Of all the kingdom Many more there are,
Which fince they are of you, and odious,"
I will not taint my mouth with.

* Cham. O, my Lord,

Prefs not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue :
His faults lie open to the laws; let then,

Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to fee him
So little of his great self.

Sur. I forgive him.

Suf. Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is,
Because all thofe things you have done of late
By your power legatine within this kingdom,
Fall in the compass of a præmunire,

That therefore fuch a writ be fu'd against you,
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
And chattles, and whatfoever, and to be
Out of the King's protection. This is my charge.
Nor. And fo we'll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your ftubborn anfwer,
About the giving back the great feal to us,

The King fhall know it; and, no doubt, fhall thank you.
So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.
[Exeunt all but Wolfey.

Wol. So farewel to the little good you bear me!
Farewel, a long farewel to all my greatnefs!
This is the ftate of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow bloffoms,
And bears his blufhing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frolt, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good eafy man, full furely
His greatnefs is a-ripening, nips his thoot;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys, that fwim on bladders,
Thefe many fummers in a fea of glory;
But far beyond my deep: my high-blown pride
At length broke under
and has left me,
Weary, and old with fervice, to the mercy
Of a rude ftream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched

me

now

?

Is

Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that fmile he would afpire to,
That fweet afpect of princes, and his ruin,
More pangs and fears than war or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Enter Cromwell, ftanding amaz'd.

Why, how now, Cromwell?

Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir.
Wol. What, amaz'd

At my misfortunes? can thy fpirit wonder
A great man should decline? nay, if you weep,
I'm fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your Grace?

Wol. Why, well;

Never fo truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now, and I feel within me

A peace above all earthly dignities;

A ftill and quiet confcience. The King has cur'd me,

I humbly thank his Grace; and, from these shoulders, Thefe ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken

A load would fink a navy, too much honour.

O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,

Too heavy for a man that hopes for heav'n?

Grom. I'm glad your Grace has made that right use of it.

Wol. I hope I have: I'm able now, methinks,

Out of a fortitude of foul I feel,

T'endure more miferies, and greater far,

Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer,

What news abroad?

Crom. The heavieft, and the worst,

Is your difpleature with the King.

Wel. God bless him!

1

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chofen Lord Chancellor in your place.

Wol. That's fomewhat fudden

But he's a learned man. May he continue

Long in his Highnefs' favour, and do justice

For truth's fake and his confcience; that his bones, When he has run his courfe, and fleeps in bleffings,

May have a tomb of orphans' tear wept on him!
What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome
Inftall'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.

Wol. That's news indeed.

Crom. Laft, that the Lady Anne,

Whom the King hath in fecrecy 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 loft for ever.

No fun fhall ever ufher forth my honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my fimiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now

To be thy Lord and mafter. Seek the King,
(That fun I pray may never fet); I've told him
What and how true thou art; he will advance thee
Some little memory of me will fir him,

I know his noble nature, not to let

Thy hopeful service perilh too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not make ufe now, and provide
For thine own future fafety.

Crom. O my Lord,

Mufti then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, fo noble, and fo true a master?
Bear witnefs, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a forrow Cromwell leaves his Lord.
The King fhall have my fervice, but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, fhall be your's.

Wol. Cromwel, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miferies; but thou haft force'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 fhall be,

And fleep in dull cold marble, where no mention, Of me must more be heard, fay then I taught thee; Say, Wolfey, that once rode the waves of glory, And founded all the deeps and fhoals of honour, VOL. V.

T t

Found

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in :
A fure and fafe one, though thy mafter mifs'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me:
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that fin fell the angels; how can man then
(Tho' th' image of his maker) hope to win by't?
Love thyself laft; cherish thofe hearts that wait thee!
Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To filent envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'ft at, be thy country's,

[well,

Thy God's, and Truth's; then if thou fall'ft, O Crom-
Thou fall'it a bleffed 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 Heav'n, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but ferv'd my God with half the zeal
I ferv'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. Farewel

The hopes of court! my hopes in heav'n do dwell.

[Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A fireet in Westminster.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Gen. Ou're well met once again.

Y

2 Gen. And fo are you.

1 Gen. You come to take your ftand here, and behold The lady Anne pafs from her coronation.

2 Gen. 'Tis all my business. At our laft encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial, A

1 Gen. 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd forrow, This, general joy.

2 Gen. 'Tis well: the citizens,

I'm fure, have fhewn at full their loyal minds; And let 'em have their right, they're ever forward

In celebration of these days with fhews,
Pageants, and fights of honour.

1 Gen. Never greater,

Nor, I'll affure you, better taken, Sir.

2 Gen. May I be bold to ask what that contains; That paper in your hand?

1 Gen. Yes; 'tis the lift

Of thofe that claim their offices this day,

By custom of the coronation.

The Duke of Suffolk is the firft, and claims

To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, To be Earl Marshal; you may read the reft.

2 Gen. I thank you, Sir. Had I not known thofe I fhould have been beholden to your paper. [cuftoms, But, I beseech you, what's become of Catharine, The princefs-dowager how goes her business? 1 Gen. That I can tell you too. The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned and rev'rend fathers of his order, Held a late court at Dunstable, fix miles From Ampthil, where the Princefs lay; to which She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not: And, to be short, for not appearance, and The King's late fcruple, by the main affent Of all thefe learned men fhe was divorce'd, And the late marriage made of none effect: Since which, fhe was remov'd to Kimbolton, Where the remains now fick.

2 Gen. Alas, good Lady!

The trumpets found; ftand clofe, the Queen is coming.

The order of the coronation.

[Hautboys.

1. A lively flourish of trumpets.

2. Then two judges'

3. Lord Chancellor, with the purfe and mace before him. 4. Chorister finging.

Mufic. 5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter in bis coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown. 6. Marquis of Dorfet, bearing a fceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of

Tt2

Surrey