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.
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.
Cardinal Wolsey · Act 3, Scene 2
Wolsey speaks this line at the very moment of his complete downfall, stripped of all office and property, preparing to leave for exile. The confession is not self-pitying but clear-eyed: he has inverted his priorities and paid the price. It is the play's most direct statement about the spiritual cost of ambition and the illusion that earthly power provides security.
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.
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.
Cardinal Wolsey · Act 3, Scene 2
Wolsey, alone after reading the king's letters exposing his schemes, articulates the moment of his own recognition. The image of falling like a bright exhalation in the evening is the play's most beautiful statement of decline—a meteor, brilliant but temporary, that will disappear without trace. He has seen the trap and knows he cannot escape it.
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.
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.
Cardinal Wolsey · Act 3, Scene 2
Wolsey, in the depths of his fall, delivers the play's most sustained meditation on the wheel of fortune and human mutability. The image of growth followed by sudden killing frost captures the play's governing metaphor: greatness is seasonal and fragile, destroyed not by eternal law but by the blindness of ambitious men who cannot see the frost approaching.
