Oliver Cromwell | Page 2

it.
Bridget: You don't think they just ought to be allowed to take the
common away, do you, grandmother?
Mrs. Cromwell: It makes no matter what I think.
Bridget: Of course you don't. None of us do. We couldn't.
Elizabeth: You mustn't tease your grandmother, Bridget.
Mrs. Cromwell: She's a very old lady, and can't speak for herself.
Bridget: I meant no ill manners, grandmother.
Mrs. Cromwell: Never mind your manners child. But don't encourage
your father. He doesn't need it. This house is all commotion as it is.
Bridget: I can't help it. There's so much going on everywhere. The King
doesn't deal fairly by people, I'm sure. Men like father must say it.
Elizabeth: Have you put the lavender in the rooms?
Bridget: No. I'll take it now.
(She takes a tray from the window and goes out.)
Mrs. Cromwell: I don't know what will happen. I sometimes think the

world isn't worth quarrelling about at all. And yet I'm a silly old woman
to talk like that. But Oliver is a brave fellow--and John, all of them. I
want them to be brave in peace--that's the way you think at eighty.
(Reading.) This Mr. Donne is a very good poet, but he's rather hard to
understand. I suppose that is being eighty, too. Mr. Herrick is very
simple. John Hampden sent me some copies from a friend who knows
Mr. Herrick. I like them better than John does. (She takes up a
manuscript book and reads:)
Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell; A little house,
whose humble roof Is waterproof; Under the spars of which I lie Both
soft and dry....
But Mr. Shakespeare was best of all, I do believe. A very civil
gentleman, too. I spoke to him once--that was forty years ago, the year
Oliver was born, I remember. He didn't hold with all this talk against
kings.
Elizabeth: There are kings and kings. Oliver finds no offence in
kings--it's in a king.
Mrs. Cromwell: Well, it's all very dangerous, and I'm too old for it. Not
but what Oliver's brain is better than mine. But we have to sit still and
watch. However-- (reading)
Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand That sows my land: All this, and
better, dost thou send Me for this end: That I should render for my part
A thankful heart, Which, fired with incense, I resign As wholly Thine:
But the acceptance--that must be, O Lord, by Thee.
Mr. Herrick has chosen a nice name for his book. Hesperides. He has
taste as well as understanding.
(The sound of horsemen arriving is heard.)
Elizabeth: That will be John and Mr. Ireton.
(She looks from the window, puts her work into a box, and goes out.)

Mrs. Cromwell (turning her pages):
Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been filled with flowers, And
ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours.
Like unthrifts, having spent Your stock, and needy grown, You're left
here to lament Your poor estates alone.
(ELIZABETH comes back with JOHN HAMPDEN, aged forty-four,
and HENRY IRETON, twenty-eight. They both shake hands with MRS.
CROMWELL.)
Hampden: How do you do, ma'am?
Mrs. Cromwell: Well, John.
Ireton: Good-evening, ma'am.
Mrs. Cromwell: You're welcome, Master Ireton, I'm sure. If you behave
yourself, young man.
Ireton: How may that be, ma'am?
Mrs. Cromwell: No, don't ask me. Only don't you and John come
putting more notions into Oliver's head. I'm sure he's got more than he
can rightly manage as it is.
Hampden: We were told down there that it's to-morrow that my Lord of
Bedford and his like are to claim the common rights.
Elizabeth: Yes.
Ireton: Mr. Cromwell is to resist, they said.
Mrs. Cromwell: Now, young man, Oliver doesn't need any urging to it.
He needs holding back.
Hampden: But that's fine for Oliver. Every man must speak to-day--and
do as well, if it comes to it.

Mrs. Cromwell: Yes, but don't be so proud about it, John.
Elizabeth: I think they should be proud.
Mrs. Cromwell: Remember what Mr. Herbert says-- A servant with this
clause Makes drudgerie divine. Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,
Makes that and th' action fine. As for thy laws, remember.
Hampden: Surely, we shall remember that always.
(BRIDGET comes in.)
Bridget: Cousin John.
Hampden: Well, Bridget, my girl.
(He kisses her.)
Bridget: How do you do, Mr. Ireton?
Ireton (shaking hands): Well, I thank you, mistress.
Bridget: Does father know, mother?
Elizabeth: I've sent down to the field.
Mrs. Cromwell: He'll be here soon enough. I'm sorry the judges were
against you, John. I don't know what else you could expect, though.
They are the King's judges, I suppose.
Hampden: That's what we dispute, ma'am. The King says that they
should serve him.