The History of Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)
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The History of the Life and Death of THOMAS
Lord CROMWELL.
1
Enter three Smiths, Hodge, and two other, old Crom-
¶
well's men.
¶Hodge.
5Is it not time we were at work?
¶afternoon's nap, for my young Master Thomas,
¶With the Sun, and the Moon, and the seven Starres,
¶That I do verily think he'll read out his wits.
¶_of Fulham,
15He that carried us to the strong Ale, where goody Trundel
¶Had her maid got with child: O, he knows the Starres,
¶He'll tickle you Charles Wain in nine degrees:
¶That same man will tell goody Trundel
202. I, that's a great virtue indeed, I think Thomas
¶Be no body in comparison to him.
¶And then to work roundly.
¶
Enter young Cromwell.
¶And now Aurora with a lively dye,
¶Adds comfort to my spirit that mounts on high.
¶My studie like a mineral of Gold,
35Makes my heart proud, wherein my hope's inroll'd;
¶And unto them I have ingag'd my heart;
¶O, Learning, how divine thou seems to me!
¶Within whose armes is all felicity.
40Peace with your hammers, leave your knocking there,
¶
Enter Hodge, and the two Men.
45Will you not let us work for you?
¶Hod. How, fret your heart? I but Thomas, you'll
¶Fret your father's purse if you let us from working.
¶2. I, this 'tis for him to make him a Gentleman:
50Shall we leave work for your musing? that's well ifaith;
¶But here comes my old Master now.
¶
Enter old Cromwell.
¶Old Crom. You idle knaves, what are you loytring now?
¶No Hammers walking, and my work to doe?
55What, not a heat among your work to day?
¶And all to keep thee like a Gentleman,
60That sweat for thee, knave? labour thus for thee?
¶Crom. Father, their Hammers do offend my Studie.
¶I cry you mercy, are your eares so fine?
65I will not have my Anvil stand for thee.
¶Crom. There's money, father, I will pay your men.
¶
He throws Money among them.
¶In hope that one day thou would'st relieve my age,
75To build a Pallace where now this Cottage stands,
¶As fine as is King Henrie's house at Sheen.
¶Now afore God all is but cast away
¶That is bestowed upon this thriftless Lad,
¶This had not been; but it was his mother's doing,
¶As fair as that at Sheen? he shall not hear me,
85A good Boy Tom, I con thee thank Tom,
¶Well said Tom, grammarcies Tom:
¶In to your work, knaves; hence saucie Boy.
¶
Exeunt all but young Cromwell.
¶Are not all creatures subject unto time?
¶To time, who doth abuse the world,
¶And fills it full of hodge-podge bastardy;
¶There's legions now of beggars on the earth,
95That their original did spring from Kings,
¶And many Monarchs now, whose Fathers were
¶The riffe-raffe of their age; for time and fortune
¶Weares out a noble train to beggery;
¶And from the Dunghill minions doe advance
100To state: and mark, in this admiring world
¶This is but course, which in the name of Fate
¶Is seen as often as it whirles about:
105Yet keeping on his course growes to a Sea.
¶His birth as mean as mine, a Butchers Son;
¶Now who within this Land a greater man?
¶Then, Cromwell, cheer thee up, and tell thy soul,
¶
Enter old Cromwell.
115you have dispach'd his petition for the Lords of the
¶Council, or no.
¶
Enter Master Bowser.
¶_petition?
¶And, Master Cromwell, I have made a motion
125May doe you good, and if you like of it.
¶Our Secretary at Antwerpe, sir, is dead,
¶And the Merchants there hath sent to me,
¶For to provide a man fit for the place:
¶Now I doe know none fitter than your self,
¶Get between thee and home, Tom.
¶_Boy,
¶God speed thee, good Tom.
Exeunt omnes.
¶
Enter Bagot a Broker solus.
¶A liberall Merchant, and a Florentine,
150What doe I care for pity or regard,
¶He once was wealthy, but he now is faln,
¶And this morning have I got him arrested
155For doing this same good to him unknown:
¶And in good time, see where the Merchant comes.
¶
Enter Friskiball.
¶It is for gain, I make no doubt of that.
165This two moneths day, his poverty is such,
¶And here they will be with him presently.
¶As he's not able for to pay the debt,
¶And were it known to some, he were undone.
175But you are much deceiv'd in Banister:
¶The man is lewdly given, to Dice and Drabs,
180Spends all he hath in Harlots companies,
¶It is no mercy for to pity him:
¶Better severe than too much lenity:
¶And with him, as I take't, the Officers.
¶
Enter Banister, his Wife, and two Officers.
¶My state was well nigh overthrown before,
¶Now altogether down-cast by your meanes.
¶He is a man hath liv'd as well as any,
195Till envious Fortune, and the ravenous Sea
¶Nor willingly would I have us'd him thus:
¶But that I hear he is so lewdly given,
200Haunts wicked company, and hath enough
¶To pay his debts, yet will not be known thereof.
¶Whom I have often from my Trencher fed:
¶Ingratefull villain for to use me thus.
¶A Cannibal that doth eat men alive:
¶But here upon my knee believe me, sir,
210We scrace have meat to feed our little Babes:
¶Most of our Plate is in that Broker's hand,
¶Which had we money to defray our debts,
¶O think, we would not bide that penury:
¶But one meale a day, the other will we keep and sell,
220Hold officers; be gone, there's for your pains,
¶You know you owe to me a thousand pound,
¶Here take my hand, if e're God make you able;
¶And place you in your former state again,
¶Pay me: but if still your fortune frown,
225Upon my faith I'le never ask you crown:
¶I never yet did wrong to men in thrall,
¶For God doth know what to my self may fall.
¶Doth make my heart bleed inwardly with joy:
230Nere may ought prosper with me is my own,
¶If I forget this kindness you have shown.
¶Fri. I thank you both, I pray go dine with me,
235Within these three dayes, if God give me leave,
¶I will to Florence to my native home.
¶Bagot, hold, there's a Portague to drink,
¶Although you ill deserved it by your merit;
240Be sure the ill you do will be requited:
¶Remember what I say, Bagot, farewell.
¶My fare's but simple, but welcome heartily.
¶
Exit all but Bagot.
¶Is this the thanks I have for all my pains?
¶Confusion light upon you all for me:
¶Where he had wont to give a score of Crowns,
¶Doth he now foyst me with a Portague:
250Well, I will be revenged upon this Banister.
¶I'le to his Creditors, buy all the debts he owes,
¶As seeming that I do it for good will,
255But I'le make his heart t'ake with sorrow,
¶And if that Banister become my debter,
¶By heaven and earth I'le make his plague the greater.
¶
Exit Bagot.
¶
Enter Chorus.
260Cho. Now Gentlemen imagine, that young Cromwell is
¶In Antwerp, Ledger for the English Merchants:
¶Hearing that he hath got some of his debts,
¶Is fled to Antwerp, with his wife and children,
265Which Bagot hearing is gone after them:
¶And thither sends his bills of debt before,
¶To be revenged on wretched Banister,
Exit.
270
Enter Cromwell in his study, with bags of money be-
¶
fore him, casting of account.
¶Thy mind is altogether set on travel,
275And not to live thus cloystered, like a Nun;
¶Experience is the jewel of my heart.
¶
Enter a Post.
¶You go so far as Frankford, do you not?
¶For there be certain English Gentlemen
285Are bound for Venice, and may happily want,
¶And if that you should linger by the way:
¶But in hope that you will make good speed,
¶There's two Angels to buy you spurrs and wands.
¶
Enter Mistris Banister.
¶What Gentlewoman is this, that grieves so much?
295_Cromwell?
¶Crom. My name is Thomas Cromwell, Gentlewoman.
¶_Antwerp?
300But here are bills of debt I have received
¶Mi. Ba. Into decay indeed, long of that wretch:
¶I am the wife to wofull Banister,
¶And by that bloudy villain am pursu'd,
305From London, here to Antwerp:
¶My husband he is in the Governors hands,
¶And God of heaven knows how he'll deal with him,
¶Now, sir, your heart is framed of milder temper,
¶In any thing that lies within my power.
¶An Angels voice may move a damned devil.
315Crom. Why is he come to Antwerp, as you hear?
¶I'le speak to Bagot in your own behalf,
¶And win him t'all the pitty that I can:
¶Receive these Angels to relieve your need,
¶To do you good, no way I will neglect.
¶
Exit Mistris Banister.
¶Crom. Thanks, curteous woman,
¶For thy hearty prayer:
330But we that live under the work of fate,
¶Fickle is Fortune, and her face is blind,
¶
Enter Bagot solus.
335Bag. So all goes well, it is as I would have it,
¶Banister, he is with the Governor:
¶It glads my heart to think upon the slave;
¶I hope to have his body rot in prison,
340And after here, his wife to hang her self,
¶And all his children die for want of food.
¶The Jewels I have brought to Antwerp
¶Are reckon'd to be worth five thousand pound,
345I bought them at an easie kind of rate,
¶I care not which way they came by them
¶That sold them me, it comes not near my heart;
¶I thought it meet to sell them here in Antwerp,
350And so have left them in the Governour's hand,
¶Who offers me within two hundreth pound
¶Of all my price: but now no more of that,
¶He might arrest him here before I came:
¶Crom. And you, pray pardon me, I know you not.
360The man that sent to you the Bills of debt.
¶Here are the Bills of debt you sent to me:
¶As for the man, you know best where he is;
¶It is reported y'ave a flintie heart,
365A mind that will not stoop to any pittie;
¶An eye that knows not how to shed a tear,
¶A hand that's alwayes open for reward:
¶But, Master Bagot, would you be ruled by me,
¶Your mind, according to your state, be liberal
¶Your hand to help them that do stand in want,
¶Rather then with your poise to hold them down,
¶But you must live I know, as well as I:
¶I know this place to be Extortion,
380And 'tis not for a man to keep safe here,
¶But yet I do commend your wit in this,
¶To make a show, of what I hope you are not,
385But I commend you, and 'tis well done;
¶This is the onely way to bring your gain.
¶Crom. My gain? I had rather chain me to an Oare,
¶And like a slave there toil out all my life,
390I, like an Hypocrite, to make a show
¶Of seeming virtue, and a Devil within?
¶No, Bagot, if thy conscience were as clear,
¶Poor Banister ne're had been troubled here.
395I know full well that you are no such man,
¶But if your conscience were as white as Snow,
¶It will be thought that you are otherwise.
¶Let them that think so, know they are deceiv'd;
¶Antwerp, for all the wealth within thy Town,
¶I will not stay here full two houres longer:
¶As good luck serves, my accounts are all made even,
405Bagot, I know you'll to the Governour,
¶Commend me to him, say I am bound to travel,
¶To see the fruitfull parts of Italy;
¶And as you ever bore a Christian mind,
¶To starve his heart out e're he gets a groat;
¶So, Master Cromwell, do I take my leave,
¶
Exit Bagot.
¶To live by falshood, or by brokery;
¶But 't falls out well, I little it repent,
420
Enter Hodge, his Father's man.
425any wagging or joulting in my guttes, in a little Boat
¶green Water, but I thinking to go to my afternoons
¶unchines, as 'twas my manner at home, but I felt a kind
¶up with it, thou hast nothing but an Eele in thy belly:
¶Well, to't went I, to my victuals went the Sailers, and
¶thinking me to be a man of better experience then any
435of: they all swore I tould them as right as if I had been
¶acquainted with the Carpenter that made it; at last we
¶grew near Land, and I grew villanous hungry, went to
¶my bagge, the Devil a bit there was, the Sailers had tick-
¶led me; yet I cannot blame them, it was a part of kind-
¶was made of, and they in kindness eat up my victuals, as
¶indeed one good turn asketh another: well, would I,
¶could I, find my Master Thomas in this Dutch Town, he
¶How doth my Father? what's the newes at home?
¶hand, glove and all, this is to give you to understanding
¶that your Father is in health, and Alice Downing here
450hath sent you a Nutmeg, and Bess Makewater a race of
¶Ginger, my fellow Will and Tom hath between them sent
¶you a dozen of Points, and goodman Toll, of the Goat,
¶a pair of Mittons, my Self came in person, and this is all
¶the newes.
455Cro. Gramarcy, good Hodge, & thou art welcome to me,
¶But in as ill a time thou comest as may be;
¶For I am travelling into Italy,
460me of Italy? were it to the furthest part of Flanders, I
¶would go with thee, Tom; I am thine in all weale and
¶mas, I have been in danger of the Flouds, and when I
465have seen Boreas begin to play the Ruffin with us, then
¶would I down a my knees, and call upon Vulcan.
¶Crom. And why upon him?
470fore I being a Smith, thought his Godhead would have
¶some care yet of me.
475And farewell Antwerp, if I come no more.
¶
Exeunt ambo.
¶
Enter the Governour of the English House, Bagot,
¶
Banister, his Wife, and two Officers.
¶Bag. To tell you true, a wilde brain of his own,
¶Such youth as they cannot see when they are well:
¶He is all bent to travell, that's his reason,
485And doth not love to eat his bread at home.
¶Gov. Well, good fortune with him, if the man be gone.
¶But now, sir, for your Jewels that I have,
490What doe you say? what, will you take my price?
¶Gov. 'Tis but two hundred pound between us, man,
¶What's that in payment of five thousand pound?
500Yet in regard I knew the man of wealth,
¶Hath faln on him, may light on me or you:
¶There is two hundred pound between us,
¶We will divide the same, I'le give you one,
505On that condition you will set him free:
510Therefore content your self, this is my minde,
¶To doe him good I will not bait a penny.
¶A mighty ebbe follows a mighty flood.
515Even as a Serpent for to poyson us,
¶If God did ever right a womans wrong,
¶To that same God I bend and bow my heart,
¶To let his heavy wrath fall on thy head,
¶By whom my hopes and joyes are butchered.
¶
Enter Master Bowser a Merchant.
¶_gland,
525What's the best newes? how doth all our friends?
¶Bow. They are all well, and doe commend them to
¶_you:
¶There's Letters from your Brother and your Son:
¶I must away, there is no remedy.
535_know it?
¶The King of late hath had his treasury robb'd,
¶He sold them to one Bagot dwelling in London:
¶Now Bagot's fled, and as we hear, to Antwerpe,
¶And hither am I come to seek him out,
545And they that first can tell me of his newes,
¶Shall have a hundred pound for their reward.
¶Here is the villain Bagot that you seek,
550And all those jewels have I in my hands:
¶Officers, look to him, hold him fast.
¶_paid it.
¶Bow. Is this that Bagot? fellowes, bear him hence,
555We will not now stand for his reply;
¶Lade him with Irons, we will have him tri'd
¶In England where his villanies are known.
¶O hang me, drown me, let me kill my self,
560Let go my armes, let me run quick to hell.
¶
They carry him away.
¶Mi. Ba. Thy works are infinite, great God of
¶_heaven.
565Gov. I heard this Bagot was a wealthy fellow.
¶Of Jewels, Coyn, and Plate within his house,
¶Was found the value of five thousand pound,
¶His furniture fully worth half so much,
570Which being all strain'd for the King,
¶He franckly gave it to the Antwerpe Merchants,
¶And they again, out of their bounteous mind,
¶Have to a brother of their Company,
¶A man decay'd by fortune of the Seas,
575Given Bagot's wealth, to set him up again,
¶And keep it for him, his name is Banister.
¶You have revived two from the gates of death,
¶This is that Banister, and this his Wife.
¶To bring such tidings as may comfort you.
¶Ban. You have given life unto a man deem'd dead,
¶For by these newes my life is newly bred.
¶Mi. Ba. Thanks to my God, next to my Soveraign
585_King,
¶For finding Bagot, I freely give to you.
¶Stands with your liking, I'le wait on you.
¶Knaves have their due, and you but what you merit.
¶
Exeunt omnes.
¶
Enter Cromwell and Hodge in their Shirts,
600
and without Hats.
¶Crom. Content thee man, this is but fortune,
605Hod. Fortune, a plague of this Fortune, it makes me go
¶but for my Doublet and Hat, ô Lord, they embraced me,
610graced me.
¶Crom. Well, Hodge, what remedy?
¶Hodg. Nay I know not, for begging I am naught,
615old trade, to the Hammer and the Horse-heels again: but
¶now the worst is, I am not acquainted with the humour of
¶given much to kicking, or no, for when I have one leg in
¶my hand, if he should up and lay tother on my chops, I
620were gone, there lay I, there lay Hodge.
625own another day: this was not regarded. Hark you,
¶Thomas, what do you call the fellows that rob'd us?
¶Crom. The Bandetti.
¶Hod. The Bandetti, do you call them, I know not
¶what they are called here, but I am sure we call them
630plain Thieves in England: O, Tom, that we were now
¶at Putney, at the Ale there.
¶And let us keep our standing on the Bridge:
¶To write the manner of his misery,
640And not only to read them, but also to look on us:
¶And not altogether look on us,
One stands at one end,
and one at tother.
¶But to relieve us, O cold, cold, cold.
¶
Enter Friskiball the Merchant, and
¶
reads the Bills.
¶_Bandetti,
¶One of them seems to be a Gentleman:
¶'Tis pitty that his fortune was so hard,
¶To fall into the desperate hands of thieves.
¶Fris. And what are you, my friend.
¶And therefore need not ask how you came thus:
¶Of their estate, and not relieve their need?
¶Sir, the coyn I have about me is not much:
¶There's sixteen more to buy your diet with,
¶But if you please for to enquire me out,
¶You shall not want for ought that I can do,
¶My name is Friskiball, a Florence Merchant:
670A man that alwayes loved your nation.
¶Crom. This unexpected favour at your hands,
¶Which God doth know, if ever I shall requite it,
¶And for your gold can yield you naught but thanks,
675Your charity hath help'd me from despair;
¶Your want shall better be reliev'd then thus.
680To bear my charges to Bononia,
¶Is by the French King sold unto his death,
¶It may fall out, that I may do him good:
685To save his life, I'le hazard my heart bloud:
¶Therefore, kind sir, thanks for your liberal gift,
¶Heaven prosper you, in that you go about:
690If Fortune bring you this way back again,
¶All good a man can wish, I do bequeath.
Exit Friskib.
¶There's few such men within our Climate bred.
695How say you now, Hodge, is not this good fortune?
¶If all men be of this Gentlemans mind,
¶Let's keep our standings upon this Bridge,
¶We shall get more here, with begging in one day,
¶There to relieve the noble Earle of Bedford:
¶Where if I fail not in my policy,
¶_thieving Bandetti again.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Bedford and his Host.
¶Bed. Am I betraid, was Bedford born to die,
¶And made the French stir, when they heard my name;
¶And am I now betraid unto my death?
¶But by my Birth, my Honour, and my Name:
¶Open the door, I'le venter out upon them,
720And if I must die, then I'le die with Honour.
¶They have begirt you, round about the house:
¶Their meaning is to take yon prisoner,
¶Before alive they send me unto France:
¶I'le have my body first bored like a Sive,
¶And die as Hector, 'gainst the Mermydons,
730Treacherous France, that 'gainst the law of armes:
¶Hath here betraid thy enemy to death:
¶Upon the best lives that remains in France:
735
Enter Servant.
¶Mes. Pardon, my Lord, I come to tell your honour
¶That they have hired a Neapolitan,
¶Who by his Oratory, hath promised them
¶Without the shedding of one drop of bloud,
740Into their hands, safe to deliver you,
¶And therefore craves, none but himself may enter,
¶And a poor swain that attends on him.
Exit servant.
¶Bed. A Neopolitan? bid him come in,
¶Were he as cunning in his Eloquence,
745As Cicero the famous man of Rome,
¶His words would be as chaffe against the wind.
¶Were he and his tongue in this speaker's head,
¶Alive he winnes me not; then 'tis no conquest.
750
Enter Cromwell like a Neapolitan, and Hodge with him.
¶And leave none but the Earl and I together,
755And this my Pesant here to tend on us.
¶
Exit Host. Cromwell shuts the door.
¶Is this your eloquence for to perswade me?
¶I am not, as you judge, a Neopolitan,
¶Many a time and oft have I shooed your Dapper Gray.
¶Bed. And what avails it me, that thou art here?
770Crom. It may avail, if you'll be rul'd by me;
¶My Lord, you know the men of Mantua,
¶And they, my Lord, both love and honour you;
¶Could you but get out of the Mantua port,
¶Crom. By force we cannot, but by policie:
780Put on the apparel here that Hodge doth wear,
¶And give him yours; the States they know you not,
¶For as I think, they never saw your face,
¶And at a watch-word must I call them in,
¶How doth your honour like of this device?
¶Bed. O, wondrous good: But wilt thou venture, Hodge?
¶Hod. Will I? O noble Lord, I do accord, in any thing
¶_I can;
¶Hod. I warrant you I'le fit him with a Sute.
¶
Exeunt Earl & Hodge.
¶And yet it grieves me for this simple wretch,
¶For fear they should offer him violence;
800And better is it that he live in thrall,
¶Their stubborn hearts, it may be will relent;
¶Since he is gone, to whom their hate is bent.
¶My Lord, have you dispatched?
805
Enter Bedford like the Clown, and Hodge in his
¶
cloak and his hat.
¶O how I feel Honour come creeping on,
¶My Nobility is wonderfull melancholy:
¶Is it not most Gentleman-like to be melancholy?
¶And take state upon thee.
¶Hod. I warrant you, my Lord, let me alone to take
¶state upon me: but hark, my Lord, do you feel nothing
¶bite about you?
¶strange thing of this vermin, they dare not meddle with
¶Nobility.
¶Crom. Go take thy place, Hodge, I will call them in.
825
Hodge sits in the study, & Cromwell calls in the States.
¶All is done, enter and if you please.
¶
Enter the States, and Officers with Halberts.
¶Gov. Give him the money that we promis'd him:
835Gov. Go, and conduct him to the Mantua Port,
¶Go draw the curtains, let us see the Earl:
¶O, he is writing, stand apart a while.
¶Hod. Fellow William, I am not as I have been; I
840went from you a Smith, I write to you as a Lord: I am
¶get and to Dority, and so to all the youth of Putney.
845Some of his special friends, to whom he writes:
¶
Here he sings a Song
¶Believe me, Noble Lord, if you knew all,
¶Hod. I change my merry vein? no, thou Bononian, no;
¶I am a Lord, and therefore let me go;
¶And do defie thee and thy Casiges:
¶Therefore stand off, and come not near my Honour.
¶That I do flout, do gibe, or jest;
¶No, no, thou Bear-pot, know that I,
¶A Noble Earl, a Lord par-dy.
¶
A Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.
¶Cit. One come from the States of Mantua.
865To let you know the Noble Earle of Bedford
¶Is safe within the Town of Mantua,
¶Who hath deceived your expectation;
¶Or else the States of Mantua have vowed,
870They will recall the truce that they have made,
¶The Neopolitan hath beguiled us all:
875Hence with this fool, what shall we doe with him,
¶The Earl being gone? a plague upon it all.
¶One Hodge, a Smith at Putney, sir:
¶One that hath gulled you, that hath bored you, sir.
880Gov. Away with him, take hence the fool you came for.
¶Mes. Farewell, Bononians. Come, friend, along with
¶_me.
885
Exit.
Ex. om.
¶
Enter Chorus.
890The Earle of Bedford being safe in Mantua,
¶Desires Cromwell's company into France,
¶To make requitall for his courtesie:
¶But Cromwell doth deny the Earl his suit,
895He had not yet set footing on the Land,
¶And so directly takes his way to Spain:
¶The Earl to France, and so they both doe part.
¶Now let your thoughts as swift as is the wind,
900And now imagine him to be in England,
¶Servant unto the Master of the Rolles:
¶
Exit.
905
The Musick playes, they bring out the banquet. Enter
¶
Sir Christopher Hales, Cromwell, and two Servants
¶And as our bounty now exceeds the figure
¶Of common entertainment, so doe you
¶Give formal welcome to the thronged tables,
¶That shall receive the Cardinals followers,
¶And the attendants of the great Lord Chancellor.
¶But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee:
915Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,
920Good Cromwell, cast an eye of fair regard
¶Through ignorance, or wine, doe miscreate,
¶Salve thou with courtesie: if welcome want,
Exit Crom.
930I look upon thee with a loving eye,
¶That one day will prefer thy destiny.
¶
Enter Messenger.
¶Mess. Sir, the Lords be at hand,
935_tend us,
¶
The Musick playes. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, Sir
¶
Thomas Moore and Gardiner.
940_banquet too?
¶_come,
¶That my free heart affords you, I could then become a
(prater:
¶That it may then salve our defect of fare:
¶Yet welcome now, and all that tend on you.
950'Tis strange, how that we and the Spaniard differ,
¶Their dinner is our banquet, after dinner,
¶This I gather, that by their sparing meat,
¶Their bodies are more fitter for the Warres:
955And if that famine chance to pinch their mawes,
¶Then hunger-starv'd, and ill-complexion'd 'Spaniards;
960They that are rich in Spain, spare belly food,
¶To deck their backs with an Italian hood,
¶And Silks of Civil: and the poorest Snake,
¶That feeds on Lemmons, Pilchers, and ne're heated
965More fat and gallant then his starved face,
¶Pride, the Inquisition, and this belly-evil,
¶Are in my judgement Spains three-headed Devil.
¶Mo. Indeed it is a plague unto their Nation,
¶Who stagger after in blind imitation.
¶Mo. I love health well, but when as healths doe bring
¶Pain to the head, and bodies surfetting:
975For though the drops be small,
¶Yet have they force, to force men to the wall.
¶One that hath travelled many parts of Christendome,
980_my Lord.
¶ler?
¶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.
¶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,
¶England I praise not: for I here was born,
¶More then can be discern'd by outward eye;
1000Sir Christopher, will you part with your man?
¶Wol. What is thy name?
¶Crom. Cromwell, my Lord.
¶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:
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,
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.
¶Wolsey that lov'd him, as he did his life:
¶Committed all his treasure to his hands,
¶Wolsey is dead, and Gardiner his man
¶Pardon if we omit all Wolsey's life,
¶Because our play depends on Cromwells death,
1035Pardon the errors is already past,
¶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
¶There's certain billes and writings in your hand,
1045That much concerns the state of England:
¶Gar. My Lord of Norfolk, we two were whilome fellows
¶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.
¶_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,
¶My Lord, let's go unto his Majesty,
¶
Exit Norfolk and Suffolk.
¶
Enter Bedford hastily.
¶By my soul, welcome to England:
¶_remember it,
¶Then for my self vainly to report it.
¶Bed. Well, Cromwell, now is the time,
1080I shall commend thee to my Soveraigne:
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.
1090May boldly say the wretches death is nigh.
¶Was too too violent to last over-long.
¶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.
1100For the good liking, he conceives of thee:
¶Chief Secretary to himself, and withall,
¶Creates thee one of his Highness Privie Council.
¶
Enter the Earl of Bedford.
¶Suff. He is, my Lord.
¶Bed. Then, to adde Honour to his Name,
¶The King creates him Lord Keeper of his privy Seal,
¶And Master of the Rolls;
¶The King determines higher place for you.
1115Gard. Here's Honours, Titles and Promotions;
¶I fear this climbing, will have a sudden fall.
¶Norf. Then come, my Lords, let's altogether bring,
¶This new-made Counsellor to England's King.
¶
Exeunt all but Gardiner.
¶Shall Cromwell live a greater man then I?
¶My envy with his honour now is bred,
¶I hope to shorten Cromwell by the head.
Exit.
¶
Enter Friskiball, very poor.
¶Fortune that turns her too unconstant wheel,
¶Hath turn'd thy wealth and riches in the Sea,
¶All parts abroad where-ever I have been,
1130Grows weary of me, and denies me succour;
¶My debters they, that should relieve my want,
¶They know my state too mean, to bear out Law;
¶And here in London, where I oft have been,
1135And have done good to many a wretched man,
¶In vain it is, more of their hearts to try;
¶Be patient therefore, lay thee down and die.
¶
He lies down.
1140
Enter good-man Seely, and his Wife Joan.
¶now? I wis we have done for him, when many a time and
¶often he might have gone a hungry to bed.
¶Wife. Alas man, now he is made a Lord, he'll never
1145look upon us; he'll fulfill the old Proverb, Set Beggars a
¶horse-back, and they'll ride: â, well-a-day for my Cow;
¶such as he hath made us come behind-hand, we had never
¶pawn'd our Cow else to pay our Rent.
¶Seely. Well Joan, he'll come this way: and by God's
1150dickers I'le tell him roundly of it, and if he were ten Lords:
¶nothing.
¶mouch upon my Cheese-cakes, he hath forgot this now,
1155but now we'll remember him.
¶tail: but ifaith I'le gibber a joint, but I'le tell him his
¶stand up.
1160
Enter Hodge very fine, with a Tip-staff, Cromwell, the
¶Come out, good people; run before there ho.
1165
Friskiball riseth, and stands a-far-off.
¶Seely. I, we are kicked away now, we come for our
¶own; the time hath been, he would a looked more
¶friendly upon us: And you, Hodge, we know you well
¶enough, though you are so fine.
¶I owe thee money, father, do I not?
1175at home.
¶And look your wife, and you do stay to dinner:
¶And while you live, I freely give to you,
¶Four pound a year, for the four pound I ought you.
¶Now God bless thee, good Lord Tom:
¶Home Joan, home; I'le dine with my Lord Tom to day,
¶And thou shalt come next week.
¶Fetch my Cow; home Joan, home.
1185Wife. Now God bless thee, my good Lord Tom;
¶I'le fetch my Cow presently.
¶
Enter Gardiner.
¶That same puffe; but mark the end, my Lord, mark the
¶_end.
¶But let that pass: the King doth love him well.
¶I know you bear me hard, about the Abbey lands.
¶You had no colour for what you have done.
1200And of his Popish order from our Realm:
¶I am no enemy to Religion,
¶But what is done, it is for England's good:
¶Of lazy Abbots, and of full-fed Fryers?
1205They neither plow, nor sow, and yet they reap
¶The fat of all the Land, and suck the poor:
¶Look what was theirs, is in King Henrie's hands,
¶His wealth before lay in the Abbey lands.
1210When, God doth know, the infant yet unborn,
¶Will curse the time, the Abbies were pul'd down:
¶I pray now where is Hospitality?
¶For to relieve their need, or rest their bones,
1215When weary travel doth oppress their limmes?
¶And where religious men should take them in,
¶Shall now be kept back by a Mastive dog:
1220'Tis bootless to complain.
¶Nor. We'll follow you, my Lord, pray lead the way.
¶
Enter old Cromwell, like a Farmer.
¶Old Crom. How? one Cromwell made Lord Keeper,
¶And dwelt in York-shire? I never heard better newes:
1230One of my Servants go and have him in,
¶At better leisure will we talk with him.
¶Old Crom. Now if I die, how happy were the day,
¶
Exit old Cromwell.
¶Crom. Go on before, for time drawes on a pace.
¶
Exeunt all but Friskiball.
¶Fris. I wonder what this Lord would have with me,
1240I never did offend him to my knowledge:
¶Well, good or bad, I mean to bide it all,
¶Worse then I am, now never can befall.
¶
Enter Banister and his Wife.
¶Last night, they would come dine with me,
¶And take their bond in: I pray thee hie thee home,
¶
She runs and embraces him.
¶Is Banister your poor friend forgot?
¶I never would look my husband in the face,
¶But hate him as I would a Cockatrice.
¶And for the thousand pound I owe to you,
¶I have it ready for you, sir, at home:
¶And though I grieve your fortune is so bad:
¶Yet that my hap's to help you makes me glad:
¶Fris. Not yet I cannot, for the Lord Chancellor,
¶Hath here commanded me to wait on him,
¶For what I know not, pray God it be for good.
¶Ba. Never make doubt of that, I'le warrant you,
1275He is as kind a noble Gentleman,
¶We'll go along and bear you company:
¶I know we shall not want for welcome there?
1280Fris. Withall my heart: but what's become of Bagot?
¶Ba. He is hanged for buying Jewels of the Kings.
¶The time drawes on, sir, will you go along.
1285
Exeunt omnes.
¶
Enter two Merchants.
¶To keep your word, in payment of your money.
1290Three thousand pounds is too much to forfeit,
¶And yet I am not much behind you too,
¶Considering that to day I paid at Court.
¶What's the reason the Lord Cromwell's men
¶Wear such long Skirts upon their Coats?
¶They reach down to their very Hams.
¶A while a go there was a jar between them,
¶And it was brought to my Lord Cromwell's ear,
1305Upon which word he made his men long blew Coats,
¶And in the Court wore one of them himself:
¶And meeting with the Bishop, quoth he, my Lord,
¶Here's Skirts enough now for your Grace to sit on:
¶Which vexed the Bishop to the very heart;
1310This is the reason why they wear long Coats.
¶That one great man will envy still another:
¶But 'tis a thing that nothing concerns me:
¶
Enter the Usher and the Shewer, the meat goes
¶
over the Stage.
¶Usher. Uncover there, Gentlemen.
¶
Enter Cromwell, Bedford, Suffolk, Old Cromwell,
1320
Friskiball, good-man Seely, and attendants.
¶Crom. My noble Lords of Suffolk and Bedford,
¶Your Honours welcome to poor Cromwell's house:
¶Where is my Father? nay, be covered Father,
¶Although that duty to these noble men doth challenge it,
1325Yet I'le make bold with them.
¶Your head doth bear the calender of care:
¶What? Cromwell covered, and his Father bare?
¶Is not your name Friskiball? and a Florentine.
¶Did rob me of my name, and of my state.
¶Crom. What fortune brought you to this Countrey
¶_now?
1335Save onely this, because of debts I have
¶I hope to gain, for to relieve my want.
¶Crom. Did you not once upon your Florence bridge,
¶His name was Cromwell?
1340Fris. I never made my brain a Calender of any
¶_good I did,
¶I alwayes lov'd this nation with my heart.
¶Crom. I am that Cromwell that you there reliev'd,
¶Sixteen Duckets you gave me for to cloath me,
1345Sixteen to bear my charges by the way,
¶For to repay them without interest:
¶In each of them there is four hundred Marke,
¶And bring to me the names of all your debtors,
¶And if they will not see you paid, I will.
1355That helpt me in my greatest need of all.
¶Alass, what duty is too much for him?
¶This man in time of need did save my life,
¶And therefore cannot doe too much for him.
1360By this old man I oftentimes was fed,
¶That Cromwell no way can repay agen.
¶Now in to dinner, for we stay too long,
1365And to good stomacks is no greater wrong.
¶
Exeunt omnes.
¶
Enter Gardiner in his Study, and his man.
¶Or Gardiner will fail in his intent.
1375As for the Dukes of Suffolk and of Norfolk,
¶Yet in their hearts I know they love him not;
¶As for the Earl of Bedford, he is but one,
¶
Enter the two Witnesses.
¶Now, my friends, you know I sav'd your lives,
¶When by the Law you had deserved death;
¶And then you promised me upon your Oathes,
1385To venture both your lives to do me good.
¶_form.
¶Is service for your God, and for your King;
1390To root a Rebell from this flourishing Land,
¶One that's an enemy unto the Church:
¶That you heard Cromwell, the Lord Chancellor,
¶Did wish a Dagger at King Henrie's Heart:
¶2. Wit. If you will warrant us the deed is good,
¶We'll undertake it.
1400This Crucifix I lay upon your heads,
¶And sprinckle Holy-water on your browes:
¶The deed is meritorious that you do,
¶Gard. I know he doth not, and for both of you,
¶I will prefer you to some place of worth;
¶Now get you in, until I call for you,
¶The Abbies that were pul'd down by thy means,
¶Is now a mean for me to pull thee down:
¶Thy pride also thy own head lights upon,
¶For thou art he hath chang'd Religion:
1415But now no more, for here the Dukes are come.
¶
Enter Suffolk, Norfolk, and the Earl of Bedford.
¶Nor. How fares my Lord? what, are you all alone?
¶Gard. No, not alone, my Lords, my mind is troubled:
¶Norf. We did, and left none but Lord Cromwell with
¶_him.
¶Gard. O what a dangerous time is this we live in?
1425There's Thomas Wolsey, he's already gone,
¶And Thomas Moor, he followed after him:
¶Another Thomas yet there doth remain,
1430I fear the King and all the Land will rue it.
¶Bed. Another Thomas? pray God it be not Cromwell.
¶Gard. My Lord of Bedford, it is that Traitor Cromwell.
1435Or proof have you of this his treachery.
¶Gard. My Lord, too much, call in the men within;
¶
Enter the Witnesses.
¶These men, my Lord, upon their Oathes affirm,
¶That they did hear Lord Cromwell in his Garden,
¶Of our King Henry, what is this but Treason?
¶1. Wit. We did, an't like your grace.
1445Norf. In what place was Lord Cromwell when he
¶Which we had waited for two yeares and more.
¶Bed. How chance that you conceal'd it all this time?
1455He calls his servants to him round about,
¶Tells them of Wolsey's life, and of his fall,
¶Sayes that himself hath many enemies,
¶And gives to some of them a Park, or Mannor,
1460What need he do this in his prime of life,
¶An if he were not fearfull of his death?
¶Their proofs are great, but greater is my heart.
1465
Exit Bedford.
¶Norf. My friends, take heed of that which you have
¶Therefore take heed, be wary what you do.
¶Until the day of tryal.
1475
Exeunt Witnesses.
¶My Lords, if Cromwell have a publick Tryal,
¶That which we do, is void, by his denial;
¶You know the King will credit none but him.
¶With an intent to intrap some of our lives,
¶And this it is: If any Counsellor
¶Be convicted of high treason;
1485He shall be executed without a publick triall.
¶This Act my Lords, he caus'd the King to make.
¶Suff. A did indeed, and I remember it,
¶And now it is like to fall upon himself.
¶Therefore, let us presently to Lambeth,
¶Thither comes Cromwell, from the Court to night,
1495And in the morning, cut off the traitors head.
¶Norf. Come then about it, let us guard the town,
¶This is the day that Cromwell must go down.
¶Gar. Along my Lords, well, Cromwell is halfe dead,
Exeunt.
1500
Enter Bedford solus.
¶And Gardiner is the man that makes it so;
¶O Cromwell, I do fear thy end is near:
¶Yet I'le prevent their malice if I can,
1505And in good time, see where the man doth come,
¶Who little knows how near's his day of doom.
¶
Enter Cromwell with his train, Bedford makes as
¶
though he would speak to him: he goes on.
¶Cro. You'r well encountred, my good Lord of Bedford,
1510Pray Pardon me, I am sent for to th'King,
¶So fare you well, for I must needs be gone.
¶
Exit all the train.
¶
Enter Cromwell and the train again.
¶I must receive of him the privy Seale
¶At Lambeth, soon my Lord, we'll talk our fill.
¶
Exit the train.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
¶Mes. My Lord, the Dukes of Norfolk and of Suffolk,
¶Intreats you to come presently to Lambeth,
1530On earnest matters that concerns the State.
¶I and Lord Cromwell there shall talk enough:
¶I, and our last, I fear, and if he come.
¶
He writes a Letter.
1535Here, take this Letter, and bear it to Lord Cromwell,
¶Bid him read it, say it concerns him near,
¶Away, be gone, make all the haste you can,
¶To Lambeth do I go, a wofull man.
Exit.
¶
Enter Cromwell and his train.
¶I'd take my ease to morrow after trouble,
¶
The messenger brings the Letter,
1545
he puts it in his pocket.
¶Mes. Sir, here's a Letter from my Lord of Bedford.
¶Crom. O good my friend, commend me to thy Lord,
¶Hold, take those Angels, drink them for thy pains.
¶To morrow, tell him, he shall hear from me,
¶Set on before there, and away to Lambeth.
Exeunt omnes.
¶
Enter Winchester, Suffolk, Norfolk, Bedford, Ser-
1555
jeant at armes, the Herald, and Halberts.
¶Serjeant at armes, be bould in your office,
¶Herald, deliver your Proclamation.
1560The late Lord Cromwell, Lord Chancellor of England,
¶Vicar general over the Realm,
¶Him to hold and esteem as a traitor,
¶Against the Crown and dignity of England:
¶So God save the King.
1565Gar. Amen.
¶Bed. Amen, and root thee from the land,
¶Nor. Make a lane there, the traitor is at hand,
¶Keep back Cromwell's men:
1570Drown them if they come on, Serjeant your office?
¶
Enter Cromwell, they make a lane with their Halberts.
¶Sirs, come along.
¶Gar. Kill them, if they come on.
1575Ser. Lord Cromwell, in King Henries name,
¶
Cromwell's men offer to draw.
¶Gar. This is no place to reckon up your crime,
¶Your Dove-like looks were view'd with serpents eyes.
1585But, Gardiner, do thy worst, I fear thee not,
¶My faith compar'd with thine, as much shall pass,
¶As doth the Diamond excell the glass:
1590Nor. My Lord, my Lord, matters are too well known,
¶And is it time the King had note thereof.
¶Crom. The King, let me go to him face to face,
¶No better triall I desire then that,
¶Let him but say, that Cromwell's faith was fained,
1595Then Let my Honour, and my Name be stained:
¶Then if my faith's confirmed with his reason,
¶Mean time with patience content your self.
¶Cromwell rejoyceth one friend sheds a tear:
1605And whether is't? which way must Cromwell now?
¶Lieutenant, take him to your charge.
¶Let me conferre a little with my men.
¶Norfolk, farewell, thy turn will be the next.
1615
Exit Cromwell and the Lieutenant.
¶Gar. My Lord of Bedford, come, you weep for him,
¶That would not shed a tear for you.
¶
Enter two Citizens.
1625I hardly will believe it can be so.
¶Condition I spent half the wealth I have;
¶And afterward committed to the Tower.
¶2. Kind, Noble Gentleman: I may rue the time;
¶All that I have, I did enjoy by him,
¶And if he die, then all my state is gone.
¶The grace and favour he had with the King,
¶Hath caus'd him have so many enemies:
1640Must not be great, for then he is envied at.
¶For where the King doth love above compare,
¶Of others they as much more envied are.
1645He did so many charitable deeds.
¶And they before would smile him in the face,
1650What, will you go along unto the Court?
¶1. I care not if I doe, and hear the newes,
¶How men will judge what shall become of him.
¶Go you to the Court. I'le go into the City,
1655There I am sure to hear more newes then you.
¶
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.
¶
FINIS.
