The History of Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)
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¶
Enter Cromwell in the Tower.
¶And think upon thy state, and of the time:
1660Thy 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?
¶The greater men, more sudden is their fall.
¶And now I doe remember, the Earl of Bedford
¶And afterward sent unto me a Letter,
1670The 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.
¶ My Lord, come not this night to Lambeth,
¶For if you doe, your state is overthrown.
1675And much I doubt your life, and if you come:
¶O God, had I but read this Letter,
¶Then had I been free from the Lyons paw:
¶Deferring this to read untill to morrow,
¶
Enter the Lieutenant of the Tower and Officers.
¶Now, Master Lieutenant, when's this day of death?
¶Here are the Dukes of Suffolk and of Norfolk,
1685Winchester, Bedford, and Sir Richard Ratcliffe,
¶With others, but why they come I know not.
¶Crom. No matter wherefore, Cromwell is prepar'd,
¶Bid them come in, or you shall doe them wrong,
¶Learning kills Learning, and, instead of Ink
¶To dip his Pen, Cromwell's heart blood doth drink.
¶
Enter all the Nobles.
1695Crom. One good among you, none of you are bad:
¶For my part, it best fits me be alone,
¶What, is the King acquainted with my cause?
¶He will by no meanes admit you to his presence.
¶Did he but yesterday embrace my neck,
¶And is his Princely eares so much bewitched
¶That now he doth deny to look on me?
¶Well, my Lord of Winchester, no doubt but you
1710Are 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.
1715Gard. That will I.
¶Crom. But on your honour will you?
¶Gar. I, on my honour.
¶Tell him, when he hath known you,
1720And try'd your faith but half so much as mine,
¶In England: Pray tell him this.
¶Crom. My kind and honourable Lord of Bedford,
1725I know your honour alwayes lov'd me well,
¶Sir Ralph Sadler, pray a word with you;
1730Came 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.
¶E're to the King this be delivered.
Exit Sadler.
¶My Lord, you heare the tenor of your life.
¶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;
1745From 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,
1750But 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?
1755Come hither, Harry Cromwell;
¶Flatter not Fortune, neither fawn upon her;
1760I die for Treason, Boy, and never knew it;
¶Yet let thy faith as spotless be as mine,
¶Come, go along and see me leave my breath,
¶And I'le leave thee upon the floor of death.
¶Crom. How, Boy, not look upon the Axe?
¶Come on, my child, and see the end of all,
1770And after say that Gardiner was my fall.
¶I have done no more then Law and equity.
1775Then with your words disturb a dying man.
¶Hath brought moe Peers heads down to the block.
¶Farewell, my Boy, all Cromwell can bequeath,
¶Hang. I am your death's-man, pray my Lord forgive me.
¶My Lord of Bedford, I desire of you,
1785Before my death a corporal embrace.
¶
Bedford comes to him, Cromwell embraces him.
¶Farewell, great Lord, my love I do commend:
¶This is my joy, that e're my body fleet,
1790Your 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,
¶The land of Wormes, which dying men discover.
¶
Exeunt Cromwell and the Officers, and others.
¶Well, Lords, I fear when this man is dead,
1800You'll wish in vain that Cromwell had a head.
¶
Enter one with Cromwell's head.
¶Bed. Pray thee go hence, and bear his head away,
¶Unto his body, interre them both in clay.
1805
Enter Sir Ralph Sadler.
¶Sad. How now my Lords, what is Lord Cromwell dead?
¶Bed. Lord Cromwell's body now doth want a head.
¶Here is a kind Reprieve come from the King,
¶Would Christ that Cromwell were alive again.
¶Nor. Come let us to the King, whom well I know,
1815Will grieve for Cromwell, that his death was so.
¶
Exeunt omnes.
