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I feel my

heart new open'd: 0, 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 wars or women have ;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.-

Enter CROMWELL.
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, an you weep,
I'm fallen 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.
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,
To 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,

When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on them! 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 marry'd,
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 pulld me down.

O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman

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;
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: Go, Cromwell.

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.-
Let's dry our eyes : And thus far hear me, Crom-

well;

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;
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, Ó Crom-

well,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.-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 THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

An Apartment at Kimbolton.

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick, attended by CROM

WELL, PATIENCE, AGATHA, and Cicely, who lead her to her Chair.

Crom. How does your grace?

Kath. O, Cromwell, sick to death : My legs, like loaded branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burden.Didst thou not tell me, Cromwell, as thou led'st me, That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

Crom. Yes, madam; but I think, your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. Kath. Pr'ythee, good Cromwell, tell me how he

died:
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,
For my example.

Crom. Well, the voice goes madam:
For after the stout Earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward
(As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill,
He could not sit his mule.

Kath. Alas, poor man!
Crom. At last, with easy roads, he came to Lei.

cester;

Lodgʻd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
To whom he gave these words, “ O father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!"
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
Pursu'd him still; and, three nights after this,
About the hourof eight, (which he himself
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance,
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, Cromwell

, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,—He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes ;
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.

Crom. 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. Yes, good Cromwell;
I were malicious else.

Crom. This cardinal, Though from an bumble 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 unsatisfy'd in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely: Ever witness for him

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