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If you will now unite in your complaints, And force them with a constancy, the cardinal Cannot stand under them: if you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces, With these you bear already.
If you will now join together in your complaints, And present them with determination, the cardinal Cannot withstand them: if you miss This opportunity, I can’t promise That you won’t suffer even more disgrace, On top of the ones you already bear.
I am joyful To meet the least occasion that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, To be revenged on him.
I’m happy To find any excuse that reminds me Of my father-in-law, the duke, So I can get back at him.
Which of the peers Have uncontemn’d gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? when did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person Out of himself?
Which of the nobles Have passed him by without disrespect, or at least Treated him strangely? When has he ever cared About the nobility in anyone Except himself?
My lords, you speak your pleasures: What he deserves of you and me I know; What we can do to him, though now the time Gives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot Bar his access to the king, never attempt Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft Over the king in’s tongue.
My lords, you express your wishes: What he deserves from you and me, I know; What we can do to him, though the time Is on our side, I fear greatly. If you can’t Block his access to the king, never try Anything against him; for he has a spell Over the king with his words.
O, fear him not; His spell in that is out: the king hath found Matter against him that for ever mars The honey of his language. No, he’s settled, Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Oh, don’t be afraid of him; His power in that is gone: the king has found Evidence against him that will forever ruin The sweetness of his speech. No, he’s settled, And is determined not to back down from his anger.
Sir, I should be glad to hear such news as this Once every hour.
Sir, I would be happy to hear news like this Every hour.
Believe it, this is true: In the divorce his contrary proceedings Are all unfolded wherein he appears As I would wish mine enemy.
Believe me, this is true: In the divorce, his actions against it Have all come to light, showing him Just as I would want my enemy to appear.
How came His practises to light?
How did His schemes come to light?
Most strangely.
Very strangely.
O, how, how?
Oh, how, how?
The cardinal’s letters to the pope miscarried, And came to the eye o’ the king: wherein was read, How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness To stay the judgment o’ the divorce; for if It did take place, ’I do,’ quoth he, ’perceive My king is tangled in affection to A creature of the queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen.’
The cardinal’s letters to the pope were lost, And ended up in the king’s hands: in them it was written, How the cardinal had begged the pope To stop the divorce judgment; for if It went through, he said, ’I see My king is in love with A woman of the queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen.’
Has the king this?
Does the king know this?
Believe it.
Believe me, yes.
Will this work?
Will this matter?
The king in this perceives him, how he coasts And hedges his own way. But in this point All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic After his patient’s death: the king already Hath married the fair lady.
The king sees through him, how he tries To manipulate things for himself. But in this case All his tricks fail, and he’s too late with his remedy After the patient has died: the king has already Married the beautiful lady.
Would he had!
I wish he had!
May you be happy in your wish, my lord For, I profess, you have it.
May you find happiness in your wish, my lord For, I swear, you’ve got it.
Now, all my joy Trace the conjunction!
Now, all my joy Watch this joining of things!
My amen to’t!
I agree with that!
All men’s!
Everyone’s!
There’s order given for her coronation: Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, She is a gallant creature, and complete In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall In it be memorised.
Orders have been given for her coronation: But this is still early, and might not be shared With everyone yet. But, my lords, She’s a remarkable woman, perfect In mind and appearance: I’m sure that from her Some blessing will come to this country, which will Be remembered here.
But, will the king Digest this letter of the cardinal’s? The Lord forbid!
But, will the king Accept this letter from the cardinal? God forbid!
Marry, amen!
Amen to that!
No, no; There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius Is stol’n away to Rome; hath ta’en no leave; Has left the cause o’ the king unhandled; and Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, To second all his plot. I do assure you The king cried Ha! at this.
No, no; There are more problems buzzing around his head That will make this sting even worse. Cardinal Campeius Has sneaked off to Rome; he didn’t ask permission; He left the king’s cause unfinished; and He’s been sent, as the agent of our cardinal, To support all his schemes. I assure you The king was furious about this.
Now, God incense him, And let him cry Ha! louder!
May God strike him with anger, And let him shout even louder!
But, my lord, When returns Cranmer?
But, my lord, When is Cranmer coming back?
He is return’d in his opinions; which Have satisfied the king for his divorce, Together with all famous colleges Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe, His second marriage shall be publish’d, and Her coronation. Katharine no more Shall be call’d queen, but princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur.
He’s back with his opinions, which Have convinced the king about his divorce, Along with all the leading colleges Almost in Christendom: soon, I believe, His second marriage will be announced, and Her coronation. Katharine will no longer Be called queen, but instead will be princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur.
This same Cranmer’s A worthy fellow, and hath ta’en much pain In the king’s business.
This Cranmer’s A good man, and he’s worked hard On the king’s behalf.
He has; and we shall see him For it an archbishop.
He has; and we’ll see him Made an archbishop for it.
So I hear.
That’s what I hear.
’Tis so. The cardinal!
It’s true. The cardinal!
Observe, observe, he’s moody.
Look, look, he’s upset.
The packet, Cromwell. Gave’t you the king?
The letter, Cromwell. Did you give it to the king?
To his own hand, in’s bedchamber.
Yes, directly to his hand, in his bedroom.
Look’d he o’ the inside of the paper?
Did he look at the inside of the letter?
Presently He did unseal them: and the first he view’d, He did it with a serious mind; a heed Was in his countenance. You he bade Attend him here this morning.
Right away He opened them: and the first one he saw, He read it seriously; his face showed he was thinking He told me to stay here and wait for him this morning.
Is he ready To come abroad?
Is he ready To come out yet?
I think, by this he is.
I think, by now, he is.
Leave me awhile.
Leave me for a while.
It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon, The French king’s sister: he shall marry her. Anne Bullen! No; I’ll no Anne Bullens for him: There’s more in’t than fair visage. Bullen! No, we’ll no Bullens. Speedily I wish To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
It will be to the Duchess of Alencon, The French king’s sister: he will marry her. Anne Boleyn! No; I don’t want Anne Boleyns for him: There’s more to her than just her pretty face. Boleyn! No, we don’t want Boleyns. I’m eager to hear From Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
He’s discontented.
He’s upset.
May be, he hears the king Does whet his anger to him.
Maybe he’s heard that the king Is sharpening his anger toward him.
Sharp enough, Lord, for thy justice!
Sharp enough, Lord, for your justice!
[Aside] The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter, To be her mistress’ mistress! the queen’s queen! This candle burns not clear: ’tis I must snuff it; Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous And well deserving? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to Our cause, that she should lie i’ the bosom of Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one Hath crawl’d into the favour of the king, And is his oracle.
[Aside] The late queen’s maid, a knight’s daughter, To be her mistress’ mistress! the queen’s queen! This candle doesn’t burn clearly: it’s up to me to trim it; Then it will go out. What if I know she’s virtuous And well-deserving? Yet I know she’s A passionate Lutheran, and not good for Our cause, for she should not be close to Our tightly-controlled king. Again, there has risen A heretic, a dangerous one, Cranmer; someone Who has crawled into the king’s favor, And is his advisor.
He is vex’d at something.
He’s upset about something.
I would ’twere something that would fret the string, The master-cord on’s heart!
I wish it were something that could really trouble him, The main thing in his heart!
The king, the king!
The king, the king!
What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his own portion! and what expense by the hour Seems to flow from him! How, i’ the name of thrift, Does he rake this together! Now, my lords, Saw you the cardinal?
What piles of wealth has he built up For himself! And what money he spends every hour Seems to pour out of him! How, in the name of thrift, Is he gathering all this?! Now, my lords, Did you see the cardinal?
My lord, we have Stood here observing him: some strange commotion Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on his temple, straight Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts His eye against the moon: in most strange postures We have seen him set himself.
My lord, we have Been standing here watching him: something strange Is happening in his mind: he bites his lip, and jumps; Stops suddenly, looks down at the ground, Then touches his temple, then suddenly Breaks into a fast walk; then stops again, Hits his chest hard, and then looks Up at the moon: we’ve seen him strike all kinds of odd poses.
It may well be; There is a mutiny in’s mind. This morning Papers of state he sent me to peruse, As I required: and wot you what I found There,--on my conscience, put unwittingly? Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing; The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks Possession of a subject.
That might be true; There’s a rebellion in his mind. This morning He sent me state papers to read, Just as I asked: and do you know what I found There—in all honesty, I’m sure he didn’t mean it? It was an inventory, saying: The details of his silverware, his treasure, Fine fabrics, and household decorations; which I find so expensive, it’s more than a subject could own.
It’s heaven’s will: Some spirit put this paper in the packet, To bless your eye withal.
It’s God’s will: Some spirit must have put that paper in the packet, To show it to you.
If we did think His contemplation were above the earth, And fix’d on spiritual object, he should still Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid His thinkings are below the moon, not worth His serious considering.
If we thought His thoughts were higher than earthly things, And focused on spiritual matters, he would still Be lost in his thoughts: but I’m afraid His mind is concerned with things far beneath him, unworthy Of his serious attention.
Heaven forgive me! Ever God bless your highness!
Heaven forgive me! May God always bless your highness!
Good my lord, You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory Of your best graces in your mind; the which You were now running o’er: you have scarce time To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that I deem you an ill husband, and am glad To have you therein my companion.
Good my lord, You’re full of heavenly wisdom, and you carry the inventory Of your best qualities in your mind; which You were just going over: you barely have time To steal a moment from your spiritual duties To focus on your earthly responsibilities: honestly, in that I think you’re a poor manager, and I’m glad To have you as my companion in that.
Sir, For holy offices I have a time; a time To think upon the part of business which I bear i’ the state; and nature does require Her times of preservation, which perforce I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, Must give my tendence to.
Sir, I have a time for holy duties; a time To think about my role in the government; And nature also requires Her moments of care, which as her weak son, I, among my fellow mortals, must give attention to.
You have said well.
You’ve spoken well.
And ever may your highness yoke together, As I will lend you cause, my doing well With my well saying!
And may your highness always be joined With me in doing well, As I’ll support you with both good actions And good words!
’Tis well said again; And ’tis a kind of good deed to say well: And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you: His said he did; and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office, I have kept you next my heart; have not alone Employ’d you where high profits might come home, But pared my present havings, to bestow My bounties upon you.
That’s well said again; And it’s a good thing to speak well: But words are not enough. My father loved you: He said so, and by his actions proved it By supporting you. Since I’ve had this office, I’ve kept you close to my heart; not only Have I employed you where great profits could come, But I’ve also sacrificed my own wealth, to give My generosity to you.
[Aside] What should this mean?
[Aside] What could this mean?
[Aside] The Lord increase this business!
[Aside] May God expand this matter!
Have I not made you, The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us or no. What say you?
Haven’t I made you, The most important man in the country? Please, tell me, If what I’m saying now is true: And if you can admit it, say also, Whether you are still loyal to us or not. What do you say?
My sovereign, I confess your royal graces, Shower’d on me daily, have been more than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all man’s endeavours: my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet filed with my abilities: mine own ends Have been mine so that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap’d upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks, My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty, Which ever has and ever shall be growing, Till death, that winter, kill it.
My lord, I admit your royal kindness, Showered on me daily, has been more than I could Ever repay with my efforts; which have gone Beyond anything any man could do: my efforts Have always fallen short of my wishes, Yet have been within my ability: my personal goals Have always been for the good of your noble self and The benefit of the country. For your great kindness, Piled on me, an unworthy servant, I Can give nothing back except faithful thanks, My prayers for you, my loyalty, Which has always grown and will continue to grow, Until death, that final end, kills it.
Fairly answer’d; A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated: the honour of it Does pay the act of it; as, i’ the contrary, The foulness is the punishment. I presume That, as my hand has open’d bounty to you, My heart dropp’d love, my power rain’d honour, more On you than any; so your hand and heart, Your brain, and every function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As ’twere in love’s particular, be more To me, your friend, than any.
Well said; A loyal and obedient subject is Shown here: the honor of it Pays for the action; as, on the other hand, The disgrace is the punishment. I assume That, just as I’ve generously rewarded you, My heart has poured out love, my power has showered honor, more On you than anyone; so your hand and heart, Your mind, and every part of your power, Should, despite your duty, Be more for me, your friend, than anyone else.
I do profess That for your highness’ good I ever labour’d More than mine own; that am, have, and will be-- Though all the world should crack their duty to you, And throw it from their soul; though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make ’em, and Appear in forms more horrid,--yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours.
I confess That for your highness’ sake I’ve worked More than for my own; that I am, have, and will be-- Even if the whole world breaks its duty to you, And throws it away; even if dangers were As numerous as thoughts could make them, and Came in forms more terrifying,--yet my duty, Like a rock standing firm against the raging sea, Should remain unshaken, yours.
’Tis nobly spoken: Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open’t. Read o’er this;
Nobly said: Take note, lords, he has a loyal heart, For you have seen it laid bare. Read this;
And after, this: and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
And then this: and after, breakfast whenever You’re hungry.
What should this mean? What sudden anger’s this? how have I reap’d it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap’d from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall’d him; Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper; I fear, the story of his anger. ’Tis so; This paper has undone me: ’tis the account Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom, And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence! Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil Made me put this main secret in the packet I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? No new device to beat this from his brains? I know ’twill stir him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune Will bring me off again. What’s this? ’To the Pope!’ The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to’s holiness. Nay then, farewell! I have touch’d the highest point of all my greatness; And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation m the evening, And no man see me more.
What could this mean? What’s this sudden anger? How have I earned it? He left frowning at me, as if disaster Was about to leap from his eyes: just like the angry lion Stares at the daring hunter who has wounded him; Then he makes the hunter nothing. I must read this paper; I fear it’s the story of his anger. It is; This paper has destroyed me: it’s the record Of all the wealth I’ve gathered together For my own purposes; indeed, to gain the papacy, And pay my friends in Rome. Oh, foolishness! A mistake any fool could make: what devil Made me put this secret in the packet I sent to the king? Is there no way to fix this? No new plan to take this from his mind? I know it will stir him deeply; yet I know A way, if it works, despite fate That will get me out of this again. What’s this? ’To the Pope!’ The letter, as I live, with all the business I wrote to his holiness. Well then, goodbye! I’ve reached the peak of all my greatness; And now, from this high point of glory, I hurry to my downfall: I shall fall Like a bright flame in the evening, And no one will see me again.
Hear the king’s pleasure, cardinal: who commands you To render up the great seal presently Into our hands; and to confine yourself To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester’s, Till you hear further from his highness.
Hear the king’s order, cardinal: he commands you To give up the great seal immediately Into our hands; and to stay confined At Asher House, the Lord of Winchester’s, Until you hear more from his highness.
Stay: Where’s your commission, lords? words cannot carry Authority so weighty.
Wait: Where’s your official order, lords? Words can’t carry Authority this strong.
Who dare cross ’em, Bearing the king’s will from his mouth expressly?
Who would dare oppose us, When we bear the king’s will directly from his mouth?
Till I find more than will or words to do it, I mean your malice, know, officious lords, I dare and must deny it. Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy: How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have Christian warrant for ’em, and, no doubt, In time will find their fit rewards. That seal, You ask with such a violence, the king, Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me; Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters-patents: now, who’ll take it?
Until I see more than just will or words to support it, I mean your malice, know this, officious lords, I dare and must deny it. Now I see The low nature of you, full of envy: How eagerly you follow my disgrace, As if it fed you! And how smooth and self-satisfied You appear in everything that could bring my ruin! Go on with your jealous ways, men of spite; You have Christian justification for them, and, no doubt, In time will find their proper rewards. That seal, You ask for so violently, the king, My master and yours, gave to me with his own hand; Told me to keep it, along with the place and honors, For my life; and to confirm his generosity, Signed it with letters-patents: now, who will take it?
The king, that gave it.
The king, who gave it.
It must be himself, then.
It must be him, then.
Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
You are a proud traitor, priest.
Proud lord, thou liest: Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue than said so.
Proud lord, you’re lying: In the last forty hours, Surrey, you would have been better off Burning your tongue than saying that.
Thy ambition, Thou scarlet sin, robb’d this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: The heads of all thy brother cardinals, With thee and all thy best parts bound together, Weigh’d not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You sent me deputy for Ireland; Far from his succor, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him; Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolved him with an axe.
Your ambition, You scarlet sin, robbed this grieving land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: The heads of all your brother cardinals, With you and all your best qualities combined, Don’t weigh as much as a hair of his. Curse your policies! You sent me as a deputy to Ireland; Far from his aid, from the king, from anyone Who might have shown mercy for the fault you gave him; While your great kindness, out of holy pity, Absolved him with an axe.
This, and all else This talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer is most false. The duke by law Found his deserts: how innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness. If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you You have as little honesty as honour, That in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the king, my ever royal master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, And all that love his follies.
This, and everything else This talkative lord accuses me of, I say is completely false. The duke got what he deserved by law: How innocent I was Of any personal malice in his death, His noble jury and bad cause can testify. If I liked to talk, lord, I would tell you You have as little honesty as you have honor, That in terms of loyalty and truth To the king, my ever-royal master, You wouldn’t dare challenge a man more solid than Surrey, And all those who support his foolishness.
By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel My sword i’ the 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.
By my soul, Your long robe, priest, protects you; you’d Feel My sword in your blood otherwise. My lords, Can you stand to hear this arrogance? And from this man? If we live this way, quietly, To be trodden on by a piece of scarlet, Goodbye nobility; let him keep going, And challenge us with his hat like birds.
All goodness Is poison to thy stomach.
All goodness Is poison to your stomach.
Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land’s wealth into one, Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets You writ to the 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, Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles Collected from his life. I’ll startle you Worse than the scaring bell, when the brown wench Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Yes, that goodness Of collecting all the land’s wealth into one, Into your hands, cardinal, through extortion; The goodness of your intercepted letters You sent to the pope against the king: your goodness, Since you’re provoking me, shall be well known. My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, As you care about the common good, the state Of our poor nobility, our heirs, Who, if they survive, will hardly be gentlemen, Present the full account of his sins, the articles Collected from his life. I’ll shock you Worse than the bell at a funeral, when the brown maid Was kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in charity against it!
How much, I think, I could despise this man, If I weren’t bound by charity to avoid it!
Those articles, my lord, are in the king’s hand: But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Those articles, my lord, are in the king’s hands: But I’ll say this much, they are foul.
So much fairer And spotless shall mine innocence arise, When the king knows my truth.
So much clearer And blameless shall my innocence be, When the king knows my truth.
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.
This won’t save you: I thank my memory, I still recall Some of these articles; and out they will come. Now, if you can blush and say ’guilty,’ cardinal, You’ll show a little honesty.
Speak on, sir; I dare your worst objections: if I blush, It is to see a nobleman want manners.
Speak on, sir; I dare you to bring your worst accusations: if I blush, It’s because I’m seeing a nobleman act without manners.
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 maim’d the jurisdiction of all bishops.
I’d rather lose those than my head. Here goes! First, that, without the king’s approval or knowledge, You worked to become a papal legate; with that power, You weakened the authority of all bishops.
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.
Then, in all you wrote to Rome, or to Foreign princes, ’Ego et Rex meus’ Was always included; with this you made the king Your servant.
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.
Then, without the king’s or council’s knowledge, When you went as ambassador to the emperor, you boldly Took the great seal into Flanders.
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.
Also, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassado, to settle, Without the king’s will or the state’s approval, A treaty between his highness and Ferrara.
That, out of mere ambition, you have caused Your holy hat to be stamp’d on the king’s coin.
That, out of pure ambition, you have had Your holy symbol stamped on the king’s coin.
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.
And that you’ve sent countless amounts of money— How you got it, I’ll leave to your conscience— To support Rome, and prepare the way For your titles and honors; leading only To the complete ruin of the kingdom. There are many more; But since they come from you, and are so disgusting, I won’t even speak them.
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.
Oh my lord, Don’t press a man already falling too far! It’s a matter of virtue: His faults are obvious to the law; let the law, Not you, correct him. My heart breaks to see him So diminished from the man he once was.
I forgive him.
I forgive him.
Lord cardinal, the king’s further pleasure is, Because all those things you have done of late, By your power legatine, within this kingdom, Fall into the 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.
Lord Cardinal, the king’s further orders are, Because of all the actions you’ve taken recently, Under your power as legate, within this kingdom, You are now within the scope of a praemunire, And therefore such a writ will be issued against you; You will forfeit all your goods, lands, properties, And anything else, and be Out of the king’s protection. This is my charge.
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.
And so we’ll leave you to reflect On how to live better. As for your stubborn response About giving the great seal back to us, The king will know, and no doubt, thank you for it. So farewell, my little good lord Cardinal.
So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many 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 open’d. 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.
So goodbye to the little good you ever did for me. Goodbye! A long goodbye to all my greatness! This is the way of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; tomorrow he blooms, And wears his honors proudly; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good, contented man, full of certainty, That his greatness is ripening, the frost kills his roots, And he falls, just like I am now. I have risked it, Like young, careless boys who float on air-filled bladders, Many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my abilities: my inflated pride Finally broke beneath me and left me, Weary and old from service, to the mercy Of a rough stream, which will forever hide me. Empty pomp and glory of this world, I despise you: I feel my heart is newly awakened. Oh, how miserable Is the poor man who depends on the favor of princes! There is, between that smile we aim for, That sweet face of princes, and their downfall, More pain and fear than any war or woman can cause: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to have hope again.
Why, how now, Cromwell!
Why, what’s this, Cromwell?
I have no power to speak, sir.
I have no power to speak, sir.
What, amazed At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am fall’n indeed.
What, amazed By my misfortunes? Can you really be surprised That a great man should fall? If you weep, Then I have truly fallen.
How does your grace?
How is your grace?
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 ruin’d pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy, too much honour: O, ’tis a burthen, Cromwell, ’tis a burthen Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!
Why, well; Never have I been so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace greater than any earthly honor, A quiet conscience. The king has healed me, I humbly thank him for that; and from these shoulders, These ruined pillars, out of pity, he has removed A weight that could sink a navy, too much honor: Oh, it’s a burden, Cromwell, it’s a burden Too heavy for a man who hopes for heaven!
I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.
I’m glad your grace has made the right use of it.
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?
I hope I have: I feel now, I think, A strength in my soul to endure even more suffering, Far greater than my weak-hearted enemies could ever bring. What’s the news outside?
The heaviest and the worst Is your displeasure with the king.
The worst part Is your anger with the king.
God bless him!
God bless him!
The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place.
Next, Sir Thomas More has been chosen As Lord Chancellor in your place.
That’s somewhat sudden: But he’s a learned 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 em! What more?
That’s a bit sudden: But he’s a learned man. I hope he stays In the king’s favor for a long time, and does what’s right For the sake of truth and his conscience; so that when his work is done and he’s at rest, His grave may be watered by the tears of orphans! What else?
That Cranmer is return’d with welcome, Install’d lord archbishop of Canterbury.
Lastly, that Cranmer has returned to a warm welcome, And has been made Archbishop of Canterbury.
That’s news indeed.
That’s real news.
Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, This day was view’d in open as his queen, Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation.
Finally, the Lady Anne, Whom the king secretly married some time ago, Was publicly acknowledged today as his queen, Going to church; and now the talk is all About her coronation.
There was the weight that pull’d 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.
That was the blow that brought me down. Oh, Cromwell, The king has outdone me: all my greatness Is lost because of that one woman: No sun will ever rise again to shine on my honors, Or light up the noble men who once followed me. Go, leave me, Cromwell; I am a fallen man, no longer worthy To be your lord and master: go to the king; I pray that his glory never fades! I have told him What a good man you are: he will raise you up; He’ll remember me a little-- I know his noble heart--and he won’t let Your loyal service be forgotten too: good Cromwell, Don’t forget him; make sure you look out For your own future safety.
O my lord, Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forego 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.
Oh, my lord, Must I leave you? Can I really give up Such a good, noble, and true master? Let everyone who doesn’t have a heart of stone Bear witness to how sadly Cromwell leaves his lord. The king will have my service: but my prayers Will always be with you, forever and ever.
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 miss’d it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin’d 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, I didn’t think I would shed a tear In all my misfortune; but you’ve made me, With your honest truth, become emotional. Let’s dry our eyes: now listen to me, Cromwell; And, when I’m forgotten, as I will be, And buried in cold, lifeless marble, where no one Will speak my name again, say that I taught you, Say that Wolsey, who once walked the path of glory, And explored all the depths and perils of honor, Found a way for you to rise from his own fall; A safe way, though your master missed it. Just look at my downfall, and what ruined me. Cromwell, I tell you, throw away ambition: That’s what caused the angels to fall; how can man, Made in the image of his Creator, hope to succeed by it? Put yourself last: take care of those who hate you; Corruption doesn’t win more than honesty. Always carry peace in your right hand, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and don’t be afraid: Let all your goals be for your country, For God, and for truth; then, if you fall, Oh Cromwell, You’ll fall as a blessed martyr! Serve the king; And please, lead me inside: There, take stock of everything I have, Down to the last penny; it all belongs to the king: my robe, And my integrity to God, are the only things I can call my own now. Oh, Cromwell, Cromwell! If only I had served my God with half the zeal I served my king, He wouldn’t have left me Exposed to my enemies in my old age.
Good sir, have patience.
Please, sir, have patience.
So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
I’ve tried. Farewell To my hopes at court! My real hopes are in heaven.