[_Takes him up, several cross the stage flying. Musketry from L. to R. A shot strikes the Old Man, who falls. Several officers and soldiers enter fighting with swords and firearms._] _CROMWELL enters pursuing, L. to R._ _Crom._ Strike home! spare none! The father with the son, That fights for tyranny. [To a Trooper.] Give me thy sword! Mine own is hack'd with slaying-- Where is Rupert? The haughty Rupert now?-- Where is this king, That tempts the God of battles?--Are they gone, That cost these precious lives? [_Here the sun breaks out in splendour and lights up the battle-ground behind._] "Let God arise, And let his enemies be scattered!" END OF ACT II. ACT III. SCENE, I. [_1st Grooves._] _An apartment in Cromwell's house._ _Enter CROMWELL, ARTHUR, the LADY ELIZABETH, L._ _Crom._ To have a home, that is no fitting home, Is worse than the sad orphan's part, who gathers His lean crumbs from the world's wide eager table, And pares the flint-stones borne in stranger breasts, To eke him out against the cruel winds-- [_Crosses to his daughter._] Thou say'st she was thy playmate-- Come, thou hast Mov'd the stern soldier to thy woman's will. Go, sir! [To Arthur.] and fetch this Florence from her roof. There should be no such scandal done in England, As the loud insult of a marriage forc'd Before God's altar. _Arth._ If they do oppose? _Crom._ Thy brother is a worker in my hands, Leave him to me; the old man loves his wealth Too well. I say, go quickly, and return With speed direct--I'd have thee near me, [_Aside._] for Thy noble confidence that dares to speak The first-fruits of thy mind,-- I have regard [_Aloud._] For thee, young man, see that you keep it warm As now--but mind, no swords, as ye are brothers-- Not e'en reproach.--Sweet heart, when foolish mercy [_To his daughter._] Doth beg an idle tale from thy dear lips, Perchance thou'lt seek thy father--until then, All good be with thee! [_Crosses to R._] Sir! I will direct [_To Arthur._] A present escort for you. [_Exit CROMWELL, R._] _Arth._ Lady! deem My heart coin'd into words to thank you nothing For payment of this service. _Eliz._ Sympathy Is just as often born of happiness, As bitter suffering of the world's contempt. Within the magic circle of a home, Happy and loved as mine is, The heart is touched with pity's gentle wand To do her lightest bidding-- But in this, There is no kind emotion worth the name; For I would see my school-fellow and friend To talk old nothings, something still to us, And look beneath the lashes of her eyes, To learn her plaint against the selfish world, And read her trust in Heaven-- Is she fair As childhood promised ?--[_Looking archly at Arthur._] Do you know, I think You love her more than cousinship demands? _Arth._ Nay! she is worthy of all love. _Eliz._ Well, well, sir! I shall know when I see you both together. _Exeunt ELIZABETH, R., ARTHUR, L._ SCENE II.