Collected from his Life. I'll startle you

Worse than the facring Bell, when the brown Wench
Lay kiffing in your Arms, Lord Cardinal.

Wal. How much methinks I could defpife 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 fpotlefs fhall mine Innocence arise,
When the King knows my Truth.
Sur. This cannot fave you:

I thank my Memory, I yet remember

Some of thefe Articles, and out they fhall.

Now, if you can blufh, and cry Guilty, Cardinal,
You'll fhew a little Honefty.

Wol. Speak on, Sir,

dare your worft Objections: If I blush,

It is to fee a Nobleman want Manners.

Sur. I had 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 Jurifdi&tion 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 Servant.

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

Sur. Item, You fent a large Commiffion
To Gregory de Caffalis, to conclude,

Without the King's Will, or the States alowance,
A League between his Highness and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of meer Ambition, you have caus'd
Your Holy-Hat to be stamp'd on the King's Coin.
Sur. Then, that you have fent innumerable fubftance,
By what means got I leave to your own Confcience,
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for Dignities, to the meer undoing

Of

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, corre& 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 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,
Castles, and whatsoever, 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 Wolley. 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 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 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

There is betwixt that fmile we would afpire to,
That fweet Afpe&t 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 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

A 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 your Grace

Has made that right ufe 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 difpleafure 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 Highnefs favour, and do Juftice

For Truth's-fake, and his Confcience; that his Bones,

VOL. IV.

R

When

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;
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 Mafter. 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 service perish too.

Good Cromwell, Neglect him not; make ufe now, and provide For thine own future fafety.

Crom. O my Lord,

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 Miferies; but thou haft forc'd me,
Out of thy honest 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

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 thofe 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'ft, Ŏ Cromwell,
Thou fall'it a bleffed 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.

2 Gen. So are you.

1 Gen. You come to take your Stand here, and behold The Lady Anne pafs from her Coronation.

2 Gen. 'Tis all my Bufinefs. At our laft encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his Trial.

R 2

I Gen.