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Crom. How does vour Grace?
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
Wot. I hope I have: I'm able now, methinks,
Crom- The heaviest and Ihe worst,
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Cha.'icellor in your place.
IVol. That's somewhat sudden———
Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;
Wol. There was the weig* that pull'd me dowo; 0
The King has gone beyond me-r^all my glories
Cram. O my Lord,
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
Wol, Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman
Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell,
(Tho' th' image of his Makj^r) hope to win by'l?
Love thyself last; cherish .those hearts that wait thee j
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence evious 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 •' ,
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 Heav'n, is all
I dare now call my 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. Farewel
The hopes of court ! My hopes in heaven do dwell.
. CHAP. XXI.
BLOW 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 sires, Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the big rotundity o* th' world; Crack nature's mould, alt germins spill at once That make ungrateful man!
Rumble thy belly full, spit fire, spout rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughter*,
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness;
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,
Those dreadful summoners grace! 1 am a man,
More sinn'd against, than sinning.
IS this a dagger which I see before me,
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
Thou marshal's! me the way that I was going;
And .such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' th' other senses,
Or else worth all the rest—I see thee still;
And on the blade o' th' dudgeon, gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.—There's no such thing.—
It is the bloody business, which informs
Thus to mine eyes.—Now o'er one half the world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings: and wither'd Murther,
(Alarum'd by his. centinel, the wolf,
'Whose howl's his watch) thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, tow'rds his design
Moves like a ghost.—Thou sound and firm-set eatth,
Hear uot my steps, which way they walk, for fear
The very stones prate of my where-about:
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.—Whilst I threat, he lives—
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan'; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
MACDUFF, MALCOLM, AND ROSSE.
SEE who comes here! Mai. My countryman; but yet I 'know him not. Macd. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mai. I know him now. Good Qod betimes remove Kk