WOLSEY. My Lord, there dwells within that spirit More than can be discerned by outward eye. Sir Christopher, will you part with your man?

HALES. I have sought to profer him to your Lordship, And now I see he hath prefered himself.

WOLSEY. What is thy name?

CROMWELL. Cromwell, my Lord.

WOLSEY. Then, Cromwell, here we make thee Solicitor of our causes, and nearest next our self. Gardiner give you kind welcome to the man.

[Gardiner embraces him.]

MORE. My Lord, you are a royal Winer, Have got a man besides your bounteous dinner. Well, Knight, pray we come no more: If we come often, thou maist shut thy door.

WOLSEY. Sir Christopher, hadst thou given me half thy lands, Thou couldest not have pleased me so much as with This man of thine. My infant thoughts do spell: Shortly his fortune shall be lifted higher; True industry doth kindle honour's fire. And so, kind master of the Rules, farewell.

HALES. Cromwell, farewell.

CROMWELL. Cromwell takes his leave of you, That near will leave to love and honour you.

[Exit omnes. The Music plays, as they go in.]

ACT IV.

[Enter Chorus.]

CHORUS. Now Cromwell's highest fortunes doth begin. Wolsey, that loved him as he did his life, Committed all his treasure to his hands. Wolsey is dead, and Gardiner, his man, Is now created Bishop of Winchester: Pardon if we omit all Wolsey's life, Because our play depends on Cromwell's death. Now sit and see his highest state of all; His haight of rising and his sudden fall. Pardon the errors is all ready past, And live in hope the best doth come at last: My hope upon your favour doth depend, And look to have your liking ere the end.

[Exit.]

ACT IV. SCENE I. The same. A public walk.

[Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, The Dukes of Norfolk, and of Suffolk, Sir Thomas More, Sir Christopher Hales, and Cromwell.]

NORFOLK. Master Cromwell, since Cardinal Wolsey's death, His majesty is given to understand There's certain bills and writings in your hand, That much concerns the state of England. My Lord of Winchester, is it not so?

GARDINER. My Lord of Norfolk, we two wear whilom fellows; And, master Cromwell, though our master's love Did bind us, while his love was to the King, It is not boot now to deny these things, Which may be prejudicial to the state: And though that God hath raised my fortune higher Than any way I looked for or deserved, Yet my life no longer with me dwell, Than I prove true unto my Sovereign: What say you, master Cromwell? have you those writings? Aye, or no?

CROMWELL. Here are the writings, and upon my knees, I give them up unto the worthy Dukes Of Suffolk and of Norfolk: he was my Master, And each virtuous part, That lived in him, I tendered with my heart; But what his head complotted gainst the state My country's love commands me that to hate. His sudden death I grieve for, not his fall, Because he sought to work my country's thrall.

SUFFOLK. Cromwell, the King shall hear of this thy duty, Whom I assure my self will well reward thee; My Lord let's go unto his Majesty, And show these writings which he longs to see.

[Exit Norfolk and Suffolk.]

[Enter Bedford hastily.]

BEDFORD. How now, who's this? Cromwell, by my soul! welcome to England: Thou once didst save my life, didst not Cromwell?

CROMWELL. If I did so, 'tis greater glory for me, That you remember it, than of my self Vainly to report it.

BEDFORD. Well, Cromwell, now is the time, I shall commend thee to my Sovereign: Cheer up thy self, for I will raise thy state. A Russell yet was never found ingrate.

[Exit.]

HALES. O how uncertain is the wheel of state. Who lately greater than the Cardinal, For fear, and love? and now who lower lies? Gay honours are but Fortune's flatteries, And whom this day pride and promotion swells, To morrow envy and ambition quells.

MORE. Who sees the Cob-web intangle the poor Fly, May boldly say the wretches death is nigh.

GARDINER. I knew his state and proud ambition Was too too violent to last over-long.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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