WOLSEY

The Duke of Buckingham's Surveyor? Would? Where's his Examination? Is he in person, ready? Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham Shall lessen this big look. Whilst our Commission from Room is read; Let silence be commanded. Be't so, proceed. Madam, this is a mere distraction, You turn the good we offer, into envy. Madam, you wander from the good We aim at. Pray hear me. If your Grace Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, you'd feel more comfort. Why should we (good Lady) Upon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places, The way of our Profession is against it; We are to Cure such sorrows, not to sow they. For Goodness sake, consider what you do, How you may hurt your self: I, utterly Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. The hearts of Princes kiss Obedience, So much they love it. But to stubborn Spirits, They swell and grow, as terrible as storms. I know you have a Gentle, Noble temper, A Soul as even as a Calm; Pray think us, Those we profess, Peacemakers, Friends, and Servants. The Packet Cromwell, Gau't you the King? The late Queens Gentlewoman? A Knights Daughter To be her Mistress Mistress? The Queens, Queen? This Candle burns not clear, it's I must snuff it, Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous And well deserving? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to Our cause, that she should lie in the bosom of Our hard ruled King. Again, there is sprung up And Heretic, and Arch-one; Cranmer, one Hath crawled into the favour of the King, And is his Oracle. Heaven forgive me, Ever God bless your Highness. Sir, For Holy Offices I have a time; a time To think upon the partly of business, which I bear in the State: and Nature does require Her times of preservation, which perforce I her frail son, amongst my Brothers mortal, Must give my tendance to. And ever may your Highness yoke together, (As I will lend you cause) my doing well, With my well saying. What should this mean? My Sovereign, I confess your Royal graces Showered on me daily, have be more then could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all men endeavors. My endeavors, Have ever come too short of my Desires, Yet filled with my Abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most Sacred Person, and The profit of the State. For your great Graces Heaped upon me (poor Undeserver) I Can nothing render but Allegiant thanks, My Prayres to heaven for you; my Loyalty Which ever ha, and ever shall be growing, Till death (that Winter) kill it. I do profess, That for your Highness good, I ever laboured More then mine own: that am, have, 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 they, and Appear in forms more horrid) yet my Duty, As does a Rock against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of this wild River break, And stand unshaken yours. What should this mean? What sudden Anger's this? How have I reaped it? He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruin Leaped from his Eyes. So looks the chafed Lion Upon the daring Huntsman that has galled him: Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper: I fear the Story of his Anger. It's so: This paper ha undone me: It's 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 Room.) Oh Negligence! Fit for a Fool to fallen by: What cross Devil Made me put this main Secret in the Packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new device to beat this from his Brains? I know it'll 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 too'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 fallen Like a bright exhalation in the Evening, And no man see me more. Stay: Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carry Authority so weighty. Till I find more then will, or words to do it, (I mean your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel Of what course Mettle you are moulded, Envy, How eagerly you follow my Disgraces As if it fed you, and how sleek and wanton You appear in every thing may bring my ruin? Follow your envious courses, men of Malice; You have Christian warrant for they, and no doubt In time will find their fit Rewards. That Seal You ask with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his own hand, gave me: Bade me enjoy it, with the Place, and Honours During my life; and to confirm his Goodness, Tied it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? It must be himself then. Proud Lord, thou liest: Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better Have burned that Tongue, then said so. How much me thinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in Charity against it. What, amazed At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am fallen indeed. Please you Sir, I know but of a single partly in ought Pertains to the State and front but in that File Where others tell steps with me. And for me, I have no further gone in this, then by A single voice, and that not passed me, but By learned approbation of the Judges: If I am Traduced by ignorant Tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say, It's but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake That Virtue must go through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the fear To cope malicious Censurers, which ever, As ravenous Fish do a Vessel follow That is new trimmed; but benefit no further Then vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick Interpreters (once weak ones) is Not ours, or not allowed; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best Act: if we shall stand still, In fear our motion will be mocked, or carped at, We should take root here, where we fit; Or fit State-Statues only. A word with you. Let there be Letters writ to every Shire, Of the Kings grace and pardon: the grieved Commons Hardly conceive of me. Let it be noised, That through our Intercession, this Revokement And pardon come: I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you Most Like a careful Subject have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham. Please your Highness note This dangerous conception in this point, Not friended by his wish to your High person; His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends. Now Madam, may his Highness live in freedom, And this man out of Prison. My Lord Sands, I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours: Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen, Whose fault is this? What's that? What warlike voice, And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, fear not; By all the laws of War you are privileged. Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give they welcome; you can speak the French tongue And pray receive they Nobly, and conduct they Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him. You have now a broken Banquet, but we'll mend it. A good digestion to you all; and once more I shower a welcome on ye: welcome all. A noble Company: what are their pleasures? Say, Lord Chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace: For which I pay they a thousand thanks, And pray they take their pleasures. My Lord. Pray tell they thus much from me: There should be one amongst they by his person More worthy this place then my self, to whom (If I but knew him) with my love and duty I would surrender it. What say they? Let me see then, By all your good leaves Gentlemen; here I'll make My royal choice. I am glad Your Grace is grown so pleasant. Sir Thomas Lovel, is the Banquet ready In the Privy Chamber? Your Grace I fear, with dancing is a little heated. There's fresher air my Lord, In the next Chamber. Tanta est erga to mentis integritas Regina serenissima. Noble Lady, I am sorry my integrity shoul breed, (And service to his Majesty and you) So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant; We come not by the way of Accusation, To taint that honour every good Tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You have too much good Lady: But to know How you stand minded in the weighty difference Between the King and you, and to deliver (Like free and honest men) our joust opinions, And comforts to our cause. Looked he of the inside of the Paper? Is he ready to come abroad? Leave me a while. It shall be to the Duchess of Alanson, The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. Anne Bullen ? No: I'll no Anne Bullens for him, There's more in't then fair Visage. Bullen ? No, we'll no Bullens: Speedily I wish To hear from Room. The Marchioness of Pembroke? All Goodness Is poison to thy Stomach. Why well: Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell, I know my self now, and I feel within me, A peace above all earthly Dignities, A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha cured me, I humbly thank his Grace: and from these shoulders These ruined Pillars, out of pity, taken A load, would sink a Navy, (too much Honour.) Oh it's a burden Cromwell, it's a burden Too heavy for a man, that Hope's for Heaven. I hope I have: I am able now (me thinks) (Out of a Fortitude of Soul, I feel) To endure more Misery's, and greater far Then my Weakhearted Enemies, dare offer. What News abroad? God bless him. That's somewhat sudden. But he's a Learned man. May he continue Long in his Highness favour, and do Justice For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones, When he ha run his course, and sleeps in Blessings, May have a Tomb of Orphans tears wept on him. What more? That's News indeed. There was the weight that pulled me down. Oh Cromwell, The King ha gone beyond me: All my Glories In that one woman, I have lost for ever. No Sun, shall ever usher forth mine Honours, Or gild again the Noble Troops that weighted Upon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwell, I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy Lord, and Master. Seek the King (That Sun, I pray may never set) I have told him, What, and how true thou art; he will advance thee: Some little memory of me, will stir him (I know his Noble Nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell Neglect him not; make use now, and provide For thine own future safety. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my Misery's: 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 herd of: Say I taught thee; Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of Glory, And sounded all the Depths, and Shoals of Honour, Found thee a way (out of his wrack) to rise in: A sure, and safe one, though thy Master missed it. Mark but my Fallen, and that that Ruined me: Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away Ambition, By that sin fell the Angels: how can man then (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? Love thy self last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more then Honesty. Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace To silence envious Tongues. Be joust, and fear not; Let all the ends thou aimest at, be thy Countries, Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fallest (Oh Cromwell ) Thou fallest a blessed Martyr. Serve the King: And prithee lead me in: There take and Inventory of all I have, To the last penny, it's the Kings. My Robe, And my Integrity to Heaven, is all, I dare now call mine own. Oh Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God, with half the Zeal I served my King: he would not in mine Age Have left me naked to mine Enemies. So I have. Farewell The Hope's of Court, my Hope's in Heaven do dwell. you are welcome my fair Guests; that noble Lady Or Gentleman that is not freely merry Is not my Friend. This to confirm my welcome, And to you all good health. Sir, you cannot; I would your Grace would give us but and hour Of private conference. Your Grace ha given a President of wisdom Above all Princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voyc of Christendom: Who can be angry now? What Envy reach you? The Spaniard tide by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The Trial, joust and Noble. All the Clerks, (I mean the learned ones in Christian Kingdoms) Have their free voices. Room (the Nurse of Judgement) Invited by your Noble self, hath sent One general Tongue unto us. This good man, This joust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present unto your Highness. I know your Majesty, ha always loved her So deer in heart, not to deny her that A Woman of less Place might ask by Law; Scholars allowed freely to argue for her. Give me your hand: much joy & favour to you; You are the Kings now. Yes, he was. Yes surely. How? of me? Heavens peace be with him: That's Christian care enough: for living Murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a Fool; For he would needs be virtuous. That good Fellow, If I command him follows my appointment, I will have none so near else. Learn this Brother, We live not to be griped by meaner persons. You have here Lady. (And of your choice) these Reverend Father's, men Of singular Integrity, and Learning; Yea, the elect of the Land, who are assembled To plead your Cause. It shall be therefore bootless, That longer you desire the Court, as well For your own quiet, as to rectify What is unsettled in the King. Your pleasure, Madam. Be patient yet. I do profess You speak not Like your self: who ever yet Have stood to Charity, and displayed the effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom, Overtopping woman's pour. Madam, you do me wrong I have no Spleen against you, nor injustice For you, or any: how far I have proceeded, Or how far further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the Consistory, Yea, the whole Consistory of Room. You charge me, That I have blown this Coal: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be known to him, That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much As you have done my Truth. If he know That I am free of your Report, he knows I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to Remove these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to unthink your speaking, And to say so no more. Most gracious Sir, In humblest manner I require your Highness, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these ears (for where I am robbed and bound, There must I be unloosed, although not there At once, and fully satisfied) whither ever I Did broach this business to your Highness, or Laid any scruple in your way which might Induce you to the question on't: or ever Have to you, but with thanks to God for such A Royal Lady, spoke one, the least word that might Be to the prejudice of her present State, Or touch of her good Person? May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw Into your private Chamber; we shall give you The full cause of our coming. Madam, You wrong the Kings love with these fears, Your Hope's and friends are infinite. He tells you rightly. This, and all else This talking Lord can lay upon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His Noble Jury, and foul Cause can witness. If I loved many words, Lord, I should tell you, You have as little Honesty, as Honour, That in the way of Loyalty, and Truth, Towards the King, my ever Royal Master, Dare mate a sounder man then Surry can be, And all that love his follies. So much fairer And spotless, shall mine Innocence arise, When the King knows my Truth. Speak on Sir, I dare your worst Objections: If I blush, It is to see a Nobleman want manners. So farewell, to the little good you bear me. Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatness. This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth The tender Leaves of Hope's, to morrow Blossoms, And bears his blushing Honours thick upon him: The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost, 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 Summer's in a Sea of Glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride At length broke under me, and now ha left me Weary, and old with Service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of this World, I hate you I feel my heart new opened. O how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on Princes favours? There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too, That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruin, More pangs, and fears then wars, or women have; And when he falls, he falls Like Lucifer, Never to hope again. Why how now Cromwell ? Peace to your Highness.