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Suf. Who dare cross 'em?

Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it,
(I mean, your malice,) know, officious lords,
I dare, and must deny it.-Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded,-envy.
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,

As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin!
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You've christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards.-That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king,

(Mine, and your master,) with his own hand gave me
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Ty'd it by letters patents: Now, who 'll take it?
Sur. The king, that gave it.

Wol. It must be himself then.

Sur. Thou 'rt a proud traitor, priest.

Wol. Proud lord, thou licst:

Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.

Sur. Thy ambition,

Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,

(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,) Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy You sent me deputy for Ireland;

Far from his succour, from the king, from all

That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him; Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolv'd him with an axe.

Wol. This, and all else

This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts: how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.

If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour;
That I, i' the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

Sur. Your long coat, priest, protects you.
My lords,

Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?

And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.
Wol. All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur. Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,

You writ to the pope, against the king: your good


Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.

My lord of Norfolk,

Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life:-I'll startle you

Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this


But that I'm bound in charity against it!

Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand: But, thus much, they are foul ones.

Wol. So much fairer,

And spotless, shall my innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.

Sur. This cannot save you:

I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles; and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal,
You'll show a little honesty.

Wol. Speak on, sir;

I dare your worst objections: if I blush,
It is, to see a nobleman want manners.

Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head. Have

at you.

First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego & Rex meus

Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king To be your servant.

Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

Sur. Then, that you 've sent innumerable substance, (By what means got, I leave to your own conscience,) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities.

Many more there are;

Which, since they are of you, and odious,

I will not taint my mouth with.

Cham. O, my lord,

Press not a falling man too far;

His faults lie open to the laws; let them,

Not you, correct him.-My heart weeps to see him So little of his great self.

Sur. I forgive him.

Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For


stubborn answer,

About the giving back the great seal to us,

The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank


So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.

[Exeunt NORFOLK, SUFFOLK, SURREY, and Chamberlain.

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 honours 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 root,
And 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 me; and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and our ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.-


Why, how now, 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, an you weep,
I'm fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your grace?

Wol. Why, well;

Never so truely happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me

A peace above all earthly dignities,

A still and quiet conscience.

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,

To 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 More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place.

Wol. That's somewhat sudden :

But he's a learned man. May he continue
Long in his highness' favour, 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 orphans' tears wept on them !→
What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

Vol. That's news indeed.

Crom. Last, that the lady Anne,

Whom the king hath in secrecy long marry'd,
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 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;

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: Go, Cromwell.
Crom. O my lord,

Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, no 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


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