University of Virginia Library

Enter three Smiths, Hodge, and two other, old Cromwell's men.
Hodge.
Come, Masters, I think it be past five a clock,
Is it not time we were at work?
My old Master he'll be stirring anon.

1.

I cannot tell whether my old Master will
be stirring or no: but I am sure I can hardly take my
afternoon's nap, for my young Master Thomas,

He keeps such a quile in his studie,
With the Sun, and the Moon, and the seven Starres,
That I do verily think he'll read out his wits.

Hodge.
He skill of the starres? there's good-man Car of Fulham,
He that carried us to the strong Ale, where goody Trundel
Had her maid got with child: O, he knows the Starres,
He'll tickle you Charles Wain in nine degrees:
That same man will tell goody Trundel
When here Ale shall miscarry, only by the starres.

2.
I, that's a great virtue indeed, I think Thomas
Be no body in comparison to him.

1.
Well, Masters, come, shall we to our Hammers?

Hod.
I, content; first let's take our mornings draught,
And then to work roundly.

2.
I, agreed, go in Hodge.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter young Cromwell.
Crom.
Good morrow, morn, I do salute thy brightness,
The night seems tedious to my troubled soul:
Whose black obscuritie binds in my mind
A thousand sundry cogitations:
And now Aurora with a lively dye,
Adds comfort to my spirit that mounts on high.
Too high indeed, my state being so mean:
My studie like a mineral of Gold,
Makes my heart proud, wherein my hope's inroll'd;
My Books is all the wealth I do possess,
Here within they must beat with their Hammers.
And unto them I have ingag'd my heart;
O, Learning, how divine thou seems to me!
Within whose armes is all felicity.
Peace with your hammers, leave your knocking there,
You do disturb my study and my rest;
Leave off, I say, you mad me with the noise.

Enter Hodge, and the two Men.
Hod.
Why, how now, Master Thomas, how now;
Will you not let us work for you?

Crom.
You fret my heart, with making of this noise.

Hod.
How, fret your heart? I but Thomas, you'll
Fret your father's purse if you let us from working.

2.
I, this 'tis for him to make him a Gentleman:
Shall we leave work for your musing? that's well ifaith;
But here comes my old Master now.

Enter old Cromwell.
Old Crom.
You idle knaves, what are you loytring now?
No Hammers walking, and my work to doe?
What, not a heat among your work to day?

Hod.
Marry, sir, your son Thomas will not let us work at all.

Old Crom.
Why knave I say, have I thus cark'd & car'd,
And all to keep thee like a Gentleman,
And dost thou let my servants at their work;
That sweat for thee, knave? labour thus for thee?

Crom.
Father, their Hammers do offend my Studie.

Old. Crom.
Out of my doors, knave, if thou lik'st it not:
I cry you mercy, are your eares so fine?
I tell thee, knave, these get when I do sleep;
I will not have my Anvil stand for thee.

Crom.
There's money, father, I will pay your men.

He throws Money among them.
Old Crom.
Have I thus brought thee up unto my cost,
In hope that one day thou would'st relieve my age,
And art thou now so lavish of thy coin,
To scatter it among these idle knaves?

Crom.
Father, be patient, and content your self,
The time will come I shall hold gold as trash:
And here I speak with a presaging soul,
To build a Pallace where now this Cottage stands,
As fine as is King Henrie's house at Sheen.

Old Crom.
You build a house? you knave, you'll be a beggar;
Now afore God all is but cast away
That is bestowed upon this thriftless Lad,
Well, had I bound him to some honest trade,
This had not been; but it was his mother's doing,
To send him to the University:
How? build a House where now this Cottage stands,
As fair as that at Sheen? he shall not hear me,
A good Boy Tom, I con thee thank Tom,
Well said Tom, grammarcies Tom:
In to your work, knaves; hence saucie Boy.

Exeunt all but young Cromwell.
Cro.
Why should my birth keep down my mounting spirit?
Are not all creatures subject unto time?
To time, who doth abuse the world,
And fills it full of hodge-podge bastardy;
There's legions now of beggars on the earth,
That their original did spring from Kings,
And many Monarchs now, whose Fathers were
The riffe-raffe of their age; for time and fortune
Weares out a noble train to beggery;
And from the Dunghill minions doe advance
To state: and mark, in this admiring world
This is but course, which in the name of Fate
Is seen as often as it whirles about:
The River Thames that by our door doth passe,
His first beginning is but small and shallow,
Yet keeping on his course growes to a Sea.
And likewise Wolsey, the wonder of our age,
His birth as mean as mine, a Butchers Son;
Now who within this Land a greater man?
Then, Cromwell, cheer thee up, and tell thy soul,
That thou may'st live to flourish and controule.

Enter old Cromwell.
Old Crom.

Tom Cromwell, what Tom I say.

Crom.

Doe you call, sir?

Old Crom.

Here is Master Bowser come to know if
you have dispach'd his petition for the Lords of the
Council, or no.

Crom.
Father, I have, please you to call him in.

Old Crom.
That's well said, Tom, a good Lad, Tom.

Enter Master Bowser.
Bow.
Now, Mr. Cromwell, have you dispatch'd this petition?

Crom.
I have, sir, here it is, please you peruse it.

Bow.
It shall not need, we'll read it as we go by water.
And, Master Cromwell, I have made a motion
May doe you good, and if you like of it.
Our Secretary at Antwerpe, sir, is dead,
And the Merchants there hath sent to me,
For to provide a man fit for the place:
Now I doe know none fitter than your self,
If with your liking it stand, Master Cromwell.

Crom.
With all my heart, sir, and I much am bound,
In love and duty for your kindnesse shown.

Old Crom.
Body of me, Tom, make haste, least some body
Get between thee and home, Tom.
I thank you, good Master Bowser, I thank you for my Boy,
I thank you alwayes, I thank you most heartily, sir:
Ho, a Cup of Beer here for Master Bowser.

Bow.
It shall not need, sir: Master Cromwell, will you go?

Crom.
I will attend you, sir.

Old Crom.
Farewell, Tom, God blesse thee, Tom,
God speed thee, good Tom.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter Bagot a Broker solus.
Bag.
I hope this day is fatal unto some,
And by their losse must Bagot seek to gain.
This is the Lodging of Master Friskiball,
A liberall Merchant, and a Florentine,
To whom Banister owes a thousand pound,
A Merchant-Banckrupt, whose Father was my Master.
What doe I care for pity or regard,
He once was wealthy, but he now is faln,
And this morning have I got him arrested
At the suit of Master Friskiball,
And by this meanes shall I be sure of Coyn,
For doing this same good to him unknown:
And in good time, see where the Merchant comes.
Enter Friskiball.
Good morrow to kind Master Friskiball.

Fris.
Good morrow to your self, good Master Bagot,
And whats the newes your are so early stirring?
It is for gain, I make no doubt of that.

Bag.
It is for the love, sir, that I bear to you.
When did you see your debtor Banister?

Fris.
I promise you, I have not seen the man
This two moneths day, his poverty is such,
As I doe think he shames to see his friends.

Bag.
Why then assure your self to see him straight,
For at your suit I have arrested him,
And here they will be with him presently.

Fris.
Arrest him at my suit? you were too blame,
I know the mans misfortunes to be such,
As he's not able for to pay the debt,
And were it known to some, he were undone.

Bag.
This is your pittifull heart to think it so,
But you are much deceiv'd in Banister:
Why, such as he will break for fashion sake,
And unto those they owe a thousand pound,
Pay scarce a hundred: O, sir, beware of him,
The man is lewdly given, to Dice and Drabs,
Spends all he hath in Harlots companies,
It is no mercy for to pity him:
I speak the truth of him, for nothing else,
But for the kindnesse that I bear to you.

Fris.
If it be so, he hath deceiv'd me much,
And to deale strictly with such a one as he,
Better severe than too much lenity:
But here is Master Banister himself,
And with him, as I take't, the Officers.

Enter Banister, his Wife, and two Officers.
Ban.
O, Master Friskiball, you have undone me:
My state was well nigh overthrown before,
Now altogether down-cast by your meanes.

Mist. Ba.
O, Mr. Friskiball, pity my husband's case,
He is a man hath liv'd as well as any,
Till envious Fortune, and the ravenous Sea
Did rob, disrobe, and spoil us of our own.

Fris.
Mistresse Banister, I envy not your husband,
Nor willingly would I have us'd him thus:
But that I hear he is so lewdly given,
Haunts wicked company, and hath enough
To pay his debts, yet will not be known thereof.

Ban.
This is that damned Broker, that same Bagot,
Whom I have often from my Trencher fed:
Ingratefull villain for to use me thus.

Bag.
What I have said to him is nought but truth.

Mi. Ba.
What thou hast said springs from an envious heart.
A Cannibal that doth eat men alive:
But here upon my knee believe me, sir,
And what I speak, so help me God, is true,
We scrace have meat to feed our little Babes:
Most of our Plate is in that Broker's hand,
Which had we money to defray our debts,
O think, we would not bide that penury:
Be mercifull, kind Master Friskiball,
My husband, children, and my self will eat
But one meale a day, the other will we keep and sell,

Fri.
Go to, I see thou art an envious man:
Good Mistris Banister, kneel not to me,
I pray rise up, you shall have your desire.
Hold officers; be gone, there's for your pains,
You know you owe to me a thousand pound,
Here take my hand, if e're God make you able;
And place you in your former state again,
Pay me: but if still your fortune frown,
Upon my faith I'le never ask you crown:
I never yet did wrong to men in thrall,
For God doth know what to my self may fall.

Ban.
This unexpected favour undeserved,
Doth make my heart bleed inwardly with joy:
Nere may ought prosper with me is my own,
If I forget this kindness you have shown.

Mi. Ba.
My children in their prayers both night and day,
For your good fortune and success shall pray.

Fri.
I thank you both, I pray go dine with me,
Within these three dayes, if God give me leave,
I will to Florence to my native home.
Bagot, hold, there's a Portague to drink,
Although you ill deserved it by your merit;
Give not such cruel scope unto your heart;
Be sure the ill you do will be requited:
Remember what I say, Bagot, farewell.
Come, Master Banister, you shall with me,
My fare's but simple, but welcome heartily.

Exit all but Bagot.
Bag.
A plague go with you, would you had eat your last,
Is this the thanks I have for all my pains?
Confusion light upon you all for me:
Where he had wont to give a score of Crowns,
Doth he now foyst me with a Portague:
Well, I will be revenged upon this Banister.
I'le to his Creditors, buy all the debts he owes,
As seeming that I do it for good will,
I am sure to have them at an easie rate;
And when 'tis done, in Christendome he stayes not,
But I'le make his heart t'ake with sorrow,
And if that Banister become my debter,
By heaven and earth I'le make his plague the greater.
Exit Bagot.

Enter Chorus.
Cho.
Now Gentlemen imagine, that young Cromwell is
In Antwerp, Ledger for the English Merchants:
And Banister to shun this Bagots hate,
Hearing that he hath got some of his debts,
Is fled to Antwerp, with his wife and children,
Which Bagot hearing is gone after them:
And thither sends his bills of debt before,
To be revenged on wretched Banister,
What doth fall out, with patience sit and see,
A just requital of false trecherie.

Exit.
Enter Cromwell in his study, with bags of money before him, casting of account.
Crom.
Thus far my reckoning doth go straight & even.
But, Cromwell, this same plodding sits not thee;
Thy mind is altogether set on travel,
And not to live thus cloystered, like a Nun;
It is not this same trash, that I regard,
Experience is the jewel of my heart.

Enter a Post.
Post.
I pray, sir, are you ready to dispatch me?

Cro.
Yes, here's those summes of money you must carry.
You go so far as Frankford, do you not?

Post.
I do, sir.

Crom.
Well, prithee make all the hast thou can'st,
For there be certain English Gentlemen
Are bound for Venice, and may happily want,
And if that you should linger by the way:
But in hope that you will make good speed,
There's two Angels to buy you spurrs and wands.

Post.
I thank you, sir, this will adde wings indeed.

Crom.
Gold is of power to make an Eagles speed.
Enter Mistris Banister.
What Gentlewoman is this, that grieves so much?
It seems she doth addresse her self to me.

Mi. Ban.
God save you, sir, pray is your name Master Cromwell?

Crom.
My name is Thomas Cromwell, Gentlewoman.

Mi. Ban.
Know you not one Bagot, sir, that's come to Antwerp?

Crom.
No, trust me, I never saw the man,
But here are bills of debt I have received
Against one Banister a Merchant fallen into decay.

Mi. Ba.
Into decay indeed, long of that wretch:
I am the wife to wofull Banister,
And by that bloudy villain am pursu'd,
From London, here to Antwerp:
My husband he is in the Governors hands,
And God of heaven knows how he'll deal with him,
Now, sir, your heart is framed of milder temper,
Be mercifull to a distressed soul,
And God no boubt will treble blesse your gain.

Crom.
Good Mistris Banister, what I can, I will,
In any thing that lies within my power.

Mi. Ban.
O speak to Bagot, that same wicked wretch,
An Angels voice may move a damned devil.

Crom.
Why is he come to Antwerp, as you hear?

Mi. Ban.
I heard he landed some two hours since.

Crom.
Well, Mistris Banister, assure your self,
I'le speak to Bagot in your own behalf,
And win him t'all the pitty that I can:
Mean time, to comfort you, in your distresse,
Receive these Angels to relieve your need,
And be assured, that what I can effect:
To do you good, no way I will neglect.

Mi. Ban.
That mighty God that knows each mortals heart.
Keep you from trouble, sorrow, grief and smart.
Exit Mistris Banister.

Crom.
Thanks, curteous woman,
For thy hearty prayer:
It grieves my soul to see her misery,
But we that live under the work of fate,
May hope the best, yet knows not to what state
Our starrs and destinies hath us assign'd,
Fickle is Fortune, and her face is blind,

Enter Bagot solus.
Bag.
So all goes well, it is as I would have it,
Banister, he is with the Governor:
And shortly shall have gyves upon his heels.
It glads my heart to think upon the slave;
I hope to have his body rot in prison,
And after here, his wife to hang her self,
And all his children die for want of food.
The Jewels I have brought to Antwerp
Are reckon'd to be worth five thousand pound,
Which scarcely stood me in three hundreth pound;
I bought them at an easie kind of rate,
I care not which way they came by them
That sold them me, it comes not near my heart;
And least they should be stoln, as sure they are,
I thought it meet to sell them here in Antwerp,
And so have left them in the Governour's hand,
Who offers me within two hundreth pound
Of all my price: but now no more of that,
I must go see and if my Bills be safe,
The which I sent to Master Cromwell,
That if the wind should keep me on the sea,
He might arrest him here before I came:
And in good time, see where he is: God save you, sir.

Crom.
And you, pray pardon me, I know you not.

Bag.
It may be so, sir, but my name is Bagot,
The man that sent to you the Bills of debt.

Crom.
O, the man that pursues Banister,
Here are the Bills of debt you sent to me:
As for the man, you know best where he is;
It is reported y'ave a flintie heart,
A mind that will not stoop to any pittie;
An eye that knows not how to shed a tear,
A hand that's alwayes open for reward:
But, Master Bagot, would you be ruled by me,
You should turn all these to the contrary;
Your heart should still have feeling of remorse,
Your mind, according to your state, be liberal
To those that stand in need, and in distress;
Your hand to help them that do stand in want,
Rather then with your poise to hold them down,
For every ill turn show your self more kind,
Thus should I doe, pardon, I speak my mind.

Bag.
I, sir, you speak to hear what I would say,
But you must live I know, as well as I:
I know this place to be Extortion,
And 'tis not for a man to keep safe here,
But he must lye, cog, with his dearest friend;
And as for pitty, scorn it, hate all conscience:
But yet I do commend your wit in this,
To make a show, of what I hope you are not,
But I commend you, and 'tis well done;
This is the onely way to bring your gain.

Crom.
My gain? I had rather chain me to an Oare,
And like a slave there toil out all my life,
Before I'de live so base a slave as thou.
I, like an Hypocrite, to make a show
Of seeming virtue, and a Devil within?
No, Bagot, if thy conscience were as clear,
Poor Banister ne're had been troubled here.

Bag.
Nay, good Master Cromwell, be not angry, sir,
I know full well that you are no such man,
But if your conscience were as white as Snow,
It will be thought that you are otherwise.

Crom.
Will it be thought I am otherwise?
Let them that think so, know they are deceiv'd;
Shall Cromwell live to have his faith misconster'd?
Antwerp, for all the wealth within thy Town,
I will not stay here full two houres longer:
As good luck serves, my accounts are all made even,
Therefore I'le straight unto the Treasurer;
Bagot, I know you'll to the Governour,
Commend me to him, say I am bound to travel,
To see the fruitfull parts of Italy;
And as you ever bore a Christian mind,
Let Banister some favour of you find.

Bag.
For your sake, sir, I'le help him all I can,
To starve his heart out e're he gets a groat;
So, Master Cromwell, do I take my leave,
For I must straight unto the Governour.
Exit Bagot.

Crom.
Farewell, sir, pray you remember what I said:
No, Cromwell, no, thy heart was ne're so base,
To live by falshood, or by brokery;
But 't falls out well, I little it repent,
Hereafter, time in travel shall be spent.

Enter Hodge, his Father's man.
Hod.

Your son Thomas, quoth you, I have been Thomast;
I had thought it had been no such matter to a
gone by water: for at Putney I'le go you to Parish-Garden
for two pence, sit as still as may be, without
any wagging or joulting in my guttes, in a little Boat
too: here we were scarce some four mile in the great
green Water, but I thinking to go to my afternoons
unchines, as 'twas my manner at home, but I felt a kind
of rising in my guttes: at last one a the Sailers spying of
me, be a good cheer sayes he, set down thy victuals, and
up with it, thou hast nothing but an Eele in thy belly:
Well, to't went I, to my victuals went the Sailers, and
thinking me to be a man of better experience then any
in the shippe, asked me what Wood the ship was made
of: they all swore I tould them as right as if I had been
acquainted with the Carpenter that made it; at last we
grew near Land, and I grew villanous hungry, went to
my bagge, the Devil a bit there was, the Sailers had tickled
me; yet I cannot blame them, it was a part of kindness,
for I in kindnesse told them what Wood the ship
was made of, and they in kindness eat up my victuals, as
indeed one good turn asketh another: well, would I,
could I; find my Master Thomas in this Dutch Town, he
might put some English Beer into my belly.

Crom.
What, Hodge, my father's man, by my hand welcome:
How doth my Father? what's the newes at home?

Hod.

Master Thomas, ô God, Master Thomas, your
hand, glove and all, this is to give you to understanding
that your Father is in health, and Alice Downing here
hath sent you a Nutmeg, and Bess Makewater a race of
Ginger, my fellow Will and Tom hath between them sent
you a dozen of Points, and goodman Toll, of the Goat,
a pair of Mittons, my Self came in person, and this is all
the newes.

Cro.
Gramarcy, good Hodge, & thou art welcome to me,
But in as ill a time thou comest as may be;
For I am travelling into Italy,
What say'st thou, Hodge, wilt thou bear me company?

Hod.

Will I bear thee company, Tom? what tell'st
me of Italy? were it to the furthest part of Flanders, I
would go with thee, Tom; I am thine in all weale and
woe, thy own to command; what, Tom, I have passed
the rigorous waves of Neptune's blasts, I tell you, Thomas,
I have been in danger of the Flouds, and when I
have seen Boreas begin to play the Ruffin with us, then
would I down a my knees, and call upon Vulcan.

Crom.

And why upon him?

Hod.

Because, as this same fellow Neptune is God of
the Seas, so Vulcan is Lord over the Smiths, and therefore
I being a Smith, thought his Godhead would have
some care yet of me.

Crom.
A good conceit: but tell me, hast thou din'd yet?

Hod.
Thomas, to speak the truth, not a bit yet, I.

Crom.
Come, go with me, thou shalt have cheer good store:
And farewell Antwerp, if I come no more.

Hod.
I follow thee, sweet Tom, I follow thee.

Exeunt ambo.
Enter the Governour of the English House, Bagot, Banister, his Wife, and two Officers.
Gover.
Is Cromwell gone then? say you M. Bagot,
What dislike, I pray? what was the cause?

Bag.
To tell you true, a wilde brain of his own,
Such youth as they cannot see when they are well:
He is all bent to travell, that's his reason,
And doth not love to eat his bread at home.

Gov.
Well, good fortune with him, if the man be gone.
We hardly shall find such a man as he,
To fit our turns, his dealings were so honest.
But now, sir, for your Jewels that I have,
What doe you say? what, will you take my price?

Bag.
O, sir, you offer too much under foot.

Gov.
'Tis but two hundred pound between us, man,
What's that in payment of five thousand pound?

Bag.
Two hundred pound, birlady sir, 'tis great,
Before I got so much it made we sweat.

Gov.
Well, Master Bagot, I'le proffer you fairly,
You see this Merchant, Master Banister,
Is going now to prison at your sute:
His substance all is gone, what would you have?
Yet in regard I knew the man of wealth,
Never dishonest dealing, but such mishaps
Hath faln on him, may light on me or you:
There is two hundred pound between us,
We will divide the same, I'le give you one,
On that condition you will set him free:
His state is nothing, that you see your self,
And where nought is the King must lose his right.

Bag.
Sir, sir, you speak out of your love,
'Tis foolish love, sir, sure to pitty him:
Therefore content your self, this is my minde,
To doe him good I will not bait a penny.

Ban.
This is my comfort, though thou do'st no good,
A mighty ebbe follows a mighty flood.

Mi. Ba.
O thou base wretch, whom we have fostered,
Even as a Serpent for to poyson us,
If God did ever right a womans wrong,
To that same God I bend and bow my heart,
To let his heavy wrath fall on thy head,
By whom my hopes and joyes are butchered.

Bag.
Alass, fond woman, I prethee pray thy worst.
The Fox fares better still when he is curst.

Enter Master Bowser a Merchant.
Gov.
Master Bowser! your welcome, sir, from England,
What's the best newes? how doth all our friends?

Bow.
They are all well, and doe commend them to you:
There's Letters from your Brother and your Son:
So fare you well, sir, I must take my leave,
My haste and businesse doth require so.

Gov.
Before you dine, sir? what, go you out of town?

Bow.
Ifaith unlesse I hear some newes in town,
I must away, there is no remedy.

Gov.
Master Bowser, what is your businesse, may I know it?

Bow.
You may, sir, and so shall all the City.
The King of late hath had his treasury robb'd,
And of the choysest jewels that he had:
The value of them was seven thousand pounds,
The fellow that did steale these jewels is hanged,
And did confesse that for three hundred pound,
He sold them to one Bagot dwelling in London:
Now Bagot's fled, and as we hear, to Antwerpe,
And hither am I come to seek him out,
And they that first can tell me of his newes,
Shall have a hundred pound for their reward.

Ban.
How just is God to right the innocent?

Gov.
Master Bowser, you come in happy time,
Here is the villain Bagot that you seek,
And all those jewels have I in my hands:
Officers, look to him, hold him fast.

Bagot.
The Devil ought me a shame, and now he hath paid it.

Bow.
Is this that Bagot? fellowes, bear him hence,
We will not now stand for his reply;
Lade him with Irons, we will have him tri'd
In England where his villanies are known.

Bag.
Mischief, confusion, light upon you all,
O hang me, drown me, let me kill my self,
Let go my armes, let me run quick to hell.

Bow.
Away, bear him away, stop the slaves mouth.

They carry him away.
Mi. Ba.
Thy works are infinite, great God of heaven.

Gov.
I heard this Bagot was a wealthy fellow.

Bow.
He was indeed, for when his goods were seized,
Of Jewels, Coyn, and Plate within his house,
Was found the value of five thousand pound,
His furniture fully worth half so much,
Which being all strain'd for the King,
He franckly gave it to the Antwerpe Merchants,
And they again, out of their bounteous mind,
Have to a brother of their Company,
A man decay'd by fortune of the Seas,
Given Bagot's wealth, to set him up again,
And keep it for him, his name is Banister.

Gov.
Master Bowser, with this happy newes,
You have revived two from the gates of death,
This is that Banister, and this his Wife.

Bow.
Sir, I am glad my fortune is so good;
To bring such tidings as may comfort you.

Ban.
You have given life unto a man deem'd dead,
For by these newes my life is newly bred.

Mi. Ba.
Thanks to my God, next to my Soveraign King,
And last to you that these good newes doe bring.

Gov.
The hundred pound I must receive, as due
For finding Bagot, I freely give to you.

Bow.
And, Master Banister, if so you please,
I'le bear you company, when you crosse the Seas.

Ban.
If it please you, sir, my company is but mean,
Stands with your liking, I'le wait on you.

Gov.
I am glad that all things doe accord so well:
Come, Master Bowser, let us to dinner:
And, Mistresse Banister, be merry, woman,
Come, after sorrow now let's cheer your spirit,
Knaves have their due, and you but what you merit.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter Cromwell and Hodge in their Shirts, and without Hats.
Hodg.
Call ye this seeing of fashions?
Marry would I had staid at Putney still,
O, Master Thomas, we are spoiled, we are gone.

Crom.
Content thee man, this is but fortune,

Hod.

Fortune, a plague of this Fortune, it makes me go
wet-shod, the rogues would not leave me a shooe to my
feet; for my Hose, they scorned them with their heels;
but for my Doublet and Hat, ô Lord, they embraced me,
and unlaced me, and took away my cloathes, and so disgraced
me.

Crom.
Well, Hodge, what remedy?
What shift shall we make now?

Hodg.

Nay I know not, for begging I am naught,
for stealing worse: by my troth I must even fall to my
old trade, to the Hammer and the Horse-heels again: but
now the worst is, I am not acquainted with the humour of
the Horses in this country; whether they are not coltish,
given much to kicking, or no, for when I have one leg in
my hand, if he should up and lay tother on my chops, I
were gone, there lay I, there lay Hodge.

Crom.

Hodge, I believe thou must work for us both.

Hod.

O, Master Thomas, have not I told you of this?
have not I many a time and often, said, Tom, or Master
Thomas, learn to make a Horse-shooe, it will be your
own another day: this was not regarded. Hark you,
Thomas, what do you call the fellows that rob'd us?

Crom.

The Bandetti.

Hod.

The Bandetti, do you call them, I know not
what they are called here, but I am sure we call them
plain Thieves in England: O, Tom, that we were now
at Putney, at the Ale there.

Crom.
Content thee, man, here set up these two Bills,
And let us keep our standing on the Bridge:
The fashion of this countrey is such,
If any stranger be oppressed with want,
To write the manner of his misery,
And such as are dispos'd to succour him,
Will do it, what, hast thou set them up?

Hod.
I they're up, God send some to read them,
And not only to read them, but also to look on us:
And not altogether look on us,
One stands at one end, and one at tother.
But to relieve us, O cold, cold, cold.

Enter Friskiball the Merchant, and reads the Bills.
Fris.
What's here? two Englishmen rob'd by the Bandetti,
One of them seems to be a Gentleman:
'Tis pitty that his fortune was so hard,
To fall into the desperate hands of thieves.
I'le question him, of what estate he is,
God save you, sir, are you an Englishman?

Crom.
I am, sir, a distressed Englishman.

Fris.
And what are you, my friend.

Hod.

Who I, sir, by my troth I do not know my self,
what I am now, but, sir, I was a Smith, sir, a poor Farrier
of Putney, that's my Master, sir, yonder, I was robbed
for his sake, sir.

Fris.
I see you have been met by the Bandetti,
And therefore need not ask how you came thus:
But Friskiball, why do'st thou question them
Of their estate, and not relieve their need?
Sir, the coyn I have about me is not much:
There's sixteen Duckets for to cloath your selves,
There's sixteen more to buy your diet with,
And there's sixteen to pay for your horse-hire:
'Tis all the wealth you see, my purse possesses,
But if you please for to enquire me out,
You shall not want for ought that I can do,
My name is Friskiball, a Florence Merchant:
A man that alwayes loved your nation.

Crom.
This unexpected favour at your hands,
Which God doth know, if ever I shall requite it,
Necessity makes me to take your bounty,
And for your gold can yield you naught but thanks,
Your charity hath help'd me from despair;
Your name shall still be in my hearty prayer.

Fris.
It is not worth such thanks, come to my house,
Your want shall better be reliev'd then thus.

Crom.
I pray excuse me, this shall well suffice,
To bear my charges to Bononia,
Whereas a noble Earl is much distressed:
An Englishman, Russel the Earl of Bedford
Is by the French King sold unto his death,
It may fall out, that I may do him good:
To save his life, I'le hazard my heart bloud:
Therefore, kind sir, thanks for your liberal gift,
I must be gone to aid him, there's no shift.

Fris.
I'le be no hinderer to so good an act,
Heaven prosper you, in that you go about:
If Fortune bring you this way back again,
Pray let me see you: so I take my leave,
All good a man can wish, I do bequeath.
Exit Friskib.

Cro.
All good that God doth send, light on your head,
There's few such men within our Climate bred.
How say you now, Hodge, is not this good fortune?

Hod.
How say you, I'le tell you what, Master Thomas,
If all men be of this Gentlemans mind,
Let's keep our standings upon this Bridge,
We shall get more here, with begging in one day,
Then I shall with making Horseshooes in a whole year.

Crom.
No, Hodge, we must be gone unto Bononia,
There to relieve the noble Earle of Bedford:
Where if I fail not in my policy,
I shall deceive their subtle treachery.

Hod.
Nay, I'le follow you, God blesse us from the thieving Bandetti again.

Exeunt.
Enter Bedford and his Host.
Bed.
Am I betraid, was Bedford born to die,
By such base slaves, in such a place as this?
Have I escap'd so many times in France,
So many Battels have I over-passed,
And made the French stir, when they heard my name;
And am I now betraid unto my death?
Some of their hearts bloud, first shall pay for it.

Host.
They do desire, my Lord, to speak with you.

Bed.
The traitors do desire to have my bloud,
But by my Birth, my Honour, and my Name:
By all my hopes, my Life shall cost them dear.
Open the door, I'le venter out upon them,
And if I must die, then I'le die with Honour.

Host.
Alas, my Lord, that is a desperate course,
They have begirt you, round about the house:
Their meaning is to take yon prisoner,
And so to send your body unto France.

Bed.
First shall the Ocean be as dry as sand,
Before alive they send me unto France:
I'le have my body first bored like a Sive,
And die as Hector, 'gainst the Mermydons,
E're France shall boast, Bedford's their prisoner,
Treacherous France, that 'gainst the law of armes:
Hath here betraid thy enemy to death:
But be assured, my bloud shall be revenged,
Upon the best lives that remains in France:
Stand back, or else thou run'st upon thy death.

Enter Servant.
Mes.
Pardon, my Lord, I come to tell your honour
That they have hired a Neapolitan,
Who by his Oratory, hath promised them
Without the shedding of one drop of bloud,
Into their hands, safe to deliver you,
And therefore craves, none but himself may enter,
And a poor swain that attends on him.
Exit servant.

Bed.
A Neopolitan? bid him come in,
Were he as cunning in his Eloquence,
As Cicero the famous man of Rome,
His words would be as chaffe against the wind.
Sweet tongu'd Ulisses, that made Ajax mad,
Were he and his tongue in this speaker's head,
Alive he winnes me not; then 'tis no conquest.

Enter Cromwell like a Neapolitan, and Hodge with him.
Crom.
Sir, are you the Master of the house?

Host.
I am, sir.

Crom.
By this same token you must leave this place,
And leave none but the Earl and I together,
And this my Pesant here to tend on us.

Host.
With all my heart, God grant you do some good.

Exit Host. Cromwell shuts the door.
Bed.
Now, sir, what's your will with me?

Crom.
Intends your Honour, not to yield your self?

Bed.
No good-man goose, not while my sword doth last;
Is this your eloquence for to perswade me?

Crom.
My Lord, my eloquence is for to save you;
I am not, as you judge, a Neopolitan,
But Cromwell your servant, and an Englishman.

Bed.
How? Cromwell? not my Farrier's son?

Crom.
The same, sir, and am come to succour you.

Hod.
Yes faith, sir, and am I Hodge, your poor Smith;
Many a time and oft have I shooed your Dapper Gray.

Bed.
And what avails it me, that thou art here?

Crom.
It may avail, if you'll be rul'd by me;
My Lord, you know the men of Mantua,
And these Bononians are at deadly strife,
And they, my Lord, both love and honour you;
Could you but get out of the Mantua port,
Then were you safe, despight of all their force.

Bed.
Tut, man thou talk'st of things impossible;
Do'st thou not see, that we are round beset,
How then is't possible, we should escape?

Crom.
By force we cannot, but by policie:
Put on the apparel here that Hodge doth wear,
And give him yours; the States they know you not,
For as I think, they never saw your face,
And at a watch-word must I call them in,
And will desire, that we two safe may pass
To Mantua, where I'le say my business lies;
How doth your honour like of this device?

Bed.
O, wondrous good: But wilt thou venture, Hodge?

Hod.
Will I? O noble Lord, I do accord, in any thing I can;
And do agree, to set thee free, do Fortune what she can.

Bed.
Come then, let's change our apparel straight.

Crom.
Go, Hodge, make haste, lest they chance to call.

Hod.
I warrant you I'le fit him with a Sute.

Exeunt Earl & Hodge.
Crom.
Heavens grant this policie doth take success,
And that the Earl may safely scape away.
And yet it grieves me for this simple wretch,
For fear they should offer him violence;
But of two evils 'tis best to shun the greatest,
And better is it that he live in thrall,
Then such a noble Earl as he should fall.
Their stubborn hearts, it may be will relent;
Since he is gone, to whom their hate is bent.
My Lord, have you dispatched?

Enter Bedford like the Clown, and Hodge in his cloak and his hat.
Bed.
How dost thou like us, Cromwell, is it well?

Crom.
O, my good Lord, excellent: Hodge, how do'st feel thy self?

Hod.
How do I feel my self? why, as a Noble man should do.
O how I feel Honour come creeping on,
My Nobility is wonderfull melancholy:
Is it not most Gentleman-like to be melancholy?

Crom.
Yes, Hodge; now go sit down in the study,
And take state upon thee.

Hod.

I warrant you, my Lord, let me alone to take
state upon me: but hark, my Lord, do you feel nothing
bite about you?

Bed.

No, trust me, Hodge.

Hod.

I, they know they want their old pasture; 'tis a
strange thing of this vermin, they dare not meddle with
Nobility.

Crom.
Go take thy place, Hodge, I will call them in.
Hodge sits in the study, & Cromwell calls in the States.
All is done, enter and if you please.

Enter the States, and Officers with Halberts.
Gov.
What, have you won him? will he yield himself?

Crom.
I have, an't please you, and the quiet Earl
Doth yield himself to be disposed by you.

Gov.
Give him the money that we promis'd him:
So let him go, whither he please himself.

Crom.
My business, sir, lies unto Mantua;
Please you to give me safe conduct thither.

Gov.
Go, and conduct him to the Mantua Port,
And see him safe delivered presently.
Exit Cromwell, and Bedford.
Go draw the curtains, let us see the Earl:
O, he is writing, stand apart a while.

Hod.

Fellow William, I am not as I have been; I
went from you a Smith, I write to you as a Lord: I am
at this present writing, among the Polonian Casiges. I do
commend my Lordship to Raphe and to Roger, to Bridget
and to Dority, and so to all the youth of Putney.

Gov.
Sure these are the names of English Noblemen,
Some of his special friends, to whom he writes:
But stay, he doth address himself to sing.
Here he sings a Song
My Lord, I am glad you are so frolick and so blithe;
Believe me, Noble Lord, if you knew all,
You'd change your merry vein to sudden sorrow.

Hod.
I change my merry vein? no, thou Bononian, no;
I am a Lord, and therefore let me go;
And do defie thee and thy Casiges:
Therefore stand off, and come not near my Honour.

Gov.
My Lord, this jesting cannot serve your turn.

Hod.
Do'st think, thou black Bononian beast,
That I do flout, do gibe, or jest;
No, no, thou Bear-pot, know that I,
A Noble Earl, a Lord par-dy.

Gov.
What means this Trumpet's sound?

A Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.
Cit.
One come from the States of Mantua.

Gov.
What, would you with us, speak, thou man of Mantua?

Mes.
Men of Bononia, this my message is,
To let you know the Noble Earle of Bedford
Is safe within the Town of Mantua,
And wills you send the pesant that you have,
Who hath deceived your expectation;
Or else the States of Mantua have vowed,
They will recall the truce that they have made,
And not a man shall stirre from forth your Town,
That shall return unlesse you send him back.

Gov.
O this misfortune, how it mads my heart?
The Neopolitan hath beguiled us all:
Hence with this fool, what shall we doe with him,
The Earl being gone? a plague upon it all.

Hod.
No I'le assure you, I am no Earl, but a Smith, sir,
One Hodge, a Smith at Putney, sir:
One that hath gulled you, that hath bored you, sir.

Gov.
Away with him, take hence the fool you came for.

Hod.
I, sir, and I'le leave the greater fool with you.

Mes.
Farewell, Bononians. Come, friend, along with me.

Hod.
My friend, afore, my Lordship will follow thee.

Exit.
Gov.
Well, Mantua, since by thee the Earl is lost,
Within few dayes I hope to see thee crost.

Ex. om.
Enter Chorus.
Cho.
Thus far you see how Cromwell's fortune passed.
The Earle of Bedford being safe in Mantua,
Desires Cromwell's company into France,
To make requitall for his courtesie:
But Cromwell doth deny the Earl his suit,
And tells him that those parts he meant to see,
He had not yet set footing on the Land,
And so directly takes his way to Spain:
The Earl to France, and so they both doe part.
Now let your thoughts as swift as is the wind,
Skip some few yeares, that Cromwell spent in travell.
And now imagine him to be in England,
Servant unto the Master of the Rolles:
Where in short time he there began to flourish,
An hour shall show you what few yeares did cherish.

Exit.
The Musick playes, they bring out the banquet. Enter Sir Christopher Hales, Cromwell, and two Servants
Hales.
Come, sirs, be carefull of your Masters credit;
And as our bounty now exceeds the figure
Of common entertainment, so doe you
With looks as free as is your Masters soule,
Give formal welcome to the thronged tables,
That shall receive the Cardinals followers,
And the attendants of the great Lord Chancellor.
But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee:
Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,
And by how much thy spirit is ranckt 'bove these,
In rules of Art, by so much it shines brighter by travell,
Whose observance pleads his merit,
In a most learned, yet unaffecting spirit.
Good Cromwell, cast an eye of fair regard
'Bout all my house, and what this ruder flesh,
Through ignorance, or wine, doe miscreate,
Salve thou with courtesie: if welcome want,
Full-bowles, and ample banquets will seem scant.

Crom.
Sir, whatsoever lies in me,
Assure you I will shew my utmost duty.
Exit Crom.

Hales.
About it then, the Lords will straight be here:
Cromwell, thou hast those parts would rather sute
The service of the state then of my house:
I look upon thee with a loving eye,
That one day will prefer thy destiny.

Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Sir, the Lords be at hand,

Hales.
They are welcome, bid Cromwell straight attend us,
And look you all things be in perfect readinesse.

The Musick playes. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas Moore and Gardiner.
Wol.
O, Sir Christopher, you are too liberall: what, a banquet too?

Hal.
My Lords, if words could show the ample welcome,
That my free heart affords you, I could then become a prater:
But I now must deale like a feast Polititian
With your Lordships, deferre your welcome till the banquet end,
That it may then salve our defect of fare:
Yet welcome now, and all that tend on you.

Wol.
Thanks to the kind Master of the Rolles.
Come and sit down, sit down, Sir Thomas Moore:
'Tis strange, how that we and the Spaniard differ,
Their dinner is our banquet, after dinner,
And they are men of active disposition:
This I gather, that by their sparing meat,
Their bodies are more fitter for the Warres:
And if that famine chance to pinch their mawes,
Being us'd to fast, it breeds lesse pain.

Hal.
Fill me some Wine: I'le answer Cardinal Wolsey:
My Lord, we English-men are of more freer soules,
Then hunger-starv'd, and ill-complexion'd 'Spaniards;
They that are rich in Spain, spare belly food,
To deck their backs with an Italian hood,
And Silks of Civil: and the poorest Snake,
That feeds on Lemmons, Pilchers, and ne're heated
His pallet with sweet flesh, will bear a case,
More fat and gallant then his starved face,
Pride, the Inquisition, and this belly-evil,
Are in my judgement Spains three-headed Devil.

Mo.
Indeed it is a plague unto their Nation,
Who stagger after in blind imitation.

Hal.

My Lords, with welcome, I present your Lordships
a solemn health.

Mo.
I love health well, but when as healths doe bring
Pain to the head, and bodies surfetting:
Then cease I healths: nay spill not, friend,
For though the drops be small,
Yet have they force, to force men to the wall.

Wol.
Sir Christopher, is that your man?

Hal.
And like your Grace, he is a Schollar, and a Linguist,
One that hath travelled many parts of Christendome, my Lord.

Wol.
My friend, come nearer, have you been a traveller?

Crom.
My Lord, I have added to my knowledge, the Low Countreys,
France, Spain, Germany, and Italy:
And though small gain of profit I did find,
Yet did it please my eye, content my mind.

Wol.
What do you think of the several States;
And Princes Courts as you have travelled?

Crom.
My Lord, no Court with England may compare,
Neither for State, nor civil government:
Lust dwells in France, in Italy, and Spain,
From the poor pesant, to the Princes train,
In Germany, and Holland, Riot serves,
And he that most can drink, most he deserves:
England I praise not: for I here was born,
But that she laugheth the others unto scorn.

Wol.
My Lord, there dwells within that spirit,
More then can be discern'd by outward eye;
Sir Christopher, will you part with your man?

Hal.
I have sought to proffer him to your Lordship,
And now I see he hath preferr'd himself?

Wol.
What is thy name?

Crom.
Cromwell, my Lord.

Wol.
Then, Cromwell, here we make thee solliciter of our causes,
And nearest next our self:
Gardiner, give you kind welcome to the man.

Gardiner embraces him.
Moor.
My Lord, you are a royal Winner.
Hath got a man, besides your bounteous dinner,
Well, Knight, pray we come no more:
If we come often, thou maist shut thy door.

Wol.
Sir Christopher, had'st thou given me,
Half thy lands, thou couldest not have pleased me
So much as with this man of thine,
My infant thoughts do spell:
Shortly his fortune shall be lifted higher,
True industry, doth kindle Honours fire,
And so, kind Master of the Rolls, farewell.

Hal.
Cromwell, farewell.

Crom.
Cromwell takes his leave of you
That ne're will leave to love, and honour you.

Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
The Musick playes as they go out.
Cho.
Now Cromwells highest fortunes doth begin.
Wolsey that lov'd him, as he did his life:
Committed all his treasure to his hands,
Wolsey is dead, and Gardiner his man
Is now created Bishop of Winchester:
Pardon if we omit all Wolsey's life,
Because our play depends on Cromwells death,
Now sit and see his highest state of all;
His height of rising: and his sodain fall,
Pardon the errors is already past,
And live in hope the best doth come at last:
My hope upon your favour doth depend,
And look to have your liking ere the end.

Exit.
Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, the Dukes of Norfolk, and of Suffolk, Sir Thomas Moor, Sir Christopher Hales, and Cromwell.
Nor.
Master Cromwell, since Cardinal Wolsey's death,
His Majestie is given to understand,
There's certain billes and writings in your hand,
That much concerns the state of England:
My Lord of Winchester, is it not so?

Gar.
My Lord of Norfolk, we two were whilome fellows
And Master Cromwell, though our Masters love:
Did bind us, while his love was to the King,
It is no boot now to deny those things,
Which may be prejudicial to the State:
And though that God hath rais'd my fortune higher,
Then any way I look'd for, or deserv'd.
Yet my life, no longer with me dwell,
Then I prove true unto my Soveraigne.

Suff.
What say you, M. Cromwell? have you those writings, I, or no?

Crom.
Here are the writings, and upon my knees,
I give them up, unto the worthy Dukes,
Of Suffolk, and of Norfolk: he was my Master,
And each vertuous part
That lived in him, I tender'd with my heart,
But what his head complotted 'gainst the State,
My Countries love, commands me that to hate.
His sudden death, I grieve for, not his fall,
Because he sought to work my Countries thrall.

Suff.
Cromwell, the King shall hear of this thy duty;
Whom I assure my self, will well reward thee:
My Lord, let's go unto his Majesty,
And show those writings which he longs to see.

Exit Norfolk and Suffolk.
Enter Bedford hastily.
Bed.
How now, whose this, Cromwell?
By my soul, welcome to England:
Thou once did'st save my life, did'st thou not, Cromwell?

Crom.
If I did so, 'tis greater glory for me that you remember it,
Then for my self vainly to report it.

Bed.
Well, Cromwell, now is the time,
I shall commend thee to my Soveraigne:
Cheer up thy self, for I will raise thy State,
A Russel yet was never found ingrate.

Exit.
Hal.
O how uncertain is the wheel of State,
Who lately greater then the Cardinal,
For fear, and love: and now who lower Iles?
Gay honours, are but Fortunes flatteries,
And whom this day, pride and promotion swells,
To morrow, envy and ambition quells.

Mo.
Who sees the Cob-web intangle the poor Flie,
May boldly say the wretches death is nigh.

Gar.
I know his state, and proud ambition,
Was too too violent to last over-long.

Hal.
Who soars too near the Sun, with golden wings,
Melts them, to ruine his own fortune brings.

Enter the Duke of Suffolk.
Suf.
Cromwell, kneel down in King Henrie's name,
Arise Sir Thomas Cromwell, thus begins thy fame.

Enter the Duke of Norfolk.
Norf.
Cromwell, the Majesty of England,
For the good liking, he conceives of thee:
Makes thee Master of the Jewel house,
Chief Secretary to himself, and withall,
Creates thee one of his Highness Privie Council.

Enter the Earl of Bedford.
Bed.
Where is sir Thomas Cromwell? is he Knighted?

Suff.
He is, my Lord.

Bed.
Then, to adde Honour to his Name,
The King creates him Lord Keeper of his privy Seal,
And Master of the Rolls;
Which you, sir Christopher, do now enjoy;
The King determines higher place for you.

Crom.
My Lords, these honours are too high for my desert.

Moor.
O content thee, man, who would not chuse it?
Yet thou art wise, in seeming to refuse it.

Gard.
Here's Honours, Titles and Promotions;
I fear this climbing, will have a sudden fall.

Norf.
Then come, my Lords, let's altogether bring,
This new-made Counsellor to England's King.

Exeunt all but Gardiner.
Gard.
But Gardiner means his glory shall be dim'd:
Shall Cromwell live a greater man then I?
My envy with his honour now is bred,
I hope to shorten Cromwell by the head.

Exit.
Enter Friskiball, very poor.
Fris.
O Friskiball, what shall become of thee?
Where shalt thou go, or which way shalt thou turn?
Fortune that turns her too unconstant wheel,
Hath turn'd thy wealth and riches in the Sea,
All parts abroad where-ever I have been,
Grows weary of me, and denies me succour;
My debters they, that should relieve my want,
Forswear my money, say they owe me none:
They know my state too mean, to bear out Law;
And here in London, where I oft have been,
And have done good to many a wretched man,
And now most wretched here, despis'd my self;
In vain it is, more of their hearts to try;
Be patient therefore, lay thee down and die.

He lies down.
Enter good-man Seely, and his Wife Joan.
Seely.

Come Joan, come, let's see what he'll do for us
now? I wis we have done for him, when many a time and
often he might have gone a hungry to bed.

Wife.

Alas man, now he is made a Lord, he'll never
look upon us; he'll fulfill the old Proverb, Set Beggars a
horse-back, and they'll ride: â, well-a-day for my Cow;
such as he hath made us come behind-hand, we had never
pawn'd our Cow else to pay our Rent.

Seely.

Well Joan, he'll come this way: and by God's
dickers I'le tell him roundly of it, and if he were ten Lords:
a shall know that I had not my Cheese and my Bacon for
nothing.

Wife.

Do you remember Husband, how he would
mouch upon my Cheese-cakes, he hath forgot this now,
but now we'll remember him.

Seely.

I, we shall have now three flapps with a Fox
tail: but ifaith I'le gibber a joint, but I'le tell him his
own: stay, who comes here? O, stand up, here he comes,
stand up.

Enter Hodge very fine, with a Tip-staff, Cromwell, the Mace carried before him; Norfolk, and Suffolk, and attendants.
Hod.
Come, away with these Beggars here, rise up, sirrah;
Come out, good people; run before there ho.

Friskiball riseth, and stands a-far-off.
Seely.

I, we are kicked away now, we come for our
own; the time hath been, he would a looked more
friendly upon us: And you, Hodge, we know you well
enough, though you are so fine.

Crom.
Come hither, sirrah: stay, what men are those?
My honest Host of Hounslow, and his wife;
I owe thee money, father, do I not?

Seely.

I, by the body of me, dost thou; would thou
wouldest pay me, good four pound it is, I have a the Post
at home.

Crom.
I know 'tis true; sirrah, give him ten Angels,
And look your wife, and you do stay to dinner:
And while you live, I freely give to you,
Four pound a year, for the four pound I ought you.

Seely.
Art not changed, art old Tom still?
Now God bless thee, good Lord Tom:
Home Joan, home; I'le dine with my Lord Tom to day,
And thou shalt come next week.
Fetch my Cow; home Joan, home.

Wife.
Now God bless thee, my good Lord Tom;
I'le fetch my Cow presently.

Enter Gardiner.
Crom.
Sirrah, go to yon stranger, tell him I desire him
Stay to dinner: I must speak with him.

Gard.
My Lord of Norfolk, see you this same Bubble?
That same puffe; but mark the end, my Lord, mark the end.

Norf.
I promise you, I like not something he hath done;
But let that pass: the King doth love him well.

Crom.
Good morrow to my Lord of Winchester:
I know you bear me hard, about the Abbey lands.

Gard.
Have I not reason, when Religion is wronged?
You had no colour for what you have done.

Crom.
Yes, the abolishing of Antichrist,
And of his Popish order from our Realm:
I am no enemy to Religion,
But what is done, it is for England's good:
What did they serve for, but to feed a sort
Of lazy Abbots, and of full-fed Fryers?
They neither plow, nor sow, and yet they reap
The fat of all the Land, and suck the poor:
Look what was theirs, is in King Henrie's hands,
His wealth before lay in the Abbey lands.

Gard.
Indeed these things you have alledg'd, my Lord,
When, God doth know, the infant yet unborn,
Will curse the time, the Abbies were pul'd down:
I pray now where is Hospitality?
Where now may poor distressed people go,
For to relieve their need, or rest their bones,
When weary travel doth oppress their limmes?
And where religious men should take them in,
Shall now be kept back by a Mastive dog:
And thousand thousand—

Nor.
O my Lord, no more: things past redress,
'Tis bootless to complain.

Crom.
What shall we to the Convocation-house?

Nor.
We'll follow you, my Lord, pray lead the way.

Enter old Cromwell, like a Farmer.
Old Crom.
How? one Cromwell made Lord Keeper, since I left Putney,
And dwelt in York-shire? I never heard better newes:
I'le see that Cromwell, or it shall go hard.

Crom.
My aged Father! state set aside:
Father, on my knee I crave your blessing:
One of my Servants go and have him in,
At better leisure will we talk with him.

Old Crom.
Now if I die, how happy were the day,
To see this comfort rains forth showers of joy.
Exit old Cromwell.

Nor.
This duty in him showes a kind of grace.

Crom.
Go on before, for time drawes on a pace.

Exeunt all but Friskiball.
Fris.
I wonder what this Lord would have with me,
His man so strictly gave me charge to stay:
I never did offend him to my knowledge:
Well, good or bad, I mean to bide it all,
Worse then I am, now never can befall.

Enter Banister and his Wife.
Ba.
Come, Wife, I take it be almost dinner time,
For Mr. Newton, and Mr. Crosbie sent to me
Last night, they would come dine with me,
And take their bond in: I pray thee hie thee home,
And see that all things be in readinesse.

Mi. Ba.
They shall be welcome, Husband, I'le go before
But is not that man Master Friskiball?

She runs and embraces him.
Ba.
O heavens! it is kind Master Friskiball:
Say, sir, what hap hath brought you to this passe?

Fris.
The same that brought you to your misery.

Ba.
Why would you not acquaint me with your state?
Is Banister your poor friend forgot?
Whose goods, whose love, whose life and all is yours.

Fris.
I thought your usage would be as the rest,
That had more kindnesse at my hands then you,
Yet look'd ascance when as they saw me poor.

Mi. Ba.
If Banister should bear so base a heart,
I never would look my husband in the face,
But hate him as I would a Cockatrice.

Ba.
And well thou mightest, should Banister deal so,
Since that I saw you, sir, my state is mended:
And for the thousand pound I owe to you,
I have it ready for you, sir, at home:
And though I grieve your fortune is so bad:
Yet that my hap's to help you makes me glad:
And now, sir, will it please you walk with me.

Fris.
Not yet I cannot, for the Lord Chancellor,
Hath here commanded me to wait on him,
For what I know not, pray God it be for good.

Ba.
Never make doubt of that, I'le warrant you,
He is as kind a noble Gentleman,
As ever did possesse the place he hath.

Mi. Ba.
Sir, my Brother is his Steward, if you please,
We'll go along and bear you company:
I know we shall not want for welcome there?

Fris.
Withall my heart: but what's become of Bagot?

Ba.
He is hanged for buying Jewels of the Kings.

Fris.
A just reward for one so impious,
The time drawes on, sir, will you go along.

Ba.
I'le follow you, kind Master Friskiball.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter two Merchants.
1.
Now, Master Crosbie, I see you have a care
To keep your word, in payment of your money.

2.
By my faith I have reason upon a Bond,
Three thousand pounds is too much to forfeit,
Yet I doubt not, Master Banister.

1.
By my faith your summe is more then mine,
And yet I am not much behind you too,
Considering that to day I paid at Court.

2.
Masse, and well remembred:
What's the reason the Lord Cromwell's men
Wear such long Skirts upon their Coats?
They reach down to their very Hams.

1.
I will resolve you, sir, and thus it is;
The Bishop of Winchester, that loves not Cromwell,
As great men are envied as well as lesse,
A while a go there was a jar between them,
And it was brought to my Lord Cromwell's ear,
That Bishop Gardiner would sit on his Skirts,
Upon which word he made his men long blew Coats,
And in the Court wore one of them himself:
And meeting with the Bishop, quoth he, my Lord,
Here's Skirts enough now for your Grace to sit on:
Which vexed the Bishop to the very heart;
This is the reason why they wear long Coats.

2.
'Tis alwayes seen, and mark it for a rule,
That one great man will envy still another:
But 'tis a thing that nothing concerns me:
What, shall we now to Master Banister's?

1.
I, come, we'll pay him royally for our dinner.

Ex.
Enter the Usher and the Shewer, the meat goes over the Stage.
Usher.
Uncover there, Gentlemen.

Enter Cromwell, Bedford, Suffolk, Old Cromwell, Friskiball, good-man Seely, and attendants.
Crom.
My noble Lords of Suffolk and Bedford,
Your Honours welcome to poor Cromwell's house:
Where is my Father? nay, be covered Father,
Although that duty to these noble men doth challenge it,
Yet I'le make bold with them.
Your head doth bear the calender of care:
What? Cromwell covered, and his Father bare?
It must not be. Now, sir, to you;
Is not your name Friskiball? and a Florentine.

Fris.
My name was Friskiball, till cruell fate,
Did rob me of my name, and of my state.

Crom.
What fortune brought you to this Countrey now?

Fris.
All other parts hath left me succourlesse,
Save onely this, because of debts I have
I hope to gain, for to relieve my want.

Crom.
Did you not once upon your Florence bridge,
Help a distressed man, robb'd by the Bandetti,
His name was Cromwell?

Fris.
I never made my brain a Calender of any good I did,
I alwayes lov'd this nation with my heart.

Crom.
I am that Cromwell that you there reliev'd,
Sixteen Duckets you gave me for to cloath me,
Sixteen to bear my charges by the way,
And sixteen more I had for my Horse hire,
There be those severall summes justly return'd:
Yet it injustice were, that serving at my need,
For to repay them without interest:
Therefore receive of me these four severall Bags;
In each of them there is four hundred Marke,
And bring to me the names of all your debtors,
And if they will not see you paid, I will.
O God forbid, that I should see him fall,
That helpt me in my greatest need of all.
Here stands my Father that first gave me life,
Alass, what duty is too much for him?
This man in time of need did save my life,
And therefore cannot doe too much for him.
By this old man I oftentimes was fed,
Else might I have gone supperlesse to bed.
Such kindnesse have I had of these three men,
That Cromwell no way can repay agen.
Now in to dinner, for we stay too long,
And to good stomacks is no greater wrong.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter Gardiner in his Study, and his man.
Gard.
Sirrah, where be those men I caus'd to stay?

Ser.
They do attend your pleasure, Sir, within.

Gard.
Bid them come hither, and stay you without,
For by those men the Fox of this same land,
That makes a Goose of better then himself,
Must worried be unto his latest home,
Or Gardiner will fail in his intent.
As for the Dukes of Suffolk and of Norfolk,
Whom I have sent for to come speak with me;
Howsoever outwardly they shadow it,
Yet in their hearts I know they love him not;
As for the Earl of Bedford, he is but one,
And dares not gain-say what we do set down.
Enter the two Witnesses.
Now, my friends, you know I sav'd your lives,
When by the Law you had deserved death;
And then you promised me upon your Oathes,
To venture both your lives to do me good.

Both Wit.
We swore no more then that we will perform.

Gard.
I take your words, and that which you must do,
Is service for your God, and for your King;
To root a Rebell from this flourishing Land,
One that's an enemy unto the Church:
And therefore must you take your solemn Oathes,
That you heard Cromwell, the Lord Chancellor,
Did wish a Dagger at King Henrie's Heart:
Fear not to swear it, for I heard him speak it;
Therefore we'll shield you from ensuing harmes.

2. Wit.
If you will warrant us the deed is good,
We'll undertake it.

Gard.
Kneel down, and I will here absolve you both;
This Crucifix I lay upon your heads,
And sprinckle Holy-water on your browes:
The deed is meritorious that you do,
And by it shall you purchase Grace from Heaven.

1.
Now sir we'll undertake it, by our Soules.

2.
For Cromwell never loved none of our sort.

Gard.
I know he doth not, and for both of you,
I will prefer you to some place of worth;
Now get you in, until I call for you,
For presently the Dukes mean to be here.
Exeunt Wit.
Cromwell, sit fast, thy time's not long to reign;
The Abbies that were pul'd down by thy means,
Is now a mean for me to pull thee down:
Thy pride also thy own head lights upon,
For thou art he hath chang'd Religion:
But now no more, for here the Dukes are come.

Enter Suffolk, Norfolk, and the Earl of Bedford.
Suff.
Good even to my Lord Bishop.

Nor.
How fares my Lord? what, are you all alone?

Gard.
No, not alone, my Lords, my mind is troubled:
I know your honours muse wherefore I sent,
And in such haste: What came you from the King?

Norf.
We did, and left none but Lord Cromwell with him.

Gard.
O what a dangerous time is this we live in?
There's Thomas Wolsey, he's already gone,
And Thomas Moor, he followed after him:
Another Thomas yet there doth remain,
That is far worse then either of those twain;
And if with speed, my Lords, we not pursue it,
I fear the King and all the Land will rue it.

Bed.
Another Thomas? pray God it be not Cromwell.

Gard.
My Lord of Bedford, it is that Traitor Cromwell.

Bed.
Is Cromwell false? my heart will never think it.

Suff.
My Lord or Winchester, what likelihood,
Or proof have you of this his treachery.

Gard.
My Lord, too much, call in the men within;
Enter the Witnesses.
These men, my Lord, upon their Oathes affirm,
That they did hear Lord Cromwell in his Garden,
Wished a Dagger sticking at the Heart
Of our King Henry, what is this but Treason?

Bed.
If it be so, my heart doth bleed with sorrow.

Suff.
How say you, friends; what, did you hear these words?

1. Wit.
We did, an't like your grace.

Norf.
In what place was Lord Cromwell when he spake them?

2. Wit.
In his Garden; where we did attend a suite,
Which we had waited for two yeares and more.

Suff.
How long is't since you heard him speak these words?

2. Wit.
Some half a year since.

Bed.
How chance that you conceal'd it all this time?

1. Wit.
His Greatness made us fear, that was the cause.

Gard.
I, I, his Greatness, that's the cause indeed;
And to make his Treason here more manifest,
He calls his servants to him round about,
Tells them of Wolsey's life, and of his fall,
Sayes that himself hath many enemies,
And gives to some of them a Park, or Mannor,
To others Leases, Lands to other some:
What need he do this in his prime of life,
An if he were not fearfull of his death?

Suff.
My Lord, these likelihoods are very great.

Bed.
Pardon me, Lords, for I must needs depart;
Their proofs are great, but greater is my heart.
Exit Bedford.

Norf.
My friends, take heed of that which you have said;
Your soules must answer what your tongues report:
Therefore take heed, be wary what you do.

2. Wit.
My Lord, we speak no more but truth.

Norf.
Let them depart, my Lord of Winchester;
Let these men be close kept
Until the day of tryal.

Gard.
They shall, my Lord; ho, take in these two men.
Exeunt Witnesses.
My Lords, if Cromwell have a publick Tryal,
That which we do, is void, by his denial;
You know the King will credit none but him.

Nor.
'Tis true; he rules the King even as he pleases.

Suff.
How shall we do for to attache him then?

Gard.
Marry, my Lords, thus, by an Act he made himself,
With an intent to intrap some of our lives,
And this it is: If any Counsellor
Be convicted of high treason;
He shall be executed without a publick triall.
This Act my Lords, he caus'd the King to make.

Suff.
A did indeed, and I remember it,
And now it is like to fall upon himself.

Nor.
Let us not slack it, 'tis for Englands good,
We must be wary, else he'll go beyond us.

Gar.
Well hath your Grace said, my Lord of Norfolk
Therefore, let us presently to Lambeth,
Thither comes Cromwell, from the Court to night,
Let us arrest him, send him to the Tower.
And in the morning, cut off the traitors head.

Norf.
Come then about it, let us guard the town,
This is the day that Cromwell must go down.

Gar.
Along my Lords, well, Cromwell is halfe dead,
He shak'd my heart, but I will shave his head.

Exeunt.
Enter Bedford solus.
Bed.
My soul is like a water troubled,
And Gardiner is the man that makes it so;
O Cromwell, I do fear thy end is near:
Yet I'le prevent their malice if I can,
And in good time, see where the man doth come,
Who little knows how near's his day of doom.

Enter Cromwell with his train, Bedford makes as though he would speak to him: he goes on.
Cro.
You'r well encountred, my good Lord of Bedford,
Pray Pardon me, I am sent for to th'King,
And do not know the businesse yet my self,
So fare you well, for I must needs be gone.

Exit all the train.
Bed.
You must, well, what remedy?
I fear too soon you must be gone indeed,
The King hath businesse, but little do'st thou know,
Whose busie for thy life: thou think'st not so.

Enter Cromwell and the train again.
Crom.
The second time well met my Lord of Bedford.
I am very sorry that my haste is such,
Lord Marquess Dorset being sick to death,
I must receive of him the privy Seale
At Lambeth, soon my Lord, we'll talk our fill.

Exit the train.
Bed.
How smooth and easie is the way to death.

Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
My Lord, the Dukes of Norfolk and of Suffolk,
Accompanied with the Bishop of Winchester,
Intreats you to come presently to Lambeth,
On earnest matters that concerns the State.

Bed.
To Lambeth, so: go fetch me pen and ink,
I and Lord Cromwell there shall talk enough:
I, and our last, I fear, and if he come.
He writes a Letter.
Here, take this Letter, and bear it to Lord Cromwell,
Bid him read it, say it concerns him near,
Away, be gone, make all the haste you can,
To Lambeth do I go, a wofull man.

Exit.
Enter Cromwell and his train.
Crom.
Is the Barge ready? I will straight to Lambeth,
And if this one dayes businesse, once were past,
I'd take my ease to morrow after trouble,
How now my friend, would'st thou speak with me?

The messenger brings the Letter, he puts it in his pocket.
Mes.
Sir, here's a Letter from my Lord of Bedford.

Crom.
O good my friend, commend me to thy Lord,
Hold, take those Angels, drink them for thy pains.

Mes.
He doth desire your Grace to read it,
Because he sayes it doth concern you near.

Crom.
Bid him assure himself of that, farewell,
To morrow, tell him, he shall hear from me,
Set on before there, and away to Lambeth.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter Winchester, Suffolk, Norfolk, Bedford, Serjeant at armes, the Herald, and Halberts.
Gar.
Halberts stand close unto the water side,
Serjeant at armes, be bould in your office,
Herald, deliver your Proclamation.

Her.
This is to give notice to all the Kings subjects.
The late Lord Cromwell, Lord Chancellor of England,
Vicar general over the Realm,
Him to hold and esteem as a traitor,
Against the Crown and dignity of England:
So God save the King.

Gar.
Amen.

Bed.
Amen, and root thee from the land,
For whil'st thou livest truth cannot stand.

Nor.
Make a lane there, the traitor is at hand,
Keep back Cromwell's men:
Drown them if they come on, Serjeant your office?

Enter Cromwell, they make a lane with their Halberts.
Cro.
What means my Lord of Norfolk by these words?
Sirs, come along.

Gar.
Kill them, if they come on.

Ser.
Lord Cromwell, in King Henries name,
I do arrest your honour of high treason.

Crom.
Serjeant, me of treason?

Cromwell's men offer to draw.
Suff.
Kill them, if they draw a sword.

Crom.
Hold, I charge you, as you love me, draw not a sword,
Who dares accuse Cromwell of treason now?

Gar.
This is no place to reckon up your crime,
Your Dove-like looks were view'd with serpents eyes.

Crom.
With serpents eyes indeed, by thine they were,
But, Gardiner, do thy worst, I fear thee not,
My faith compar'd with thine, as much shall pass,
As doth the Diamond excell the glass:
Attach'd of treason, no accusers by,
Indeed what tongue dares speak so foul a lie?

Nor.
My Lord, my Lord, matters are too well known,
And is it time the King had note thereof.

Crom.
The King, let me go to him face to face,
No better triall I desire then that,
Let him but say, that Cromwell's faith was fained,
Then Let my Honour, and my Name be stained:
If ever my heart against the King was set,
O let my soule in judgement answer it,
Then if my faith's confirmed with his reason,
'Gainst whom hath Cromwell then committed treason?

Suf.
My Lord, your matter shall be tried,
Mean time with patience content your self.

Crom.
Perforce I must with patience be content:
O, dear friend Bedford, dost thou stand so near?
Cromwell rejoyceth one friend sheds a tear:
And whether is't? which way must Cromwell now?

Gar.
My Lord, you must unto the Tower:
Lieutenant, take him to your charge.

Crom.
Well, where you please, yet before I part,
Let me conferre a little with my men.

Gar.
As you go by water so you shall.

Crom.
I have some businesse present to impart.

Nor.
You may not stay, Lieutenant, take your charg.

Crom.
Well, well, my Lord, you second Gardiners text.
Norfolk, farewell, thy turn will be the next.

Exit Cromwell and the Lieutenant.
Gar.
His guilty Conscience makes him rave, my Lord.

Nor.
I, let him talk, his time is short enough.

Gar.
My Lord of Bedford, come, you weep for him,
That would not shed a tear for you.

Bed.
It grieves me for to see his sudden fall.

Gar.
Such successe wish I unto Traitors all.

Exeunt.
Enter two Citizens.
1.
Why? can this newes be true? is't possible?
The great Lord Cromwell arrested upon Treason,
I hardly will believe it can be so.

2.
It is too true, sir, would it were otherwise,
Condition I spent half the wealth I have;
I was at Lambeth, saw him there arrested,
And afterward committed to the Tower.

1.
What was't for Treason that he was committed?

2.
Kind, Noble Gentleman: I may rue the time;
All that I have, I did enjoy by him,
And if he die, then all my state is gone.

1.
It may be hoped that he shall not die,
Because the King did favour him so much.

2.
O, sir, you are deceived in thinking so:
The grace and favour he had with the King,
Hath caus'd him have so many enemies:
He that in Court secure will keep himself,
Must not be great, for then he is envied at.
The Shrub is safe, when as the Cedar shakes,
For where the King doth love above compare,
Of others they as much more envied are.

1.
'Tis pitty that this noble man should fall,
He did so many charitable deeds.

2.
'Tis true, and yet you see in each estate,
There's none so good, but some one doth him hate,
And they before would smile him in the face,
Will be the formost to doe him disgrace:
What, will you go along unto the Court?

1.
I care not if I doe, and hear the newes,
How men will judge what shall become of him.

2.
Some men will speak hardly, some will speak in pity,
Go you to the Court. I'le go into the City,
There I am sure to hear more newes then you.

1.
Why then soon will we meet again.

Exeunt.
Enter Cromwell in the Tower.
Crom.
Now, Cromwell, hast thou time to meditate,
And think upon thy state, and of the time:
Thy honours came unsought, I, and unlooked for,
They fall as sudden, and unlooked for too:
What glory was in England that I had not?
Who in this Land commanded more then Cromwell?
Except the King, who greater then my self?
But now I see what after ages shall,
The greater men, more sudden is their fall.
And now I doe remember, the Earl of Bedford
Was very desirous for to speak to me:
And afterward sent unto me a Letter,
The which I think I have still in my Pocket,
Now may I read it, for I now have leisure,
And this I take it is.
He reads the Letter.
O God, had I but read this Letter,
Then had I been free from the Lyons paw:
Deferring this to read untill to morrow,
I spurn'd at joy, and did embrace my sorrow.
Enter the Lieutenant of the Tower and Officers.
Now, Master Lieutenant, when's this day of death?

Lieu.
Alass, my Lord, would I might never see it:
Here are the Dukes of Suffolk and of Norfolk,
Winchester, Bedford, and Sir Richard Ratcliffe,
With others, but why they come I know not.

Crom.
No matter wherefore, Cromwell is prepar'd,
For Gardiner has my life and state insnar'd:
Bid them come in, or you shall doe them wrong,
For here stands he, whom some thinks lives too long,
Learning kills Learning, and, instead of Ink
To dip his Pen, Cromwell's heart blood doth drink.

Enter all the Nobles.
Norf.
Good morrow, Cromwell, what, alone so sad?

Crom.
One good among you, none of you are bad:
For my part, it best fits me be alone,
Sadnesse with me, not I with any one.
What, is the King acquainted with my cause?

Norf.
We have, and he hath answered us, my Lord.

Crom.
How shall I come to speak with him my self.

Gard.
The King is so advertised of your guilt,
He will by no meanes admit you to his presence.

Crom.
No way admit me, am I so soon forgot?
Did he but yesterday embrace my neck,
And said that Cromwell was even half himself,
And is his Princely eares so much bewitched
With scandalous ignominy, and slanderous speeches,
That now he doth deny to look on me?
Well, my Lord of Winchester, no doubt but you
Are much in favour with his Majesty,
Will you bear a Letter from me to his Grace?

Gar.
Pardon me, I'le bear no Traitors Letters.

Crom.
Ha, will you doe this kindesse then?
Tell him by word of mouth what I shall say to you.

Gard.
That will I.

Crom.
But on your honour will you?

Gar.
I, on my honour.

Crom.
Bear witnesse, Lords.
Tell him, when he hath known you,
And try'd your faith but half so much as mine,
He'll find you to be the falsest hearted man
In England: Pray tell him this.

Bed.
Be patient, good my Lord, in these extremities.

Crom.
My kind and honourable Lord of Bedford,
I know your honour alwayes lov'd me well,
But, pardon me, this still shall be my theam,
Gardiner is the cause makes Cromwell so extream:
Sir Ralph Sadler, pray a word with you;
You were my man, and all that you possess
Came by my means, to requite all this,
Will you take this Letter here of me,
And give it with your own hands to the King.

Sad.
I kiss your hand, and never will I rest,
E're to the King this be delivered.
Exit Sadler.

Crom.
Why yet Cromwell hath one Friend in store.

Gard.
But all the haste he makes shall be but vain;
Here's a discharge for your Prisoner,
To see him executed presently:
My Lord, you heare the tenor of your life.

Crom.
I do embrace it, welcome my last date,
And of this glistering world I take last leave;
And, Noble Lords, I take my leave of you:
As willingly I go to meet with death,
As Gardiner did pronounce it with his breath;
From Treason is my heart as white as Snow,
My death onely procured by my Foe:
I pray commend me to my Soveraign King,
And tell him in what sort his Cromwell dy'd,
To loose his head before his cause was try'd:
But let his Grace, when he shall hear my name,
Say onely this, Gardiner procur'd the same.

Enter young Cromwell.
Liev.
Here is your Son come to take his leave.

Crom.
To take his leave?
Come hither, Harry Cromwell;
Mark, Boy, the last words that I speak to thee;
Flatter not Fortune, neither fawn upon her;
Gape not for state, yet lose no spark of honour;
Ambition, like the plague see thou eschew it;
I die for Treason, Boy, and never knew it;
Yet let thy faith as spotless be as mine,
And Cromwell's virtues in thy face shall shine:
Come, go along and see me leave my breath,
And I'le leave thee upon the floor of death.

Son.
O father, I shall die to see that wound,
Your bloud being spilt will make my heart to sound.

Crom.
How, Boy, not look upon the Axe?
How shall I do then to have my head strook off?
Come on, my child, and see the end of all,
And after say that Gardiner was my fall.

Gard.
My Lord, you speak it of an envious heart,
I have done no more then Law and equity.

Bed.
O, my good Lord of Winchester, forbear;
It would better seemed you to been absent,
Then with your words disturb a dying man.

Crom.
Who me, my Lord? no: he disturbs not me,
My mind he stirres not, though his mighty shock
Hath brought moe Peers heads down to the block.
Farewell, my Boy, all Cromwell can bequeath,
My hearty blessing, so I take my leave.

Hang.
I am your death's-man, pray my Lord forgive me.

Cro.
Even with my soul, why man thou art my Doctor,
And bring'st me precious Physick for my Soul;
My Lord of Bedford, I desire of you,
Before my death a corporal embrace.
Bedford comes to him, Cromwell embraces him.
Farewell, great Lord, my love I do commend:
My heart to you, my soul to heaven I send;
This is my joy, that e're my body fleet,
Your honour'd armes is my true winding-sheet;
Farewell, dear Bedford, my peace is made in heaven;
Thus falls great Cromwell a poor ell in length,
To rise to unmeasur'd height, winged with new strength.
The land of Wormes, which dying men discover.
My soul is shrin'd with heaven's celestial cover.

Exeunt Cromwell and the Officers, and others.
Bed.
Well, farewell Cromwell, the truest friend
That ever Bedford shall possess again,
Well, Lords, I fear when this man is dead,
You'll wish in vain that Cromwell had a head.

Enter one with Cromwell's head.
Offi.
Here is the head of the deceased Cromwell.

Bed.
Pray thee go hence, and bear his head away,
Unto his body, interre them both in clay.

Enter Sir Ralph Sadler.
Sad.
How now my Lords, what is Lord Cromwell dead?

Bed.
Lord Cromwell's body now doth want a head.

Sad.
O God, a little speed had sav'd his life,
Here is a kind Reprieve come from the King,
To bring him straight unto his Majesty.

Suff.
I, I, sir Ralph, Reprieves come now too late.

Gar.
My conscience now tells me this deed was ill,
Would Christ that Cromwell were alive again.

Nor.
Come let us to the King, whom well I know,
Will grieve for Cromwell, that his death was so.

Exeunt omnes.