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Are, in my judgement, Spain's three headed devil.

MORE.

Indeed it is a plague unto their nation,

Who stagger after in blind imitation.

HALES.

My Lords, with welcome, I present your Lordships

A solemn health.

MORE.

I love health well, but when as healths do bring

Pain to the head and bodies sufeiting,

Then cease I healths.—

Nay, spill not, friend, for though the drops be small,

Yet have they force, to force men to the wall.

WOLSEY.

Sir Christopher, is that your man?

HALES.

And like your grace; he is a Scholar and

A Lingest, one that hath travelled many parts

Of Christendom, my Lord.

WOLSEY.

My friend, come nearer; have you been a traveller?

CROMWELL.

My Lord, I have added to my knowledge the low Countries,

France, Spain, Germany, and Italy:

And though small gain of profit I did find,

Yet did it please my eye, content my mind.

WOLSEY.

What do you think of the several states

And princes' Courts as you have travelled?

CROMWELL.

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 peasant to the Prince's train,

In Germany and Holland riot serves,

And he that most can drink, most he deserves:

England I praise not, for I here was borne,

But that she laugheth the others unto scorn.

WOLSEY.

My Lord, there dwells within that spirit

More than can be discerned by outward eye.

Sir Christopher, will you part with your man?

HALES.

I have sought to profer him to your Lordship,

And now I see he hath prefered himself.

WOLSEY.

What is thy name?

CROMWELL.

Cromwell, my Lord.

WOLSEY.

Then, Cromwell, here we make thee Solicitor of our causes, and nearest next our self. Gardiner give you kind welcome to the man.

[Gardiner embraces him.]

MORE.

My Lord, you are a royal Winer,

Have got a man besides your bounteous dinner.

Well, Knight, pray we come no more:

If we come often, thou maist shut thy door.

WOLSEY.

Sir Christopher, hadst 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 honour's fire.

And so, kind master of the Rules, farewell.

HALES.

Cromwell, farewell.

CROMWELL.

Cromwell takes his leave of you,

That near will leave to love and honour you.

[Exit omnes. The Music plays, as they go in.]

ACT IV.

[Enter Chorus.]

CHORUS.

Now Cromwell's highest fortunes doth begin.

Wolsey, that loved 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 Cromwell's death.

Now sit and see his highest state of all;

His haight of rising and his sudden fall.

Pardon the errors is all ready 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.]

ACT IV. SCENE I. The same. A public walk.

[Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, The Dukes of Norfolk, and of Suffolk, Sir Thomas More, Sir Christopher Hales, and Cromwell.]

NORFOLK.

Master Cromwell, since Cardinal Wolsey's death,

His majesty is given to understand

There's certain bills and writings in your hand,

That much concerns the state of England.

My Lord of Winchester, is it not so?

GARDINER.

My Lord of Norfolk, we two wear whilom fellows;

And, master Cromwell, though our master's love

Did bind us, while his love was to the King,

It is not boot now to deny these things,

Which may be prejudicial to the state:

And though that God hath raised my fortune higher

Than any way I looked for or deserved,

Yet my life no longer with me dwell,

Than I prove true unto my Sovereign:

What say you, master Cromwell? have you those

writings?

Aye, or no?

CROMWELL.

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 virtuous part,

That lived in him, I tendered