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  • Title: Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)

    • Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Anonymous, William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)

    17
    The History of the Life and Death of THOMAS
    Lord CROMWELL.

    1Enter three Smiths, Hodge, and two other, old Crom-
    well's men.
    Hodge.
    COme, Masters, I think it be past five a clock,
    5Is it not time we were at work?
    My old Master he'll be stirring anon.
    1. I cannot tell whether my old Master will
    be stirring or no: but I am sure I can hardly take my
    afternoon's nap, for my young Master Thomas,
    10He keeps such a quile in his studie,
    With the Sun, and the Moon, and the seven Starres,
    That I do verily think he'll read out his wits.
    Hodge. He skill of the starres? there's good-man Car
    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
    When here Ale shall miscarry, only by the starres.
    202. I, that's a great virtue indeed, I think Thomas
    Be no body in comparison to him.
    1. Well, Masters, come, shall we to our Hammers?
    Hod. I, content; first let's take our mornings draught,
    And then to work roundly.
    252. I, agreed, go in Hodge.Exeunt omnes.

    Enter young Cromwell.
    Crom. Good morrow, morn, I do salute thy brightness,
    The night seems tedious to my troubled soul:
    Whose black obscuritie binds in my mind
    30A thousand sundry cogitations:
    And now Aurora with a lively dye,
    Adds comfort to my spirit that mounts on high.
    Too high indeed, my state being so mean:
    My studie like a mineral of Gold,
    35Makes my heart proud, wherein my hope's inroll'd;
    My Books is all the wealth I do possess,Here withinthey must beat with their Hammers.
    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,
    You do disturb my study and my rest;
    Leave off, I say, you mad me with the noise.

    Enter Hodge, and the two Men.
    Hod. Why, how now, Master Thomas, how now;
    45Will you not let us work for you?
    Crom. You fret my heart, with making of this noise.
    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?
    Hod. Marry, sir, your son Thomas will not let us work (at all.
    Old Crom.Why knave I say, have I thus cark'd & car'd,
    And all to keep thee like a Gentleman,
    And dost thou let my servants at their work;
    60That sweat for thee, knave? labour thus for thee?
    Crom. Father, their Hammers do offend my Studie.
    Old. Crom. Out of my doors, knave, if thou lik'st it not:
    I cry you mercy, are your eares so fine?
    I tell thee, knave, these get when I do sleep;
    65I will not have my Anvil stand for thee.
    Crom. There's money, father, I will pay your men.
    He throws Money among them.
    Old Crom. Have I thus brought thee up unto my cost,
    In hope that one day thou would'st relieve my age,
    70And art thou now so lavish of thy coin,
    To scatter it among these idle knaves?
    Crom. Father, be patient, and content your self,
    The time will come I shall hold gold as trash:
    And here I speak with a presaging soul,
    75To build a Pallace where now this Cottage stands,
    As fine as is King Henrie's house at Sheen.
    Old Crom. You build a house? you knave, you'll be a (beggar;
    Now afore God all is but cast away
    That is bestowed upon this thriftless Lad,
    80Well, had I bound him to some honest trade,
    This had not been; but it was his mother's doing,
    To send him to the University:
    How? build a House where now this Cottage stands,
    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.
    Cro. Why
    ***
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