The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap'd upon me, poor undeferver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ;
My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever fhall be growing,
'Till death, that winter, kill it.
King. Fairly answer'd;
A loyal and obedient fubject is
Therein illuftrated: the honour of it
Does pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary,
The foulnefs is the punishment. 1 prefume,
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour,
On you, than any; fo your hand, and heart, [more
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.
That for your highnefs' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be,
Though all the world fhould crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their foul; though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And ftand unfhaken yours.
King. 'Tis nobly spoken:-
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't.—Read o'er this;
[Giving him Papers. And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with
What appetite you have.
[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal WOLSEY; the Nobles throng after him, whispering and fmiling. Wol. What fhould this mean?
What fudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
I fear, the ftory of his anger.-'Tis fo;
This paper has undone me :-' 'Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main fecret in the packet
I fent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in fpight 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 his holinefs. Nay then, farewell!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And from that full meridian of my glory,
I hafte now to my fetting: I fhall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man fee me more.
Re-enter the Dukes of NORFOLK, and SUFFOLK, the
Earl of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who
commands you
To render up the great feal prefently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Efher houfe, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol. Stay,
Where's your commiffion, lords? words cannot car. Authority fo mighty.
Suf. Who dare crofs 'em?
Bearing the king's will from his mouth exprefsly?
Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it
(I mean, your malice), know, officious lords,
I dare, and muft deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded-envy.
How eagerly ye follow my difgrace,
As if it fed ye? and how fleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin?
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have a chriftian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards.
That feal,
You afk with fuch a violence, the king
(Mine and your master), with his own hand gave
Bade me enjoy it with the place and honours, [me:
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Ty'd it by letters patent: Now, who'll take it?
Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol. It must be himself then.
Sur, Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Wol. Proud lord, thou lieft;
Within these forty hours Surrey durft better
Have burnt that tongue, than faid fo.
Thou scarlet fin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law :
The heads of all thy brother-cardinals
(With thee, and all thy beft parts bound together),
Weigh'd
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You fent me deputy for Ireland;
Far from his fuccour, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'ft him Whilft your great goodnefs, out of holy pity, Abfolv'd him with an axe.
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is moft falfe. The duke by law
Found his deferts: how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I fhould tell you,
You have as little honefty as honour;
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate a founder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou fhould' feel
My fword i' the life-blood of thee elfe.
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.
Wol. All goodness
Is poifon to thy ftomach.
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 goodnes
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.-
My lord of Norfolk-
-as you are truly noble,
As you refpect the common good, the state
Of our defpis'd nobility our issues,
Who, if he live, will fcarce be gentlemen-
Produce the grand fum of his fins, the articles
Collected from his life;-I'll startle you
Worfe than the facring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kiffing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could defpife this But that I am bound in charity against it! [man, Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's But, thus much they are foul ones.
Wol. So much fairer,
And fpotlefs, fhall mine innocence arife,
When the king knows my truth.
Sur. This cannot fave you :
I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of thefe articles; and out they fhall.
Now, if you can blufh, and cry guilty, cardinal,
You'll fhew a little honesty.
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
First, that, without the king's affent, or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate; by which power You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.
Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or elfe To foreign princes, Ego & Rex meus
Was ftill infcrib'd; in which you brought the king To be your fervant.
Suf. Then, that, without the knowledge
|