The Annotated Edition
PRYNNE AS A PRISONER, AND THEN BASTWICK. by Percy Bysshe Shelley
This scene from Shelley's unfinished historical play about the English Civil War era captures the real-life trial of Puritan dissenter John Bastwick in Archbishop Laud's Court of Star Chamber.
§01Quick summary
What this poem is about
§02Themes
Recurring themes
§03Line by line
Stanza by stanza, with notes
LAUD: Bring forth the prisoner Bastwick: let the clerk / Recite his sentence.
Editor's note
The scene begins in the midst of the Star Chamber proceedings. Laud runs the proceedings with a chilling efficiency—he doesn't ask for the sentence to be read; he commands it. The term 'prisoner' instantly robs Bastwick of any dignity Laud can take away. The clerk's subsequent recitation details a series of physical punishments: a five-thousand-pound fine, the removal of both ears, branding on the cheek and forehead, and indefinite imprisonment. Shelley presents the brutality starkly, without any commentary, allowing the facts to speak for themselves.
JUXON: If you have aught to plead in mitigation, / Speak.
Editor's note
Juxon, the Bishop of London, gives Bastwick a standard opening — the court's idea of mercy. This is more of a procedural formality than a real invitation. Shelley divides the same question between Laud and Juxon to illustrate that the court presents a unified stance, and that stance shows no interest in what Bastwick truly wants to express.
BASTWICK: Thus, my lords. If, like the prelates, I / Were an invader of the royal power
Editor's note
Bastwick's speech is the core of the scene. Rather than begging for mercy, he flips the court's logic on its head: *if* he were as corrupt, godless, tyrannical, and popish as the bishops, *then* he would be worthy of their gilded power and worldly comfort. The lengthy conditional ('If...If...If...Were I...') builds momentum like a wave before crashing down. He isn’t defending himself — he’s putting them on trial. The term 'gilt prosperity' is sharp: their wealth is flashy and empty, and when they die ('wake from the last sleep'), it will turn into 'cowls and robes of everlasting fire.'
But, as I am, I bid ye grudge me not / The only earthly favour ye can yield,
Editor's note
Here the speech takes a turn. Bastwick completely dismisses the idea of being a victim. He describes scorn, mutilation, and imprisonment as "the only earthly favour" the court can offer him—because in his view, suffering for one's conscience signifies true righteousness. The following fragment (lines 27–32, added by Rossetti) expands on this idea into a prophecy: the forces that stand against God's will are only temporary, and "some few tumultuous years / Will pass, and leave no wreck of what opposes / His will whose will is power." This presents a concise vision of history as an unstoppable divine force.
LAUD: Officer, take the prisoner from the bar, / And be his tongue slit for his insolence.
Editor's note
Laud reacts to Bastwick's defiance with a brutal immediacy: he orders his tongue to be slit. When Bastwick starts to respond ('While this hand holds a pen—'), Laud quickly moves to cut off his hands as well. This swift escalation reveals Laud not as a careful jurist but as someone whose authority can't stand any challenge. Shelley condenses the historical record to portray the tyranny as both personal and petty.
JUXON: Stop! / Forbear, my lord! The tongue, which now can speak / No terror, would interpret, being dumb,
Editor's note
Juxon's intervention is the scene's most politically savvy moment. He doesn't advocate for mercy based on morality — he does so from a strategic standpoint. A silenced martyr, he cautions, speaks louder than a living critic. A man with bleeding stumps 'might sign our blood away.' Shelley gives Juxon a cold pragmatism that's almost more unsettling than Laud's fury, as it reveals the court's awareness of the power of symbols while still opting for cruelty.
LAUD: Much more such 'mercy' among men would be, / Did all the ministers of Heaven's revenge / Flinch thus from earthly retribution.
Editor's note
Laud's scornful response — the scare quotes around 'mercy' highlight Shelley's irony — exposes how he views himself: as a tool of divine retribution rather than a political player. His claim that he 'could suffer what I would inflict' is intended to sound heroic but comes across as grotesque. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts to the next case: Bishop Williams, who faces charges related to seditious letters. The court's machinery continues to function.
STRAFFORD: 'Twere politic and just that Williams taste / The bitter fruit of his connection with / The schismatics.
Editor's note
Strafford, who is allied with Laud, presents Williams's prosecution as both a matter of principle and a convenient choice. However, he also makes it clear to Laud that Williams was once his own supporter, the person whose backing contributed to Laud's ascent. In response, Laud crafts a compelling justification: he *desires* to judge his former benefactor to demonstrate his own impartiality. Shelley illustrates how power distorts the language of virtue, transforming ingratitude into a facade of integrity.
WILLIAMS: Peace, proud hierarch! / I know my sentence, and I own it just.
Editor's note
Williams's brief entrance brings the scene to an unexpected close. Unlike Bastwick, he doesn't resist — he accepts his sentence and even calls it fair. This isn't submission; it's a different form of defiance: by agreeing with the court's decision, he strips Laud of his power to humiliate him. The scene cuts off mid-sentence ('In stretching to the utmost...'), left unfinished by Shelley, but that fragment holds its own weight — Williams is on the verge of saying that Laud's punishment is inadequate, a last act of self-control that denies Laud the satisfaction of being severe.
§04Tone & mood
How this poem feels
§05Symbols & metaphors
Symbols & metaphors
- Ears, tongue, and hands
- The body parts that Laud's sentence focuses on aren't just random — they represent the tools of speech and writing, the means of expressing dissent. Shelley highlights this with Juxon's warning: if you silence a man's tongue, his bleeding stumps create a more powerful message than anything he might have penned. Mutilating the body aims to silence the word.
- Gilt prosperity
- Bastwick's term for the bishops' wealth and influence. 'Gilt' instead of 'gold' — it suggests a superficial sheen, not genuine value. It also foreshadows the idea of their robes transforming into 'cowls of everlasting fire': the very garments that represent worldly power will ultimately turn into tools of damnation.
- The last sleep
- Bastwick uses a euphemism for death. When the bishops 'wake from the last sleep,' their gilded wealth will be exposed for what it truly is. This imagery depicts death as an awakening to judgment, turning the typical comfort of sleep as rest on its head.
- The pen
- Bastwick's unfinished line — 'While this hand holds a pen' — turns the pen into a symbol of everything Laud seeks to eliminate. It represents conscience, testimony, and the written record that endures beyond any single person. Juxon recognizes this, which is why he intervenes to prevent Laud from cutting off Bastwick's hands.
- The sacred robe
- Laud points to his 'sacred robe' as evidence that he has transcended personal loyalty and self-interest. However, in this context, the robe represents anything but the sacred; it serves as a symbol of institutional power wielded to punish a former supporter. Shelley uses this imagery to illustrate how religious authority is intertwined with political ambition.
- Heaven's kingdom descending
- The prophetic fragment in lines 27–32 presents the image of Heaven's kingdom descending to earth — or earth merging with Heaven's light — as the standard against which all earthly tyranny is assessed and revealed to be fleeting. This reflects Shelley's millennialism expressed through a Puritan perspective.
§06Historical context
Historical context
§07FAQ
Questions readers ask
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