Wol.

What should this mean?

Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside. 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,

I fear, the story of his anger.-'Tis so:
This paper has undone me!-'Tis th' 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 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.

Suf. 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

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 had 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.

Suf Then, that without the knowledge Either of king or council, when you went Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold 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

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 pramunire,—
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 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 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, 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.—

Enter CROMWELL, and stands amazed. 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.

Wol.

How does your grace?

Why, well:

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

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?

May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em! What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

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 pulled me down. O Cromwell!

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, Crom-
well;

I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;
(That sun, I pray,
7, 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. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.

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.

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, Crom-
well:

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,

me,

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

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.
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.

SCENE I-A Street in Westminster.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. You're 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 encounter,

The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

1 Gent. 'Tis very true; but that time offer'd

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

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
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
She was often cited by them, but appear'd not:
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,
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent.

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

[Hautboys.

4. Mayor of London bearing the mace. Then, Garter in his coat of arms; and on his head, he wore a gilt copper crown.

5. Marquess 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.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship; a coronet on his head. 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 her, the Bishops of London and Winches

And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman. That should be

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.

The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the cinque-ports.

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

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.