cromwell: [Alone.] I pray thy tired spirit, child^ may soon find rest. [Enter Lady Claire from house.] Lady Claire : Your Excellency desires to speak with me? Cromwell: Yes. [As if absorbed.] Lady Claire: [Growing a little nervous.] And in what manner can I serve your Excellency? Cromwell: -Be seated, Lady Claire. [Lady Claire sits on bench Right. Cromzvell sits at table Left.] This is a rarely fine day. Lady Claire: Surely your Excellency did not bid me here to tell me that it be fine weather. Act IV. 8 1 Cromwell: I fear my wits were wool-gathering. Are you content with us, Lady 'Claire? Lady Claire : All have been most kind to me, your Ex- cellency. Cromwell: And you do not wish to return to France? Lady Claire : 'Twere ungrateful to entertain such wish. Cromwell : There are those who would ingratiate them- selves with us but do not hesitate to visit our enemies in France. Lady Claire: [O/i guard. \ Such conduct were treach- ery indeed. Cromwell : As a friend 'twill please your ladyship to learn that the late conspiracies have failed and many of the conspirators have been seized. Lady Claire: May your Excellency's enemies meet just punishment. Cromwell : I am much puzzled as to the manner in which they obtained private information known only to a few members of our household. Lady Claire : Surely your Excellency knows, that serv- ants are often given to listening behind closed doors ; through some faithless servant your enemies may have gained knowledge. Cromwell : The servants cannot write and written in- formation has been given out. [Lady Claire does not anszver, a frightened look passes over her face, she pulls herself together.] Cromwell: Your ladyship is silent. Lady Claire : I have been thinking who might be cap- able of so dastardly an act. Cromwell: A person we would not have to go far to find, perhaps. [Pause.] But 'twere more important to us to find out to whom the information had been given. 82 Greater Than King. Lady Claire : I understand, your Excellency. Cromwell: [Taking paper from breast of coat.'] This list of names of the persons seized, found in Lord Richmond's possession, I would read to your lady- ship. Lady Claire: [Rising.] I fail to see to what purpose your Excellency would read these names to me. Cromwell: [Rising.'] It might appear that you had met one or the other in France and seen him about the palace. I will read the names. [Lady Claire braces herself. Cronmell pretends to consider paper, but zvatches Lady Claire.] I see now 'twere useless, they be but lowly people, such as you could not have Act IV. — Ckomwkll and Lady Ci^airk. Act IV. 83 met. \Lady Claire looks relieved. After pause.] Excepting one or two. [Lady Claire again anxious.] There is the Jesuit priest, Father Ambrose. [Lady Claire starts.] A bold and able man he was, but he swore he would not be taken alive, resisted arrest and is [Pauses. ] Lady Claire: [Staring wildly at Cromwell] Dead! Cromwell: [Smiling grimly.] I said not so. [Looks at Lady Claire, who stares at him. Then, as if to himself.] I have found the man. Lady Claire 'tis you who gave the information to our enemies and con- spired against us in our very household. You be- lieved to blind us with fulsome flattery to the treach- ery you practiced. Had you but so low an opinion of our intelligence? Lady Claire: [Kneels.] Do with me as you will, I care not. Tell me only this — Ambrose, is he dead ? Cromwell : Your ladyship did not permit me to finish. He resisted arrest and is now in France, having made good his escape. [Smiling grimly.] Lady Claire: Oh — I — I — [Controls herself by great effort.] Your Excellency, I am in your power. Cromwell : Lady Claire I guessed the motive of your conduct ; I could have your life, but wish it not — go back to France. Lady Claire : Your Excellency would let me go free ? Cromwell: Yes [Lady Claire goes tozvard him.] I would not be thanked — go now. Lady Claire: I [Tries to speak but cannot; slozvly exits into hoitse.] Cromwell: [Looks after Lady Claire.] An interesting woman. I would fain have kept her here. Her life I would not take, and to hold such a woman prisoner would require truly a staunch jailor — ha, ha. [Exits Left.] 84 Greater T/ia/i King. Elizabeth : [Enters with Anne from Right. [Let us rest here, dear Anne. [They sit on bench Right.] I liked thee from the first. Thine eyes are true and faithful. They are like thy brother's — but no, I would not speak of him. [Elizabeth rises.] Anne: [Rising.] Let me speak of him, Elizabeth. Elizabeth : Stop Anne ; I will not listen. If thou vai- nest my friendship, do not speak to me of him again. Anne : Dear EHzabeth, I can but speak of him. [Enter Barbara from Right.] Barbara : Good day to you, ladies. [Elisabeth runs into Barbara's arms.] Ah, my dear young lady, where are the roses in your cheeks.'^ Come, dearie, sit beside me, and rest your head upon my breast. [Elizabeth and Barbara sit 0/1 boich, Anne sits at table Left.'l Elizabeth : Oh, nursie, you are so good to me ; your kindness makes me soft and I would be strong and brave now. Barbara : Oh, my poor dearie, my poor dearie. Elizabeth : [i^/^-Z/io-.] Do not pity me, for God's sake, do not pity me ; I want no one's pity. [After a pause.] Tell me, dear nursie, what has happened of late at the inn ? Barbara : Well, we see many folk coming and going, but there is little news now ; the country is so quiet. Let me see if I cannot think of aught to entertain you. Elizabeth : Do, nursie dear. Barbara : Yesterday a strolling troupe of players passed through. The people were desperately poor. These times have been hard on player folk. Elizabeth : I remember seeing once enacted a play, written by a man named Shakespeare, it was called Act IV. 85 Romeo and Juliet. 'Tis a very sad tale of unfor- tunate love, but the words were full of rare beauty and touched us all deeply. Have you naught else to tell about, nursie? Barbara : A week ago a man came to the inn, wounded and sick, and out of his senses with the fever. He half wore a white wig as disguise. I took him in and nursed him. Elizabeth : My tender-hearted Barbara. Anne : And was the man unknown to you ? Barbara: I had seen him but once before. Anne: You are a kind-hearted soul, to be so good to a man a stranger to you. Elizabeth : Thou wouldst not wonder, Anne, if thou didst know Barbara as well as I. Barbara : He was a fine looking gentleman. Elizabeth: [Playfully.^ Ah, Barbara, Barbara, 'twas ever a handsome face that could catch you, and I vow it was for his good looks that you did take him in. Barbara : [^Rising first, then Elizabeth and Anne.\ Stop your teasing, child ; the poor man suffered not from the wound and fever alone, but from some deep trouble of the soul. Anne: Poor man, poor man. Barbara: Yesterday morning he opened his wide eyes and for the first time they looked at me clearly, and rested long upon me, until I felt most creepy, and then he said, so strange-like, ''Thou art Barbara, who keeps the inn near Huntingdon," and I said, ''At your service, Sir," and then, strangest of all, he said, "Art thou not the friend of Elizabeth Cromwell?" Elizabeth: [Startled.'] He did say that ? Barbara : And I said to the gentleman, "Not so much 86 Greater Than Kifi