Lap. Ah, Sir, that's nothing; your catarrh sits very well upon you, and you cough with a very good grace. Love. But tell me, What does Marianna say of my person?

Lap. She has a particular pleasure in talking of it; and I assure you, Sir, I have not been backward, on all such occasions, to blazon forth your merit, and to make her sensible how advantageous a match you will be to her?

Love. You did very well, and I anı obliged to you. Lap. But, Sir, I have a small favor to ask of you;I have a law-suit depending, which I am on the very brink of losing, for want of a little money; (He looks gravely] and you can easily procure my success, if you had the least friendship for me.-You can't imagine, Sir, the pleasure she takes in talking of you: [He looks pleased.] Ah! how you will delight her, how your venerable mien will charm her! She will never be able to withstand you. But indeed, Sir, this lawsuit will be a terrible consequence to me; [He looks grave again.] I am ruined if I lose it; which a very small matter might prevent-Ah! Sir, had you but seen the raptures with which she heard me talk of you. (He resumes his gaiety.] How pleasure sparkled in her eyes at the recital of your good qualities! In short, to discover a secret to you, which I promised to conceal, I have worked up her imagination till she is downright impatient of having the match concluded.

Love. Lappet, you have acted a very friendly part and I own that I have all the obligations in the world te you.

Lap. I beg you would give me this little assistance, Sir; [He looks serious) It will set me on my feet, and I shall be eternally obliged to you.

Love. Farewell; I'll go and finish my dispatches. Lap. I assure you, Sir, you could never assist me in greater necessity.

Love. I must give some orders about a particular af

fair.

Lap. I would not importune you, Sir, if I was not forced by the last extremity.

Love. I expect the tailor, about turning my coat ;don't you think this coat will look well enough turned, and with new buttons, for a wedding suit?

Lup. For pity's sake, Sir, don't refuse me this small favor: I shall be undone, indeed, Sir. If it were but so small a matter as ten pounds, Sir

Love. I think I hear the tailor's voice.

Lap. If it were but five pounds, Sir; but three pounds, Sir; nay, Sir, a single guinea would be of service for a day or two. [As he offers to go out on cither side, she intercepts him.]

Love. I must go, I can't stay-hark there! Somebody calls me-I am very much obliged to you, indeed; I am very much obliged to you.

Lap. Go to the devil, like a covetous good for nothing villain as you are. Ramile is in the right; however, I shall not quit the affair; for though I get nothing out of him, I am sure of my reward from the other side.

VI.-Cardinal Wolsey and Cromwell. HENRY VIII. Wol. FAREWELL, a long farewell to all my greatness This is the state of man; to day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his shootAnd then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, These many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth; my high blown pride At length broke under ine; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye! I feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! There is, betwixt that smile he would aapire to, That sweet regard of princes and his ruin, More pangs and fears than war or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Never to hope again.

Why, how now Cromwell?

[Enter Cromwell

Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir.

Wol. What, amaz'd

At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline? Nay, if you weep,
I'm fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your grace ?
Wol. Why, well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now, and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities;

:

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his Grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken

A load' would sink a navy, too much honor.
Oh, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!

Crom. I'm glad your Grace has made that right use

of it.

Wol. I hope I have: I'm able, now, methinks,

Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,

T' endure more miseries, and greater far,

Than my weak hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad ?

Crom, The heaviest and the worst

Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol. God bless him!

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is cho

sen Lord Chancellor in your place.

Wol. That's somewhat sudden

But he's a learned man. May he continue

Long in his highness' favor, and do justice,

For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphan's tears wept on him!
What more ?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;
Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That's news indeed!

Crom. 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:
Cromwell!

The king has gone beyond me; all my glories
In that one woman I have lost forever.

No sun shall ever usher forth my honors,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. 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 sun, I pray, may never set!) 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 service perish too. Good Cromwell;
Neglect him not; make use now and provide
For thine own future safety.

Crom. Oh, 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,
Forever and forever 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 must more be heard-say then, I taught thee:
Say, Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honer,
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 which ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,

GG

(Though the image of his maker) hope to win by't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that wait thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty.

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.

And pri'thee lead me in

Serve the king

There take an inventory of all I have;

To the last penny, 'tis the king's. My robe,
And mine integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call my own. Oh, 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.

VII. Sir Charles and Lady Racket.

THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE.

Lady R. O LA! I'm quite fatigued---I can hardly move-Why don't you help me, you barbarous man? Sir C. There-take my arm

Lady R. But I won't be laughed at I don't love

you.

Sir C. Don't you?

Lady R. No. Dear me! This glove! Why don't you help me off with my glove? Pshaw! You awkward thing; let it alone; you an't fit to be about me. Reach me a chair-you have no compassion for me I am so glad to sit down-Why do you drag me to routs ?You know I hate 'em.

Sir C. Oh! There's no existing, no breathing, unless one does as other people of fashion do.

Lady R. But I'm out of humor-I lost all my money. Sir C. How much?

Lady R. Three hundred.

Sir C. Never fret for that---I don't value three hun dred pounds to contribute to your happiness.