Hampden sent me some copies from a friend who knows Mr. Herrick. I like
them better than John does.
(She takes up a manuscript book and reads:)

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell;
A little house, whose humble roof
Is waterproof;
Under the spars of which I lie
Both soft and dry....

But Mr. Shakespeare was best of all, I do believe. A very civil
gentleman, too. I spoke to him once--that was forty years ago, the year
Oliver was born, I remember. He didn't hold with all this talk against
kings.

_Elizabeth:_
There are kings and kings. Oliver finds no offence in kings--it's in a
king.

_Mrs. Cromwell:_
Well, it's all very dangerous, and I'm too old for it. Not but what
Oliver's brain is better than mine. But we have to sit still and watch.
However--
(reading)

Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
That sows my land:
All this, and better, dost thou send
Me for this end: