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. That, out of mere ambition, you have caused Your holy hat to be stampt on the king's coin.
Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub
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
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Cham.
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.
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 th' 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
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 ventured,
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.
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, standing amazed.
Why, how now, Cromwell!
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am faln indeed.
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, 380 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!
Grom. 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.—
The heaviest and the worst
Is your displeasure with the king.
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place.
Wol.
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,
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.
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, Cromwell;
I am a poor faln 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.
Crom.
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.
Wol. 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 wrack, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master mist 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;
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.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol.
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
SCENE I. A street in Westminster.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.
First Gent. Y'are well met once again.
Sec. Gent. So are you.
First Gent. You come to take your stand here, and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
Sec. Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
First Gent. 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sor-
This, general joy.
Sec. Gent.
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds—
As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward- 10
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
Sec. Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains, That paper in your hand?
|