Crom. Art thou not ashamed?  Thou wanton girl!

Arth. My Florence!  I am happy Since thou dost love me.  I know nought of that With which he charges me—­

Flor. I know thou dost not: 
Thou shalt not die! 
O man of blood, beware! [To Cromwell.]
If thou’rt deceived, repentance comes too late. 
Is that a traitor’s look!  Thou canst not quell it
Back’d by an army. 
Thou hast bitter moments
E’en now.  The king—­

Crom. I’ll hear no more—­remove him. [A pause.]
Yet I will give three days, if in that time
Ye prove him innocent, ’tis well—­If not,
He dies the death!

[ARTHUR is seized; ELIZABETH clings to her Father, who looks on her with an expression of anger, which gradually softens into affection.  Exeunt, on the one side, ARTHUR, L. with his Guards, on the other, CROMWELL, with his Family, &c., R.]

Enter WILLIAM and HOST, U.E.R.

Will. Come on, I tell thee they are all gone.  Have I not liberty here?

Host. Hem!  Did’st thou notice how that young imp of a page flouted thee, when thou did’st civilly inquire the hour of the day?  Thou wert welcome as a wet Sunday to his new feather.  I doubt whether I myself will continue to know thee.

Will. Is there no way to save him?  If now it were the marriage of his heart something might occur; but I never yet heard of an accident on the road to a gallows.

Host. Cheer up! cheer up! we must all die, young and old.  I have had my trials.  In these wars I have known very estimable men die that owed me money.  There is your true trial now.

Will. If he had been slain on the right side, and died comely with a love-lock as a gentleman should.  But to perish by the false canting rebel that he served.  He a traitor!  My master!  The innocentest youth alive.  Why even I, that have some claim, could not find it in my heart to cheat him.  It would have been an insult to my understanding to impose upon him that had no suspicions, and would leave out his doublet in the morning to be cleaned unemptied, when he had won uncounted pieces of gold at night—­Alas!  Alas!

Host. Come along, thou mayest as well drink; for weeping will not mend thee.  Besides, I have something to tell thee about him and his brother Basil, and one Wyckoff, that hath left his score unpaid; but I cannot remember it just now.

[He takes him by the arm and leads him out, L.]

Enter BASIL, WALTON, and FLORENCE, R.

Basil. He is my half-brother, it is true; but shall he betray the true cause for that?  Shall our consanguinity make me so weak?

Flor. Oh, Basil! you have said that you can save him—­ Save him that lov’d you well, that gave you all That was his own—­

Bas. May curses light on him!  Why should his sneaking face thus cross my love?