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Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not
here; And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon St. Crispian's day.
Henry VI. Warwick, and Cardinal Beaufort.
K. Henry.Xiow fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort , to thy sovereign.
Car. If thou be'st Death , I'll give thee England's treasure, Enough to purchase such another island , So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
K. Henry. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life , "Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
TVar. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
Car. Bring me unto my trial when you -will: Dy'd he not in his bed? Where should he die? Can I make men live whether they will or no? Oh , torture me no more! I will confess— Alive again? Then show me where he is: I'H give a thousand pound to look upon him—« He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them: Comb down his hair c look! look! it stands upright, Like lime twigs set to catch my winged soul. Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
K. Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns, i Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! Oh, beat away the busy meddling fiend , That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair. —Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on Heaven's bliss, Hold up thine hand , make signal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no sign! 0 God , forgive him-.
JVar. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. K. Henry. Foft>ear to judge, for we are sinn«J all. Close up his eyes , and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation.
^fVol. Jl Arewel , a long farewel to all my great
This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
Crorn. I bnve no power to speak, Sir,
JVol. "What anrai'd At my misfortunes ? Can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, if you weep, I'm fall'n indeed.
Crom. How does your grace!
TVol. Why well} *
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
Crom. I'm glad your grace has made that fight
use of it. TVol. I hope I have : I'm able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of soul I feel , • . .
T' indure more miseries, and greater far,
Crom. The heaviest and thp worst,
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor ;n your place.
TVol. 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 him!
Crom. That Cranmer is retnrn'd with welcome j Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. TVol. That's news indeed. Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the King hath in secrery long married, This day was view'd in open as his Queen , Going to chapel; and the Yoke is now Only about her coronation.
TVol. There was (Jie weight that pull'd me down 5 O Cromwell,
The King has gone beyond me: all my glories
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.
PVol. 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 womanLet's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me , Cromwell , And when I am forgotten, as I shall be , And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard, say then I taught thee; Say, Wolsey , that once rode the waves 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 ray fall, and that which ruin'd me s Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then (Tho' th' image of his Maker) hope to win by't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that wait
thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle Peace,
Crom. Good Sir, have patience.
TVol.So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in Hea"ven do dwell.
Jlow winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow! You , cataracts, and hurricanoes , spout Till you have drench'd our steeples , drown'd the
cocks! You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires, Singe my white head. And thou, all shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world! Crack Nature's mould, all germins spill at once That make ungrateful man!
Rumble thy belly full, spit fire-, spout rain Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters. I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdoms, call'd you children; You owe me no subscription. Then let fall Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your brave, A poor, infirm , weak, and despis'd old roan; But yet I call you servile ministers,