No new device to beat this from his brains?

I know 't will stir him strongly; yet I know

A

way,

if it take right, in spite of fortune

Will bring me off again. What's this? "To the Pope!'
The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to's Holiness. Nay then, farewell!

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness ;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

[Enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD CHAMBERLAIN.]

Norfolk. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you

To render up the great seal presently

Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from His Highness.

Stay:

Wol.
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.

Suffolk.

Who dare cross 'em,

Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will or words to do it,

I mean your malice, know, officious lords,

I dare and must deny it.

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Surrey. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Wol.

Proud lord, thou liest:

Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue than said so.

5 Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?

And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,

Farewell nobility; let His Grace go forward,

And dare us with his cap like larks. . . .

My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life.

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.

And spotless shall my innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.

Sur.

So much fairer

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.

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.
Chamberlain.

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.

Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer

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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 except WOLSEY.]

Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me.
5 Farewell! a long farewell, 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 honors thick upon
him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
10 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,

15 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 forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: 20 I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched

Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
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:
25 And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Never to hope again.

[Enter CROMWELL, and stands amazed.]
Why, how now, Cromwell!

Cromwell. 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.

Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forgo
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 forced me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
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 honor,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:

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