Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Through Line Number
Help on texts
About this text
Print this page

About this text

  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    270Enter Cromwell in his study, with bags of money be-
    fore him, casting of account.
    Crom. Thus far my reckoning doth go straight & even.
    But, Cromwell, this same plodding sits not thee;
    Thy mind is altogether set on travel,
    275And not to live thus cloystered, like a Nun;
    It is not this same trash, that I regard,
    Experience is the jewel of my heart.
    Enter a Post.
    Post. I pray, sir, are you ready to dispatch me?
    280Cro. Yes, here's those summes of money you must carry.
    You go so far as Frankford, do you not?
    Post. I do, sir.
    Crom. Well, prithee make all the hast thou can'st,
    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.
    Post. I thank you, sir, this will adde wings indeed.
    290Crom. Gold is of power to make an Eagles speed.
    Enter Mistris Banister.
    What Gentlewoman is this, that grieves so much?
    It seems she doth addresse her self to me.
    Mi. Ban. God save you, sir, pray is your name Master
    295 Cromwell?
    Crom. My name is Thomas Cromwell, Gentlewoman.
    Mi. Ban. Know you not one Bagot, sir, that's come to
    Antwerp?
    Crom. No, trust me, I never saw the man,
    300But here are bills of debt I have received
    Against one Banister a Merchant fallen into decay.
    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,
    Be mercifull to a distressed soul,
    310And God no boubt will treble blesse your gain.
    Crom. Good Mistris Banister, what I can, I will,
    In any thing that lies within my power.
    Mi. Ban. O speak to Bagot, that same wicked wretch,
    An Angels voice may move a damned devil.
    315Crom. Why is he come to Antwerp, as you hear?
    Mi. Ban. I heard he landed some two hours since.
    Crom. Well, Mistris Banister, assure your self,
    I'le speak to Bagot in your own behalf,
    And win him t'all the pitty that I can:
    320Mean time, to comfort you, in your distresse,
    Receive these Angels to relieve your need,
    And be assured, that what I can effect:
    To do you good, no way I will neglect.
    Mi. Ban. That mighty God that knows each mortals (heart.
    325Keep you from trouble, sorrow, grief and smart.
    Exit Mistris Banister.
    Crom. Thanks, curteous woman,
    For thy hearty prayer:
    It grieves my soul to see her misery,
    330But we that live under the work of fate,
    May hope the best, yet knows not to what state
    Our starrs and destinies hath us assign'd,
    Fickle is Fortune, and her face is blind,
    About
    Contact us
    Content quality
    Site guide
    © Internet Shakespeare Editions
    Copyright details
    Privacy policy
    This site is supported by:
    University of Victoria
    Friends of the ISE
    SSHRC