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The History of Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)

Author: Anonymous
Not Peer Reviewed
of the Lord Cromwell.
25
Crom. My Lord, I have added to my knowledge, the
Low Countreys,
985France, 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?
990Crom. 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,
995And 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;
1000Sir 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.
1005Wol. 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.
1010Hath 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
1015So 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.
1020Hal. Cromwell, farewell.
Crom. Cromwell takes his leave of you
That ne're will leave to love, and honour you.
Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.

1025
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
1030Is 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,
1035Pardon 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
1040
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,
1045That 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,
1050It 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,
1055Then 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,
1060Of 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.
1065His 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,
1070And 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:
1075Thou 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,
1080I 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,
1085For fear, and love: and now who lower lies?
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,
1090May 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.

1095
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,
1100For 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