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.
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