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 fave 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 fee a nobleman want manners.

Sur. I'd rather want those than my head; have at

you.

First, that without the King's affent, 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 ftill infcrib'd; in which you brought the King
To be your fervant.

Suf. That without the knowledge
Either of King or Council, when you went
Ambaffador to th' Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great Seal.

Sur. Item. You fent a large commiffion
To Gregory de Caffado, 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 stampt on the King's coin.

:

Sur.

Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub-
stance

(By what means got, I leave to your own confcience)
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, fince they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.

Cham. 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 is,
Because all those things you have done of late,
By your power legatine within this kingdom,
Fall in the compass of a Premunire,

That therefore fuch 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,

4

The King shall know it; and, no doubt, shall thank

you.

So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.

3 In former Editions:

Castles, and whatsoever.] I have ventur'd to substitute Chattels here, as the Author's genuine Word, because the Judgment in a Writ of Præmunire is, that the Defendant shall be out of the King's Protection; and his Lands

[Exeunt all but Wolfey.

and Tenements, Goods and CHATTELS forfeited to the King; and that his Body shall remain in prifon at the King's pleasure. This very Descrption of the Pramunire is set out by Holingshead in his Life of K. Henry VIII. p. 909.

Gg 2

THEOBALD.

SCENE

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 bloffoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him,
The third day comes a froft, a killing froft,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full furely
His greatness is a ripening, 4 nips his root;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders,
These many fummers in a fea 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 afpect of Princes, and our ruin,
More pangs and fears than war or women have;

4 -Nips his root;] As spring frosts are not injurious to the roots of fruit trees, I should imagine the poet wrote shoot, i. e. that tender shoot on which are the young leaves and blossoms. The comparison as well as expref. sion of nips is juster too in this reading. He has the same thought in Love's Labour Loft.

Byron is like an envious sneaping froft

That bites the first-born infants of the fpring.

So Milton in Sampson Agonistes,

Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring,

Nip'd with the lagging rear of winter's froft.

which seems to be taken from the place in question.

WARBURTON.

Here is a long note. But at last we may as well continue the ancient reading. Vernal frots indeed do not kill the root, but then to nip the shoots does not kill the tree or make it fall. The metaphor will not in either reading correspond exactly with nature.

And,

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

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 confcience. 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 fink 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
ufe of it.

Wol. I hope, I have. I'm able now methinks,

Out of a fortitude of foul 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 fomewhat fudden

But he's a learned man. May he continue

Long in his Highness' favour, and do justice

For truth's fake and his confcience; that his bones,

Gg3

When

When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have 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. Laft, 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 loft for ever.

No fun 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 fun, I pray, may never fet, I've told him
What and how true thou art; he will advance thee:
Some little memory of me will ftir him,
1 know his noble nature, not to let

Thy hopeful fervice perish too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future fafety.

Crom. O my Lord,

Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, fo noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a forrow Cromwell leaves his Lord.
The King shall have my fervice; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

$ A tomb of orphans' tears orphans. A tomb of tears is vewept on him. The Chan- ry harm,

cellor is the general guardian of

Wal