_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.
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