Whilft your great goodness out of holy pity,
Abfolv'd him with an axe.

Wol. This, and all else

This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is moft falfe. The Duke by law
Found his deferts. 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 fhould tell you,
You have as little honefty as honour;
That I, i' th' way of loyalty and truth
Toward the King, my ever-royal master,
Dare mate a founder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

Sur. By my foul,

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'it feel My fword i' th' life blood of thee elfe. My lords, endure to hear this arrogance?

Can ye

And from this fellow? if we live thus tamely,

To be thus jaded by a piece of fcarlet,

Farewel, nobility; let his Grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.

Wol. All goodness

Is poifon to thy stomach.

Sur. Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,

Into your own hands, Card'nal, by extortion:

The goodness of your intercepted packets

You writ to th' Pope, against the King; your goodness,
Since you provoke me, fhall be most notorious.

My lord of Norfolk, as-you're truly noble,
As you refpect the common good, the state,
Of our defpis'd nobility, our iffues,
Who, if he live, will fcarce be gentlemen;
Produce the grand fum of his fins, the articles
Collected from his life. I'll startle you, (15)

Q4

Worfe

(15) Worfe than the fcaring Bell,- -] This abfurd Reading has only found place in Mr. Pope's two Editions. I have

reftor'd,

Worfe than the facring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kiffing in your arms, lord Cardinal.

Wol. How much, methinks, I could defpife this

man,

But that I'm bound in charity against it!

Nor. Thofe articles, my lord, are in th' King's hand: But thus much, they are foul ones.

Wol. So much fairer,

And spotlefs, fhall mine innocence arife:
When the King knows my truth.

Sur. This cannot fave you:

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 fhew a little honefty.

Wol. Speak on, Sir;

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.

Firft, that without the King's affent, or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legat; 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 & Rex meus

Was ftill infcrib'd; in which you brought the King
To be your fervant.

Suf. That without the knowledge
Either of King or Council, when you went
Ambaffador to th' Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great Seal.

Sur. Item, You fent a large commiffion

reftor'd, from all the best Copies, facring Bell. That Gentleman, fure, fhould know, that in Roman Catbolick Countries the little Bell, which is rung to give Notice of the Hofte approaching when it is carried in proceffion, as alfo in other Offices of that Church, is call'd, the Sacring, or Confecration Bell; from the French Word, Sacrit.

Το

To Gregory de Caffado, to conclude,

Without the King's will or the ftate's allowance,
A league between his Highness and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of meer ambition, you have made
Your holy hat be ftampt on the King's coin.

Sur. Then, that you have fent innumerable fubftance

(By what means got, I leave to your own conscience)
To furnish Rome ; and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities, to th' meer 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 lye open to the laws; let them,

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 those things you have done of late,
By your pow'r legatine within this kingdom,
Fall in 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 (16)
Out of the King's protection. This is my charge.
Nor. And fo we'll leave you to your meditations

(16) Caftles, and whatsoever,] I have ventur'd to substitute Chattels here, as the Author's genuine Word, for this good Reason: because, as our Law-books inform us, the Judgment in a Writ of Præmunire is, that the Defendant fhall be from thenceforth out of the King's Protection; and his Lands and Tenements, Goods and CHATTELS forfeited to the King; and that his Body shall remain in prison at the King's pleasure. But because it may be objected, that Shakespeare had no Acquaintance with the Law-books, it will be proper to take notice, that this very Defcription of the Præmunire is fet out by Holing fhead in his Life of K. Henry VIII. p. 9e9.

How

How to live better.

For your stubborn answer,

About the giving back the great Seal to us,

The King fhall know it; and, no doubt, shall 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 blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a froft, a killing froft; And when he thinks, good eafie man, full furely His greatnefs is a ripening, nips his root; And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys, that fwim on bladders, These 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. Oh, how wretched Is that pooor man, that hangs on Princes' favours! There is, betwixt that fmile we would aspire to, That sweet afpect of Princes, and our 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 amax'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 fhould decline? nay, if you weep,
I'm fallen indeed.

Crom. How does yoG race i

Wol

1

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, 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 heav'n.

Crom. 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 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.

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' tears wept on him!
What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;
Install'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 chappel; and the voice is now
Only about her Coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down, O

Cromwell,

The