Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Sur. Thy ambition, Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land 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 succour, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him; Wol. That I, in the way of loyalty and truth Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, Sur. By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st feel My sword i'the life-blood of thee else.-My lords, And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, Wol. Is poison to thy stomach. * Equal. + Ridden. All goodness A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth. Sur. Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, You writ to the pope, against the king: your good. ness, Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.- Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,- Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench 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. So much fairer, Wol. 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, 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, 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 Either of king or council, when you went Sur. Item, you sent a large commission Without the king's will, or the state's allowance, Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub stance (By what means got, I leave to your own conscience), To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways Cham. O my lord, Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: His faults lie open to the laws; let them, 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 legatinet within this kingdom, Fall into the compass of a præmunireţ,— 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, * Absolute. + As the Pope's legate. A writ incurring a penalty. About the giving back the great seal to us, 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, 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 aspéct 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, amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell? What, amaz'd Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder, 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 still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, A load would sink a navy, too much honour: 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, 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? Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury. Wol. That's news, indeed. Last, that the lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me, all my glories The chancellor is the guardian of orphans. VOL. VI. |