Shakespeare's First Folio Part 447

Car. What should this meane?

Sur. The Lord increase this businesse

King. Haue I not made you The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, If what I now p.r.o.nounce, you haue found true: And if you may confesse it, say withall If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you?

Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors, Haue euer come too short of my Desires, Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and The profit of the State. For your great Graces Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, Till death (that Winter) kill it

King. Fairely answer'd: A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is Therein ill.u.s.trated, the Honor of it Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume, That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart, Your Braine, and euery Function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twer in Loues particular, be more To me your Friend, then any

Car. I do professe, That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you, And throw it from their Soule, though perils did Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty, As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake, And stand vnshaken yours

King. 'Tis n.o.bly spoken: Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this, And after this, and then to Breakfast with What appet.i.te you haue.

Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the n.o.bles throng after him smiling, and whispering.

Car. What should this meane?

What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it?

He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him: Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper: I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so: This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome, And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence!

Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this?

No new deuice to beate this from his Braines?

I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope?

The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse, And from that full Meridian of my Glory, I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the Euening, And no man see me more.

Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, Who commands you To render vp the Great Seale presently Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters, Till you heare further from his Highnesse

Car. Stay: Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie Authority so weighty

Suf. Who dare crosse 'em, Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely?

Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine?

Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it?

Sur. The King that gaue it

Car. It must be himselfe then

Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest

Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest: Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so

Sur. Thy Ambition (Thou Scarlet sinne) robb'd this bewailing Land Of n.o.ble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law, The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together) Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie, You sent me Deputie for Ireland, Farre from his succour; from the King, from all That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him: Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty, Absolu'd him with an Axe

Wol. This, and all else This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any priuate malice in his end, His n.o.ble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse.

If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you, You haue as little Honestie, as Honor, That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth, Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master, Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be, And all that loue his follies

Sur. By my Soule, Your long Coat (Priest) protects you, Thou should'st feele My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords, Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance?

And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet, Farewell n.o.bilitie: let his Grace go forward, And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes

Card. All Goodnesse Is poyson to thy Stomacke

Sur. Yes, that goodnesse Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion: The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets You writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse Since you prouoke me, shall be most notorious.

My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly n.o.ble, As you respect the common good, the State Of our despis'd n.o.bilitie, our Issues, (Whom if he liue, will sca.r.s.e be Gentlemen) Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles Collected from his life. Ile startle you Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall

Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in Charitie against it

Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand: But thus much, they are foule ones

Wol. So much fairer And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise, When the King knowes my Truth

Sur. This cannot saue you: I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember Some of these Articles, and out they shall.

Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall, You'l shew a little Honestie

Wol. Speake on Sir, I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush, It is to see a n.o.bleman want manners

Sur. I had rather want those, then my head; Haue at you.

First, that without the Kings a.s.sent or knowledge, You wrought to be a Legate, by which power You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops

Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King To be your Seruant

Suf. Then, that without the knowledge Either of King or Councell, when you went Amba.s.sador to the Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale

Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission To Gregory de Ca.s.sado, to conclude Without the Kings will, or the States allowance, A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara

Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd Your holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine

Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance, (By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are, Which since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with

Cham. O my Lord, Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue: His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him So little, of his great Selfe

Sur. I forgiue him

Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is, Because all those things you haue done of late By your power Legatine within this Kingdome, Fall into 'th' compa.s.se of a Premunire; That therefore such a Writ be sued against you, To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements, Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge

Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations How to liue better. For your stubborne answer About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs, The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you.

So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.

Exeunt. all but Wolsey.

Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me.

Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse.

This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes, And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him: The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost, And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote, And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders: This many Summers in a Sea of Glory, But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me.

Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye, I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours?

There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too, That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine, More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue; And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer, Neuer to hope againe.

Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.

Why how now Cromwell?

Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir

Car. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am falne indeed

Crom. How does your Grace