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

Crom. That Crammer is returned with welcome; Inftall'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.

Wol. That's news indeed.

Grom. Laft, that the Lady Anne,

Whom the King hath in fecrecy 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 fhall 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 mafter. 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 stir him,

I know his noble nature, not to let

Thy hopeful fervice perifh too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make ufe now, and provide
For thine own future fafety.

Grom. O my Lord,

Muft I then leave you? muft I needs forego
So good, fo noble, and fo true a mafter?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a forrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
The King fhall have my fervice; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, fhall 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 fhoals of honour..

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rife in :
A fure and 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
(ho' th' image of his Maker) hope to win by't?
Love thyself laft; cherish thofe hearts that wait thee:
Corruption wirs not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

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

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the laft 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 ferv'd my God with half the zeal 1 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

[Exeunt.

IV. SCENE I.

Aftreet in Westminster.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

'Ou're well met once again.

1 Gen. You'

2 Gen. And fo are you.

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

The Lady Anne pass from her coronation.

2 Gen 'Tis all my bufinefs.

At our laft 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, have fhewn at full their loyal minds;

And let 'em have their right, they're ever forward

In celebration of these days with fhews,
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 thole that claim their offices this day,

By cuftom 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 thofe 1. fhould have been beholden to your paper,, [cuftoms, But, I beseech you, what's become of Catharine, The Prince's dowager? how goes her bufinefs?

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 Dunftable, fix miles

From Ampthil, where the Princefs lay; to which
She oft was cited by then, but appear'd not:
And, to be fhort, for not appearance, and
The King's late fcruple, by the main affent
Of all thefe learned men fhe was divorc'd,
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which, he was remov'd to Kimbolton,
Where the remains now fick.

2. Gen. Alas, good Lady!

The trumpets found; ftand clofe, the Queen is coming.

The order of the coronation

1. A lively flourish of trumpets..

2. Then two julges.

[Hautboys.

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

4 Chorister finging.

5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace.

[Mufic.

Then Garter in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown. 6. Marquis of Dorfet, bearing a fceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of

7.

A

Surrey, bearing the rod of filver with the dove, crown'd with an Earl's coronet. Collars of SS. Duke of Suffolk in his robe of ftate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward. With him the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of MarShalihip, 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 file her the Bishops of London and Winchefter.

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

They pass over the stage in order and ftate, 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 Dorfet.

And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod.

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

1 Gen. 'Tis the fame: High Steward.

2 Gen. And that my Lord of Norfolk.
1 Gen. Yes.

2 Gen Heav'n bless thee!

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

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

Our King has all the Indies in his arms,

And more and richer, when he ftrains that lady.

I cannot blame his confcience.

1 Gen. They that bear

The cloth of Ĥate above her, are four Barons

Of the Cinque-ports.

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

I take it, fhe that carries up the train,

Is that old Noble Lady the Duchefs of Norfolk.

1 Gen. It is, and all the reft are Counteffes.

2 Gen. Their coronets fay fo. These are stars indeed; And fometimes falling ones.

Gen. No more of that.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God fave 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 ranknefs of their joy.

2 Gen. You faw the ceremony?

3

Gen. I did.

1 Gen. How was it?

The rich ftream

3 Gen. Well worth the feeing.
2 Gen. Good Sir, ipeak it to us.
3 Gen. As well as I am able.
Of Lords and Ladies, having brought the Queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off

A diftance from her; while her Grace fat down
To reft a while, fome half an hour, or fo,
In a rich chair of state, oppofing freely
The beauty of her perfon to the people,
(Believe me, Sir, fhe is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man); which when the people
Had the full view of, fuch a noife arofe
As the fhrouds make at fea in a stiff tempeft;
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 thake the prefs,
And make it reel before 'em. No man living
Could fay, This is my wife there, all were woven
So ftrangely in one piece

2 Gen But pray what follow'd?

3 Gen. At length her Grace rofe, and with modeft
paces

Came to the altar, where fhe kneel'd; and, faint like,
Caft her fair eyes to heav'n, and pray'd devoutly :
Then rose again, and how'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,