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.

_Bridget_
(sits by the fire, and reads):
My dear daughter, I am lately arrived in London, from Edgehill in
the county of Warwickshire, where for the first time our men met the
King's army in set dispute. It was late on the Sabbath afternoon, so
that, as we lay for the attack, the sound of church bells came to us
from three or four places. The King had the better ground, also they
exceeded us in numbers, both horse and foot, and in cannon. It is
hard to say which way the battle went, the advantage at one time
being here, at another there. Their horsemen behaved very well,
being commanded by Prince Rupert, a soldier of great courage in the
field. Your Cousin Hampden managed a regiment with much honour, and
twice or thrice delivered our cause. We were engaged until night
stayed us. Some four thousand were slain, their loss, I hear, being
the greater. Of the sixty in my own troop, eighteen fell. We had
commendation from the general, and indeed I think we did not fail in
resolution. But this matter will not be accomplished save we build,
as it were, again from the foundation. This is God's service, and
all must be given. To which end I am now coming home, to call out
all such men as have the love of England in their hearts, and fear