What appetite you have.

[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering.

Wol.

What should this mean?

What sudden anger 's this? how have I reap'd it?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

Leap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing.
I must read this paper;
I fear the story of his anger. "Tis so;
This paper
has undone me :-'tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know

A

way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,

Will bring me off again. What's this?—To the pope?'

The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to his holiness. Nay, then, farewell!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Re-enter DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, and LORD CHAMBERlain.

Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who commands you

To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands, and to confine yourself
To Asher-house,1 my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear farther from his highness.

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 have christian warrant for them, 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:

At Esher, in Surrey.

Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honors, During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters patents. Now, who'll take it? Sur. The king, that gave it.

Wol.

It must be himself then.

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.

Proud lord, thou liest :

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

Thy ambition,

Sur.
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 succor, from the king, from all

That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest

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,