se 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

SCENE VI

_An evening in November, 1647. A room in Hampton Court, where CHARLES
THE FIRST, now a prisoner with the army, is lodged._

_At a table, writing, is NEAL, the King's secretary. He finishes his
document, and, going to a bureau, locks it away. He returns to the
table, and, taking up an unopened envelope, examines it carefully. As he
is doing so CHARLES enters from an inner room._

_Charles:_
From Hamilton?

_Neal:_
Yes, sire.

_Charles:_
Has it been opened?

_Neal:_
I think not.

(CHARLES takes the letter, opens and reads it.)

_Charles:_
Good. The commissioners from Scotland are in London. They are prepared
to hear from us.

_Neal:_
Andrews goes to London to-night. He is to be trusted.

_Charles:_
Everything begins to move for us again. To-morrow they will miss us
here, eh, Neal? In a week we should be at Carisbrooke.

_Neal:_
Do not be too confident, sire. Things have miscarried before.

_Charles:_
But not this time, Neal, believe me. Their House and their army are at
odds. I've seen to that. It has gained time, and perplexed their
resolution. And now Scotland will strike again, and this time mortally.
Yes, the end will be with us, mark me.

_Ned:_
May Your Majesty reckon truly.

_Charles:_
Is Cromwell coming to-night?

_Ned:_
He said not.

_Charles:_
Strangely, the fellow grows on me. But he's a fool, Neal. Brave, but a
fool. He sees nothing. Indeed, he's too dull. Ireton too--they are heavy
stuff. Clods. Poor country. She needs us again truly. To check such
mummers as these--all means are virtuous for that, Neal, eh?

_Neal:_
Your Majesty knows.

_Charles:_
Yes, we n