A day with Cromwell: a drama of history, in five acts, by Auctor.

  • Benjamin Ward Richardson
Date:
1869
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: A day with Cromwell: a drama of history, in five acts, by Auctor. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by Royal College of Physicians, London. The original may be consulted at Royal College of Physicians, London.

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    ai Leonine.—J pray your Grace conceal your natural rage ; This woman knows us not: and it were well She knew us not: this is a sorceress Who mourns a long’ lost son! who in the camp And in the council wields a mystic power Which few can know: perchance she’ll speak to us. Avoid her not, but give thy tongue disguise. Rachel. [Turning round sees them. To De Tours].—Pardon, fair Sir, pardon; would’st know thy fate ? De Tours.—Aye, aye, an’ thou be wise so to, vat you call, cast it. Rachel.—Thou art of foreign blood ? De Tours.—Oui, oui, foreign blood ? Rachel.—And yet hath thy tongue a strange English bottom, and thy face hath Saxon in it; thou art of English blood nurtured abroad ? De Tours.— English blood, English blood ; bon, bon. Rachel. [Aside].—Be that broken English or mock French, I wist not. ’Tis strange. The voice might be so; the age is right. The build as I have dreamed it. Fair lord, your hand. [She tears up his sleeve. Aside].—Once more deceived. De Tours.—Thou art tearsome, fearsome; vat be my fate; be it tear aussi ? Rachel.—Thy future is thine own, and if thou takest my advice it will be good. Be thou careful to be wiser than all other men, and thou wilt then be the wisest of all the world where there be no women. Farewell, fair Sirs, I must away. [Aside.] Mock French, mock French! [Exit Rachel. De Tours.—Would that we now could throw off our disguise, And have revenge. J Leonine.—Revenge were better stored for quieter hours, And safer haunts than these. Our stand is sure. That love-sick swain, hot-headed, loose of tongue, Intoxicate with wine and love combined, Hath filled th’ avenger’s mouth with one good word. That like a key shall open every gate. To-morrow’s sun lights up th’ usurper dead, And in his stead the king alive again. [Noise of the advance of a procession.]