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Have burnt that tongue, than said so.
Sur. Thy ambition,
Wol. This, and all else
Sur. By my soul,
Wol. All goodness
Sur. Yes, that goodness
l'll startle you
My lord of Norfolk, as you're truly noble,
Wol. How much methinks I could despise this many
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in th’ King's hand :
Wol. So much fairer
Sur. This cannot save you ::
Wol. Speak on, Sir,
Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
Suf. That without the knowledge
ouncil, when you went Ambassador to th' Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the
Suf. That out of meer ambition, you have made Your holy hat be stampt on the King's coin.
Sur. That you have sent innumerable substance (By what means got I leave to your own conscience) Tó furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to th' meer undoing of all the kingdom. Many more there are, Which since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint iny mouth with.. Cham, o
lord, Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue : His faults lye open to the laws; let them, Not you, correát him. My heart weeps to see him So little of his great self.
Sur. I forgive him.
Suf. Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is, (Because all those things you have done of late, By your pow'r legatine within this kingdom, Fall in the compals of a præmunire) That therefore such a writ be sued against yous To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Castles, and whatsoever, and to be Out of the King's protection. This is my charge.
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer. About the giving back the great seal to us, The King shall know it, and no doubt shall thank you, So fare you well, my little good lord Cardinal.
(Exeunt all but Wolsey.
Wol. So, farewell to the little good you bear mes. & Farewel, a long farewel to all my greatness ! "This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth • The tender leaves of hopes, 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 easie man, full surely
His greatness' is a ripening, nips his root,
• And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
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 the world! I hate ye, • I feel my heart new opened. Oh 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, our ruin, • More pangs and fears than war or women have, • And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, • Never to hope again.
Enter Cromwell standing amaz'd.
Wol. What, amaz'd
Crom. How does your Grace ?
Wol. Why, well;
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer :
Cham. The heaviest, and the worst,
Wol. God bless him. Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moor 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 him. What inore ?
Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome ; Install'd lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That's news indeed.
Crom. Last, that the lady Anne,
honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell, I am a
fall'n man, unworthy now
Crom. O my lord,