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And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well :
He said he did, and with his deed did crown
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My studied purposes requite; which went
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
On you than any; so your hand and heart,
And throw it from their soul; though perils did
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 What appetite you have.
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;
The letter, as I live, with all the business
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
Authority so weighty.
Suf. Who dare cross 'em, Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly? Wol. Till I find more than will or words to
I mean your malice, know, officious lords,
gave me ;
Bade me enjoy it with the place and honours, During my life; and to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters-patent: now who 'll take it? Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol. It must be himself then. 251 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,
Far from his succour, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st
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 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 should'st feel
Is poison to thy stomach.
My sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My lords,
Yes, that goodness
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.
Wol. Speak on, sir; I dare your worst objections: if I blush, It is to see a nobleman want manners.
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.
Either of king or council, when you went
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
Then, that without the knowledge
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.
What! amaz'd | 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.
At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
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:
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
Lord chancellor in your place.
When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em! What more?
That Cranmer is return'd with
Wol. 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.
Wol. 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, 410 Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me,
I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now
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,
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. 430 Let's dry our eyes and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
There take an inventory of all I have,
Of those that claim their offices this day
The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
I should have been beholding to your paper.
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Alas! good lady. Trumpets. The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming. Hautboys.
THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION.
1. Two Judges.
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before
3. Choristers, singing.
4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace.
Garter in his coat of arms, and on his head a
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 Winchester. 8. The old Duchess of NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the QUEEN'S 9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.
They pass over the stage in order and state.
Enter a third Gentleman.
God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? Third Gent. Among the crowd i' the Abbey; where a finger
Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled
That I did.
of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
That had not half a week to go, like rams
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and saint-like
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly.
And with the same full state pac'd back again To York-place, where the feast is held.
Sir, You must no more call it York-place, that 's past; For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost : 'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall. Third Gent. I know it; But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name Is fresh about me. Second Gent.
What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen? Third Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester,
Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary;
He of Winchester
Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.
Grif. How does your grace? Kath. O Griffith! sick to death: My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair: So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st me, That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?
Grif. Yes, madam; but I think your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. Kath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity.'
So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good now? Kath.
Yes, good Griffith; I were malicious else. Grif. This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not; But to the men that sought him sweet as
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; 60