Crom. Let all come in.  I need all grateful hearts Around me now.

Enter an Officer with IRONSIDES, L.

Offi. [Speaking softly.] My lord!

Crom. Speak out, I say! 
Thou tear’st my heart-strings with thy whispering. 
It is grown a habit here not wanted more. 
Sir, I am childless.  Speak your message out. 
I have no heart now, save for England’s glory.

Offi. My lord, will’t please you to receive these letters?  Dunkirk is ceded to the English crown.

Crom. Crown, sirrah?  Where didst thou teach thy tongue that tinsel word?  Go, mend thy speech, although thou bear’st good tidings.

He walks to and fro.

Had she but liv’d to hear this.  Yet, O God,
Thy will be done!

[To an officer.]

Now let the cannon speak,
And trumpets tell this news unto the nation.

[Flourish of trumpets and cannon behind the scenes.]

’Tis well!  I’ll make the name of England sound
As great, as glorious, with as full an echo,
As ever that of Rome in olden time. 
By distant shores, in every creek and sea,
Her fleets shall lend proud shadows to the waters,
While their loud salvos silence hostile forts
With luxury of daring.  Englishmen
Shall carry welcome with their wanderings. 
Her name shall be the world’s great watchword, fram’d
To make far tyrants tremble, slaves, rejoicing,
Unlock their lean arms from their hollow breasts,
And good men challenge holy brotherhood,
Where’er that word of pride is heard around. 
For this the shallow name of king be lost
In the majestic freedom of the age. 
’Tis slaves have need of trappings for their lords. 
By Heaven, I say, a score of kings, each back’d
By his mean date of twenty rotted sires,
Could do no more than this.  I will be more
Than all these weak and hireling Stuarts.  This
Let Time and England judge, as years roll on.

[Flourish as the curtain falls.]

This is a line interpolated, in my last revision of the passage, from Shelley’s “Revolt of Islam.”  It was pointed out to me by a friend, who thought it would give force and clearness to the contest.  The noble stanzas on America, from which it is taken, will be found in Ascham’s edition of “Shelley’s Poems,” page 147, commencing with

 “There is a people mighty in its youth.”