_Amos:_ It's not my Seth, is it, sir? Not his tongue--and a bloody T. They would know how he could sing, and he looked like Gabriel in the books. _Hampden:_ Shall we go, Oliver? _Cromwell:_ No. Let us all see it out. _Bridget:_ Father, it's horrible. They don't do things like that, do they? _Amos:_ Dumb--and a bloody T--and the thumbs. It's some other poor lad. (BASSETT returns; with him a figure, the hands and ears bound up in rough thick bandages, and on his forehead a burning red T. He looks at them, with reason hardly awake.) _Amos_ (going to him): Seth--Seth, boy. (SETH moves his lips, but makes no sound. They look at him in horror.) _Bridget:_ Father--father. _Cromwell:_ There--no--no. (To BASSETT.) Take him, good fellow. Care for him as you can. Get a surgeon for him. Here's money. No, no, old man. (BASSETT goes with SETH.) _Amos:_ A bloody T. And dumb. God blast the King! _Cromwell:_ Take him to our lodging, daughter. Go with them, Ireton. I'll follow. (BRIDGET, AMOS, and IRETON go.) _Cromwell:_ John, you are my best-beloved friend. _Hampden:_ I praise myself in that more than in most. _Cromwell:_ I call you to witness. That is a symbol. Before God, I will not rest until all that it stands for in this unhappy England is less than the dust. Amen. _Hampden:_ Amen. (A linkman is heard calling in the street. CROMWELL and HAMPDEN go out.) THE SCENE CLOSES SCENE III _CROMWELL'S house at Ely. A year later, 1642. It is afternoon in winter. MRS. CROMWELL is sitting by the fire, reading. She looks a little more her eighty-odd years than she did in the first scene. After a few moments BRIDGET comes in. She is opening a letter._ _Bridget:_ Father has written, grandmother. Shall I read it to you? _Mrs. Cromwell:_ Yes, child.