May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on him!
What more ?

Crom. That Crammer is returned with welcome;
Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That's news indeed.

Grom. Last, that the Lady Anne,

Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,
This day was view'd in open as his Queen,

Going to chapel; and the voice is now

Only about her coronation

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O

Cromwell,

The King has gone beyond me: all my glories

In that one woman I have loft for ever.

No fun shall ever usher forth my honours,

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my fimiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master. seek the King,
(That fun I pray may never fet); I've told him
What and how true thou art; he will advance thee:
Some little memory of me will ftir him,

I know his noble nature, not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future fafety.

Grom. O my Lord,

Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, fo noble, and so true a master ?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a forrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
The King shall have my fervice; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be your's.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to thed a tear
In all my miferies; but thou haft forc'd me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman --
Let's dry our eyes and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And fleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me muft more be heard, fay then I taught thee;
Say, Wolfey, that once rode the waves of glory
And founded all the depths and shoals of honour..

:

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in :
A fure ard fafe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me :
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that fin fell the angels; how can man then
(bo' th' image of his Maker) hope to win by't?
Love thyself laft; cherish those hearts that wait thee:
Corruption wirs not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To filence envious tongues. Be jult, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy Gou's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Crom-
Thou fall'ft a blessed martyr. Serve the King; [well,
And prythee lead me in

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the latt penny, 'tis the King's. My robe,

And my integrity to Heav'n, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but terv'd my God with half the zeal

I ferv'd my King, he would not in mine age

Have left me naked to mine enemies,

Crom Good Sir, have patience.

Wol. So I have. Farewel

The hopes of court! my hopes in heav'n do dwell.

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

A street in Westminster.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Gen.

Y

Ou're well met once again.

2 Gen. And so are you.

I Gen You come to take your stand here, and behold

The Lady Anne pass from her coronation.

2 Gen 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter,

The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

1 Gen. 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd forrow; This, general joy.

2 Gen 'Tis well: the citizens,

I'm fure, bave shewn at full their loyal minds;
And let 'em have their right, they're ever forward

In celebration of these days with shews,
Pageants, and fights of honour.

1 Gen. Never greater,

Nor, I'll affare you better taken, Sir.

2 Gen. May I be bold to ask what that contains,

That paper in your hand?

1. Gen. Yes; 'tis the lift

Of those that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.

The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,
To be Earl Marshal; you may read the rest.

2 Gen. I thank you, Sir. Had I not known those
I should have been beholden to your paper,, [customs,
But, I beseech you, what's become of Catharine,
The Princess dowager? how goes her business ?

১

Gen That I can tell you too. The Archbishop. Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned and rev rend fathers of his order, Held a late court at Dunstable, fix miles From Ampthil, where the Princess lay; to which She oft was cited by thean, but appear'd not: And, to be short, for not appearance, and The King's late fcruple, by the main affent Of all these learned men she was divorc'd, And the late marriage made of none effect: Since which, the was remov'd to Kimbolton, Where the remains now fick..

2. Gen. Alas, good Lady! The trumpets found; stand close, the Queen is coming. [Hautboys..

The order of the coronation.

1. A lively flourish of trumpets..

2. Then two ju iges.

3. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.

4 Chorister finging.

[Mufic.

5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown.

6. Marquis of Dorset, bearing afceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of filver with the dove, crown'd with an Earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

7. Duke of Suffolk in his robe of state, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward. With him the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of MarShalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS.

8. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports, under it the Queen in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side her the Bishops of London and Winchester.

9. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers bearing the Queen's train. 10. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

They pass over the stage in order and flate, and then exeunt, with a great flourish of trumpets.

2 Gen. A royal train, believe me; these I know.

Who's that who bears the fceptre?

1 Gen. Marquis Dorset.

And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod.

2 Gen A bold brave gentleman. The next should be The Duke of Suffolk.

I Gen. 'Tis the fame: High Steward.

2 Gen. And that my Lord of Norfolk.

Gen. Yes.

2 Gen. Heav'n bless thee!

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.

Sir, as I have a foul, she is an angel;

Our King has all the Indies in his arms,

And more and richer, when he strains that lady.

I cannot blame his confcience.

I Gen. They that bear

The cloth of ftate above her, are four Barons

Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gen. Those men are happy; so are all are near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old Noble Lady the Duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gen. It is, and all the rest are Countesses.

2 Gen. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;

And fometimes falling ones.

Gen. No more of that.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, Sir,! Say, where have you been broiling? 3 Gen. Among the croud i' th' abbey, where a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gen. You saw the ceremony?

3 Gen. I did.

1 Gen. How was it?

3 Gen. Well worth the feeing.

2 Gen. Good Sir, speak it to us.

3 Gen. As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of Lords and Ladies, having brought the Queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her Grace fat down
To rest a while, fome half an hour, or fo,
In a rich chair of state, oppofing freely
The beauty of her person to the people,
(Believe me, Sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man); which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arofe
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest;
As loud, and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks,
Doublets, I think, flew up; and had their faces
Been loofe, this day they had been loft. Such joy
I never faw before. Great belly'd women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make it reel before 'em. No man living
Could fay, This is my wife there, all were woven
So strangely in one piece

2 Gen But pray what follow'd?

3 Gen. At length her Grace rose, and with modeft

paces

Came to the altar, where she kneel'd; and, faint like,
Caft her fair eyes to heav'n, and pray'd devoutly:
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people :
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury,
Sh' had all the royal makings of a Queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confeffor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all fuch emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,