_Cromwell:_
It was a good man's doing. Where is he?

_Bassett:_
I live under the walls here, as you might say.

_Cromwell:_
Could we see him?

_Bassett:_
Nay--it's no place to take you to. But I'll fetch him if you will. He
doesn't sleep.

_Cromwell:_
Do, then.

(BASSETT goes.)

_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:_