I thank my memory, I yet remember

Some of these articles; and out they shall.

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

Wol.

Speak on, fir; I dare your worst objections: if I blush,

It is, to fee a nobleman want manners.

Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head. Have at you. First, that, without the king's affent, or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate; by which power You maim'd the jurifdiction of all bishops.

Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus

Was still infcrib'd; in which you brought the king your fervant.

To be

Suf.

Then, that, without the knowledge
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambaffador to the emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.

Sur. Item, you fent a large commiffion
To Gregory de Caffalis, 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 fent innumerable fubftance, (By what means got, I leave to your own confcience,) 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, 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 them,

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

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 compafs of a præmunire,--

That therefore fuch a writ be fu'd 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 fo we'll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer,
About the giving back the great feal 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 furely
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 fummers in a fea 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 fervice, to the mercy
Of a rude ftream, that muft 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 afpéct 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, fir.

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?

Never fo truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,

Why, well;

A still and quiet confcience. 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 fink 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.

Wol. I hope, I have: I am able now, methinks,

(Out of a fortitude of foul I feel,)

To endure more miseries, and greater far,

Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer,
What news abroad?

Crom.

The heavieft, and the worst,

Is your displeasure with the king.

Wol.

God bless him!

Crom. The next is, that fir 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 highness' favour, and do justice

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

May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!
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 marry'd,

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 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;

That fun, I pray, may never fet! I have told him

What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will ftir him,

(I know his noble nature,) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,

Neglect

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed In all my miferies; but thou haft forc'd m Out of thy honest truth to play the woman Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be And fleep in dull cold marble, where no m Of me more must be heard of,-fay, I taug Say, Wolfey, that once trod the ways of And founded all the depths and shoals of 1 Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to ri A fure and safe one, though thy master m Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd m Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambi By that fin fell the angels, how can man t The image of his Maker, hope to win by Love thy felf laft: cherish thofe hearts that Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To filence envious tongues. Be juft, and Let all the ends, thou aim'ft at, be thy co Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou

well,

Thou fall'ft a bleffed martyr. Serve the 1
And,-Pr'ythee, lead me in :

There take an inventory of all I have,