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Ante-chamber to the King's apartment.

If you will now unite in your complaints,

And force them with a constancy, the cardinal

Cannot stand under them: if you omit

The offer of this time, I cannot promise

But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces,

With these you bear already.

I am joyful

To meet the least occasion that may give me

Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,

To be revenged on him.

Which of the peers (10)

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least

Strangely neglected? when did he regard

The stamp of nobleness in any person

Out of himself?

My lords, you speak your pleasures:

What he deserves of you and me I know;

What we can do to him, though now the time

Gives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot

Bar his access to the king, never attempt

Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft

Over the king in's tongue.

O, fear him not;

His spell in that is out: the king hath found (21)

Matter against him that for ever mars

The honey of his language. No, he's settled,

Not to come off, in his displeasure.


I should be glad to hear such news as this

Once every hour.

Believe it, this is true:

In the divorce his contrary proceedings

Are all unfolded; wherein he appears

As I would wish mine enemy.

How came

His practices to light?

Most strangely.

O, how, how? (30)

The cardinal's letters to the pope miscarried,

And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read,

How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness

To stay the judgement o' the divorce; for if

It did take place, 'I do,' quoth he, 'perceive

My king is tangled in affection to

A creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.'

Has the king this?

Believe it.

Will this work?

The king in this perceives him, how he coasts

And hedges his own way. But in this point

All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic (41)

After his patient's death: the king already

Hath married the fair lady.

Would he had!

May you be happy in your wish, my lord!

For, I profess, you have it.

Now, all my joy

Trace the conjunction!

My amend to 't!

All men's!

There's order given for her coronation:

Marry, this is yet but young, 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 (51)

Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall

In it be memorized.

But, will the king

Digest this letter of the cardinal's?

The Lord forbid!

Marry, amen!

No, no;

There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose

Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius

Is stol'n 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, (60)

To second all his plot. I do assure you

The king cried Ha! at this.

Now, God incense him,

And let him cry Ha! louder!

But, my lord,

When returns Cranmer?

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.

This same Cranmer's

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain

In the king's business.

He has; and we shall see him

For it an archbishop.

So I hear.

'Tis so.

The cardinal! Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.

Observe, observe, he's moody.

The packet, Cromwell,

Gave't you the king?

To his own hand, in's bedchamber.

Look'd he o' the inside of the paper?


He did unseal them: and the first he view'd, (80)

He did it with a serious mind; a heed

Was in his countenance. You he bade

Attend him here this morning.

Is he ready

To come abroad?

I think, by this he is.

Leave me awhile. [Exit Cromwell.

It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,

The French king's sister: he shall marry her.

Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:

There's more in't than fair visage. Bullen!

No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish (90)

To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!

He's discontented.

May be, he hears the king

Does whet his anger to him.

Sharp enough,

Lord, for thy justice!

The late queen's gentle, woman, 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 virtuous

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 (101)

Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up

An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one

Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,

And is his oracle.

He is vex'd at something.

I would 'twere something that would fret the string,

The master-cord on's heart! Enter the KING, reading of a schedule, and LOVELL.

The king, the king!

What piles of wealth hath he accumulated

To his own portion! and what expense by the hour

Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift,

Does he rake this together! Now, my lords,
Saw you the cardinal?

My lord, we have

Stood here observing him; some strange commotion

Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;

Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,

Then lays his finger on his temple; straight

Springs out into fast gait; then stops again,

Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts

His eye against the moon: in most strange postures

We have seen him set himself.

It may well be;

There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning (121)

Papers of state he sent me to peruse,

As I required: and wot you what I found

There,--on my conscience, put unwittingly?

Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing;

The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,

Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which

I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks

Possession of a subject.

It's heaven's will:

Some spirit put this paper in the packet,

To bless your eye withal. (130)

If we did think

His contemplation were above the earth,

And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still

Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid

His thinkings are below the moon, not worth

His serious considering. King takes his seat; whispers Lowell, who goes to the Cardinal.

Heaven forgive me!

Ever God bless your highness!

Good my lord,

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory

Of your best graces in your mind; the which

You were now running o'er: you have scarce time (140)

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.


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.

You have said well. (150)

And ever may your highness yoke together,

As I will lend you cause, my doing well

With my well saying!

'Tis well said again;

And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:

And yet words are no deeds. My father loved 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 pared my present havings, to bestow

My bounties upon you. (160)

What should this mean?

The Lord increase this business!

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?

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 (170)

Have ever come too short of my desires,

Yet filled with my abilities: mine own ends

Have been mine so that ever more 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.

Fairly answer'd; (180)

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 your bond of duty,

As 'twere in love's particular, be more

To me, your friend, than any. (190)

I do profess

That for your highness' good I ever labour'd

More than mine own; tthat 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 'em, and

Appear in forms more horrid,--yet my duty,

As doth a rock against the chiding flood,

Should the approach of this wild river break,

And stand unshaken yours.

'Tis nobly spoken: (200)

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

What appetite you have. Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering.

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 (211)

Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together

For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedome,

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 (220)

Will bring me off again. What's this? 'To the Pope!'

The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to's 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 to WOLSEY, the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you

To render up the great seal presently (230)

Into our hands; and to confine yourself

To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's,

Till you hear further from his highness.


Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry

Authority so weighty.

Who dare cross 'em,

Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?

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: (240)

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 'em, 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?

The king, that gave it. (251)

It must be himself, then.

Thou art a proud traitor, priest.

Proud lord, thou liest:

Within these forty hours Surrey durst better

Have burnt that tongue than said so.

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! (260)

You sent me deputy for Ireland;

Far from his succour, 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.

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 (271)

You have as little honesty as honour,

That 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.

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, (280)

To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,

Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,

And dare us with his cap like larks.

All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach.

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 (291)

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.

How much, methinks, I could despise this man,

But that I am bound in charity against it!

Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand:

But, thus much, they are foul ones. (300)

So much fairer

And spotless shall mine innocence arise,

When the king knows my truth.

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.

Speak on, sir;

I dare your worst objections: if I blush,

It is to see a nobleman want manners.

I had rather want those than my head. Have at you! (310)

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.

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.

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. (320)

Item, you sent a large commission

To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,

Without the king's will or the state's allowance,

A league between his highness and Ferrara.

That, out of mere ambition, you have caused

Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

Then that you have sent innumerable substance--

By what means got, I leave to your own conscience--

To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways

You have for dignities: to the mere undoing (330)

Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;

Which, since they are of you, and odious,

I will not taint my mouth with.

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.

I forgive him.

Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,

Because all those things you have done of late,

By your power legatine, within this kingdom, (340)

Fall into the compass of a praemunire,

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.

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.

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 ventured,

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, (360)

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 wretch'd

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, (370)

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!

I have no power to speak, sir.

What, amazed

At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder

A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,

I am fall'n indeed.

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, (380)

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured 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!

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

I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,

Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,

To endure more miseries and greater far (390)

Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.

What news abroad?

The heaviest and the worst

Is your displeasure with the king.

God bless him!

The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen

Lord chancellor in your place.

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? (400)

That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,

Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

That's news indeed.

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.

There was the weight that pull'd 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, (411)

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles. 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 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 use now, and provide

For thine own future safety. (421)

O my lord,

Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forgo

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. (429)

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear

In all my miseries; but thou hast forced 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,

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; (439)

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 it?

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; (450)

And,--prithee, 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 served my God with half the zeal

I served my king, he would not in mine age

Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Good sir, have patience.

So I have. Farewell

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. [Exeunt.

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