GARDINER.
Well hath your Grace said, my Lord of Norfolk;
Therefore let us presently to Lambeth.
Thether comes Cromwell from the Court to night.
Let us arrest him, send him to the Tower,
And in the morning, cut off the traitor's head.

NORFOLK.
Come, then, about it, let us guard the town.
This is the day that Cromwell must go down.

GARDINER.
Along, my Lords.--Well, Cromwell is half dead;
He shaked my heart, but I will shave his head.

[Exeunt.]


ACT V. SCENE I. A street in London.

[Enter Bedford solus.]

BEDFORD.
My soul is like a water troubled,
And Gardiner is the man that makes it so.
O, Cromwell, I do fear they end is near:
Yet I'll prevent their malice if I can.
And in good time, see where the man doth come,
Who little knows how nears his day of doom.