855Gov. My Lord, this jesting cannot serve your turn.

856Hod. Do'st think, thou black Bononian beast,

857That I do flout, do gibe, or jest;

858No, no, thou Bear-pot, know that I,

859A Noble Earl, a Lord par-dy.

860Gov. What means this Trumpet's sound?

862Cit. One come from the States of Mantua.

864Mes. Men of Bononia, this my message is,

865To let you know the Noble Earle of Bedford

866Is safe within the Town of Mantua,

867And wills you send the pesant that you have,

868Who hath deceived your expectation;

869Or else the States of Mantua have vowed,

870They will recall the truce that they have made,

871And not a man shall stirre from forth your Town,

872That shall return unlesse you send him back.

873Gov. O this misfortune, how it mads my heart?

874The Neopolitan hath beguiled us all:

875Hence with this fool, what shall we doe with him,

876The Earl being gone? a plague upon it all.

877Hod. No I'le assure you, I am no Earl, but a Smith, sir,

878One Hodge, a Smith at Putney, sir:

879One that hath gulled you, that hath bored you, sir.

880Gov. Away with him, take hence the fool you came for.

881Hod. I, sir, and I'le leave the greater fool with you.

882Mes. Farewell, Bononians. Come, friend, along with

883 me.

884Hod. My friend, afore, my Lordship will follow thee.

886Gov. Well, Mantua, since by thee the Earl is lost,

889Cho. Thus far you see how Cromwell's fortune passed.

890The Earle of Bedford being safe in Mantua,

891Desires Cromwell's company into France,

892To make requitall for his courtesie:

893But Cromwell doth deny the Earl his suit,

894And tells him that those parts he meant to see,

895He had not yet set footing on the Land,

896And so directly takes his way to Spain:

897The Earl to France, and so they both doe part.

898Now let your thoughts as swift as is the wind,

899Skip some few yeares, that Cromwell spent in travell.

900And now imagine him to be in England,

901Servant unto the Master of the Rolles:

902Where in short time he there began to flourish,

903An hour shall show you what few yeares did cherish.

907Hales. Come, sirs, be carefull of your Masters credit;

908And as our bounty now exceeds the figure

909Of common entertainment, so doe you

910With looks as free as is your Masters soule,

911Give formal welcome to the thronged tables,

912That shall receive the Cardinals followers,

913And the attendants of the great Lord Chancellor.

914But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee:

915Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,

916And by how much thy spirit is ranckt 'bove these,

917In rules of Art, by so much it shines brighter by travell,

918Whose observance pleads his merit,

919In a most learned, yet unaffecting spirit.

920Good Cromwell, cast an eye of fair regard

921'Bout all my house, and what this ruder flesh,

922Through ignorance, or wine, doe miscreate,

923Salve thou with courtesie: if welcome want,

924Full bowles, and ample banquets will seem scant.

925Crom. Sir, whatsoever lies in me,

927Hales. About it then, the Lords will straight be here:

928Cromwell, thou hast those parts would rather sute

929The service of the state then of my house:

930I look upon thee with a loving eye,

931That one day will prefer thy destiny.

933Mess. Sir, the Lords be at hand,

934Hales. They are welcome, bid Cromwell straight at-

935 tend us,

936And look you all things be in perfect readinesse.

939Wol. O, Sir Christopher, you are too liberall: what, a

940 banquet too?

941Hal. My Lords, if words could show the ample wel-

942 come,

944But I now must deale like a feast Polititian

946That it may then salve our defect of fare:

947Yet welcome now, and all that tend on you.

948Wol. Thanks to the kind Master of the Rolles.

949Come and sit down, sit down, Sir Thomas Moore:

950'Tis strange, how that we and the Spaniard differ,

951Their dinner is our banquet, after dinner,

952And they are men of active disposition:

953This I gather, that by their sparing meat,

954Their bodies are more fitter for the Warres:

955And if that famine chance to pinch their mawes,

956Being us'd to fast, it breeds lesse pain.

957Hal. Fill me some Wine: I'le answer Cardinal Wolsey:

958My Lord, we English-men are of more freer soules,

959Then hunger-starv'd, and ill-complexion'd 'Spaniards;

960They that are rich in Spain, spare belly food,

961To deck their backs with an Italian hood,

962And Silks of Civil: and the poorest Snake,

963That feeds on Lemmons, Pilchers, and ne're heated

964His pallet with sweet flesh, will bear a case,

965More fat and gallant then his starved face,

966Pride, the Inquisition, and this belly-evil,

967Are in my judgement Spains three-headed Devil.

968Mo. Indeed it is a plague unto their Nation,

969Who stagger after in blind imitation.

970Hal. My Lords, with welcome, I present your Lord-

971ships a solemn health.

972Mo. I love health well, but when as healths doe bring

973Pain to the head, and bodies surfetting:

974Then cease I healths: nay spill not, friend,

975For though the drops be small,

976Yet have they force, to force men to the wall.

977Wol. Sir Christopher, is that your man?

979One that hath travelled many parts of Christendome,

980 my Lord.

981Wol. My friend, come nearer, have you been a travel-

982ler?