Wol. I do profefs,

That for your Highnefs good, I ever labour'd

More than mine own; That am I, have been, and will be:
Though all the World should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their Soul; 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 feen him open't.

Read o'er this,

And after this, and then to Breakfast, with

What appetite you may.

[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolfey, the Nobles throng after him whispering and smiling

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 Huntfman that has gall'd him,
Then makes him nothing. I muft read this Paper:
I fear, the Story of his Anger-'Tis fo
This Paper has undone me-'Tis th' 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 Secret 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 ftir him ftrongly; 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's Holinefs. Nay, then farewel;

I have touch'd the highest point of all my Greatness,
And from that full Meridian of my Glory,

I hafte now to my Setting, I fhall fall

Like a bright Exhalation in the Evening,

And no Man fee me more.

Enter to Wolfey, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Ear! of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. Hear the King's pleasure, Cardinal, Who commands you

To render up the great Seal prefently
Into our hands, and to confine your felf
To After-houfe, my Lord of Winchester's,
'Till you hear further from his Highnefs.
- Wol. Stay:

Where's your Commiffion, Lords? words cannot carry
Authority fo mighty.

Suf. Who dare cross '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 course Metal ye are molded 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 Courfes, Men of Malice;
You have a Chriftian warrant for 'em, and no doubt
In time will find their fit Rewards. That Seal
You ask with fuch a Violence, the King,

Mine, and your Mafter, with his own hand gave me i
Bad me enjoy it, with the Place, and Honours
During my life; and to confirm his goodness,
Ty'd it by Letters Patents. 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 lyeft:

Within these forty hours, Surrey durft better
Have burnt that Tongue, than faid fo.

Sur. Thy Ambition,

Thou fcarlet Sinner, 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 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 Goodness, out of holy Pity,
Abfolv'd him with an Axe.

Wol. This, and all elfe

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 Caufe can witnefs.
If I lov'd many words, Lord, I fhould tell you,
You have as little Honefty, as Honour,
That in the way of Loyalty, and Truth
Toward the King, my ever Royal Mafter,
Dare mate a founder Man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his Follies.

Sur. By my Soul,

Your long Coat, Prieft, protects you,
Thou should't feel

My Sword i'th' Life-Blood of thee else. My Lords,
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,

Farewel Nobility; let his Grace go forward,

And dare us with his Cap, like Larks.

Wol. All Goodness

Is poifon to thy Stomach.

Sur. Yes, that Goodness

Of gleaning all the Lands-wealth into one,

Into your own hands, Card'nal, by Extortion:

The goodness of your intercepted Packets

1

You writ to the Pope, against the King; your goodness,
Since you provoke me, thall be moft notorious.
My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
As you refpect the common Good,, the State
Of our defpis'd Nbility, our Iffues,
Who, if he live, will fcarce be Gentlemen,
Produce the grand fum of his Sins, the Articles

Collected

Collected from his Life. I'll ftartle 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 Man, But that I am bound in Charity against it.

Nor. Thofe Articles, my Lord, are in the King's Hand: But thus much, they are foul ones,

Wol. So much fairer

And spotlefs 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.

Wol. Speak on, Sir,

I dare your worst Objections: If I blush,
It is to fee a Nobleman want Manners.

Sur. I had rather want thofe, than my Head;
Have at you.

First, that without the King's affent or knowledge,
You wrought to be a Legat, by which power
You maim'd the Jurifdiction of all Bishops.

Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or elle
To foreign Princes, Ego & Rex meus

Was ftill infcrib'd; in which you brought the King
To be your Servant.

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

Sur. Item, You fent a large Commiffion
To Gregory de Caffalis, to conclude

Without the King's Will, or the States allowance,
A League between his Highnefs and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of meer Ambition, you have caus'd
Your Holy-Hat to be ftamp'd on the King's Coin.

Sur. Then, that you have fent innumerable substance,
By what means got I leave to your own Confcience,
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways

You have for Dignities, to the meer undoing

of

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,

Prefs not a falling Man too far; 'tis Virtue:
His Faults lye open to the Laws, let them,
Not you, correct him. My Heart weeps to fee him
So little, of his great Self.

Sur. I forgive him.

Sf. Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is,
Because all those things you have done of late,
By your power Legantine, within this Kingdom,
Fall into the compafs of a Præmunire;

That therefore fuch a Writ be fued against you,
To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,
Caftles, and wharfoever, and to be

Out of the King's Protection. This is my Charge.
Nor. And fo we'll leave you to your Meditations
How to live better. For your ftubborn answer
About the giving back the great Seal to us,

The King fhall know it, and, no doubt, fhall thank you.
So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.

[Exeunt all but Wolfey: Wol. So farewel to the little good you bear me. Farewel, a long farewel to all my Greatness. This is the ftate 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 eafie Man, full furely His Greatness is a ripening, nips his Root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton Boys that fwim on Bladders, This many Summers in a Sea 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 muft for ever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of the World, I hate ye; I feel my Heart new open'd. On how wretched Is that poor Man that hangs on Princes Favours?

There