_The same tent. Night--with torches and candles. An aide stands at the
tent opening. The sentries pass to and fro. It is after the action.
IRETON, severely wounded, is on a couch, surgeons attending him.
CROMWELL, himself battered and with a slight head wound, stands by the
couch._
_Cromwell:_
It is not mortal. You are sure of that?
_The Surgeon:_
He is hurt, grievously, but he will live now.
_Cromwell:_
The danger is gone?
_The Surgeon:_
Yes. But it will be slow.
_Ireton:_
Whalley--there--in God's name, man. Tell Spilsby to beat down under
General Cromwell. There's not a minute to lose. Whalley--that's
good--come--no man--left--left--now, once more. God is our strength.
_Cromwell:_
There, my son. Brave, brave. It is well.
_Ireton_
(himself):
How is it--out there?
_Cromwell:_
They are scattered.
_Ireton:_
Scattered. Write to Bridget.
_Cromwell:_
Yes--it is done.
_Ireton:_
Read.
_Cromwell_
(reading a letter from the table):
My dearest daughter,--
This in all haste. We have fought to-day at Naseby. The field at
all points is ours. They are destroyed beyond mending. Henry is hurt,
but he is well attended, and the surgeons have no fear. He shall be
brought to you by the first means. He has great honour to-day for
himself and for us all.
_Ireton:_
He loves you.
(CROMWELL adds a word to the letter. Then he leaves IRETON to the
surgeons and speaks to SETH, who is at the table.)
_Cromwell:_
Seth, will you write, please.
(He dictates very quietly, not to disturb IRETON.)
To the Speaker of the Commons of England, at Westminster.
Sir,--This, of which the General advises you, is none other but the
hand of God, and to Him alone belongs the glory, wherein none are to
share with him. The General served you with all faithfulness and
honour; and the best commendation I can give him is, that I dare say
he attributes all to God, and would rather perish than assume to
himself. Which is an honest and a thriving way; and yet as much for
bravery may be given to him, in this action, as to a man. Honest men
served you faithfully in this action. Sir, they are trusty; I beseech
you, in the name of God, not to discourage them. I wish this action
may beget thankfulness and humility in all that are concerned in it.
He that ventures his life for the liberty of his country, I wish he
trust God for the liberty of his conscience, and you for the liberty
he fights for. In this he rests, who is your most humble servant....
From the camp at Naseby field, in Northamptonshire.
(He signs the letter. Outside in the night the Puritan troops are heard
singing the One Hundred and Seventeenth Psalm:
"O praise the Lord, all ye nations: praise him, all ye people.
For his merciful kindness is great toward us: and the truth of the
Lord endureth for ever.
Praise ye the Lord."
They listen. IRETON sleeps.)
_Cromwell:_
They sing well.
(He looks at a map; then, to the aide:)
Go to General Peyton. Tell him to keep three troops of horse four miles
down the Leicester road there. He is not to move them till daybreak. And
ask Colonel Reade to let me have his figures as soon as he can.
_The Aide:_
Yes, sir.
(He goes.)
_Cromwell:_
Finish that other letter, will you?
(SETH writes again.)
I can say this of Naseby. When I saw the enemy draw up and march in
gallant order towards us, and we, a company of poor ignorant men to seek
how to order our battle,--the General having commanded me to order all
the horse,--I could not, riding along about my business, but smile out
to God in my praises, in assurance of victory,
(the Psalm is heard again)
because God would, by things that are not, bring to naught the things
that are. Of which I had great assurance, and God did it.
(The singing still heard)
THE SCENE CLOSES