Sur. The king that gave it.
Wol.

It must be himself then.

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Wol.

Proud lord, thou liest;

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

Thy ambition,

Sur.
Thou scarlet sin, robbed 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)
Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
You sent me deputy for Ireland;

Far from his succor, from the king, from all

That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolved 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 loved many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honor;

That I, in 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.

By my soul,

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel My sword i' the life-blood of thee, else. 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.1

1 A cardinal's hat is scarlet; and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth, which engages the attention of the birds while the fowler draws his net over them.

Wol.

Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur.

All goodness

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 goodness,
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.-
My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despised nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,-
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

man,

But that I am bound in charity against it!

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

So much fairer,

Wol.
And spotless, shall mine 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 objection; if Í 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,

1 The little bell which is rung to give notice of the elevation of the Host, and other offices of the Romish church.

2 The amorous propensities of cardinal Wolsey are much dwelt upon in Roy's Satire against him, printed in the Supplement to Mr. Park's edition of the Harleian Miscellany.

You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops.

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

Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.

Suf.
Then, that, without the knowledge
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
carry into Flanders the great seal.

To

Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,

Without the king's will, or the state's allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.

Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caused Your holy hat to be stamped on the king's coin.1

Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub

stance

(By what means got, I leave to your own conscience)
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere2 undoing
Of all the kingdom. 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; 'tis virtue:

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.

Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,— Because all those things you have done of late, By your power legatine, within this kingdom, Fall into the compass of a præmunire,3—

1 This was one of the articles exhibited against Wolsey, but rather with a view to swell the catalogue than from any serious cause of accusation; inasmuch as the archbishops Cranmer, Bainbridge, and Warham, were indulged with the same privileges.

2 Absolute.

3 The judgment in a writ of præmunire (a barbarous word used instead of præmonere) is, that the defendant shall be out of the king's protection; and his lands and tenements, goods and chattels, forfeited to the king; and

That therefore such a writ be sued against you;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, 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 me.
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 root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This 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 forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspéct of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.-

Enter CROMWELL, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell?

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

that his body shall remain in prison at the king's pleasure. The old copy reads, erroneously, castles instead of cattels, the old word for chattels, as it is found in Holinshed, p. 909.

VOL. V.

26

Wol.

At

What, amazed

my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder, A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,

I am fallen indeed.

Crom.

Wol.

How does your grace?

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

Why, well;

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken

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

Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.

Wol. I hope I have. I am 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.

That's somewhat sudden;

Wol.
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 orphans' tears wept on 'em!
What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is returned 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,