Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks."

Wol.

Is poison to my stomach.

Sur.

All goodness

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
Of our despis'd 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.

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.
And spotless, shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.

Sur.

This cannot save you:

I thank my memory, I yet remember

6 And dare us with his cap, like larks. It is well known that the hat of a cardinal is scarlet; and that one of the methods of daring larks was by small mirrors fastened on scarlet cloth, which engaged the attention of these birds while the fowler drew his net over them.

7 Worse than the sacring bell,] The little bell which is rung to give notice of the Host approaching when it is carried in procession, as also in other offices of the Romish church, is called the sacring or consecration bell; from the French word, sacrer.

Some of these articles; and out they shall.

Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal,
You'll show a little honesty.

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,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

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.

Suf. 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.

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 caus'd
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.
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
You have for dignities; to the mere undoing"
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;

Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.] This was certainly one of the articles exhibited against Wolsey, but rather with a view to swell the catalogue, than from any serious cause of accusation; inasmuch as the Archbishops Cranmer, Bainbrigge, and Warham, were indulged with the same privilege.

9

to the mere undoing-] Mere is absolute.

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.

Sur.

I forgive him.

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 the compass of a præmunire,'-
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

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 a ripening,-nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,

1

of a præmunire,] It is almost unnecessary to observe that præmunire is a barbarous word used instead of præmonere.

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, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell?

What, amaz'd

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol.

At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder,
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

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 peace above all earthly dignities,

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

Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.

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

and their ruin,] Their ruin is their displeasure, producing the downfall and ruin of him on whom it lights.

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.
What news abroad?

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.

That's somewhat sudden:

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.
Crom.

Last, that the lady Anne,

3

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,

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master: Seek the king;

3

in open,] i. c. in a place exposed on all sides to view,