Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur.

Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,

Into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,

You writ to the Pope, against the King; your goodness,

Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.—
My Lord of Norfolk,-as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despised nobility, our issues—
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen-
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life :—I'll startle you

Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench

Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.

Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise

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 spotless shall mine innocence arise,
When the King knows my truth.

Sur.

This cannot save you :

I thank my memory, I yet remember

Some of these articles; and out they shall.

Now, if you can, blush, and cry' guilty,' Cardinal, You'll show a little honesty.

Wol.

Speak on, sir;

I dare your worst objections: if I blush,

It is to see a nobleman want manners.

Sur. I had rather want those, than my head.— Have at you.

First, that without the King's assent or knowledge You wrought to be a Legate; by which power You maimed the jurisdiction of all Bishops.

Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else

To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus

Was still inscribed; in which you brought the King

To be your servant.

Suf.

Then, that without the knowledge

Either of King or Council, when you went

Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the Great Seal.

Sur. Item, you sent a large commission

To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,

Without the King's will or the State's allowance, A league between his highness and Ferrara.

Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have

caused

Your holy hat to be stamped on the King's coin. Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable

substance,

By what means got, I leave to your Own conscience,

To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.

Cham.
O my lord,
Press not a falling man too far; 't is virtue:

His faults lie open to the laws; let them,

Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see 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 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,
The King shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank

you.

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 ventured,
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 this world, I hate ye:
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, and stands amazed

Why, how now, Cromwell?

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol.

What! amazed

At

my

misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder

A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am fallen indeed.

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,

A still and quiet conscience.

me,

The King has cured

I humbly thank his grace; and from these

shoulders,

These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken

A load would sink a navy,-too much honour.

O, 't is a burden, Cromwell, 't is a burden,