D Dramatis Perfonæ, UK E of Norfolk. Earl of Bedford and his Hoft. Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester. Sir Chriftopher Hales. Sir Ralph Sadler. Old Cromwell, a Blacksmith of Putney. Banister, a broken Merchant, and his Wife. Bagot, a cruel covetous Broker. Friskiball, a Florentine Merchant. The Governors of the English House at Antwerp, States and Officers of Bononia. Goodman Seely, and his Wife Joan. Lieutenant of the Tower. Hodge, Will and Tom, old Cromwell's Servants. Two Citizens. Two Merchants. A Poft. Meffengers. Ufhers, and Servants. THE THE LIFE and DEATH O F Thomas Lord Cromwell. ACT I SCENE I. Enter Hodge, and two other Smiths, Servants to old Cromwell. HODG E. OME, Masters, I think it be past five a Clock, is it not time we were at Work? my old Mafter he'll be stirring anon. 1 Smith. I cannot tell whether my old Mafter will be stirring or no; but I am fure I can hardly take my Afternoons Nap, for my young Mafter Thomas, he keeps fuch a quile in his Study, with the Sun, and the Moon, and the feven Stars, that I do verily think he'll read out his Wits. Hodge. Hodge. He Skill of the Stars ? There's Goodman Car of Fulham, He that carried us to the ftrong Ale, where Goody Trundel Had her Maid got with Child: O, he knows the Stars, He'll tickle you Charles's Wain in nine Degrees: That fame Man will tell Goody Trundel When her Ale fhall mifcarry, only by the Stars. 2 Smith. Ay, that's a great Virtue indeed; I think Thomas Be no Body in comparison to him. 1 Smith. Well, Masters, come, fhall we to our Hammers? Hodge. Ay, content; first let's take our Mornings Draught, and then to work roundly. 2 Smith. Ay, agreed, go in, Hodge. Enter young Cromwell. [Exeunt. Crom. Good Morrow, Morn, I do falute thy brightness, The Night feems tedious to my troubled Soul: Whofe black Obscurity binds in my Mind A thousand fundry Cogitations: And now Aurora with a lively die, Adds Comfort to my Spirit that mounts on high. My Study like a mineral of Gold, Makes my Heart proud, wherein my hope's înroll'd; Peace with your Hammers, leave your knocking there, You do disturb my Study and my Reft; Leave off, I fay, you mad me with the Noise. Hodge. Why, how now, Mafter Thomas, how now; Crom. You fret my Heart, with making of this Noise. Hodge. How, fret your Heart? Ay, but Thomas, you'll Fret your Father's Purfe if you let us from Working. 2 Smith. Ay, this 'tis for him to make him a Gentleman: Shall we leave work for your mufing? that's well i'faith ; But here comes my old Mafter now. Enter |