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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
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    Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)

    of the Lord Cromwell.
    Hod. Thomas, to speak the truth, not a bit yet, I.
    Crom. Come, go with me, thou shalt have cheer good(store:
    475And farewell Antwerp, if I come no more.
    Hod. I follow thee, sweet Tom, I follow thee.
    Exeunt ambo.
    Enter the Governour of the English House, Bagot,
    Banister, his Wife, and two Officers.
    480Gover. Is Cromwell gone then? say you M. Bagot,
    What dislike, I pray? what was the cause?
    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.
    We hardly shall find such a man as he,
    To fit our turns, his dealings were so honest.
    But now, sir, for your Jewels that I have,
    490What doe you say? what, will you take my price?
    Bag. O, sir, you offer too much under foot.
    Gov. 'Tis but two hundred pound between us, man,
    What's that in payment of five thousand pound?
    Bag. Two hundred pound, birlady sir, 'tis great,
    495Before I got so much it made we sweat.
    Gov. Well, Master Bagot, I'le proffer you fairly,
    You see this Merchant, Master Banister,
    Is going now to prison at your sute:
    His substance all is gone, what would you have?
    500Yet in regard I knew the man of wealth,
    Never dishonest dealing, but such mishaps
    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:
    His state is nothing, that you see your self,
    And where nought is the King must lose his right.
    Bag. Sir, sir, you speak out of your love,
    'Tis foolish love, sir, sure to pitty him:
    510Therefore content your self, this is my minde,
    To doe him good I will not bait a penny.
    Ban. This is my comfort, though thou do'st no good,
    A mighty ebbe follows a mighty flood.
    Mi. Ba. O thou base wretch, whom we have fostered,
    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.
    520Bag. Alass, fond woman, I prethee pray thy worst.
    The Fox fares better still when he is curst.

    Enter Master Bowser a Merchant.
    Gov. Master Bowser! your welcome, sir, from En-
    525What's the best newes? how doth all our friends?
    Bow. They are all well, and doe commend them to
    There's Letters from your Brother and your Son:
    So fare you well, sir, I must take my leave,
    530My haste and businesse doth require so.
    Gov. Before you dine, sir? what, go you out of town?
    Bow. Ifaith unlesse I hear some newes in town,
    I must away, there is no remedy.
    Gov. Master Bowser, what is your businesse, may I
    535 know it?
    Bow. You may, sir, and so shall all the City.
    The King of late hath had his treasury robb'd,
    And of the choysest jewels that he had:
    The value of them was seven thousand pounds,
    540The fellow that did steale these jewels is hanged,
    And did confesse that for three hundred pound,
    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.
    Ban. How just is God to right the innocent?
    Gov. Master Bowser, you come in happy time,
    Here is the villain Bagot that you seek,
    550And all those jewels have I in my hands:
    Officers, look to him, hold him fast.
    Bagot. The Devil ought me a shame, and now he hath
    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.
    Bag. Mischief, confusion, light upon you all,
    O hang me, drown me, let me kill my self,
    560Let go my armes, let me run quick to hell.
    Bow. Away, bear him away, stop the slaves mouth.
    They carry him away.
    Mi. Ba. Thy works are infinite, great God of
    565Gov. I heard this Bagot was a wealthy fellow.
    Bow. He was indeed, for when his goods were seized,
    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.
    Gov. Master Bowser, with this happy newes,
    You have revived two from the gates of death,
    This is that Banister, and this his Wife.
    580Bow. Sir, I am glad my fortune is so good;
    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,
    And last to you that these good newes doe bring.
    Gov. The hundred pound I must receive, as due
    For finding Bagot, I freely give to you.
    Bow. And, Master Banister, if so you please,
    590I'le bear you company, when you crosse the Seas.
    Ban.If it please you, sir, my company is but mean,
    Stands with your liking, I'le wait on you.
    Gov. I am glad that all things doe accord so well:
    Come, Master Bowser, let us to dinner:
    595And, Mistresse Banister, be merry, woman,
    Come, after sorrow now let's cheer your spirit,
    Knaves have their due, and you but what you merit.
    Exeunt omnes.

    Enter Cromwell and Hodge in their Shirts,
    600and without Hats.

    Hodg. Call ye this seeing of fashions?