Chapter II: Part 2

_Fairfax:_ None knows. These months he has been up and down the land, exhorting, stirring up opinion, watching the discipline of our new armies, lending his personal authority in bringing men's minds to the cause. But to-day we need him here. He should have been sent. We need him.

_Ireton:_ Urgently. Charles and Rupert are staking all on this.

_Staines:_ They were never in better tune. It is as though every man were picked.

_Fairfax:_ I said this to Westminster.

_Ireton:_ We carry too many callow soldiers against them. Example will be everything. General Cromwell and his chosen troops have that, and experience; none like them.

_Pemberton:_ Does the General himself know of our necessity, do you think, sir?

_Fairfax:_ There is no tracing him. He almost certainly does not know, or he would have insisted. There are rumours of him from the eastern counties, of some activities with his men, but no more.

_Ireton:_ And the hope of England here in grave peril. Westminster is disgraceful.

_Staines:_ Your appeal was plain, sir--weighty enough?

_Fairfax_ (taking a paper from the table): You may hear for yourself. (Reading the end of a letter copy.) "The general esteem and affection which he hath with the officers and soldiers of this whole army, his own personal worth and ability for employment, his great care, diligence, courage, and faithfulness in the services you have already employed him in, with the constant presence and blessing of God that have accompanied him, make us look upon it as the duty we owe to you and the public, to make it our suit."

_Pemberton:_ It is shameful of them.

_Ireton:_ It is. But that hope is gone. Do I take the left, sir?

_Fairfax:_ You must choose. The horse entirely are your command now.

_Ireton:_ Whalley on the right, and you, Pemberton.

_Fairfax:_ What's the hour?

_Staines:_ Six o'clock, sir.

_Fairfax:_ They have had three hours. Let the army sleep till ten if it may be.

_Staines:_ Yes, sir.

_Ireton:_ Are you satisfied about those footmen on the left, sir?

_Fairfax:_ No, not satisfied. But we cannot better it.

_Pemberton:_ Rupert is almost certain to see the weakness there.

_Fairfax:_ Yes, but there it is. Skippon must cover it as he can. We have spoken of it very exactly.

_Ireton:_ If either wing of our horse breaks, it means certain disaster there, even though Skippon could hold in the centre.

_Fairfax:_ That's Cromwell again. And all to satisfy the pride of a few useless members that his self-denying ordinance keeps out of command.

_Staines:_ Do you think it's that, sir?

_Fairfax:_ What else? They are more jealous that he should come to no more honour than that we should succeed. And after all that has been given.

_Ireton:_ The blood.

_Pemberton:_ It is abominable.

_Fairfax:_ But there--we must not distress ourselves. We have our own loyalty. Keep in touch with Skippon, Staines. If you can push their right foot up towards Sibbertoft there, spare nothing in the doing. Have you all slept, gentlemen?

_Ireton and the others:_ Yes, sir.

_Fairfax:_ Since we lack General Cromwell, more depends on you, Ireton, than on any man, perhaps. You will not be wanting, I know.

_Ireton:_ In endeavour at least--and we can die.

(A scout comes in.)

_Fairfax:_ Yes?

_The Scout:_ Something moves across from the east, sir. It is very faint. It may be haze, or it may be dust.

_Fairfax:_ Watch. Come again at once.

(The scout goes. FAIRFAX and the others go to the tent opening, and look out.)

_Fairfax:_ Yes--there. It is moving, isn't it?

_Ireton:_ I think not.

_Staines:_ Surely.

_Pemberton:_ Could it be?

_Fairfax:_ No. We should have heard.

_Ireton:_ And yet it seems to be moving.

_Fairfax:_ Gentlemen, we must keep counsel with ourselves. This is to waste. Nerves must be unclouded to-day.

(He returns to his seat, the others with him.)

_Fairfax:_ Finally, if we on the right have to fall back on Mill Hill, bring your horse down on to the Kilmarsh Road, Pemberton, if it be any way possible.

_Pemberton:_ Yes--there's a ford there, at the fork if we are upstream.

_Ireton:_ I'll speak to Whalley, too.

_Fairfax:_ If at last there should be a general retreat, it is to the west of Naseby, remember.

_Ireton:_ Yes. To the west. That there should be that even in the mind!

_Fairfax:_ In that case, the baggage is my concern.

(Outside is heard a low murmur of excitement.)

_Fairfax:_ Staines, will you tell Conway that five hundred of his best men must dispute the Naseby road to the east. And let Mitchell command under him.

_Staines:_ Yes, sir.

(The noise outside grows.)

_Pemberton:_ What is it?

_Fairfax:_ See.

(PEMBERTON goes to the tent opening and looks out.)

_Pemberton:_ Our men are watching something. It is something moving. Horsemen--it must be.

(The excitement grows and grows. IRETON joins PEMBERTON.)

_Ireton:_ There is something.

_Fairfax:_ Gentlemen, let us promise ourselves nothing.

(IRETON and PEMBERTON move into the tent at FAIRFAX'S word. As they do so the voices outside break out into a great shout--"_Ironsides--Ironsides--Ironsides is coming to lead us!_" The scout comes in, glowing.)

_Fairfax_ (rising): Yes?

_The Scout:_ General Cromwell is riding into the field with his Ironsides, sir, some six hundred strong.

_Fairfax:_ Thank God!

(CROMWELL comes into the tent, fully armed, hot and dusty from the road. The shouting dies away, but outside there is a sound as of new life until the end of the scene. SETH, OLIVER'S servant, stands at the tent opening.)

_Fairfax:_ You are welcome; none can say how much.

_Cromwell:_ A near thing, sir. I only heard from Westminster yesterday at noon.

_Fairfax:_ They told us nothing.

_Cromwell:_ There are many poor creatures at Westminster, sir. Many of them, I doubt not, would have willingly had me kept uninformed of this. But we are in time, and that's all. Henry. Good-morning, gentlemen. How goes it?

_Fairfax_ (taking his seat, CROMWELL and the others also at the table): The battle is set. Our foot there, Skippon and myself. Colonel Ireton and Whalley are with the horse. They are at your service.

_Cromwell_ (at the map): Rupert will be there. Langdale, if I mistake not, will be there. That road--is it good?

_Pemberton:_ Poor below Mill Hill, sir.

_Cromwell:_ Then that is the point; it may be decisive there. You take the left, Henry.

_Ireton:_ Yes, sir.

_Cromwell:_ Let Whalley be on my left here--give him fifteen hundred. I have six hundred. I'll take the right with them myself, Are you on the left, sir?

_Fairfax:_ Yes, and the second line.

_Cromwell:_ Good--can I have two of the best regiments down here behind me?

_Fairfax:_ Yes. Staines, let Spilsby see to that.

_Cromwell:_ Spilsby is good.

_Staines:_ If I might say it, would you choose him for that, sir? It is a great responsibility, and he has been indiscreet. I thought not to use him to-day.

_Cromwell:_ Indiscreet?

_Staines:_ In his utterances, sir. His belief is in some question.

_Cromwell:_ Surely you are not well advised to turn off one so faithful to the cause, and so able to serve you as this man is. He is indiscreet, you say. It may be so in some things; we all have human infirmities. Sir, the state, in choosing men to serve it, takes no notice of their opinions. If men be willing faithfully to serve it, that satisfies. Let it be Spilsby.

_Staines:_ Yes, sir.

_Cromwell:_ Is the army well rested, sir?

_Fairfax:_ They are resting now. Till ten o'clock. We moved up at three.

_Cromwell:_ Three hours for my men. It is enough. The order to advance at eleven?

_Fairfax:_ At eleven.

_Cromwell:_ Is the word for the day chosen?

_Fairfax:_ Not yet.

_Cromwell:_ Let it be, "God our strength." Gentlemen.

(They all rise, and, bareheaded, together they repeat, "God our strength.")

THE SCENE CLOSES

SCENE V

_The same tent. Night--with torches and candles. An aide stands at the tent opening. The sentries pass to and fro. It is after the action. IRETON, severely wounded, is on a couch, surgeons attending him. CROMWELL, himself battered and with a slight head wound, stands by the couch._

_Cromwell:_ It is not mortal. You are sure of that?

_The Surgeon:_ He is hurt, grievously, but he will live now.

_Cromwell:_ The danger is gone?

_The Surgeon:_ Yes. But it will be slow.

_Ireton:_ Whalley--there--in God's name, man. Tell Spilsby to beat down under General Cromwell. There's not a minute to lose. Whalley--that's good--come--no man--left--left--now, once more. God is our strength.

_Cromwell:_ There, my son. Brave, brave. It is well.

_Ireton_ (himself): How is it--out there?

_Cromwell:_ They are scattered.

_Ireton:_ Scattered. Write to Bridget.

_Cromwell:_ Yes--it is done.

_Ireton:_ Read.

_Cromwell_
(reading a letter from the table):
My dearest daughter,--
This in all haste. We have fought to-day at Naseby. The field at
all points is ours. They are destroyed beyond mending. Henry is hurt,
but he is well attended, and the surgeons have no fear. He shall be
brought to you by the first means. He has great honour to-day for
himself and for us all.

_Ireton:_ He loves you.

(CROMWELL adds a word to the letter. Then he leaves IRETON to the surgeons and speaks to SETH, who is at the table.)

_Cromwell:_ Seth, will you write, please. (He dictates very quietly, not to disturb IRETON.)

To the Speaker of the Commons of England, at Westminster.

Sir,--This, of which the General advises you, is none other but the
hand of God, and to Him alone belongs the glory, wherein none are to
share with him. The General served you with all faithfulness and
honour; and the best commendation I can give him is, that I dare say
he attributes all to God, and would rather perish than assume to
himself. Which is an honest and a thriving way; and yet as much for
bravery may be given to him, in this action, as to a man. Honest men
served you faithfully in this action. Sir, they are trusty; I beseech
you, in the name of God, not to discourage them. I wish this action
may beget thankfulness and humility in all that are concerned in it.
He that ventures his life for the liberty of his country, I wish he
trust God for the liberty of his conscience, and you for the liberty
he fights for. In this he rests, who is your most humble servant....

From the camp at Naseby field, in Northamptonshire.

(He signs the letter. Outside in the night the Puritan troops are heard singing the One Hundred and Seventeenth Psalm:

"O praise the Lord, all ye nations: praise him, all ye people.

For his merciful kindness is great toward us: and the truth of the
Lord endureth for ever.

Praise ye the Lord."

They listen. IRETON sleeps.)

_Cromwell:_ They sing well. (He looks at a map; then, to the aide:) Go to General Peyton. Tell him to keep three troops of horse four miles down the Leicester road there. He is not to move them till daybreak. And ask Colonel Reade to let me have his figures as soon as he can.

_The Aide:_ Yes, sir.

(He goes.)

_Cromwell:_ Finish that other letter, will you?

(SETH writes again.)

I can say this of Naseby. When I saw the enemy draw up and march in gallant order towards us, and we, a company of poor ignorant men to seek how to order our battle,--the General having commanded me to order all the horse,--I could not, riding along about my business, but smile out to God in my praises, in assurance of victory,

(the Psalm is heard again)

because God would, by things that are not, bring to naught the things that are. Of which I had great assurance, and God did it.

(The singing still heard)

THE SCENE CLOSES

SCENE VI

_An evening in November, 1647. A room in Hampton Court, where CHARLES THE FIRST, now a prisoner with the army, is lodged._

_At a table, writing, is NEAL, the King's secretary. He finishes his document, and, going to a bureau, locks it away. He returns to the table, and, taking up an unopened envelope, examines it carefully. As he is doing so CHARLES enters from an inner room._

_Charles:_ From Hamilton?

_Neal:_ Yes, sire.

_Charles:_ Has it been opened?

_Neal:_ I think not.

(CHARLES takes the letter, opens and reads it.)

_Charles:_ Good. The commissioners from Scotland are in London. They are prepared to hear from us.

_Neal:_ Andrews goes to London to-night. He is to be trusted.

_Charles:_ Everything begins to move for us again. To-morrow they will miss us here, eh, Neal? In a week we should be at Carisbrooke.

_Neal:_ Do not be too confident, sire. Things have miscarried before.

_Charles:_ But not this time, Neal, believe me. Their House and their army are at odds. I've seen to that. It has gained time, and perplexed their resolution. And now Scotland will strike again, and this time mortally. Yes, the end will be with us, mark me.

_Ned:_ May Your Majesty reckon truly.

_Charles:_ Is Cromwell coming to-night?

_Ned:_ He said not.

_Charles:_ Strangely, the fellow grows on me. But he's a fool, Neal. Brave, but a fool. He sees nothing. Indeed, he's too dull. Ireton too--they are heavy stuff. Clods. Poor country. She needs us again truly. To check such mummers as these--all means are virtuous for that, Neal, eh?

_Neal:_ Your Majesty knows.

_Charles:_ Yes, we need no counsel. You are sure that Cromwell was not coming to-night.

_Neal:_ That was as he said, sire.

_Charles:_ Then let us consider. These Scots. What was it? Did you set it down?

_Neal:_ Yes, sire.

(He gets the paper that he put in the bureau, and gives it to CHARLES.)

_Charles_ (reading it): Yes. Write.

(NEAL does so on a large folio sheet.)

Clause I. For the reason that the Scots should invade England. Let the
intrigues of Parliament with the army and its leaders--notably Oliver
Cromwell--to the peril of the Church and the King, stand to the world
in justification. Clause 2. The royal forces in England shall move
when and as the Duke of Hamilton directs. Clause 3. The King shall
guarantee Presbyterian control in England for three years from this
date. But the King shall for himself be at liberty to use his own form
of divine service. Clause 4. All opinion and practice of those who
call themselves Independents are to be suppressed. To see that this
is diligently done may be left to the King's pleasure.... Yes--once
we are at Carisbrooke.... Copy that, Neal. I will sign it. Let it go
by Andrews to-night.

_Neal:_ Yes, sire.

_Charles:_ Do it now.

(NEAL proceeds to do so. CHARLES moves across to a book-case between the table and the main door. As he stands there, there is a knock at the door.)

_Charles:_ Yes?

(The door is opened by CROMWELL, with whom is IRETON.)

_Charles:_ Mr. Cromwell. We did not expect you.

_Cromwell:_ No, sir. It is unexpected.

(As the two men come into the room, CHARLES covers NEAL from them as he can. The secretary has no time but to conceal his note by placing it under a case of folio papers on the table. As the others approach the table, he bows and retires. CHARLES sits, and motions the others to do the same. CROMWELL takes NEAL'S place.)

_Cromwell:_ We came, sir, to reassure ourselves.

_Charles:_ As to what?

_Cromwell:_ Your Majesty knows that, in treating with you as we have done these months past, we have been subject to suspicions.

_Charles:_ I imagined that it might be so. But your character and your reputation, Mr. Cromwell, can ignore these.

_Cromwell:_ It is suggested that we become courtiers, and susceptible as courtiers are. But that is nothing. Continually we are told that Your Majesty will outwit us.

_Charles:_ But that is too fantastic. Between men so open one with another. Our scruples--persuasion--yes, these may take time. We may not always easily understand each other there. But that there should be any question of duplicity between us--it is monstrous. We may disagree, stubbornly, Mr. Cromwell, but we know each the other's thought.

_Cromwell:_ I believe it. You know nothing of these Scotch agents in London?

_Charles:_ Scotch?

_Ireton:_ They arrived yesterday.

_Charles:_ Who are they?

_Cromwell:_ You do not know, sir?

_Charles:_ I? Indeed, no.

_Cromwell:_ I did not suppose it. But already I am beset by warnings. I dismiss them, giving my word in this for your integrity, as it were.

_Charles:_ Minds are strained in these days, It is shameless of them to say this.

_Ireton:_ It means so much, you see, sir. Intrigues with Scotland--there are none, we are assured, but if there were it would almost inevitably bring civil war again. The mere shadow of that in men's minds is enough, indeed, to overthrow them. No man can consider the possibility of that without desolation.

_Charles:_ No. That is unquestionable.

_Cromwell:_ And so I was minded to come, and be sure by word of mouth, so to speak. Your Majesty knows how suspicions creep in absence, even of those whom we trust. And I have shown, sir, that I trust you.

_Charles:_ We are not insensitive.

_Ireton:_ It is of that trust, truly worn, sir, that we may all yet look for a happy settlement.

_Charles:_ It is my hope, devoutly.

_Cromwell:_ Parliament bends a little to my persuasion. If I could but induce Your Majesty to treat no longer directly with them, but to leave all to me.

_Charles:_ It is our Parliament still. We cannot slight them.

_Cromwell:_ But, sir, you confuse things daily. If the army were no longer intact, it would be another matter. But now it is the army that must be satisfied--in the end there is the real authority. Remember, sir, that these men are not merely soldiers. They are the heart and the conscience of the nation in arms. By their arms thay have prevailed, how bloodily Your Majesty knows. They stand now to see that the settlement is not against that conscience that armed them.

_Charles:_ But we must consider ourselves. It would be folly to anger the House.

_Cromwell:_ The House can do nothing without us. And I have considered you, sir. I have persuaded the army that the monarchy is the aptest form of government for this country. It was difficult, but my belief has prevailed. I have even won respect for Your Majesty's person. Do but give us our guarantees, and you will mount a securer throne, I think, than any king has yet held in England.

_Charles:_ But Parliament--

_Ireton:_ No, sir. Parliament's demands are not our demands. To give them what they ask will be to lose all opinion in the army. That would be fatal.

_Cromwell:_ Parliament and the army are at one in asking for constitutional safeguards. All are agreed on that. But after that we are in dispute, irreconcileably. They want a Presbyterian despotism. This land, sir, has had enough of despotism, and we will not exchange one despotism for another. We, the army, demand liberty of opinion. We respect law, we stand, above all, for order and right behaviour, for an observance of the rights of others. But we demand that a man's thought shall be his own, that his faith shall be directed by none. We stand for Bible freedom. And we, sir, are strong enough to make Parliament accept that, but Parliament can never make us accept the tyranny of the Presbyters. We are the new Independents, sir, the Independents of the spirit. We are determined that henceforth in England no man shall suffer for his faith.

_Charles:_ I respect these ambitions.

_Ireton:_ Do but let us go to the army with that respect, and not a trooper but will renew your power for you.

_Charles:_ A power a little cropped, eh, Mr. Ireton?

_Cromwell:_ No, sir, enlarged. You have ruled by interest and fear. You can go back to rule by the affection of a free people. You have the qualities, sir--why waste them?

_Charles:_ You persuade well. Honestly, I am sure.

_Cromwell:_ I could take all. I do not want it. I want to restore your fortune, to give you back a regenerate kingship. Will you take it, sir? It is of love I offer it, love of England, of your great office. And you should adorn that inheritance. Men should be proud to call you King, sir.

_Ireton:_ We have that pride--and we have suffered.

_Cromwell:_ I can disabuse rumour about Scotland, I can persuade Parliament about the Presbytery, I can convince the army of your good faith as to tolerance, if you will but give me the word. Let us together make Charles Rex the noblest name of Christendom.

_Charles:_ How shall I stand with the Episcopacy?

_Cromwell:_ All tyrannies must go together. We mislike no bishops save that they stand by a tyrannous church. That we will destroy. It is there as I have said. We attack not faiths or opinions, but despotism. Let a man think as he will, but he shall command no other man to think it.

_Ireton:_ We will not persecute even our persecutors. But they shall stay their hands, now and for ever.

_Cromwell:_ This is just; merciful even. Will you work with us together, sir, to the salvation of our country?

_Charles:_ You are very patient.

_Cromwell:_ To great ends. Why do you deliberate, sir? What invention is needed? All is so plain. And many wish you disaster. If you refuse this, it may be hard to deny them.

_Charles:_ We do not fear disaster.

_Cromwell:_ But I offer you an ascendancy undreamt of. It should be plain.

_Charles:_ You offer much, and it should prosper. Or I think so. But I must consider. One has old habits, not easily to be put by. One grows to kingship thus, or thus--the manner does not readily change. But I will consider it.

_Cromwell:_ Time presses.

_Charles:_ Yes, but a day or two. Say three days.

_Cromwell:_ Three days, then, sir. I brought Your Majesty this. (He takes a miniature from his pouch.) It is newly drawn by Mr. Cooper. It is of a young man, Andrew Marvell, of whose verses Your Majesty would think well. He should do much. Cooper has drawn it well--it's very decisive in line, sir?

_Charles:_ Yes. A little heavy there in the nostril, perhaps, but good. Yes, very.

_Cromwell:_ I am told that Van Dyck admires him.

_Charles:_ I have heard him say so.

_Cromwell:_ It's generous of him--the methods are so different.

_Charles:_ Van Dyck draws marvellously in sanguine. (He takes a drawing from the drawer in front of him and places it before Cromwell, on the case of papers.) That approaches any of the masters, I think.

_Cromwell:_ Good--yes. And yet Hans Holbein was incomparable--not so assertive--no, copious, and yet as complete, simpler. But--yes, there is great dignity here.

(He holds up the drawing in front of him, holding it against the folio case for firmness. CHARLES makes a movement, but instantly restrains himself. CROMWELL is about to replace the drawing and case on the table, when his glance falls on NEAL'S paper, which is lying in front of him. He sees nothing, but a second glance arrests all his movement. After a moment he turns to look fixedly at the King. There is a silence; then:)

_Cromwell:_ What in the name of God is this? (Striking the paper with his hand.)

_Charles:_ It is private to ourselves.

_Cromwell_ (rising): To ourselves? For our private pleasure we will destroy this country, and blast the people in it! Read it, Ireton.

(IRETON takes the paper and rises.)

_Charles_ (rising): These are notes for our own contemplation.

_Cromwell:_ Here are ten lines of the bitterest damnation that ever came from the mind of treason. (Taking the paper again.) The Scots to invade England. The King's arms to be raised again. Presbytery to... Freedom to be destroyed--and diligently, at the King's pleasure. Word blaspheming word as we have spoken. Disastrous man!

_Ireton:_ How far has this gone?

_Charles:_ We are not before our judges.

_Cromwell:_ It will come. This iniquity means we know not what new bitterness of destruction. But know this, Charles Stuart, that, when we draw the sword again, it is the sword of judgment. Out there many call you the man of blood. I have laboured for you, have met them all in persuasion. I had prevailed. It is finished. Blood is upon us again, blood spilled for a perfidious king. The sword that we had put by for ever! My God, how I have feared it! Well, so be it. We go to the field again--but then, prepare you for the reckoning. It shall be to the uttermost.

_Charles:_ This argument is ended.

_Cromwell:_ All arguments are ended.

(He goes with IRETON, taking the paper.)

THE SCENE CLOSES

SCENE VII

_CROMWELL'S house in London. The morning of January 30, 1649, the day of the King's execution._

_Outside the window can be seen the grey winter gloom, brightened by fallen snow. The room, in which a fire is burning, is empty, and for a time there is silence. Then from a near street comes the soft sound of muffled drums._

_BRIDGET runs in, and goes to the window, opening it. Then she goes back to the door, and calls._

_Bridget:_ Mother.

(She goes back to the window.)

_Elizabeth_ (coming in): Yes.

_Bridget:_ It is the King. He is passing down to Whitehall.

_Elizabeth:_ Don't look, child.

_Bridget:_ I can see nothing but the pike-heads. The people seem very still. You can hear nothing but the drums.

(A little later MRS. CROMWELL comes in. She goes to a chair by the fire.)

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Oliver has just sent from Whitehall for his great coat. I've sent Beth with it.

_Bridget:_ The King has just passed, grandmother.

_Elizabeth:_ He has gone into Whitehall.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Men will pity him. He had no pity.

_Bridget:_ Do you think father is right, grandmother? Saying that it had to be?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Yes, I do think so.

_Elizabeth:_ He betrayed his own people. It was that.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ There could be no safety or hope while he lived.

_Bridget:_ Yes. He betrayed his own people. That's it.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Kings must love, too.

_Elizabeth:_ When your father wanted to give him back his throne, a little simple honesty in the King would have saved all. But he could not come to that.

_Bridget:_ The drums have stopped.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Is Henry with your father?

_Bridget:_ Yes.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ What is the time?

_Elizabeth:_ Nearly one o'clock.

_Bridget:_ It must be past one.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Oliver will be the foremost man in England.

_Bridget:_ Henry says he could be king.

_Elizabeth:_ That he would never be. I know.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ He will have to guide all.

_Bridget:_ Don't you wish it could have been done without this, grandmother?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ When the world labours in anger, child, you cannot name the hour.

_Bridget:_ But Henry thinks it is right, too.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ If this be wrong, all was wrong.

_Bridget:_ Yes. Thank you, grandmother. That is what I wanted. It was necessary.

_Elizabeth:_ Henry meant to come back before the end, didn't he?

_Bridget:_ He said so.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ It's very cold.

_Bridget:_ I think it will snow again.

_Elizabeth:_ What are the drums beating again for?

_Bridget:_ Perhaps--I don't know. Will you have another shawl, grandmother?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ No, thank you.

(IRETON comes in.)

_Bridget:_ Has anything happened?

_Ireton:_ Not yet. In a minute or two. At half-past one. It's three minutes yet.

_Bridget:_ Is father there?

_Ireton:_ Yes.

_Elizabeth:_ Not alone?

_Ireton:_ No. Fairfax and Harrison--five of them.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ The King--very brave, I suppose?

_Ireton:_ Yes. That was inevitable. We are old campaigners.

_Elizabeth:_ Oliver says that he has been noble since death was certain.

_Ireton:_ Yes.

_Bridget:_ If he had but lived so.

_Ireton:_ He made life ignoble. He would have made it ignoble again, and always. He was a king and he despoiled his people. When that is, kings must perish.

(There is a movement and sound of voices in the streets. IRETON opens the window. ELIZABETH and BRIDGET stand with him.)

_Ireton:_ Yes. It is done.

(MRS. CROMWELL slowly moves across to the window and stands with the others.)

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Poor, silly king. Oliver will be here directly. Shut the window, Henry.

(IRETON shuts the window. He, ELIZABETH, and BRIDGET stand looking out. MRS. CROMWELL returns to her seat. All are very still, and there is a long pause. Then, unseen and unheard, CROMWELL comes in, moving slowly, his coat and hat still on, his boots carrying snow. He looks at his people, all with their backs to him. He walks across the room, and stands behind his mother, looking into the fire.)

THE SCENE CLOSES

SCENE VIII

_A November night in 1654, six years later. MRS. CROMWELL'S bedroom in Whitehall, where CROMWELL is now installed as Protector._

_MRS. CROMWELL, now aged ninety-four, is on her death-bed. Standing beside her is ELIZABETH, ministering to her._

_Elizabeth:_ Is that comfortable?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Yes, my dear, very comfortable.

_Elizabeth:_ Bridget is coming now. I must go down to Cheapside. I must see that man there myself.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Very well, my dear. Bridget is a good girl. I may be asleep before you come back. Good-night.

_Elizabeth_ (kissing her): Good-night. (Softly, at the door.) Bridget.

_Bridget_ (from the next room): Yes, mother.

_Elizabeth:_ Can you come? I'm going now.

_Bridget:_ Yes.

(She comes in and ELIZABETH goes.)

_Bridget:_ Shall I read, grandmother?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Yes, just a little. Mr. Milton was reading to me this afternoon. Your father asked him to come. He has begun a very good poem, about Eden and the fall of man. He read me some of it. He writes extremely well. I think I should like to hear something by that young Mr. Marvell. He copies them out for me--you'll find them in that book, there. There's one about a garden. Just two stanzas of it. I have marked them.

_Bridget_ (reading):

How vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
And their incessant labours see
Crown'd from some single herb or tree,
Whose short and narrow-verged shade
Does prudently their toils upbraid;
While all the flowers and trees do close
To weave the garlands of repose.

And then this one?

Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less
Withdraws into its happiness;
The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas;
Annihilating all that's made
To a green thought in a green shade.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Yes. Far other worlds, and other seas. I wish your father would come. I want to go to sleep, and you never know.

_Bridget:_ I think father is coming now.

(CROMWELL comes in. He wears plain civilian clothes.)

_Cromwell:_ Well, mother dear.

(He kisses her.)

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ I'm glad you have come, my son. Though you are very busy, I'm sure.

_Cromwell:_ Is there anything I can do?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ No, thank you. What date is this?

_Cromwell:_ The second of November.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ It's nearly a year since they made you Protector, then.

_Cromwell:_ Yes. I wonder.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ You need not, son. You were right. There was none other. And you were right not to take a crown.

_Cromwell:_ The monarchy will return. I know that.

_Bridget:_ Why not always a commonwealth like this, father?

_Cromwell:_ Hereafter there shall be a true commonwealth. We have done that for England. But there must be a king. There is no one to follow me. I am an interlude, as it were. But henceforth kings will be for the defence of this realm, not to use it. That has been our work. It is so, mother?

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Truly, I think it. It will be a freer land because you have lived in it, my son. Our name may be forgotten, but it does not matter. You serve faithfully. I am proud.

_Cromwell:_ You have been my blessed friend.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ It was kind of Mr. Milton to come this afternoon. I can't remember whether I thanked him as I should like to.

_Cromwell:_ He likes to come.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Be kind to all poets, Oliver. They have been very kind to me. They have the best doctrine.

_Cromwell:_ That is an aim of mine--to find all men of worth and learning and genius--to give them due employment. The Lord speaks through them, I know. I would have none fail or want under my government.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ I know that. Bridget, girl, be a stay to your father and your mother. They love you. If you should wed again, may you wed well.

_Bridget:_ I will cherish my father's great estate, and I will be humble always.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ And now, I am tired. Bless you, Oliver, my son. The Lord cause His face to shine upon you, and comfort you in all your adversities, and enable you to do great things for the glory of your most high God, and to be a relief unto His people. My dear son. I leave my heart with you. A good night.

(They both kiss her.)

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Is Amos Tanner here?

_Bridget:_ Yes, grandmother.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ Ask him to sing to me. Very quietly. The song he sang that night at Ely--you remember--when John and Henry were there.

(BRIDGET goes out.)

_Mrs. Cromwell:_ You have been a good son.

_Cromwell:_ Mother, dear.

(BRIDGET returns with AMOS. Very quietly he sings:)

When I shall in the churchyard lie,
Poor scholar though I be,
The wheat, the barley, and the rye
Will better wear for me.

For truly have I ploughed and sown,
And kept my acres clean;
And written on my churchyard stone
This character be seen;

"His flocks, his barns, his gear he made
His daily diligence,
Nor counted all his earnings paid
In pockets full of pence."

(While he is singing MRS. CROMWELL falls asleep and he goes. CROMWELL stands for a time with BRIDGET, watching his mother asleep.)

_Cromwell:_ Daughter, we must be loving, one with another. No man is sure of himself, ever. He can but pray for faith.

_Bridget:_ Father, you have done all that a man might do. You have delivered England.

_Cromwell:_ I have said a word for freedom, a poor, confused word. It was all I could reach to. We are frail, with our passions. We are beset.

(He prays at his mother's bedside, BRIDGET standing beside him.)

Thou hast made me, though very unworthy, a mean instrument to do the people some good, and Thee service. And many of them have set too high a value upon me, though others wish and would be glad of my death. But, Lord, however Thou dost dispose of me, continue and go on to do good for them. Give them one heart, and mutual love. Teach those who look too much upon Thy instrument to depend more upon Thyself. Pardon such as desire to trample upon the dust of a poor worm, for they are Thy people, too. And pardon the folly of this short prayer, even for Jesus Christ's sake. And give us a good night if it be Thy pleasure.

THE SCENE CLOSES

THE END

* * * * *

[Transcriber's Note:

The following text was printed at the beginning of the original book. It is included here for historical interest only.]

Copyright, 1921, by Houghton Mifflin Company

Dramatic Rights in the United States Controlled by William Harris, Jr

CAUTION

All dramatic rights for John Drinkwater's _Oliver Cromwell_ in North America are owned and controlled by William Harris, Jr., Hudson Theatre, New York City. Special notice should be taken that possession of this book without a valid contract for production first having been obtained from Mr. Harris confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity. Until further notice performances of this play in North America will be limited to those companies which appear under Mr. Harris's direction, and he absolutely forbids other performances by professionals or amateurs, including "readings," tableaux, and anything of such nature approximating a performance. The play is fully protected by copyright and any violations will be prosecuted.