Of all the Kingdom. Many more there are
Which fince they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my Mouth with.
Prefs not a falling Man too far; 'tis Virtue:
His Faults lye open to the Laws, let them,
Not you, corre& him.
So little, of his great Self.
Sur. I forgive him.
My Heart weeps to fee 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 fued against you,
To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,
Caftles, and whatfoever, 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 ftubborn 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 Wolfey
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 blushing 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,
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 muft for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of the 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 afpire to,
That sweet Afpect of Princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than Wars or Women have:
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
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 Spirit wonder
great Man fhould decline. Nay, and you weep
I am fall'n indeed.
Crom. How does your Grace?
Wol. Why, well;
Never fo truly happy, my good Cromwell,
I know my felf 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 thefe Shoulders
This ruin'd Pillar, 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 am glad
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 Miferies, 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 Sir Thomas Moor 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 Juftice
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 him.
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 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 King has gone beyond me: All my Glories
In that one Woman I have loft for ever.
No Sun fhall ever ufher 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 Sun, 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 Natnre, not to let
Thy hopeful fervice perifh too.
Neglect him not; make ufe now, and provide
For thine own future fafety.
Muft I then leave you? Muft I needs forgo
So good, fo noble, and fo true a Master ?
Bear witnefs, all that have not Hearts of Iron,
With what a Sorrow Cromwell leaves his Lord.
The King fhall have my fervice; but my Prayers
For ever and for ever fhall be yours.
Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to fhed a Tear
In all my Miseries; but thou haft forc'd me,
Out of thy honeft truth, to play the Woman.
Let's dry our Eyes: And thus far hear me, Cromwell,
And when I am forgotten, as I fhall be,
And fleep in dull cold Marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard: Say, I taught thee;
Say, Wolfey, that once trod the ways of Glory,
And founded all the Depths and Shoals of Honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rife in:
A fure, and fafe one, though thy Mafter mift it.
Mark but my Fall, and that that ruin'd me:
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away Ambition,
By that Sin fell the Angels; how can Man then
The Image of his Maker, hope to win it?
Love thy felf laft, cherish those Hearts that hate thee:
Corruption wins not more than Honesty.
Still in thy right Hand, carry gentle Peace
To filence envious Tongues. Be juft, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'ft at, be thy Country's,
Thy God's and Truth's; then if thou fall'st, Ö Cromwell,
Thou fall'ft a blessed Martyr.
Serve the King; and prithee lead me in:
There take an Inventory of all I have,
To the laft Penny, 'tis the King's. My Robe,
And my Integrity to Heav'n, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but ferv'd my God, with half the Zeal
I ferv'd my King; he would not in mine Age
Have left me naked to mine Enemies.
Crom. Good Sir, have patience.
Wol. So I have. Farewel
The hopes of Court, my hopes in Heav'n do dwell.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.
1 Gen. You're well met once again.
2 Gen. So are you.
1 Gen. You come to take your Stand here, and behold The Lady Anne pass from her Coronation.
2 Gen. 'Tis all my Bufinefs. At our laft encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his Trial..
But that time offer'd Sorrow,
1 Gen. 'Tis very true. This, general Joy.
2 Gen. 'Tis well; the Citizens
I am fure have fhewn at full their Royal Minds,
And let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward
In Celebration of this day with Shews,
Pageants, and Sights of Honour.
1 Gen. Never greater,
Nor I'll affure you better taken, Sir.
2 Gen. May I be bold to ask what that contains, The Paper in your Hands?
I Gen. Yes, 'tis the Lift
Of those that claim their Offices this Day,
By cuftom of the Coronation.
The Duke of Suffolk is the firft, and claims
To be high Steward; next the Duke of Norfolk,
He to be Earl Marshal; you may read the reft.
2 Gen. I thank you, Sir; had I not known thofe Customs,
I fhould have been beholding to your Paper:
But I beseech you what's become of Katharine,
The Princes Dowager? How goes her Business?
1 Gen. That I can tell you too; the Archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and Reverend Fathers of his Order,
Held a late Court at Dunstable, fix Miles off
From Ampthil, where the Princefs lay, to which
She was often cited by them, but appear'd not:
And to be short, for not Appearance, and
The King's late fcruple, by the main affent
Of all thefe learned Men, fhe was Divorc'd,
And the late Marriage made of none effect:
Since which, fhe was removed to Kimbolton,
Where the remains now fick.
2 Gen. Alas good Lady!
The Trumpets found; ftand close,
The Queen is coming.
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