In that one woman I have lost for ever:

No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master: Seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir 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 safety.

Crom.

O my lord,
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.-
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast 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 sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught thee.
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty.

* Interest.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,

Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And,-Pr'ythee, lead me in:

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny: 'tis the king's my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all

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

Farewell

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. A street in Westminster.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. You are well met once again.

2 Gent.

And so are you.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and

behold

The lady Anne pass from her coronation?

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

The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

1 Gent. 'Tis very true: but that time offered sor

row;

This, general joy.

2 Gent.

'Tis well: The citizens,

I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds;

As, let them have their rights, they are ever forward
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.

1 Gent.

Never greater,

Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.

2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains, That paper in your hand?

1 Gent.

Yes; 'tis the list

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,
He to be earl-marshal; you may read the rest.

2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those customs,

I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?

1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage* made of none effect:
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent.

Alas, good lady![Trumpets.

The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is

coming.

The marriage lately considered as valid.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively flourish of trumpets; then enter

1. Two judges.

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

3. Choristers singing.

[Musick. 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head, a gilt copper crown.

5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of ss.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, 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. 7. 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 of her, the bishops of London and Winchester.

8. The old duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I

know ;

Who's that, that bears the sceptre ?

1 Gent.

Marquis Dorset:

And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that should

be

The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent.

'Tis the same; high-steward.

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk?

1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Yes.

Heaven bless thee ! [Looking on the Queen.

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

Sir, as I have a soul, 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 conscience.

1 Gent.

They, that bear

The cloth of honour over her, are four barons

Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are

near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 2 Gent. Their coronets say so.

indeed;

And, sometimes, falling ones.

1 Gent.

These are stars,

No more of that.

[Exit procession, with a great flourish of trumpets.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? 3 Gent. Among the croud i'the abbey; where a

finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled

With the mere rankness of their joy.

3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen