(Bridget returns with Amos. Very quietly he sings:)
When I shall in the churchyard lie,
Poor scholar though I be,
The wheat, the barley, and the rye
Will better wear for me.
For truly have I ploughed and sown,
And kept my acres clean;
And written on my churchyard stone
This character be seen;
"His flocks, his barns, his gear he made
His daily diligence,
Nor counted all his earnings paid
In pockets full of pence."
(While he is singing Mrs. Cromwell falls asleep and he goes. Cromwell stands for a time with Bridget, watching his mother asleep.)
Cromwell:
Daughter, we must be loving, one with another. No man is sure of himself, ever. He can but pray for faith.