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To render up the Great Seal prefently
Into our hands, and to confine your felf
To Aber-boufe, my lord of Winchester's,
'Till you hear further from his Highness.
Wol. Stay :

Where's your commiffion, lords? words cannot carry
Authority fo mighty.

Suf. Who dare cross 'em,

Bearing the King's will from his mouth exprefly?
Wol. 'Till I find more than will, or words to do it,
(I mean, your malice ;) know, officious lords,
I dare, and muft deny it. Now I feel

Of what coarse metal ye are molded, Envy:
How eagerly ye follow my difgrace,

As if it fed ye; and how fleek, and wanton,
Y' appear in every thing may bring my ruin.
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That Seal,
You afk with fuch a violence, the King

(Mine and your mafter) with his own hand gave me ;
Bad me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life; and to confirm his goodness,
Ty'd it by letters patents. Now, who'll take it?
Sur. The King, that gave it.

Wol. It must be himself then.

Sur. Thou'rt a proud traitor, priest.
Wol. Proud lord, thou lieft:

Within these forty hours Surrey durft better
Have burnt that tongue, than faid fo.

Sur. Thy ambition,

Thou scarlet fin, 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 fuccour; from the King; from all,
That might have mercy on the fault, thou gav'ft him
Whilft your great goodness, out of holy pity,

Abfolv'd.

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Abfolv'd him with an axe.

Wol. This, and all elfe

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 honesty 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, prieft, protects you; thou fhould'st feel My fword i'th' life-blood of thee elfe. My lords,

Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?

And from this fellow? if we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of fcarlet,
Farewel, nobility; let his Grace

go

And dare us with his cap, like larks.
Wol. All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur. Yes, that goodness

forward,

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 moft notorious.

My lord of Norfolk, as you're truly noble,
As you refpect the common good, the ftate
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 ftartle you, (23)
Worfe than the facring bell, when the brown wench

Lay

(23) Worfe than the fcaring Bell,-] This abfurd Reading has only found place in Mr. Pope's two Editions. I have reftor'd, from all the beft Copies, facring Bell. That Gentleman, fure, fhould know, that

in

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. Those 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 arise ;
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 honesty.

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 thofe, than my head; have at you. First, 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.

in Roman Catholick Countries the little Bell, which is rung to give Notice of the Hofte approaching when it is carried in proceffion, as also in other Offices of that Church, is call'd, the Sacring, or Confecration Bell; from the French Word, Sacrer. And CHAUCER, I find, in his Dream, has made Use of the Word Sacre, to fignify Confecration, or holy Office.

Which Tent was Church Parochial,
Ordaint was in efpecial

For the Fefte, and for the Sacre;

The facetious Rabelais, Book 2d. ch. 26. particularly mentions the facring Bell. Pleuft à Dieu, que chafcun de vous euft deus paires de Sonnettes de Sacre au Menton. I wish to God, every one of you had two Couples of Sacring Bells dangling at your Chins.

And facring is frequently mention'd by Writers about our Author's time. In K. Richard the Firft's time, a Fray happen'd, on the Day of his Coronation, against the Jews, who, contrary to the King's own Proclamation, would needs enter the Church to fee him Sacred.

Stow's Survey of London. In the mean time being near to a Church, he heard a little Sacring Bell ring to the Elevation of a Merrow-Mass.

You fball ring the Sacring Bell,
Keep your hours, and tell your Knell.

VOL. V.

Scot's Difcovery of Witchcraft.

Merry Devil of Edmonton.

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

Was still 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
To Gregory de Caffado, to conclude,

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

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

Sur. Then, that you have fent innumerable substance (By what means got, I leave to your own confcience) To furnish Rome; and to prepare the vways 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 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 pow'r legatine within this kingdom,
Fall in the compass of a Pramunire)

That therefore fuch a writ be fued against you,
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be (24)
Out of the King's protection. This is my charge.

Nor.

(24) Caftles, and whatsoever,] I have ventur'd to fubftitute Chattels here, as the Author's genuine Word, for this good Reafon because, as our Law-books inform us, the Judgment in a Writ of Præmunire is, that the Defendant shall be from thenceforth out of the King's Protection; and his

Lands,

Nor. And fo 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 fhall know it; and, no doubt, fhall thank you. So fare you well, my little good lord Cardinal.

[Exeunt all but Wolsey. Wol. So farewel to the little good you bear me. Farewel, a long farewel to all my greatness! This is the ftate of man; to day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes, to morrow bloffoms, And bears his blufhing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a froft, a killing froft; And when he thinks, good eafie 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 fwim on bladders, These many summers 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 stream, 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 poor 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, standing amaz'd.

Why how now, Cromwell?

Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir.

Wol. What, amaz'd

At my misfortunes? can thy fpirit wonder,

Lands and Tenements, Goods and CHATTELS forfeited to the King; and that his Body shall remain in prifon at the King's pleasure. But because it may be objected, that Shakespeare had no Acquaintance with the LawBooks, it will be proper to take notice, that this very Description of the Pramunire is fet out by Holingfhead in his Life of K. Henry VIIIth p. 909.

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