Eliz. Nay, let this thing go by; clasp me unto thee. 
Forgive me all the pain that I have cost thee. 
I feel as if I were again a child
That prattled by thy side, ere strife had come,
And sown those wrinkles in thy lofty brow;
’Bend till my faded fingers reach to smooth them! 
I cannot think but of an evening walk,
When thou didst tell me of the life of David,
And how he dwelt with God—­’twas on the bench
Round the oak tree in the fair pasturage,
[Organ plays.]
Behind the church;—­see, see, yon arched window
Is full of light.  Hush! they are singing, hush! 
The sun is cheerful!  Nature praises God. 
Leave me not yet, my father, spare one hour
Unto thy child.  Nay, then, we shall meet soon. 
Thou smil’st, sweet Spirit, all the rest grows dim! 
See by yon pale and monumental form,
The old man kneeling, weeps.  I come!  I come!

[Falls back and dies, her hands clasped in the attitude of a recumbent marble effigy.  During the latter part, till the interruption, an organ is heard playing solemn music.]

Enter a Servant, L.; he makes a sign that some one is coming.  CROMWELL bows his head.  Enter a PHYSICIAN, LADY CROMWELL, and Sisters, L.

Phy. Doth she sleep?—­

Crom. Ay, tread softly, for the ground Is holy—­

Phy. [Addressing the body.] Lady!

Crom. He, she answereth, Is there! [Points above.]

Lady Crom. Dead! oh, Elizabeth!

Crom. Why griev’st thou, woman! 
Rejoice with the angels rather. 
Did I not hear
But now an organ?—­ [To the Physician.]

Phy. ’Twas, I think, my lord, Your secretary, Milton.

Crom. Let him come here.

[Exit PHYSICIAN, U.E.R.  During this time, LADY CROMWELL kneels by the body of her daughter, whilst a curtain is drawn round the couch.  The folding-doors and curtains close all in as CROMWELL goes, L.]

Enter an OFFICER and Officers in Naval Uniform with Despatches, L.

Offi. These to your Highness!

Crom. [Tearing them open.] C. From our admiral,
The gallant Blake.  Another victory—­
The Hollanders have yielded, that did late
Insult our English flag.

[Shouting is heard without.]

Milton. [Who has entered, U.E.R., unperceived.]
Most humble tenders
From France and Spain await your Excellency.

Crom. Ay! we will treat anon.

Milton. The Turks have yielded The traitor Hyde—­The Vaudois, sav’d, are blessing, In their bright peaceful valleys, your great name, First in their prayers to Heaven—­

An Usher. Sir, there are messages From various sects; the enfranchis’d Jews, and all Whose burdens you have lighten’d, pray to see you.