Then lays his finger on his temple; straight,
Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
K. Hen.
It may well be;
There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; And, wot you, what I found
There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing,-
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which
I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks
Possession of a subject.
Nor.
It's heaven's will;
Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.

K. Hen.

If we did think

His contemplation were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings: but, I am afraid,
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering.

Wol.

(He takes his seat, and whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolsey.)

Heaven forgive me!

Ever God bless your highness!

K. Hen.
Good my lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
Of your best graces in your mind; the which
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol.

Sir,
For holy offices I have a time; a time
To think upon the part of business, which
I bear i' the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendancet o.

K. Hen.
You have said well.
Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well-saying!

K. Hen. "Tis well said again; And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well: And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you: He said, he did; and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office, I have kept you next my heart; have not alone Employ'd you where high profits might come home, But par'd my present havings, to bestow My bounties upon you.

Wol. What should this mean? Sur. The Lord increase this business! (Aside.) K. Hen. Have I not made you The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us, or no. What say you? Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all men's endeavours ;-my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, Which ever has, and ever shall be growing, Till death, that winter, kill it.

Fairly answer'd;

K. Hen. A loyal and obedient subject is

Therein illustrated: The honour of it
Does pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume,
That, as my hand bas open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour,

more

On you, than any; so your band, and heart, Your brain, and every function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twere in love's particular, be more

To me, your friend, than any.

I do profess,

Wol. That for your highness' good I ever labour'd More than mine own; that am, have, and will be. Though all the world should crack their duty to you, And throw it from their soul; though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours.

K. Hen. "Tis nobly spoken: Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this; (Giving him papers.) And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with What appetite you have. [Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering. What should this mean? What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

Wol.

Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman, that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
I fear, the story of his anger.-'Tis so:
This paper has undone me :-'Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly; Yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune
Will bring me off again. What's this-To the Pope?
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Re-enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the
Earl of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who
commands you

To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol.
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot
Authority so weighty.
[carry

Stay,

Suf. Who dare cross them? Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly? Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it, (I mean, your malice,) know, officious lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are moulded,-envy. How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have christian warrant for them, and, no doubt, In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,

SCENE 2.]

You ask with such a violence, the king,
(Mine, and your master,) with his own hand gave me :
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters patents: Now, who'll take it?
Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol.

It must be himself then.
Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Proud lord, thou liest;
Wol.
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.
Thy ambition,
Sur.
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.

This, and all else
Wol.
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 jaded 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.
Sur.

All goodness

man,

Sur.

Wol.

stance,

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 compass of a præmunire,—
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, About the giving back the great seal to us, [you. The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank 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. and glory of this world, I hate ye; Vain pomp, I feel my heart new opened: O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect 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.
What, amaz'd
Wol.
my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder,
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

At

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,

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 orphan's 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
In that one woman I have lost for ever:

No sun shall ever usher 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 set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him,

(I know his noble nature,) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.

Crom.
O my lord,
Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?

Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.-
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

And,-Pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'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. Farewell® The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Street in Westminster.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. You are well met once again.
2 Gent.

And so are you.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and behold

The lady Anne pass from her coronation?

2 Gent. "Tis all my business. At our last enThe duke of Buckingham came from his trial. counter, 1 Gent. 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd [sorrow; This, general joy. 2 Gent.

"Tis well: The citizens, I am sure, have shewn at full their royal minds; As, let them have their rights, they are ever forward In celebration of this day, with shews, Pageants, and sights of honour.

I Gent.

Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?

1 Gent.
Yes; 'tis the list
Of those, that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
He to be earl marshal; you may read the rest.
To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk,

2 Gent. I thank you, sir: had I not known those

customs,

I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?

1 Gent. 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, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now sick.
2 Gent.

Alas, good lady!—(Trumpets.)

And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be;
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,—say, I taught thee,
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd 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 by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O

Cromwell,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;

coming.

2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before 3. Choristers singing.

4. Mayor of London bearing the mace.

5.

6.

ter, in his coat of arms, and on his head, a gilt copper crown.

Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS.

Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.

Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,-He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion,
Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: I'the presence
He would say untruths; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning: He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful;

His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave

The clergy ill example.

Grif.

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good now?

Kath.

I were malicious else.

Yes, good Griffith;

Grif. This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle, He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely: Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you, Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little : And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, With thy religious truth, and modesty, Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him!Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: I have not long to trouble thee.--Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and solemn music.

[quiet, Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down For fear we wake her;-Softly, gentle Patience. The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six Personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm, in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which, the other four make reverend court'sies; then the two, that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, (as it were by inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues. Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone!

Kath.

You are a saucy fellow:

Deserve we no more reverence?
Grif.
You are to blame,
Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this fellow
Let me ne'er see again.

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger. Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. Cap. Madam, the same, your servant. Kath.

O my lord, The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? Cap. Noble lady, First, mine own service to your grace; the next, The king's request, that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations,

And heartily entreats you take good comfort. Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution:

That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me; But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. How does his highness?

Cap.

Madam, in good health. Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter, caus'd you write, yet sent away?

I

Pal.

No, madam. (Giving it to Katharine.) This to my lord the king. Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver Cap. Most willing, madam. Kath. In which I have commended to his The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:goodness The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature: I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is, that his noble grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long, Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully: