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.