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Sur.

'Would he had!

Suff. May you be happy in your wish, my lord!
For, I profess, you have it.
Sur.
Trace the conjunction!
Suff
Nor.

Now all my joy
My amen to't!

All men's.
Suff. There's order given for her coronation :
Marry, this is yet but young,2 and may be left
To some ears unrecounted.-But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd.3

Sur.
But, will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal's?
The Lord forbid !

Nor.

Marry, amen!

Suff No, no; There be more wasps that buzz about his nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave; Has left the cause o'the king unhandled; and Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, To second all his plot. I do assure you The king cried, ha! at this. Cham And let him cry ha, louder! Nor.

Now, God incense him,

But, my lord,

When returns Cranmer ?

Suff. He is return'd, in his opinions; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges
Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd, queen; but princess dowager,
And widow to prince Arthur.

Nor.

This same Cranmer's A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the king's business.

Suff He has; and we shall see him For it, an archbishop. So I hear.

Nor.

Suff.

The cardinal

'Tis so.

Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.

Nor.
Observe, observe, he's moody.
Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the
king?

Crom. To his own hand, in his bed-chamber.
Wol. Look'd he o'the inside of the paper?
Crom.
Presently
He did unseal them; and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance: You, he bade
Attend him here this morning.

Wol.

Is he ready

To come abroad?

--

Crom. I think, by this he is. Wol. Leave me a while.- [Exit Cromwell. It shall be to the duchess of Alençon, The French king's sister: he shall marry her.

(1) Follow. (2) New. (3) Made memorable.

Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him. || There is more in it than fair visage.-Bullen! No, we'll no Bullens.-Speedily I wish

To hear from Rome.-The marchioness of Pembroke!

Nor. He's discontented.
Suff

May be, he hears the king

Does whet his anger to him.
Sur.

Sharp enough,

Lord, for thy justice!

Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's

daughter,

To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!---
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then, out it goes.-What though I know her vir-
tuous,

And well-deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i'the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
A heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.

Nor.

He is vex'd at something. Suff. I would, 'twere something that would fret the string, The master-cord of his heart!

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You were now running o'er; you have scarce time || What appetite you have.
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol.

Sir,

For holy offices I have a time; a time
To think upon the part of business, which
I bear i'the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.
K. Hen.

You have said well.
Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying!

K. Hen.
'Tis well said again;
And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you:
He said, he did; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.
Wol.

What should this mean?
Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside.I
K. Hen.
Have I not made you
The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me,
If what I now pronounce, you have found true:
And, if you may confess it, say withal,
If you are bound to us, or no. What say you?

Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces,
Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could
My studied purposes requite; which went
Beyond all man's endeavours :-my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends
Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed
To the good of your most sacred person, and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks;
My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.

K. Hen.

Fairly answer'd;
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated: The honour of it
Does pay the act of it; as, i'the contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume,
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour,

more

On you, than any; so your hand, and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that
bond of duty,
your
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.

Wol.
I do profess,
That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be.
Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their soul: though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,
As doth the rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

K. Hen.
'Tis nobly spoken:
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this;
[Giving him papers.
And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with

[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,
haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the
Earl of Surrey, and the 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, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol.

Stay,

Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.

Suff
Who dare cross them?
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:

Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
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.
Wol.
Proud lord, thou liest;
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.

Sur.
Thy ambition,
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;

(1) Esher, in Surrey.

To carry into Flanders the great seal.

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.

Far from his succour, from the king, from all Either of king or council, when you went
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st || Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd 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 lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour;
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 should'st feel

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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 despis'd 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.
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 objections: if I 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,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd 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 inscrib'd; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.
Suff

Then, that, without the knowledge

Suff. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub

(1) Equal. (2) Ridden.

(3) A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method

of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth.

stance

(By what means got, I leave to your own con-
science,)

To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere4 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.

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 honours 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 ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
So much fairer, 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 for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd: O, 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, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.—

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.

Suff Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,
Because all those things, you have done of late
By your power legatines within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a præmunire,6—
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

Enter Cromwell, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell?
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
Wol.

|

What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder,
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.
Crom.
How does your grace?

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Wol.

Why, well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour :
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.

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 'em!
What more?

The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature,) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use2 now,
and provide
For thine own future safety.

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate
thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then if. thou fall'st, O
Cromwell

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And,-pr'ythee, lead me in:

There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny: 'tis the king's my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol.
So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, SCENE I-A street in Westminster. Enter Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

two Gentlemen, meeting.

Wol. That's news, indeed.
Crom.
Last, that the lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was view'd in open, as his queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down.
O Cromwell,

1 Gent. You are well met once again.
2 Gent.
And so are you.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and
behold
The lady Anne pass from her coronation?

2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en-
counter,

The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
1 Gent. 'Tis very true: but that time offered

sorrow;

This, general joy.
2 Gent.

'Tis well: The citizens,

I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds;
As, let them have their rights, they are ever forward
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
I Gent.

Never greater, Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. 2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains,

That paper in your hand?

1 Gent.
Yes; 'tis the list
Of those, that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.

Crom.
O my lord,
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.—
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl-marshal; you may read the rest.

2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those
customs,

I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be ;
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught thee.
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:

1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.

And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,

(1) The chancellor is the guardian of orphans.

(2) Interest.

And the late marriage1 made of none effect:
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you sir! Where have you been broiling?
3 Gent. Among the croud i'the abbey; where a
finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.
2 Gent.
You saw
The ceremony?

3 Gent.

That I did.

1 Gent.

How was it? 3 Gent. Well worth the seeing. 2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.

queen

3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords, and ladies, having brought the To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off A distance from her; while her grace sat down To rest a while, some half an hour, or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman That ever lay by man: which when the people Had the full view of, such a noise arose 6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coroAs the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, net on his head, bearing a long white As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, wand, as high-steward. With him, the (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces duke of Norfolk, with the rod of mar-Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy shalship, a coronet on his head. Collars I never saw before. Great-bellied women, of SS. That had not half a week to go, like rams In the old time of war, would shake the press, And make them reel before them. No man living Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent.
But, pray, what follow'd?
3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest
paces

Alas, good lady!— [Trumpets. The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively flourish of trumpets; then enter 1. Two judges.

2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.

[Music.

3. Choristers singing.
4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then
Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his
head, a gilt copper crown.

5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on
his head a demi-coronal of gold. With
him, the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod
of silver with the dove, crowned with an
earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, the Queen in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her, the bishops of London

and Winchester.

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without flowers.

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint

like,

Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly,
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:

know ;-
Who's that, that bears the sceptre?

1 Gent.
Marquis Dorset:
And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.
2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that
should be
The duke of Suffolk.
1 Gent.

Gent. A royal train, believe me.--These I When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems,
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1 Gent.

'Tis the same; high-steward. 2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk? 1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Yes.
Heaven bless thee!
[Looking on the Queen.
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.-
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady :
I cannot blame his conscience.

Sir, you

Must no more call it York-place, that is past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the king's, and call'd-Whitehall.
3 Gent.

But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

I know it;

1 Gent.
They, that bear
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are The other, London.
near her.

2 Gent.

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars, indeed; And, sometimes, falling ones, 1 Gent.

No more of that. [Exit procession, with a great flourish of trumpets.

(1) The marriage lately considered as valid.

2 Gent. What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen? 3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester, (Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)

He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent.
All the land knows that:
However, yet there's no great breach; when it

comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. 2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you? 3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell; A man in much esteem with the king, and truly A worthy friend.-The king

Has made him master o'the jewel-house,

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