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.
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