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Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this

man, But that I'm bound in charity against it! Nor. Those articles, my Lord, are in th' King's

hand :
But thus much, they are foul ones.

Wol. So much fairer,
And spotless, shall mine innocence arife ;
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 shew 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'd 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 & Rex meus
Was still infcrib’d; in which you brought the King
To be your servant.
: Suf. That without the knowledge
Either of King or Council, when you went
Ambassador to th' Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great Seal.

Sur. Item. You sent a large commission
To Gregory de Casado, to conclude,
Without the King's will or the state's allowance,
A league between his Highess and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of meer ambition, you have made Your holy hat be stampe on the King's coin.

Sur.

Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub

stance (By what means got, I leave to your own conscience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to th' meer undoing Of all the kingdom. Many more there are, Which, since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with.

Cban. O, my Lord,
Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis 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 isy Because all those things you have done of late, By your power legatine within this kingdom, Fall in the compals of a Præmunire, That therefore luch a writ be sued against you, To forfeit all you goods, lands, tenements, 3 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.

in former Editions : and Tcnements, Goods and CHATCastles, and whenever.] I tels forfeited to the King; and have ventur'd to subllituie Chat- that his Body shall remain in prisels here, as the Author's genu- fon at the King's pleasure. This ine Word, because the Judgment very Descrption of the Premain a Writ of Premunire is, that niré is set out by Holingsdead in the Defendant shall be out of the his Life of K. Henry VIII. p. King's Protection; and his Lands 9o9.

THEOBALD.

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Wol. So farewel to the little good you bear me,
Farewel, a long farewel to all my greatness !
This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes, 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,
These 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 open'd. Oh, 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 our ruin,
More pangs and fears than war or women have;

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4 - Nips his root;] As spring Abortive as the first-born bloom frosts are not injurious to the of spring, roots of fruit trees, I should ima Nip'd with the lagging rear of gine the poet wrote SHOOT,

winter's frost that tender jhoot on which are the which seems to be taken from the young leaves and blooms. The place in queftion. comparison as well as exprer.

WARBURTOS. fion of nips is jufter too in this Here is a long note. But at reading. He has the

He has the same last we may as well continue the thought in Love's Labour Loft. ancient reading. Vernal frotts Byron is like an envious sneap- indeed do not kill the rest, but

then to nip the foots does not kill That bites the first-born infants the tree or make it fall. The me

taphor will not in either reading So Milton in Sampson Agonistes, correspond exaâly with nature.

ing frost

of the spring

And,

And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

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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 should decline? nay, if you weep,
I'm fall'n indeed

Crom. How does your Grace ?

Wol. 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. The King has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his Grace; and, from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken
A load would sink 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'm glad your Grace has made that right

use of it.
Wol. I hope, I have. I'm able now methinks,
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,
T'endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom. 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,

Gg3

When

When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have s a tomb of orphans' tears wept on him!
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 pulled 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 my honours,
Or gild again the noble troops, that waited
Upon my smiles. Go get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fall’n man, unworthy now
To be thy Lord and master. Seek the King ;
That sun, I pray, may never set ; I've 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 Cronrwell,
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, fo noble, and so true a master ?
B-ar 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.

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