I writ to's Holiness. Nay, then farewel; I've touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; Enter to Wolfey, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain. Lmands you Nor. Hear the King's pleasure, Cardinal, who comTo rende up the great feal prefently Into our hands, and to confine yourself To fher house, my Lord of Winchester's, Till you hear further from his Highness. 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 must deny it. Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are molded, -Envy; As if it fed ye; and how fleek and wanton (Mine and your master) with his own hand gave me ; Bade ine 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? Wol. It must be himself then. Sur. Thou'rt a proud traitor, priest. Wol. Proud Lord, thou lyeft. Within these forty hours Surrey durft better Have burnt that tongue, than faid so. ! Sur. Thy ambition, Thou scarlet fin, robb'd this bewailing land (With thee and all thy best parts bound together), Far from his fuccour; from the King; from all Wol. This, and all elfe This talking Lord can lay upon my credit, That I, i'th' way of loyalty and truth Sur. By my foul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldft feel 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, Wol. All goodness Is poifon to thy stomach. Sur. Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, Card'nal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets You writ to th' Pope, against the King; your goodness, Since you provoke me, fhall be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolk, as you're truly noble, As you respect the common good, the fate Who, if he live, will fcarce be gentlemen, Produce the grand fum of his fins, the articles 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'm bound in charity against it! Nor. Those articles, my Lord, are in th' King's hand: But thus much, they are foul ones. Wol. So much fairer And ipotlefs fhall mine innocence arife, I thank my memory, I yet remember Wol. Speak on, Sir; 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 at you, First, that without the King's affent or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate; by which power You maim'd the jurifdiction of all bishops. Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego & Rex meus Was ftill infcrib'd; in which you brought the King To be your fervant. Suf. That, without the knowledge Either of King or council, when you went great feal. Sur. Item, You fent a large commission Without the King's will, or the ftate's allowance, Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have made (By what means got, I leave to your own confcience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to th' mere undoing Of all the kingdom. Many more there are, Which fince they are of you, and odious, Prefs not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: Not you correct him. My heart weeps to fee him Sur. I forgive him. Suf. Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is, That therefore fuch a writ be su'd against you, Wol. So farewel to the little good you bear me! you. Is that poer man that hangs on princes' favours! Enter Cromwell, standing amaz'd. Why, how now Cromwell? Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir. At my misfortunes? can thy fpirit wonder Crom. How does your Grace? Wol. Why, well; Never fo truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities; A ftill and quiet confcience. The King has cur'd me, A load would fink a navy, too much honour. Crom. I'm glad your Grace has made that right use Wol I hope I have: I'm able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of foul I feel, T'endure more miferies, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. Crom. The heaviest, and the worst, Is your difpleasure with the King." Wol. God bless him! Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chofen Lord Chancellor in your place, Wol. That s fomewhat fudden But he's a learned man. May he continue For truth's fake and his confcience; that his bones, |