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Have burnt that tongue, than faid so.
Sur. Thy ambition,
Thou fcarlet fin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother Cardinals,
With thee and all thy beft parts bound together,
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy,
You fent me deputy for Ireland,
Far from his fuccour; from the King, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'ft him i
Whilft your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Abfolv'd him with an axe.
Wol. This, and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I anfwer, is moft falfe. The Duke by law
Found his deferts. How innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul caufe can witnefs.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I fhould tell you,
You have as little honefty as honour;
That in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the King, my ever royal mafter,
Dare mate a founder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies..
Sur. By my foul,
Your long coat, prieft, protects you, thou should't feel
My fword i'th' life-blood of thee elfe. 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 fearlet,
Farewel nobility, let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.
Wol. All goodness
Is poifon to thy ftomach.
Sur. Yes, that goodness
Of gleaning all the lands-wealth into one,
Into your own hands, Card'nal, by extortion:
The goodness of your intercepted packets
You writ to th' Pope, against the King; your goodness,
Since you provoke me, fhall be most notorious.
My lord of Norfolk, as you're truly noble,
As you refpect the common good, the state
Of our defpis'd nobility, our iffues,
Who, if he live, will fcarce be gentlemen,
Produce the grand fum of his fins, the articles
Collected from his life. I'll ftartle
Worfe than the fcaring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kiffing in your arms, lord Cardinal.
Wol. How much methinks I could defpife this man, But that I'm bound in charity against it.
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in th' King's hand : But thus much, they are foul ones.
Wol. So much fairer
And spotless shall mine innocence arise,
When the King knows my truth.
Sur. This cannot fave you :
I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles, and out they fhall.
Now, if you can, blush, and cry guilty, Cardinal,
You'll fhew a little honesty.
Wol. Speak on, Sir,
I dare your worst objections: if I blush,
It is to fee a nobleman want manners.
Sur. I'd rather want thofe than my head; have as you:
First, that without the King's affent or knowledge:
You wrought to be a legat, by which power
You maim'd the jurifdiction of all bishops.
Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign Princes, Ego Rex meus
Was ftill infcrib'd; in which you brought the King
To be your fervant.
Suf. That without the knowledge
Either of King or council, when you went.
Ambaffador to th' Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great
Sur. Item, You fent a large commiffion To Gregory de Caffalis, to conclude,
Without the King's will or the State's allowance,
A league between his Highnefs and Ferrara
Suf. That out of meer ambition, you have made Your holy hat be stampt on the King's coin.
Sur. That you have fent innumerable fubftance (By what means got I leave to your own conscience) To furnifh Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to th' meer undoing Of all the kingdom. Many more there are, Which fince they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with.
Cham. O my lord,
Prefs not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue :
His faults lye open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to fee him
So little of his great felf..
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 compafs of a præmunire) That therefore fuch a writ be fued against you, To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Caftles, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the King's protection. This is my charge.
Nor. And fo we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your ftubborn answer About the giving back the great feal to us, The King fhall know it, and no doubt fhall thank you? So fare you well, my little good lord Cardinal. [Exeunt all but Wolfey,
Wol. So, farewel to the little good you bear mej
Farewel, a long farewel to all my greatnefs!
This is the ftate of man; to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow bloffoms,
And bears his blufhing honours thick upon him:
The third day comes a froft, a killing froft,
And when he thinks, good eafie man, full furely
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 fummers in a fea 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 fervice, to the mercy
Of a rude ftream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of the world! I hate
I feel my heart new opened. Oh how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on Princes favours!
There is, betwixt that fmile we would aspire to,
That sweet afpect of Princes, and * 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.
Why how now, Cromwell?
Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir.
Wol. What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? can thy fpirit wonder
A great man fhould decline nay, if you weep,
I'm fall'n indeed.
Crom. How does your Grace?
Wol. Why, well;
Never fo truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know my felf now, and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities;
A till and quiet confcience. The King has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his Grace; and from thefe fhoulders,
Thefe ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken
A load would fink a navy, too much honour.
O'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heav'n.
Crom. I'm glad your Grace has made that right ufe
Wol. I hope I have: I'm able now methinks.
Out of a fortitude of foul I feel,
T'endure more miferies, and greater far
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer:
What news abroad?
Cham. The heaviest, and the worst,
Is your difpleafure with the King,
Wol. God bless him.
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moor is chofen Lord Chancellor in your place.
Wol. That's fomewhat fudden
But he's a learned man. May he continue
Long in his Highnefs' favour, and do justice
For truth's fake and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his courfe and fleeps in bleffings,
May have a tomb of orphans tears wept on him.
Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome
Inftall'd lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That's news indeed.
Crom. Laft, that the lady Anne,
Whom the King hath in fecrecy long marry'd,
This day was view'd in open, as his Queen,
Going to chappel; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.
Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down,
The King has gone beyond me: all my glories
In that one woman I have loft for ever.
No fun fhall ever ufher forth my
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my fmiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell,
I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master. Seek the King,
(That fun, I pray may never fet) I've told him
What and how true thou art; he will advance thee:
Some little memory of me will ftir him,
I know his noble nature, not to let
Thy hopeful fervice perifh too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make ufe now, and provide
For thine own future fafety.
Crom. O my lord,
Muft I then leave you? muft I needs forego