That I, in the way of loyalty and truth Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, 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, Wol. All goodness Is poison to thy stomach. Sur. Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, The goodness of your intercepted packets, You writ to the pope, against the king: your goodness, Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,- Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench 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. Wol. So much fairer, And spotless, shall mine innocence arise, Sur. This cannot save you : I thank my memory, I yet remember 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, Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king Suf. Then, that, without the knowledge Sur. Item, you sent a large commission Without the king's will, or the state's allowance, 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 substance, (By what means got, I leave to your own conscience,) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways Cham. O my lord, Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him Sur. I forgive him. Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,- That therefore such a writ be sued against you; Out of the king's protection :-This is my charge. The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you. [Exeunt all but WOLSEY. Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me. His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride 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, Crom. How does your grace? Wol. 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: 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. 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 For truth's sake, and his conscience: that his bones, 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, Wol. There was the weight, that pull'd me down. O |