Within these forty hours Surrey durst better

Have burnt that tongue, than said so.

Sur.

Thy ambition,

Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land

Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:

The heads of all thy brother:cardinals,

(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together), Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You sent me deputy for Ireland;

Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd him with an axe.

Wol.

This, and all else

This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts; 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 should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour;
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate* a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

Sur.

By my soul,

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st

feel

My sword i'the life-blood of thee else. My lords,
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jadedt by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks‡.
Wol.

Is poison to thy stomach.

* Equal.

+ Ridden.

All goodness

A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth.

Sur.

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 good

ness,

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 lound in charity against it!

Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's

hand:

But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Wol.

So much fairer,

And spotless, shall mine innocence arise,

When the king knows my truth.

Sur.

This cannot save 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 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.
Suff.

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.
Suff. 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 con

science),

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.

Sur.

I forgive him.

Suff. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is, Because all those things, you have done of late By your power legatinet within this kingdom, Fall into the compass of a præmuniret,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,

* Absolute.

+ As the Pope's legate.

‡ A writ incurring a penalty.

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 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 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 aspéct 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?

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol.

What, amaz'd

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.

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.

Wol.

That's somewhat sudden:

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,

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

* The chancellor is the guardian of orphans.

VOL. VI.

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