A November night in 1654, six years later. Mrs. Cromwell's bedroom in Whitehall, where Cromwell is now installed as Protector.
Mrs. Cromwell, now aged ninety-four, is on her death-bed. Standing beside her is Elizabeth, ministering to her.
Elizabeth:
Is that comfortable?
Mrs. Cromwell:
Yes, my dear, very comfortable.
Elizabeth:
Bridget is coming now. I must go down to Cheapside. I must see that man there myself.
Mrs. Cromwell:
Very well, my dear. Bridget is a good girl. I may be asleep before you come back. Good-night.