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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    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 should my birth keep down my mounting
    90 spirit?
    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:
    The River Thames that by our door doth passe,
    His first beginning is but small and shallow,
    105Yet keeping on his course growes to a Sea.
    And likewise Wolsey, the wonder of our age,
    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,
    110That thou may'st live to flourish and controule.
    Enter old Cromwell.
    Old Crom. Tom Cromwell, what Tom I say.
    Crom. Doe you call, sir?
    Old Crom. Here is Master Bowser come to know if
    115you have dispach'd his petition for the Lords of the
    Council, or no.
    Crom. Father, I have, please you to call him in.
    Old Crom. That's well said, Tom, a good Lad, Tom.
    Enter Master Bowser.
    120Bow. Now, Mr. Cromwell, have you dispatch'd this
    petition?
    Crom. I have, sir, here it is, please you peruse it.
    Bow. It shall not need, we'll read it as we go by water.
    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,
    130If with your liking it stand, Master Cromwell.
    Crom. With all my heart, sir, and I much am bound,
    In love and duty for your kindnesse shown.
    Old Crom. Body of me, Tom, make haste, least some (body
    Get between thee and home, Tom.
    135I thank you, good Master Bowser, I thank you for my
    Boy,
    I thank you alwayes, I thank you most heartily, sir:
    Ho, a Cup of Beer here for Master Bowser.
    Bow. It shall not need, sir: Master Cromwell, will you(go?
    140Crom. I will attend you, sir.
    Old Crom. Farewell, Tom, God blesse thee, Tom,
    God speed thee, good Tom.Exeunt omnes.
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