And all that love his follies.
SURREY
By my soul,
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst 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,
Farewell nobility. Let his grace go forward
And dare us with his cap, like larks.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.
SURREY
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—shall be most notorious.
My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despised nobility, our issues—
Whom if he live will scarce be gentlemen—
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life. (To Wolsey) I’ll startle you
Worse than the sacring-bell when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord Cardinal.
CARDINAL WOLSEY ⌈aside⌉
How much, methinks, I could despise this man,
But that I am bound in charity against it.
NORFOLK (to Surrey)
Those articles, my lord, are in the King’s hand;
But thus much—they are foul ones.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
So much fairer
And spotless shall mine innocence arise
When the King knows my truth.
SURREY
This cannot save you.
I thank my memory I yet remember
Some of these articles, and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush and cry ‘Guilty’, Cardinal,
You’ll show a little honesty.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
Speak on, sir;
I dare your worst objections. If I blush,
It is to see a nobleman want manners.
SURREY
I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!
First, that without the King’s assent or knowledge
You wrought to be a legate, by which power
You maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops.
NORFOLK (to Wolsey)
Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, ‘Ego et Rex meus’
Was still inscribed—in which you brought the King
To be your servant.
SUFFOLK (to Wolsey) Then, that without the knowledge
Either of King or Council, when you went
Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.
SURREY (to Wolsey)
Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,
Without the King’s will or the state’s allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara,
SUFFOLK (to Wolsey)
That out of mere ambition you have caused
Your holy hat to be stamped on the King’s coin.
SURREY (to Wolsey)
Then, that you have sent innumerable substance—
By what means got, I leave to your own conscience—
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities to the mere undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are,
Which since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
LORD CHAMBERLAIN
O, my lord,
Press not a falling man too far. ’Tis virtue.
His faults lie open to the laws. Let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
So little of his great self.
SURREY
I forgive him.
SUFFOLK
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 th’ compass of a praemunire—
That therefore such a writ be sued against you,
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the King’s protection. This is my charge.
NORFOLK (to Wolsey)
And so we’ll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The King shall know it and, no doubt, shall thank you.
So fare you well, my little good lord Cardinal.
Exeunt all but Wolsey
CARDINAL WOLSEY
So farewell—to the little good you bear me.
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man. Today he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow 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 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 must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!
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 to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have,
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
Enter Cromwell, who then stands amazed
Why, how now, Cromwell?
CROMWELL
I have no power to speak, sir.
CARDINAL WOLSEY What, amazed
At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline?
⌈Cromwell begins to weep⌉
Nay, an you weep
I am fall’n indeed.
CROMWELL
How does your grace?
CARDINAL WOLSEY
Why, well—
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now, and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The King has 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.
O, ’tis a burden, Cromwell, ’tis a burden
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
CROMWELL
I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
I hope I have. I am able now, methinks,
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,
To endure more miseries and greater far
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?
CROMWELL
The heaviest and the worst
Is your displeasure with the King.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
God bless him.
CROMWELL
The next is that Sir Thomas More is ch
osen
Lord Chancellor in your place.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
That’s somewhat sudden.
But he’s a learnèd man. May he continue
Long in his highness’ favour, and do justice
For truth’s sake and his conscience, that his bones,
When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans’ tears wept on him.
What more?
CROMWELL
That Cranmer is returned with welcome,
Installed lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
That’s news indeed.
CROMWELL
Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,
This day was viewed in open as his queen,
Going to chapel, and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.
CARDINAL WOLSEY
There was the weight that pulled me down. O,
Cromwell,
The King has 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 waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell.
I am a poor fall’n 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 ⌈weeping⌉
O, my lord,
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
The King shall have my service, but my prayers
For ever and for ever shall be yours.
CARDINAL WOLSEY (weeping)
Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries, 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 heard 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 wreck, to rise in,
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, 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 thyself last. Cherish those hearts that hate thee.
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,
Thy God’s, and truth’s. Then if thou fall’st, O
Cromwell,
Thou fall‘st a blessed martyr.
Serve the King. And prithee, lead me in—
There take an inventory of all I have:
To the last penny ’tis the King’s. My robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O 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.
CROMWELL
Good sir, have patience.
CARDINAL WOLSEY So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court; my hopes in heaven do dwell.
Exeunt
4.1 Enter the two Gentlemen meeting one another. The first holds a paper
FIRST GENTLEMAN
You’re well met once again.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
So are you.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
You come to take your stand here and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
SECOND GENTLEMAN
’Tis all my business. At our last encounter
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
’Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow,
This, general joy.
SECOND GENTLEMAN ’Tis well. The citizens,
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds—
As, let ’em have their rights, they are ever forward—
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Never greater,
Nor, I’ll assure you, better taken, sir.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, ’tis the list
Of those that claim their offices this day
By custom of the coronation.
The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,
He to be Earl Marshal. You may read the rest.
He gives him the paper
SECOND GENTLEMAN
I thank you, sir. Had I not known those customs,
I should have been beholden to your paper.
But I beseech you, what’s become of Katherine,
The Princess Dowager? How goes her business?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the Princess lay; to which
She was often cited by them, but appeared not.
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The King’s late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men, she was divorced,
And the late marriage made of none effect,
Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now sick.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Alas, good lady!
Flourish of trumpets within
The trumpets sound. Stand close. The Queen is coming.
Enter the coronation procession, which passes over the stage in order and state. Hautboys, within, ⌈play during the procession⌉
THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION
1. First, ⌈enter⌉ trumpeters, who play a lively flourish.
2. Then, enter two judges.
3. Then, enter the Lord Chancellor, with both the purse containing the great seal and the mace borne before him.
4. Then, enter choristers singing; ⌈with them, musicians playing.⌉
5. Then, enter the Lord Mayor of London bearing the mace, followed by Garter King-of-Arms wearing his coat of arms and a gilt copper crown.
6. Then, enter Marquis Dorset bearing a sceptre of gold, and wearing, on his head, a demi-coronal of gold and, about his neck, a collar of esses. With him enter the Earl of Surrey bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl’s coronet, and also wearing a collar of esses.
7. Next, enter the Duke of Suffolk as High Steward, in his robe of estate, with his coronet on his head, and bearing a long white wand. With him, enter the Duke of Norfolk with the rod of marshalship and a coronet on his head. Each wears a collar of esses.
8. Then, under a canopy
borne by four barons of the Cinque Ports, enter Anne, the new Queen, in her robe. Her hair, which hangs loose, is richly adorned with pearl. She wears a crown. Accompanying her on either side are the Bishops of London and Winchester.
9. Next, enter the old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen’s train.
10. Finally, enter certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers. The two Gentlemen comment on the procession as it passes over the stage
SECOND GENTLEMAN
A royal train, believe me. These I know.
Who’s that that bears the sceptre?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Marquis Dorset.
And that, the Earl of Surrey with the rod.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
A bold brave gentleman. That should be
The Duke of Suffolk?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
’Tis the same: High Steward.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
And that, my lord of Norfolk?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes.
SECOND GENTLEMAN (seeing Anne) Heaven bless thee!
Thou hast the sweetest face ever looked on.
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel.
Our King has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady.
I cannot blame his conscience.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
They that bear The cloth of honour over her are four barons
Of the Cinque Ports.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Those men are happy, And so are all are near her.
I take it she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
It is. And all the rest are countesses.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed—
⌈FIRST GENTLEMAN⌉
And sometimes falling ones.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
No more of that.
Exit the last of the procession, and then
a great flourish of trumpets within
Enter a third Gentleman ⌈in a sweat⌉
FIRST GENTLEMAN
God save you, sir. Where have you been broiling?
THIRD GENTLEMAN
Among the crowd i’th’ Abbey, where a finger
Could not be wedged in more. I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
You saw the ceremony?
THIRD GENTLEMAN
That I did.
FIRST GENTLEMAN How Was it?
THIRD GENTLEMAN
Well worth the seeing.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 407
